Positively Scarred

I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned in previous posts about how close my dad and I are. He’s been my rock and my voice of reason when things weren’t so great with my mom and I. As I get older, I realize more & more what a cool daddy I have and how lucky I am to have such an awesome man in my life.

So naturally when I found out he had to have surgery, I was a little scared. But, I was reassured it would be okay. They were just going to repair a hernia. Pretty routine, right? I suppose normal routines don’t run in my family. After 3 hours, I learned he had an iliac crest aneurysm. The doctor was repairing the hernia; he pulled and all of a sudden, my dad had an aneurysm and started bleeding out. They had to call in a vascular surgeon and he had to repair the vein. My dad ended up needing two units of blood. My step mom told me, “We’re very lucky.” And I couldn’t agree more. The surgeons acted without hesitation and fixed the problem and my dad is now resting in ICU.

But it was that in between time of not knowing… My step mom called me and told me about the aneurysm, which was quickly followed by, “Hold on, I’ll have to call you back.” I wondered why a doctor was coming out to talk to her so soon after he had just been out to see her. I felt like something was wrong, like something happened. Maybe they couldn’t fix the problem. Maybe he had another aneurysm.

I had all these thoughts running through my head, and I was scared. At almost 24 years old, I am nowhere near ready to lose my dad. Who would walk me down the aisle at my wedding? Who would share new music with me? Who would I talk to about our favorite TV shows? Go to concerts with? Travel with?

I know it sounds like I’m over exaggerating, but I really feel like I could have lost my daddy today. And the fact that I didn’t makes me that much more grateful to have him in my life & to have him as my dad.

I’m crying now as I write this. I’m going to see what it’s like from a different perspective. Seeing someone I love connected to tubing and wearing a hospital gown. He’s seen me in the same position so many times already, I’ll finally know what it’s like. I’m scared he’s going to be disappointed if I get upset. I will try to hold back tears and stop myself from crying in front of him. He’s been so strong for me, that I need to be strong for him.

I love you, Daddy. I’ll see you soon.

So here’s what’s been going on in the medical portion of my world:

I went a couple weeks ago for another follow up appointment at my doctor’s office in San Francisco. He seemed really excited and anxious for the next step. So we set up a plan to do my next surgery after the new year begins that way I can spend the holidays at home with my family and friends.

When I go for my surgery in January, I’m going to get basically a 3-for-1 deal. He’s going to do a nerve graft on the right side (or left side, depending on how you’re looking at it) of my hand because I have next to no sensation/feeling in my ring finger or the side of my hand at all. I’m also going to have a bone graft done (and possibly have a metal plate) in my middle finger. Lastly, he’s going to fuse my thumb so it’s straighter because as it is now, I don’t have any real strength behind it.

The nerve for the nerve graft will be taken from one of my feet, and the bone graft will come from my hip. I probably won’t be able to do much for about a week or so after the surgery and I’ll only be in the hospital two nights, which is awesome.

I’m not nervous or scared, but excited. I’m ready for the next step. I’ve been progressing well in my occupational therapy and I actually have a lot of use of my hand, despite the fact I’m missing a finger and can’t use two at all.

On the paperwork side of things: I’m playing hell trying to get medical coverage. I received a form in the mail from the Department of Social Services about a month ago. I filled it out and sent it off in the same day. A week ago I received the exact same form, but this time it had blue ink all over the place basically asking for clarification on what I already told them. It’s been 7 months now and nobody in my position, or with any medical need, should have to fight this hard for coverage.

Also, the person who has been handling my case at the county office (I’m only receiving coverage via the county right now) has not responded to my doctor’s office’s messages about my surgery. So basically there’s no authorization yet and that makes me nervous because the longer they take to authorize it, the longer I have to wait to get the surgery done.

So aside from fighting with the state to get some god damn medical coverage, things are going well.

In the early hours of the morning on April 29th, 2011, I saw my life flash before my eyes. I veered, hit a tree, flipped my car, and proceeded to slide across pavement, dragging my hand along the then-shattered window fragments.

I suffered several broken & fractured bones in my left hand, tore the skin off my palm, and severed the main vein in my hand in half. I was transported two hours away to a hospital that specializes in injuries like mine. After several hours of debriding and having my pinkie amputated, I awoke to begin an incredibly extensive journey that would forever change my life. I awoke to my second chance at life.

Prior to this beginning, I was your typically average 23-year-old female. I worked, hung out with my boyfriend, enjoyed partying, and never thought, “it could happen to me.” But it can. And it does.

On April 29, 2011, I became a drunk driving statistic. I thank the universe everyday that I’m alive and that my biggest injury was to my hand. I’m grateful for the tree I hit, for if I hadn’t, I would have driven off the side of the road, plummeting into the creek below. I’m grateful to the paramedics, EMTs, surgeons, nurses, and police officers who were all involved that fateful night. I’m forever grateful that I’m alive and that I’ve been given the chance to share my story in hopes that it will even prevent one person from making the same mistakes.

You got lucky. Those are three words I’ve heard a lot. But it means something different each time. With those three words I’ve heard resentment, disbelief, hatred, praise, and love. I did not incur any charges against me, including a DUI. Lucky? Maybe. But not the way you think. Instead of that, I get to endure two years of surgeries, pain medication, hospital stays, physical therapy, depression, and frustration. Instead of a DUI, I have a permanent reminder of the mistake I made.

It’s been two months since the accident. I’ve already gone through several surgeries, including a few debridements, a flap surgery, and two skin grafts. I’ve spent a total of 29 days in the hospital; from April 29 - May 19, and June 1 - 8. And I’ve got many more days left to go, off and on, over the next two years. My life has been turned completely upside-down & has been shaken up. I’m managing the best I can. Somehow, I’ve remained positive & have held my head up high. But it does hurt. It does get frustrating. Some days I want to break down & give up, other days I power through, thinking, “I can do this. I got myself to this point, now I need to bring myself back.”

I definitely do not see things the same as I did before. I take everything a little more serious. My hugs last a little longer, my love has grown, and I don’t take anything for granted. Not everyone gets a second chance, and I’m sure as hell not going to waste mine.