I immediately looked to my left when I walked into Mayo Clinic hospital today. This is where I watched a woman die while the paramedics tried to save her. I remember being jealous, and I wished it had been me. So much has happened since then, I'm not afraid to die, but right now, I'm enjoying my family.
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| Mayo Clinic "the place." |
The nurse came in with Dr. Freeman, asked my name and birth date, and said, "what are we doing for you today?" I replied, "hurting me to take away my pain?" How weird is that statement? They both, not knowing how to respond, said, "where are we going to hurt you today?" laughter "In my hip and lower back" He gives me trigger shots, and when he does, he jiggles the needle around to make sure he gets the entire area around where the initial pain is. Every time he does that, I want to come off the table. Dr. Freeman says, "Almost done; I'm sorry it hurts." I haven't seen him since my surgery in the Spring.
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| Recovery, drinking my daily routine |
I have been staying busy, working at US Airways; I have the best management and supervisor I could request. They really care. I'm working on being Happy, trying to deal privately with it; if my face must stay the way it is right now, will I be OK with that? I don't expect anyone to understand my feelings, but I am sometimes lonely in THAT world. I have researched partial facial paralysis, gone to the library online, and tried to reach out to anyone who has suffered or is dealing now with this--NOTHING--But I understand a little more about what Dr. Barrs was talking about when he said this is rare for a nerve to just die, with no apparent reason. This is not like having a stroke or Bells Palsy, where the nerve is damaged and WILL eventually snap back; this is a dead nerve, which means it will not live again or regenerate.
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| This is what a dead nerve looks like--, and it's mine. |
Going to Cleveland Clinic to see Dr. Gastman was to take a nerve from my ankle and replace the dead nerve in my head with a good nerve, hoping it would grow together with the nerves on either side. If this works, we will not see any results for a year, and I will get 30% of the facial movement back. If it does not work, they want to cut along my hairline, pull my face before, take the nerve from the left side of my head, connect it with the one on the right, then wait another year. I don't want to go through that again. Going back and forth to Cleveland Clinic is difficult for me; not getting results or answers is frustrating and want to say "WHY" is sometimes realistic.
Hearing for the first time in 48 years was fantastic; I heard things I'd never heard. Sounds like most people I know take it for granted. That first night coming home was one of the most spiritual experiences I've ever had; without a doubt, the Lord was smiling down on me along with Colby. What I wasn't prepared for was going to work the next day, ready to share my exciting news, which quickly turned to sadness. Hearing what people say about me hurt me; I knew they would not intentionally hurt me. In fact, none of them knew I could listen to it, and they all were saying it out of love for me--still, the sting of truth hurts. I've been able to get used to going to the store and watching people quickly look away when we make eye contact, but now hearing opinions, I am the one looking down and away before eye contact is made. I thought I was going to make new connections and share in the beauty of small sounds, be able to give the gift of not taking for granted the sound of a pen writing on a piece of paper or the clicking of the keys on the keyboard as we making reservations, the fact that I could for the first time be able to turn the phone volume down. Instead, what I heard was, "I feel so sorry for her," "She is so strong," and "Have you ever read her blog?" "I don't think her face is ever going to be the same" "She used to have such a beautiful smile" tear ran down my cheeks as I sat and heard these words coming from; I'm not sure who, as I am still trying to distinguish where sounds are coming from. We have cubicles where we sit. I quickly wiped my tears so no one could see and took my BAJA off. I haven't worn it to work since that day.
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So proud of Mayo Clinic, this Cancer Center has been in the
works for years, it's getting done, they will have a proton
radiation beam, the only one in the Western part of the
nation. Proton beams are used to radiate certain cancers and
can pinpoint to 99.9% |
I am the one who gets to decide what my destiny is, what my life will be, and who I choose to share my light with. I love my coworkers, family, and friends, but I must be OK with 'me.'
I will decide where I end up, I'm doing what I can to figure all that out, and until I do, I can't wear the BAJA.
I'm taking it slow because, sitting right now, I'm feeling things I've never felt before. My heart has never beat as hard in my chest as when wearing the BAJA. I feel blessed to know the people around me are my friends; they are kind and loving; at least nothing wrong was said--just the truth--the truth I was unprepared to hear. I need to work on myself and my confidence, eliminate the negative and concentrate on the positive. There's a fire in me that I can never deny. I know He lives, and He loves me. My faith and hope over the years have given me the peace and strength to endure and enjoy the sweetness of life. However, I've tasted the truth, and my heart will never be the same. That is not necessarily a sad thing. I needed a taste of reality. It will take some time to process what He wants me to learn.
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The moon is beautiful tonight from my balcony in my bedroom; this picture does
not do justice. It is HUGE, YELLOW and
GORGEOUS |
I will wear the BAJA on the Sunday before Thanksgiving to hear Stephen Phelps and the choir sing Come thou Font of every Blessing. I have so much to be grateful for and have been blessed with a good life---music touches my soul and helps me to heal. It's just a more protracted process this time.
Sandy said...
