Well . . . here we are.
One week post surgery.
It seems surreal after counting down the days, the anticipation, prepping everything for the holidays, that a week has flown by in the blink of an eye.
My surgery went smoothly, as hoped. It was an all day affair, as expected. My family and I arrived at the hospital really early to check in and get prepped. Let me say. . .either the hospital really has it together or times have really changed since the last time I had surgery (maybe both). The surgery section of Lexington Medical Center has television screens with patient identification numbers that alert family members of the status of patients (in pre-op, op., post-op). They also have beepers, that look like the restaurant beepers, which are given to family members. Whenever there is an update, they page the family. Kinda neat. Anyways, I digress.
Once I was in pre-op, it was a waiting game. Several nurses came in to ask the same questions over and over again. (What's your name and date of birth? Are you allergic to anything? What procedure are you having today? Good lord...should I be worried??) The surgeon, Dr. Boyer, came in and went over the procedure with me one last time. Finally, the anesthesiologist (or his assistant) came in and started rolling me back to the operating room. I was told on the walk down that she was putting something in my IV that would relax me. I assured her (probably repeatedly) that I wasn't feeling any different.
Hey, I don't want to be one of those people who wake up in surgery. Don't judge.
She adjusted my IV and I felt some warmth in my arm. When we got to the operating room, it looked totally different from Grey's Anatomy. It was bright, huge (almost reminding me of a warehouse or something) and there was no viewing room upstairs.
As we all know, Seattle Grace's (or now Grey Sloan Memorial) operating rooms are dark and more compact with a stadium seat viewing area.
I remember that one by one, people began standing around me at the table. When Dr. Boyer arrived, I remember him asking me about the date of my accident. I began answering him...
Blink.
I open my eyes in this weird, bright room filled with beds with a lady sitting beside me. She asks me some question, and I replied "I hurt." She adjusts my IV.
Blink.
I open my eyes again, and the same lady is telling me to breathe. I ask to see my family, and she tells me I need to breathe first.
Blink.
I am in another room, alone this time, with another nurse, who is again telling me to breathe.
FAMILY, lady, bring them to me.
Blink.
This time, I open my eyes and Derrick is walking in the room.
Blink.
My parents have joined him. And that last nurse, is hovering either over me or at the door.
Stop telling me to breathe, I am obviously breathing. You are so annoying.
Apparently, between the anesthesia and the pain medication given to me afterwards, I wasn't breathing like I should have been. The nurses were standing guard to make sure that they would be able to release me without admitting me to the hospital.
Finally, finally, I get the breathing thing down to their satisfaction, and I am released into the wild.
The first few days home were a blur. My parents stayed through Sunday to help me adjust post surgery. My foot is wrapped up in this splint-boot type of contraption for the time being. I have to be extra careful because it is not as hard as a regular cast and I am not allowed to shower or bathe while it is on. (That could be AN ENTIRELY NEW post. My poor husband and child.) While my parents were here, I stayed/slept in the recliner downstairs. I pretty much slept the entire time, except when they would wake me to take medication or blow in this stupid plastic thing the hospital gave me to help clear my lungs. I know it sounds silly, but every time I was asked to blow in this thing, I would get furious. I don't know why. It irritated me. That's all I know. Like the kind of irritation that caused people to get throat punched. Those threats were made, just saying. The pain, however, has not been nearly as bad as the last time. THANK THE GOOD LORD. It's almost disconcerting, because although I have moments that remind me of the surgery, I almost don't feel any different. With the exception that I am literally not mobile right now.
With my parents leaving on Sunday, it is now just me, Harper, and Derrick. And you know what? That is a really good thing. Anyone who knows me, knows that I have always been able to rely on my parents a tremendous amount, especially for emotional support. And, I always will. I have learned something, though, over the last week. It is really tough for a husband to truly support and assist his wife when her parents are there trying to fill that role. And, although I need my parents (and always will), I need my husband through this. And he needs for me to need him.
When I started writing today, I had all these stories filed in my head of the funny (and ridiculous) things that have happened over the last 7 days concerning Derrick. Come on, we all know it happens...and I know people have said that they enjoy the funny quips that I have made in previous blog postings. But you know what? Not this time.
This time, I am just going to say that I really am thankful for my husband. It isn't easy to be him right now. He is working a full time job, and rushing home to take care of both his small child and his wife, who are both practically fully dependent on him for survival at the moment. He is responsible for making sure every one is fed (including the two cats and one dog), bathed (ok, well not me, until next week. GROSS), entertained, put to bed, etc. etc. It doesn't help that I have periods of frustration because I can't take care of myself and my child the way that I want to, which I am guilty of taking out on him. And, you know what? Even when I do take it out on him, he stays calm. Irritating. Endearing.
The man has probably had 7 hours of sleep since Sunday, still keeps a smile on his face, still stays positive 100% of the time and he still tells me that I am beautiful several times a day. (Which...is a lie. I haven't showered in a week. Come on.) (I obviously have a complex over this.)
I am truly blessed.
(Definitely next time though, Derrick....everything is fair game...stayed tuned.)
Thursday, December 11, 2014
Monday, December 1, 2014
Because You Are With Me, I Will Not Fear - Psalm 118:6
What a whirlwind the last week has been for the Hines Family.
We started the Thanksgiving holiday week with a visit to see Derrick's family in Spartanburg, stopped in North Carolina to see my grandfather, worked two days, and traveled down to Florida to see my parents for the latter part of the week. No rest for the weary.
With a 15 month old, there are numerous stories, tantrums, and stories about tantrums on an extended road trip. However, due to the shortage in time before I become a cripple once again, I have decided to narrow these lovely "parental moments" to a top three of lessons learned while traveling.
LESSON #1 - BEWARE OF THE DAREDEVIL DAUGHTER: While visiting Derrick's family in Spartanburg, my mother-in-law graciously made breakfast one morning (biscuits and gravy, of course). We brought Harper's high chair with us, and positioned it on the edge of the living room while everyone gathered on the couches to eat breakfast. Harper was happily eating/playing/throwing her food in her chair and we were chatting/eating/watching television. All of the sudden, I became aware of every parent's worst nightmare -- Silence. When I turned my head, I saw my daughter standing on top of her highchair. Heart stopping moment. Of course, she is giggling with this devilish smile on her face, as if to say "Hehehe, see what happens when I don't have 100% of your focus and attention?!" This is the type of situation where you want to freak the F out because you are certain your child is going to fall and crack her skull open. Which is exactly why you can't freak out. Without reacting, Derrick and I slowly moved toward Harper, and sat her down. At this point, we fussed at her about her actions, but I am certain that our words were not absorbed through her laughter.
Yeah, so the moral of the story is that when all those "been there, done that" parents tell you not to take your eyes off your toddler, they LITERALLY mean it. Never, ever. Even if you think they are in a secured position.
LESSON #2 - BEWARE OF THE ALOOF FATHER: The next (mis)adventure with our little lady was a result of some brilliance by dear daddy. At this point in Harper's life, she is wide open. This means that you literally have to cage her into a room to ensure that disaster is avoided. At my parents house, we barricaded the living room with couches, chairs, and coffee tables. All of Harper's stuff was inside of the barricade, so it was a make shift playroom. At no time, was Harper to be out of the barricade without adult supervision. Simple stuff. Well, after a day of Black Friday shopping, my foot was spent, and I was hobbling around pretty good, so I was propped up on a chair. Harper had a diaper that needed to be changed, so I asked Derrick to take Diaper Duty (he is actually really good at this...he handles the majority of diapers, I must admit. I feel bad about it, until I remember that I was the one to birth this child....) Anyways, Derrick dutifully (ha...what an appropriate word for this sentence) took Harper while my mom and I watched something on the television. About fifteen minutes later, we heard this splashing sound. We turn around and Harper is sitting on the floor, with her legs wrapped around Finn's water bowl, and is splashing around in the water. In a smocked outfit. Which is completely soaked. As is the entire floor around her. She is having a ball and gleefully laughing at us. We yell for Derrick, who comes in the room, completely unaware that our child is playing in the dog bowls. "WTF" I say to him. His response?? "Oh, man, I thought she went back in the room with y'all." Seriously? There are no words...
See --- Moral of the Story under Lesson 1.
LESSON #3 - BEWARE OF POOPY DIAPERS AND TRAVEL WEARY TODDLERS: So this happened. About six hours into our trip home from Florida (which should have been about 5 hours total), we had to stop in Ridgeland, SC to change Harper's diaper. Up until this point in our trip, she had either slept or was content with talking to herself and Finn. However, when we pulled her from her car seat, we unwittingly released a demon. She DID NOT want to lay down to have her gross diaper changed. She was screaming and kicking and all around causing a scene as people walked by our car. It took both of us to hold her down to get her diaper off. And, what does she do? She balks her body which basically knocked the diaper down, causing the side of the seat and car to be covered in baby poop. Disgusting. Embarrassing. Disgusting. This was definitely one of those "take a deep breath" moments.
ON TOP OF ALL OF THIS - My almost 15 year old cat, Callie, had a stroke last Tuesday. For several days, she could barely walk and I was scared that she wouldn't make it. Of all weeks, this was the worst possible timing EVER. Callie is my first kitty and she is supposed to live forever. After several sketchy days, she took a turn for the better and is now walking and acting semi-normal. We are still guarded and watching over her very closely, but I think she is going to recover.
Overall, we had a great Thanksgiving break and spent much needed quality time with both our families before my surgery. So, I am going to switch gears. (Nice transition, I know.)
Now, we have come upon THE week.
This is it.
In about 36 hours, I will be rolled into the operating room and the future of my foot and mobility will be out of my control.
At this moment, I am struggling to find a humorous or clever way to describe how I am feeling. Because the truth is, I am scared. Like truly petrified.
Fear of the outcome.
Fear of the pain.
Fear of the impact on my family.
Fear of the unknown.
There have been several moments in the last couple weeks, where I have found myself in the car alone, and tears just start streaming down my face. In front of everyone but myself, I put on a brave face. Yes, I say that I am nervous, blah blah. But, when I am alone, I find myself starting to panic.
The kind of panic that happens when you try to breathe, but that breath gets caught in your throat and you can't swallow and your heart starts beating real fast and you feel like you are going to be sick but your throat is literally closing up so you start choking on the feeling of the stuck breath and nausea.
It is a terrible feeling.
And, no, when you ask me, I really don't want to talk about it. (Hence, the "blog therapy" mentioned in my very first blog.) But, that fear and panic is definitely my reality right now.
I have moments where I just want to call this whole thing off.
I am so overwhelmed with fear, combined with the stress of feeling like my house is not in order.
And, then I realize, that God is by my side. HE always has been by my side. Even when I have made bad decisions or failed to keep Him at the center of my life. Every single time when I have faltered or needed Him, he has been with me. And so, going into Wednesday, I am going to close my eyes and thank Him for his unending love, grace, and forgiveness, and remember that because he is with me, I need not fear.
And, hopefully, I will feel peace.
We started the Thanksgiving holiday week with a visit to see Derrick's family in Spartanburg, stopped in North Carolina to see my grandfather, worked two days, and traveled down to Florida to see my parents for the latter part of the week. No rest for the weary.
With a 15 month old, there are numerous stories, tantrums, and stories about tantrums on an extended road trip. However, due to the shortage in time before I become a cripple once again, I have decided to narrow these lovely "parental moments" to a top three of lessons learned while traveling.
LESSON #1 - BEWARE OF THE DAREDEVIL DAUGHTER: While visiting Derrick's family in Spartanburg, my mother-in-law graciously made breakfast one morning (biscuits and gravy, of course). We brought Harper's high chair with us, and positioned it on the edge of the living room while everyone gathered on the couches to eat breakfast. Harper was happily eating/playing/throwing her food in her chair and we were chatting/eating/watching television. All of the sudden, I became aware of every parent's worst nightmare -- Silence. When I turned my head, I saw my daughter standing on top of her highchair. Heart stopping moment. Of course, she is giggling with this devilish smile on her face, as if to say "Hehehe, see what happens when I don't have 100% of your focus and attention?!" This is the type of situation where you want to freak the F out because you are certain your child is going to fall and crack her skull open. Which is exactly why you can't freak out. Without reacting, Derrick and I slowly moved toward Harper, and sat her down. At this point, we fussed at her about her actions, but I am certain that our words were not absorbed through her laughter.
Yeah, so the moral of the story is that when all those "been there, done that" parents tell you not to take your eyes off your toddler, they LITERALLY mean it. Never, ever. Even if you think they are in a secured position.
LESSON #2 - BEWARE OF THE ALOOF FATHER: The next (mis)adventure with our little lady was a result of some brilliance by dear daddy. At this point in Harper's life, she is wide open. This means that you literally have to cage her into a room to ensure that disaster is avoided. At my parents house, we barricaded the living room with couches, chairs, and coffee tables. All of Harper's stuff was inside of the barricade, so it was a make shift playroom. At no time, was Harper to be out of the barricade without adult supervision. Simple stuff. Well, after a day of Black Friday shopping, my foot was spent, and I was hobbling around pretty good, so I was propped up on a chair. Harper had a diaper that needed to be changed, so I asked Derrick to take Diaper Duty (he is actually really good at this...he handles the majority of diapers, I must admit. I feel bad about it, until I remember that I was the one to birth this child....) Anyways, Derrick dutifully (ha...what an appropriate word for this sentence) took Harper while my mom and I watched something on the television. About fifteen minutes later, we heard this splashing sound. We turn around and Harper is sitting on the floor, with her legs wrapped around Finn's water bowl, and is splashing around in the water. In a smocked outfit. Which is completely soaked. As is the entire floor around her. She is having a ball and gleefully laughing at us. We yell for Derrick, who comes in the room, completely unaware that our child is playing in the dog bowls. "WTF" I say to him. His response?? "Oh, man, I thought she went back in the room with y'all." Seriously? There are no words...
See --- Moral of the Story under Lesson 1.
LESSON #3 - BEWARE OF POOPY DIAPERS AND TRAVEL WEARY TODDLERS: So this happened. About six hours into our trip home from Florida (which should have been about 5 hours total), we had to stop in Ridgeland, SC to change Harper's diaper. Up until this point in our trip, she had either slept or was content with talking to herself and Finn. However, when we pulled her from her car seat, we unwittingly released a demon. She DID NOT want to lay down to have her gross diaper changed. She was screaming and kicking and all around causing a scene as people walked by our car. It took both of us to hold her down to get her diaper off. And, what does she do? She balks her body which basically knocked the diaper down, causing the side of the seat and car to be covered in baby poop. Disgusting. Embarrassing. Disgusting. This was definitely one of those "take a deep breath" moments.
ON TOP OF ALL OF THIS - My almost 15 year old cat, Callie, had a stroke last Tuesday. For several days, she could barely walk and I was scared that she wouldn't make it. Of all weeks, this was the worst possible timing EVER. Callie is my first kitty and she is supposed to live forever. After several sketchy days, she took a turn for the better and is now walking and acting semi-normal. We are still guarded and watching over her very closely, but I think she is going to recover.
Overall, we had a great Thanksgiving break and spent much needed quality time with both our families before my surgery. So, I am going to switch gears. (Nice transition, I know.)
Now, we have come upon THE week.
This is it.
In about 36 hours, I will be rolled into the operating room and the future of my foot and mobility will be out of my control.
At this moment, I am struggling to find a humorous or clever way to describe how I am feeling. Because the truth is, I am scared. Like truly petrified.
Fear of the outcome.
Fear of the pain.
Fear of the impact on my family.
Fear of the unknown.
There have been several moments in the last couple weeks, where I have found myself in the car alone, and tears just start streaming down my face. In front of everyone but myself, I put on a brave face. Yes, I say that I am nervous, blah blah. But, when I am alone, I find myself starting to panic.
The kind of panic that happens when you try to breathe, but that breath gets caught in your throat and you can't swallow and your heart starts beating real fast and you feel like you are going to be sick but your throat is literally closing up so you start choking on the feeling of the stuck breath and nausea.
It is a terrible feeling.
And, no, when you ask me, I really don't want to talk about it. (Hence, the "blog therapy" mentioned in my very first blog.) But, that fear and panic is definitely my reality right now.
I have moments where I just want to call this whole thing off.
I am so overwhelmed with fear, combined with the stress of feeling like my house is not in order.
And, then I realize, that God is by my side. HE always has been by my side. Even when I have made bad decisions or failed to keep Him at the center of my life. Every single time when I have faltered or needed Him, he has been with me. And so, going into Wednesday, I am going to close my eyes and thank Him for his unending love, grace, and forgiveness, and remember that because he is with me, I need not fear.
And, hopefully, I will feel peace.
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