It is now June 14 and I am still in debilitating pain. My last post about this stated that the pain was severe from May 13. I had the epidural a month ago and it did no good at all. After an MRI, I found out why. It was given in the wrong place - between L4 and L5 which is where all my problems have been in the past. The problem now is between L5 and S1. I had an EMG and found that all my nerves are alive which is really great news but the ones at the base of the spine are not giving as strong a signal as they should. Looking over everything, my doctor told me no good doctor would operate on me. That made me happy. It has taken a long time but I am having one epidural tomorrow afternoon and a second one on June 29. I have real hope that these will work. I need to hope that because I am not sure there is much more that can be done. I am on gabapentin, the full dose as of yesterday. This has helped my fibromyalgia. The constant pain throughout my body doesn't exist any more. I don't know if it has helped my horrible back/leg pain at all but with that and ibuprofen, I do feel somewhat better and I was able to go out to lunch for a few days. At this point, because of the epidural, I am again unable to take it.
I have been spending a lot of time in the house. I am lucky because I do have family and friends who help my mental health. There are six examples of this. My sister sent me constant texts and pictures while on her trip east. I loved looking at them and remembering being in those same places. She had me smiling a lot. My friend in Connecticut has written emails to me every day and that has not only made me smile but made me think about so many things. My daughters always gave me encouraging words and figured out how I could make my summer trip even if I didn't get any better. And then my partner who has hardly left my side, got me all the delicious, unhealthy food I desired, sat with me when I lost it because of all the pain and has been my complete sense of strength throughout all of this. There were others also who sent me good wishes and thoughts through Facebook and I appreciate them all. I don't know what I would have done without all of this positive words and actions.
And so I now have 22 hours before I have the first shot. I am ready. And I have a positive attitude that it will help. So, anyone who reads this, please think positive thoughts toward me at 4:00 PM PDT tomorrow, June 15, because I know I will feel them. Thank you.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Thoughts about Pain
Since Friday (today is Wednesday), I have been suffering with debilitating pain from my back. It feels like there is a wick in my spine that gets lit and then burns all the way down my right leg to my toes, especially burning my ankle. I have rather severe stenosis of the spine and degenerative disk disorder. This pain is severe enough that I can’t find a comfortable place to sit, stand or lay. What makes it worse is that I can take no pain medication. For some reason, my body rejects every one of them except ibuprofen which does little good. Tomorrow I am scheduled for an epidural so I can’t even take ibuprofen now. My quality of life is just about nil. I haven’t left the house since Sunday when I did go out for brunch but then came right home. I am not a stay-at-home type of person.
Today I started looking at old pictures on my computer. I have had some wonderful trips and seen many places from Halifax to Waikiki. I have been to Paris and some parts of Mexico. I have been to all 50 states including a great trip to Alaska. I have been to the Caribbean. I look at those pictures and I think that was in the past. I have had a wonderful past. But – and there is that word “but” – because of the severe pain, I have trouble seeing much of anything in my future. The epidural should help as they always have but it is not a cure and I can only have one since I had two in November and one can only have 3 in a year.
So what can I do? I read and watch TV and listen to the radio. B has been waiting on me, making all my food, helping me with every possible thing. She is an excellent caregiver but I am not terribly good at letting people help me although I have improved over the years in that area. In July I am going to Milwaukee and then taking my granddaughter to Turks and Caicos. I have to be better. The doctors tell me that the only possible cure is surgery and that is not a positive either. In my later years, surgery has given me complications and so I want to avoid that but it may be my only choice.
I recently read three books about WWII and realized how lucky I was. I was born in 1938 in Milwaukee. I could have been born somewhere in Europe and, since I am Jewish, who knows what could have happened. None of my relatives were in Europe during that time either. The luck of birth. I was also born into a family that loved children and only wanted the best for them. Another stroke of luck. I need to look at all the wonderful things in my life and there are many when something like this happens. And I have many things to look forward to as well. It is just that, at this moment, I seem to just want to wallow and try to deal with this pain until tomorrow when I will have the shot.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Valentine’s Day and a few other “holidays”
I hate Valentine’s Day. There are a few other “holidays” that I have reservations about but none of them compare with my feelings about Valentine’s Day. I even know where that stems from – school. Every Valentine’s Day I walked to school with all my valentines – my mother made me give to everyone – and all I wanted to do was stay at home and hide under the covers. All I could think of was - what if nobody gave me a card? What if I just got a few cards while everyone else got bunches? The worst part was that my mother always included a card for me in my bag of valentines. I thought that even she thought I wasn’t going to get any valentines and so she sent one to me in that bag. As soon as I saw it, I stuffed it into my coat pocket. In reality, I always got a fair share of cards but every year I worried. So much for my self-esteem as a child and teenager. This all came back to me as a teacher when the student council sold candygrams as a fundraiser. Members of student council would come around during the day to hand out these candygrams to those who were lucky enough to be the recipients of them. As I watched the faces of expectation followed by the faces of disappointment, I was pushed right back to my youth. As an adult, I looked at Valentine’s Day as an excuse to eat candy. My husband was not a romantic but he learned soon enough that this day meant candy and a card. (Of course, he also became my ex-husband). The part of Valentine’s Day that I really loved was getting cards from my children and grandchildren that they had made. I miss that.
Another “holiday” that I have ambivalent feelings about it is Mother’s Day. Since my oldest daughter was born the end of May, I felt I missed my first Mother’s Day and was ecstatic the following year to be recognized as a mother. My sister and I always got my mother geraniums because she loved them along with a card. Again I loved the cards my kids made for me. Around 1972, I decided that I didn’t want my children to get me presents but that they should send a donation to NARAL (the National Abortion Rights League) in my name. In those days, NARAL had an ad in the paper on Mother’s Day which expressed my feelings exactly – feelings I have to this day. Children should be wanted and loved. Motherhood is great if that is what a woman wants as I did. However, every woman should have control over her own body and therefore should be able to have legal and safe abortions. I explained this to my children and they agreed with me and for many years, they sent the donations. I still ask them to do that. But I also like cards.
Which brings me to another subject – cards. I love them. I keep them. I send them – real cards not ecards which are not permanent, although I must admit I do send ecards sometimes, especially to people who seem to only send them. I display cards on my mantle and on Christmas/Chanukah on the door. I used to get cards from people for Valentine’s Day, my birthday, Christmas and Chanukah, Mother’s Day but now there are fewer of them. My daughters have received that message and I hint around my birthday and Mother’s Day and now I do get more. I really don’t care about gifts (well, they are nice). I do care about cards. I keep them. I look at them and they bring back very nice memories. After my complaining this year about the lack of cards, I get a great one from my sister and I thank her. It is displayed so I can look at it all day. So here is a rather strong hint to all who are related to me – send cards.
Happy Valentine’s Day to all who read my blog.
Another “holiday” that I have ambivalent feelings about it is Mother’s Day. Since my oldest daughter was born the end of May, I felt I missed my first Mother’s Day and was ecstatic the following year to be recognized as a mother. My sister and I always got my mother geraniums because she loved them along with a card. Again I loved the cards my kids made for me. Around 1972, I decided that I didn’t want my children to get me presents but that they should send a donation to NARAL (the National Abortion Rights League) in my name. In those days, NARAL had an ad in the paper on Mother’s Day which expressed my feelings exactly – feelings I have to this day. Children should be wanted and loved. Motherhood is great if that is what a woman wants as I did. However, every woman should have control over her own body and therefore should be able to have legal and safe abortions. I explained this to my children and they agreed with me and for many years, they sent the donations. I still ask them to do that. But I also like cards.
Which brings me to another subject – cards. I love them. I keep them. I send them – real cards not ecards which are not permanent, although I must admit I do send ecards sometimes, especially to people who seem to only send them. I display cards on my mantle and on Christmas/Chanukah on the door. I used to get cards from people for Valentine’s Day, my birthday, Christmas and Chanukah, Mother’s Day but now there are fewer of them. My daughters have received that message and I hint around my birthday and Mother’s Day and now I do get more. I really don’t care about gifts (well, they are nice). I do care about cards. I keep them. I look at them and they bring back very nice memories. After my complaining this year about the lack of cards, I get a great one from my sister and I thank her. It is displayed so I can look at it all day. So here is a rather strong hint to all who are related to me – send cards.
Happy Valentine’s Day to all who read my blog.
Addendum: My mother had a card business (Hallmark) in my dad’s pharmacy. Maybe that is where my love of cards comes from – When you care enough to send the best.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Beginning 2011
Maybe I should have called this Ending 2010. It all started right before my birthday which is November 20. Every year it starts before my birthday. It used to start at Halloween but now I have just about dismissed Halloween from my holidays except I do wear my pumpkin shirt and I often go to the mall to see the children. But nobody comes to our door and, since I no longer teach, I am not exposed to the hordes of treats that are in a school. So, it now all starts around my birthday.
The problem is a long drawn-out binge. I start eating just before my birthday and I don’t end until usually around January 3rd. I also decide that this is vacation time from exercising. For me, this has been a regular part of my existence – eat a lot and don’t exercise from Mid-November until the beginning of January. However, this year was worse.
Last January, 2010, I came back from a wonderful trip to New York and Milwaukee to find out that two friends had died, another had terminal cancer (she died later in the year) and I had blocked arteries requiring four stents. Not a good beginning to a New Year. Following that Bonnie decided we needed a life change and so she started cooking very healthy meals and we went regularly to the gym. We rarely went out to eat, only on special occasions, and even then I ate carefully. We traveled and I ate carefully, not as good as I did at home, but much better than I ever had before. And it paid off. My blood sugar dropped. My blood pressure and cholesterol improved dramatically and I lost 25 pounds. All was going well until mid-November.
Sometime before that, I stopped going to the gym regularly because of severe problems with my back. That pain has been alleviated to a great extent because I had two epidurals – one in late November and one in early December. So I could have started exercising then but I didn’t. And then came the coupons. Birthday gifts from various restaurants we had frequented in the past. Some were for free meals. Others were to buy one, get one free. Others were for free appetizers or free desserts. We took advantage of every one. I celebrated my birthday for at least three weeks and that was a celebration of food.
Then came Chanukah and by this time, I was a goner. This is the first year in maybe three years that we have been home for Christmas. We put up the tree and decorated the apartment. And we went out to eat every day and brought in foods that we enjoy – cheese potato chips, cheese popcorn, Joe’s peppermint cookies, cheese, crackers, candy and more. We had hardly a healthy thing in our house. I even got white bread rather than whole wheat. We also celebrated every Packer football game. Give me a reason and there was a celebration and for me, that means food.
What was the result of this binge? I gained 10 pounds and that is not an exaggeration. I also had some physical reactions which I don’t know if they were related to the food consumption or not. I awoke to go to the bathroom about 4 times a night. I had night sweats and cramping in my feet at night. I hope all these things go away as my food and exercise get back to normal. But I really wonder why I did this. Is it based on past happy experiences? I always ate more during this time but not like this. Is it because we had eaten so well for 10 months that I just “fell off the wagon?” Probably but one would think that having a health scare would be a strong enough incentive for that not to happen. I know my blood sugar is up. My blood pressure is still good. I don’t know about the cholesterol but I will find out at the end of this month. I would hope that next year I will not allow my end-of-the-year binges to take control of my life and that I will be strong enough to resist something I have done throughout my adulthood. But it was fun.
The problem is a long drawn-out binge. I start eating just before my birthday and I don’t end until usually around January 3rd. I also decide that this is vacation time from exercising. For me, this has been a regular part of my existence – eat a lot and don’t exercise from Mid-November until the beginning of January. However, this year was worse.
Last January, 2010, I came back from a wonderful trip to New York and Milwaukee to find out that two friends had died, another had terminal cancer (she died later in the year) and I had blocked arteries requiring four stents. Not a good beginning to a New Year. Following that Bonnie decided we needed a life change and so she started cooking very healthy meals and we went regularly to the gym. We rarely went out to eat, only on special occasions, and even then I ate carefully. We traveled and I ate carefully, not as good as I did at home, but much better than I ever had before. And it paid off. My blood sugar dropped. My blood pressure and cholesterol improved dramatically and I lost 25 pounds. All was going well until mid-November.
Sometime before that, I stopped going to the gym regularly because of severe problems with my back. That pain has been alleviated to a great extent because I had two epidurals – one in late November and one in early December. So I could have started exercising then but I didn’t. And then came the coupons. Birthday gifts from various restaurants we had frequented in the past. Some were for free meals. Others were to buy one, get one free. Others were for free appetizers or free desserts. We took advantage of every one. I celebrated my birthday for at least three weeks and that was a celebration of food.
Then came Chanukah and by this time, I was a goner. This is the first year in maybe three years that we have been home for Christmas. We put up the tree and decorated the apartment. And we went out to eat every day and brought in foods that we enjoy – cheese potato chips, cheese popcorn, Joe’s peppermint cookies, cheese, crackers, candy and more. We had hardly a healthy thing in our house. I even got white bread rather than whole wheat. We also celebrated every Packer football game. Give me a reason and there was a celebration and for me, that means food.
What was the result of this binge? I gained 10 pounds and that is not an exaggeration. I also had some physical reactions which I don’t know if they were related to the food consumption or not. I awoke to go to the bathroom about 4 times a night. I had night sweats and cramping in my feet at night. I hope all these things go away as my food and exercise get back to normal. But I really wonder why I did this. Is it based on past happy experiences? I always ate more during this time but not like this. Is it because we had eaten so well for 10 months that I just “fell off the wagon?” Probably but one would think that having a health scare would be a strong enough incentive for that not to happen. I know my blood sugar is up. My blood pressure is still good. I don’t know about the cholesterol but I will find out at the end of this month. I would hope that next year I will not allow my end-of-the-year binges to take control of my life and that I will be strong enough to resist something I have done throughout my adulthood. But it was fun.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Woman-Cave
Lately, I have taken to watching HGTV which is very unusual since I have never had much interest in home or garden. Having married into a family who owned a furniture store and making numerous trips to the Furniture Mart in Chicago, I enjoyed that type of thing even less than I had before. When told by my mother-in-law that I had to learn the business so I could help my husband when he took it over, I informed her that I would never do that. If I worked, it would not be in the furniture store. It would be teaching. So here I am, many years later, and I am watching HDTV. What a shock.
I learned a new term – man-cave. As these couples look for a new home, many of the men want a man-cave. My curiosity was peaking. What was a man-cave? This is a place where the man can do what he wants, leave everything where he wants and nobody will care or bother him. So – I want a woman-cave. I also want a place where I can do many projects at once, leaving them in all states of disarray and they will be touched by nobody. This has not seemed possible. We have an extra bedroom but that is our guest room. We enjoy having guests and so I don’t want to change that.
Why do I want a woman-cave? I have a lot of things I would like to do and I am not actually a very organized person. I like to have many things going at once since I tend to get bored. I want my electronic piano where I can play it without disturbing anyone. I want to organize my genealogy stuff and make it into something that I can hand down to my family. I actually want to add to it, not from the distant past but from the past I remember. This would necessitate my going through thousands of pictures, many in our basement (actually a storage locker). And there will be more projects, I am sure, as something else pops into my mind.
I have been talking about this lately and today BK suggested that, since we aren’t expecting any company until March, I should turn our guest room into my woman-cave. That will give me quite a long time where I can spread everything out and it won’t be disturbed. I think I will try it so thank you HGTV and thank you BK for the suggestion. Woman-cave here I come!
I learned a new term – man-cave. As these couples look for a new home, many of the men want a man-cave. My curiosity was peaking. What was a man-cave? This is a place where the man can do what he wants, leave everything where he wants and nobody will care or bother him. So – I want a woman-cave. I also want a place where I can do many projects at once, leaving them in all states of disarray and they will be touched by nobody. This has not seemed possible. We have an extra bedroom but that is our guest room. We enjoy having guests and so I don’t want to change that.
Why do I want a woman-cave? I have a lot of things I would like to do and I am not actually a very organized person. I like to have many things going at once since I tend to get bored. I want my electronic piano where I can play it without disturbing anyone. I want to organize my genealogy stuff and make it into something that I can hand down to my family. I actually want to add to it, not from the distant past but from the past I remember. This would necessitate my going through thousands of pictures, many in our basement (actually a storage locker). And there will be more projects, I am sure, as something else pops into my mind.
I have been talking about this lately and today BK suggested that, since we aren’t expecting any company until March, I should turn our guest room into my woman-cave. That will give me quite a long time where I can spread everything out and it won’t be disturbed. I think I will try it so thank you HGTV and thank you BK for the suggestion. Woman-cave here I come!
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Life Is Ever-Changing
Yesterday I was feeling particularly sorry for myself. I am leaving for New York tomorrow and I have something wrong with my eye – an infection or a contusion – neither of which is serious but annoying. About two weeks ago, I started having trouble with my hamstring which is really a problem with my back. Yesterday I went to the doctor and was told that it would probably get worse before it gets better. This was upsetting not only because I am leaving for New York and then on to Milwaukee but also because there is a pattern. It seems that every time I feel I am improving my body, something else breaks down. So, I slumped into the “woe is me” pattern. I usually allow myself a day or two to wallow and then I get back to being my normal self. However, last night after a wonderful Chanukah dinner at my sister’s house, I looked at my Blackberry and saw I had an email from a friend. She informed me that another friend, a woman I have known since moving to LA, has ovarian cancer, is in the hospital scheduled for surgery and for chemotherapy. All of a sudden, I forgot about my aches and pains. Nothing I have is life-threatening. All my thoughts are with my friend. May she know that so many people are thinking of her, love her and wish her well, hoping she has a quick and successful recovery.
Monday, October 26, 2009
October, 1979 – The Time That Changed My Life
The other day I was driving along and I changed the station on my Sirius radio to The Blend and there was a country song. In all the time I have listened to that station, I have never heard a country song so I listened to Tim McGraw singing “Live Like You Were Dying.” I thought that was particularly fitting since it is the end of October. For most people that means nothing but for me it is the time that changed my life. On October 29, 1979, thirty years ago, BK, BJ, K and I attended a conference about women gaining power. We left the conference in two cars and I was feeling depressed. I was working as an IRS tax auditor, a job I hated but took with hopes of transferring to the EEOC. I didn’t know that right before I was eligible to transfer, President Carter would put a hold on all transfers out of IRS. I guess the government needed more money. Anyway, I was stuck in a job I hated and it was Sunday which meant I was going to start a new week. I was sitting in the passenger seat of the car and I put the seat in a reclining position and closed my eyes. This was before seat belt requirements and I wasn’t wearing one. I thought, “I wish I didn’t have to go to work tomorrow.” Be careful what you wish for. The next thing I remember was darkness, being very cold, the smell of oil or gas, hearing people talk about medical things, having difficulty breathing and pain – lots of pain. Apparently, as we were making a left turn with a green arrow, a young woman drove her friend’s car through a red light hitting us right where I was reclining. The side of the car was completely torn off and I fell or was thrown out of the car.
BJ has her story as she was driving a few blocks behind us and drove past this accident, unaware or unable to register that the body in the road was her sister. BK had a concussion, whiplash and many cuts from glass but she was not hospitalized. The driver of the car that hit us was unhurt. I had a broken collar bone, 7 broken ribs, broken in two places so they were floating in my chest, a partial pneumo-thorax (collapsed lung), some scratches on the outside of the heart, a severe tearing of the skin of my right knee, a broken left leg and a shattered left ankle. The ribs, collar bone, knee and lung problems were all on the right side. They occurred when the car hit me. My left leg and ankle were injured when I fell or was thrown out of the car. I also had many other cuts and whiplash and, although I was told I had no brain injury, I later realized that it was sometimes difficult to retrieve the correct word, even for common objects. I have always been thought of as being rather glib but I was much better before the accident. That is what this has always been called – “the accident.” In my family, there doesn’t need any other explanation.
I ended up in intensive care for 5 days, for 3 of those days they were unsure if I would live. During that time, I had an out-of-body experience, probably close to what others have called a near death experience. Because of my broken ribs, I found breathing very difficult and painful. At one point, a nurse was sitting next to me and I guess I stopped breathing. Because of the pain, I had to force myself to breathe. There were times when my autonomic nervous system would decide that I couldn’t take the pain anymore and so the breathing would stop and I would have to force myself to breathe. This time, I didn’t. I saw black and felt no pain. Then I was out of my body looking down at me and the nurse. She was encouraging me to keep breathing but I thought, “Why? I have no pain. In fact, I feel great.” Then she said that if I didn’t start breathing on my own quickly, they would get a respirator and that would force me to breathe and it would be much more painful. I remembered my father having one after open heart surgery and realized that they weren’t going to let me just stay in that space so I took a breath. It was at that moment that I decided to live. This all probably took seconds but it has been indelible in my mind.
It would be wonderful if I could say that after this out-of-body experience, I became this person who was grateful to be alive, that even though my body had become changed forever in a nano-second, I was cheerful and optimistic. It would be wonderful but it would also be a lie. I was angry. I was told that I may never be able to walk without a brace because of a shattered ankle. I had to endure a chest tube, debreeding of my knee, and many other very painful procedures. I was totally dependent on others for everything now. Why did this have to happen to me? I lashed out at everyone. Here is a perfect example of what kind of patient I was. I was being fed intravenously but I would get very dry so I could have ice chips. I was totally unable to get anything myself so whoever was there would get ice chips for me. If it was BJ, she never gave me enough. If it was BK, she always gave me too much. Nothing was ever right and I let everyone know that. I was completely bedridden, unable to do the simplest things myself. When I was stable, they operated on my leg and ankle putting me in a cast from my hip to my toes. I couldn’t use a walker for a very long time because of my collar bone and my ribs. I needed help for everything and, if you know me, that was very difficult. I have no idea how anyone put up with me.
I spent 5 weeks in the hospital. What kept me going was thinking that I could not get worse, that the only thing I could do was get better. One day my father stood at the foot of the bed and suddenly there were tears in his eyes. He told me that I was such a brave and courageous person, that I fought so hard to live and he was so proud and thankful. Since my family was not very demonstrative and my parents seldom, if ever, told us they loved us even though their actions showed us they did, this was very powerful for me. There was also a nun who came to talk to me regularly even though I am Jewish. She was very helpful. The nurse, who forced me to breathe, came to see me after a particularly difficult time in the ICU. She wanted to see one who made it. I was unable to read because the pain meds made it difficult to concentrate. I couldn’t write but I was able to eat with my left hand and I could watch TV. That is what I did between medical procedures – eat and watch TV. My family came every day and spent as much time as they could with me. I don’t think I ever thanked anyone who was close to me. Instead, I lashed at those who I loved the most. I spent my 41st birthday in the hospital. My family, along with the staff, made it possible for me to have a cake and celebrate my birthday in a room other than my hospital room. People said that I was lucky because I lived. I hated hearing that because I felt that if I was lucky, the accident wouldn’t have happened.
After 5 weeks, the hospital told me it was time to leave. Because of the care I needed, they suggested a nursing home. That made me so unhappy, that BK arranged for a hospital bed and all the equipment to come into our townhouse, in the living room which became my room. She came to training so she would know how to help me move and how to care for my needs. We got cable TV which was very new then so I would have things to watch. BK spent most nights sleeping on the couch in case I needed anything. My children were unbelievably wonderful. They had experienced a very traumatic event having almost lost their mother and then having a mother return who was nothing like the one before. BK had taken over and did a wonderful job being their mother for all those weeks. I can’t possibly go into all the adjustments that were made, all the help I received and how I seldom thanked anyone.
It took a long time. During the long recovery at home, I had a lot of time to think – in between eating and watching TV. I understood that I was going through a grieving process – grieving for the body I used to have. I began to accept what had happened. I began to realize that I was lucky to be alive. And I also realized that I needed to change my life. In 1966, my mother died suddenly at the age of 54. At the time, I thought she had missed so much in life that she wanted to do and I wasn’t going to be like that. But, life has a way of changing and choices become not as clear as that. I almost died at age 40 and I was working at a job I hated. I had to make changes. I was out of work for 6 months and when I went back, I decided to quit. I went back to school to get my LD credential and have been teaching, in one way or the other, ever since. I have not stayed at any job where I didn’t feel fulfilled and useful. After my youngest child graduated high school and I felt she seemed settled, I left Milwaukee to spend a year traveling with BK in our converted van all over the Untied States and Canada. I was looking for a warm place to live. I found the perfect job in LA and, although I changed jobs in the years I have been here, I know I made the right choice.
I am now retired. “The Accident” has left me with some reminders. The knee where the skin was all torn has since had to be replaced. I don’t have full lung capacity so I get out of breath easier. I am finding it harder to find the correct words as I am getting older. My ankle aches and sometimes is a bit unstable but I have never needed a brace. I worked very hard trying to make my body as strong as I could and I still do. But I also have a lot of other things. I have been able to do just about everything I ever wanted. I have a family that has always supported me and has always been there. There is no way ever I could show my appreciation for all they did and all they went through with me. And I do exactly what Tim McGraw says in the song - I live like I am dying because all of us actually are and the best thing for each of us to do is to live every day as if it was our last. My life changed on October 29, 1979 and it has made me what I am today. In many ways, I am thankful for that. I am one happy woman.
BJ has her story as she was driving a few blocks behind us and drove past this accident, unaware or unable to register that the body in the road was her sister. BK had a concussion, whiplash and many cuts from glass but she was not hospitalized. The driver of the car that hit us was unhurt. I had a broken collar bone, 7 broken ribs, broken in two places so they were floating in my chest, a partial pneumo-thorax (collapsed lung), some scratches on the outside of the heart, a severe tearing of the skin of my right knee, a broken left leg and a shattered left ankle. The ribs, collar bone, knee and lung problems were all on the right side. They occurred when the car hit me. My left leg and ankle were injured when I fell or was thrown out of the car. I also had many other cuts and whiplash and, although I was told I had no brain injury, I later realized that it was sometimes difficult to retrieve the correct word, even for common objects. I have always been thought of as being rather glib but I was much better before the accident. That is what this has always been called – “the accident.” In my family, there doesn’t need any other explanation.
I ended up in intensive care for 5 days, for 3 of those days they were unsure if I would live. During that time, I had an out-of-body experience, probably close to what others have called a near death experience. Because of my broken ribs, I found breathing very difficult and painful. At one point, a nurse was sitting next to me and I guess I stopped breathing. Because of the pain, I had to force myself to breathe. There were times when my autonomic nervous system would decide that I couldn’t take the pain anymore and so the breathing would stop and I would have to force myself to breathe. This time, I didn’t. I saw black and felt no pain. Then I was out of my body looking down at me and the nurse. She was encouraging me to keep breathing but I thought, “Why? I have no pain. In fact, I feel great.” Then she said that if I didn’t start breathing on my own quickly, they would get a respirator and that would force me to breathe and it would be much more painful. I remembered my father having one after open heart surgery and realized that they weren’t going to let me just stay in that space so I took a breath. It was at that moment that I decided to live. This all probably took seconds but it has been indelible in my mind.
It would be wonderful if I could say that after this out-of-body experience, I became this person who was grateful to be alive, that even though my body had become changed forever in a nano-second, I was cheerful and optimistic. It would be wonderful but it would also be a lie. I was angry. I was told that I may never be able to walk without a brace because of a shattered ankle. I had to endure a chest tube, debreeding of my knee, and many other very painful procedures. I was totally dependent on others for everything now. Why did this have to happen to me? I lashed out at everyone. Here is a perfect example of what kind of patient I was. I was being fed intravenously but I would get very dry so I could have ice chips. I was totally unable to get anything myself so whoever was there would get ice chips for me. If it was BJ, she never gave me enough. If it was BK, she always gave me too much. Nothing was ever right and I let everyone know that. I was completely bedridden, unable to do the simplest things myself. When I was stable, they operated on my leg and ankle putting me in a cast from my hip to my toes. I couldn’t use a walker for a very long time because of my collar bone and my ribs. I needed help for everything and, if you know me, that was very difficult. I have no idea how anyone put up with me.
I spent 5 weeks in the hospital. What kept me going was thinking that I could not get worse, that the only thing I could do was get better. One day my father stood at the foot of the bed and suddenly there were tears in his eyes. He told me that I was such a brave and courageous person, that I fought so hard to live and he was so proud and thankful. Since my family was not very demonstrative and my parents seldom, if ever, told us they loved us even though their actions showed us they did, this was very powerful for me. There was also a nun who came to talk to me regularly even though I am Jewish. She was very helpful. The nurse, who forced me to breathe, came to see me after a particularly difficult time in the ICU. She wanted to see one who made it. I was unable to read because the pain meds made it difficult to concentrate. I couldn’t write but I was able to eat with my left hand and I could watch TV. That is what I did between medical procedures – eat and watch TV. My family came every day and spent as much time as they could with me. I don’t think I ever thanked anyone who was close to me. Instead, I lashed at those who I loved the most. I spent my 41st birthday in the hospital. My family, along with the staff, made it possible for me to have a cake and celebrate my birthday in a room other than my hospital room. People said that I was lucky because I lived. I hated hearing that because I felt that if I was lucky, the accident wouldn’t have happened.
After 5 weeks, the hospital told me it was time to leave. Because of the care I needed, they suggested a nursing home. That made me so unhappy, that BK arranged for a hospital bed and all the equipment to come into our townhouse, in the living room which became my room. She came to training so she would know how to help me move and how to care for my needs. We got cable TV which was very new then so I would have things to watch. BK spent most nights sleeping on the couch in case I needed anything. My children were unbelievably wonderful. They had experienced a very traumatic event having almost lost their mother and then having a mother return who was nothing like the one before. BK had taken over and did a wonderful job being their mother for all those weeks. I can’t possibly go into all the adjustments that were made, all the help I received and how I seldom thanked anyone.
It took a long time. During the long recovery at home, I had a lot of time to think – in between eating and watching TV. I understood that I was going through a grieving process – grieving for the body I used to have. I began to accept what had happened. I began to realize that I was lucky to be alive. And I also realized that I needed to change my life. In 1966, my mother died suddenly at the age of 54. At the time, I thought she had missed so much in life that she wanted to do and I wasn’t going to be like that. But, life has a way of changing and choices become not as clear as that. I almost died at age 40 and I was working at a job I hated. I had to make changes. I was out of work for 6 months and when I went back, I decided to quit. I went back to school to get my LD credential and have been teaching, in one way or the other, ever since. I have not stayed at any job where I didn’t feel fulfilled and useful. After my youngest child graduated high school and I felt she seemed settled, I left Milwaukee to spend a year traveling with BK in our converted van all over the Untied States and Canada. I was looking for a warm place to live. I found the perfect job in LA and, although I changed jobs in the years I have been here, I know I made the right choice.
I am now retired. “The Accident” has left me with some reminders. The knee where the skin was all torn has since had to be replaced. I don’t have full lung capacity so I get out of breath easier. I am finding it harder to find the correct words as I am getting older. My ankle aches and sometimes is a bit unstable but I have never needed a brace. I worked very hard trying to make my body as strong as I could and I still do. But I also have a lot of other things. I have been able to do just about everything I ever wanted. I have a family that has always supported me and has always been there. There is no way ever I could show my appreciation for all they did and all they went through with me. And I do exactly what Tim McGraw says in the song - I live like I am dying because all of us actually are and the best thing for each of us to do is to live every day as if it was our last. My life changed on October 29, 1979 and it has made me what I am today. In many ways, I am thankful for that. I am one happy woman.
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