And here we arrive at the final chapter of the great health scare of 2024.
Well, the first one anyway…
We are going to highlight Friday and Sunday in this post, as they were the days of fun and adventure… and the rest were filler days. LOL
The ambulance arrived at the hospital I would be admitted into. The doors opened and a burst of WARM air hit me.
Y’all. You know me! It was February… and it was warm! I was not happy at all. I looked up at the paramedic and mentioned the temperature. It wasn’t fair! It’s warm outside and I’m stuck to a gurney going into a hospital for God knows how long!
“Yeah. It’s supposed to be nice for a few days! Then, cold again.” She said as they wheeled my gurney from the truck to the doors of the ER.
I was too miserable to be upset for long, though. I had been bleeding for weeks, I was barely alert, and I had several feet of gauze shoved up where things don’t need to be shoved to slow the flow of blood.
To shorten the ER part of this tale, I will say that the Dr’s came in, OBGYN department knew I was coming and they knew I was “packed” and they were furious. The first thing they did after drawing yet more blood from my person was get that hot mess out of my body.
And when they did…
Red Niagara! For minutes! And then, Red Lake Michigan (or whatever large body of water) …
Everyone in there was like, “Oh my… whoa. Ok… more blood for you!”
It was then explained to me that my bleeding was internal… and it needed a place to go. So, if the “exit” from my body was closed off, it would start finding other places inside to retreat to. Not good, apparently.
Thankfully, Mom made it there to sit with me during my torture and torment shortly after I arrived in the ambulance. She got all the kiddos ready and off to their respective school destinations before following me up to the hospital.
By now, it’s mid-morning on Friday. I’m exhausted. Depleted. Have nothing left to give, at all. In more ways than one! They got me all set up and sent up to surgery floor for my stay while they decided exactly what was going to be done about my “unique situation” as they called it so many times.
Finally in my room on the 4th floor, I get to meet my nurses for the first time. A time of enormous discomfort for myself, and lots of sympathy for them from me as well.
I was soaked, not functional, unable to even sit up on my own at this point. I tried… gosh I tried! They had to clean me up as soon as I arrived, change my bed, my clothes, put an adult diaper thingy on me because the hemorrhaging was NOT letting up at all, and try to do it ALL while I’m laying in this bed!
Y’all. These nurses got skills!
After the magic they performed getting me and my bed changed out while I was still in it, they were able to reach out to my OBGYN to see if they were going to take out the baby growing system that day. I hadn’t eaten or drank anything in 24 hours. Mama was living off whatever was going into my body via IV tubes.
While we waited for word from the Docs, I got set up with more blood, iron infusions, and some other concoction via IV bags to give me some sort of nutrients.
I also got to meet lots of nurses, techs, lab personnel, some student doctors, and other people who apparently couldn’t wait to see the “unique situation” that was in room 409.
Fast forward to that afternoon. The doctor came in and explained how he determined best to handle my situation.
“Between a rock and a hard place” was used to describe me multiple times by all the people I encountered.
My Dr referred to me as “Interesting”, “unique”, “complicated”, and other things as well.
So, let’s review my situation:
I have blood clots in my lungs. I am bleeding. A lot! The bleeding needs to stop. But the concern is the clots… which is as bad (and could be worse). Both needs treated/fixed. But, given that one is total opposite of the other… only one can be treated/fixed at a time.
It was determined that I would be having an ablation procedure to try to slow/stop the bleeding. I would have to be taken off my blood thinners for 2 days prior to the surgery, if possible, but if the bleeding got worse 1 day would do if absolutely necessary.
Every decision maker in my medical case determined that a hysterectomy would make my already difficult situation worse and wanted to do the least alteration possible to my body, get me back on the blood thinners, and on the road to recovery ASAP.
With the plan in place, it was determined that I could finally EAT!
Y’all… I ate whatever they could bring me! Sandwiches, chips, yogurts, crackers, all of it! I munched on those wonderful ice chips that hospitals have for hours in complete bliss!
That evening, a dear friend of my mom and I came to see me and bring a cute flower with a balloon on it to brighten my room. We chatted, laughed, and enjoyed each other’s company. I remained reclined safely in my bed as any time I would even try to sit up without the bed lifting me my heartrate would jump into the 120’s. Everyone saw it. I was hooked up to all these monitors so they could see anytime my heartrate jumped at the nurse’s desk.
So, that prefaced my next part of the story…
While we were chatting, one of my WONDERFUL nurses came into the room to see if I could get up to go to the bathroom. A: I felt like I needed to and told them so, and B: they needed to see if I could stand on my own two feet.
I could not…
I got up, made it to the bathroom, and mind you I had been doing this at home for two weeks already, not realizing how BAD it was for me to do so…
I make it to the bathroom. I’m dizzy. But man, I had to PEE! So, I start trying to “do my thing” and I hear a phone ring in my room.
Yeah… that was the nurses desk calling my charge nurse to see if I was ALIVE at this point, because (unbeknownst to me) my heart rate was 155 and my BP had bottomed out waaaaaay below readings of anyone who is conscious.
I opened the bathroom door, took one look at my nurse and said, “Yeah… this wasn’t a good idea. I don’t feel well.”
My mother and our dear friend were in the room, eyes fixated on the monitors. My mother’s face was probably as white as mine at this point, obviously not for the same reason, and they were both immobile as the nurse guided me back to my bed.
I collapsed there, dizzy, nauseous, clammy, sweaty, and barely alert at this point.
It took a few minutes for my brain and my body to communicate to each other that I was back in bed and my heart could settle down. But once they did things got a little better by the minute.
More blood. More iron. More blood taken from me to see my counts.
Days of poking, testing, poking, testing, more poking again…
The ablation was done on Sunday morning. I was out for a bit, procedure completed. Pain. Lots of pain. Anxiety and fear that the procedure wouldn’t work. Paranoia. Depression. I missed my kids… a lot!
Thankfully, I had some yarn and my crochet hook with me while I was enjoying my stay at hotel Memorial Hospital. My bestie came to sit and visit the day before I was discharged. She brought her yarn and hook as well, and we got to sit and crochet, sip coffee, and chat about all the happy things in life. It was an uplifting moment during a time when the walls were closing in!
The day I was discharged a dear friend came to visit and bring me coffee. She got to be my ride home, and boy was I GLAD to escape back to my home and my kiddos! That ride home was another uplifting moment in a dark time! We laughed together, caught up with each other on life, and she got to be a witness to another small miracle in my life that will be for another post, another day. I will say this, God’s timing is most definitely impeccable!
Fast forward to today:
The ablation did work. It took months for the effects of the blood clots and then the heavy bleeding to finally fall away, and I do still have some every now and then. But I am doing so much better today than I was 5 months ago!
The support I have received through these months has been amazing! Thank you all for keeping me in thoughts and prayers, and lending assistance while we walked this crazy road!
I miss activities, adventures, groups, friends, connections, etc.
Last night there was a football game at our high school. I have two boys who attend that school.
We did not go…
Last year, one of my sons expressed great interest in joining the football team, even took some steps to get there…
All the forward movement was halted when he had a sports physical that resulted in questions about his progress in puberty. He is less than three months from his fifteenth birthday.
There is no puberty.
Never was.
No signs of it even starting.
Instead, there is a nonactive tumor squishing his pituitary gland.
This is not about that, though. That is an entirely different story in itself.
This is about missing out… and trying to figure out why, how, and if we can fix this problem.
Yes, I’m being transparent here.
There’s a lot to say. There’s a lot to be transparent about.
Why? Because I know I’m NOT the only one who struggles with this, exact issue regarding “missing out.”
Let’s go back a few years (Okay maybe a decade or more…) when I was an active member of society.
I had high hopes and dreams for a future with kids in sports, clubs, doing all the things I was able to do as a child and even more! Cub Scouts, Sunday School, youth groups, school sports, little league sports, all the things.
Life threw a curve ball here and there… well, it threw a LOT of them.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I know everyone gets curve balls thrown at them! Again, major reason we are being transparent here…
I’m not special. My struggles are not “bigger than yours” but everyone handles every level of stress, negative life events, loss, and betrayals differently.
Me? Yeah… I hid from the world.
Long story short, a decade of less-than-healthy choices (both external and internal choices) lead me to isolating myself.
I was sad when those close to me didn’t get involved with the things I was so excited about for my kids. I was overworked being the only one who took them to events, helped with homework, projects, socializing them, etc. I was already struggling with my own depression and to add burn-out to the pile just shut me down.
And shut down I remained… for a solid three years. Minimum.
I hid myself and my family from the world.
I was tired of hearing falsehoods about myself and my family from people who didn’t even know me.
I was tired of being seen at the grocery store and then hearing a whole, new rumor about myself a week later from “concerned friends.”
I was tired of carrying a label. I was “the bad guy” in a lot of things. Everywhere I turned I didn’t see “friends” anymore. I saw spies. I saw liars. I saw betrayal at every turn.
Eventually, I stopped seeing anything good.
My vision was murky with pain, heartache, anxiety, depression, loss, and eventually… full-blown bitterness.
Bitter Becca. That’s what I dubbed myself.
Yep. I did. I wore my own title like a badge and shield.
It has taken me years to grow from the little, broken roots that I was cut down into.
Four years, to be exact.
I would take a step forward and then two steps back over the course of the past four years. Sometimes I would break even, and I would get so excited! Then another step back.
Of my 5 children, two are in special education classes. I have often wondered if I could have done something to prevent this from happening for them. Was it me? Did I not work hard enough to get them through to a higher level?
They don’t have many friends, limited to the ones secluded in these classrooms with them for their entire academic life.
My one, school-aged child who is not in such classes struggles with depression (possibly related to the puberty issue? We don’t really know), also very few friends, and the inability to follow through with many things. Again, I sit and wonder if I have ‘less-than-succeeded’ with him as well.
I lived years without taking my kids into society. School was it. They never asked to go to games, events, trips, etc.
My oldest did go to a couple of dances during Junior High, before Covid stole that from us. To see his face light up the way it did when he got home, telling stories about how fun the music was, learning some cool moves, the snacks and drinks they got to enjoy made my heart so glad.
Sometimes I wonder how that could be 4 years ago…
I sit in my bed, unable to sleep many nights, and reflect on things. I write in my journal, make lists in my notebooks, read books and my Bible, scroll FB and watch a world around me be social and active, and I have cried.
Not tears of depression.
Tears of fear. Actual Fear.
Because I want to go. I want to get out there.
But I have come so far mentally, emotionally, and even spiritually in my little isolated space that the thought of stepping out and ending up with another “step back” wrenches my gut!
My family, and my few, close friends can tell stories of me being excited about a thing and then talking myself out of it within minutes.
I want to be involved. I want my kids to be involved.
I’m just trying to figure out how to push past my fear. Fear that developed a lack of interest, motivation, and increased avoidance of public places and events.
My fears used to be focused solely on people talking. Over time it just became a fear of people, period.
I will say that I am happy Child #3 expressed interest in participating in the Labor Day Parade last week with his aunt. And he obviously had a blast!
My oldest expressed a renewed interest in music last night. Band, specifically.
In elementary school he wanted to be in the band. He struggled with the multi-step instructions and music reading, resulting in his not being given that desired opportunity.
He mentioned it again last night as we watched the band prepare for the football game.
My boys attend an e-sports group after school on some days, and yesterday happened to be one. As I was picking them up, people were arriving to the school to prepare for the game.
I mean… is it too late? Is he too old? Did I cause him to lose out on opportunities in life? These are questions I ask myself at night when I am alone in my room.
Can I turn some things around, upside right, and build us up from where we stand today?
I think I can one minute and then I question myself the next.
So, here in my transparent moment, I want to step up and step out.
Maybe the next football game, I won’t talk myself out of going.
Take a step. And then take another.
Someone recently told me that first steps are hard, and she is right. But they are necessary to keep going forward.
And like a baby learning to walk, I took my first ones a little shaky.
If there is anyone out there who is struggling, whether it be anxiety like me, addiction, depression, fear, or anything…
Just know I’m taking some first steps too.
We can start together.
And… we can make it to the top together.
I almost feel super pumped right now. Haha!
I just want to raise my fist in the air today and say “by golly I’m going to socialize! In person!”
And when I finally do… I’ll let you know how it goes. 😊
Thank you for enduring my transparent moment for the day.
As far as I know thus far, two have tested positive in my household for Covid.
Now, as everyone knows, I have been trying to put together some other blog posts, which I will complete as I can and post accordingly, but I want to also share with you our Covid Journey.
Because everyone’s journey is different. Even if they are all in the same household!
So…
We do not know FOR SURE where we were exposed, and I will NOT say one place or another. We were simply exposed over the weekend last week. That is all.
Tuesday Levi complained of not feeling well at school (which is his norm anyway… school + Levi = sickness) *insert rolled eyes*.
Wednesday Micah was sent home from school with swollen tonsils.
Thursday neither of them were feeling well and were tested.
Friday: The results came in. Positive for Covid.
Saturday: the rest of the family was tested.
As far as symptoms…
Levi is the worst.
He has a nasty cough, no energy, low grade fever, can’t taste anything, can’t breathe all that great, and sleeps off and on all day and night.
Micah is already starting to feel better. But I am keeping an eye on him.
I feel… well… How can I even describe how I feel???
It’s a typical day for me with a little extra rough and yuck.
I have Fibromyalgia so I feel like I am having a flare up week with a little extra gross in between.
Yesterday (Saturday) Asher started acting like he might not be feeling well. Today he is about the same. No major changes thus far.
Rayne is great. She’s a beast! So is her carbon copy older brother Titus. Nothing there either.
In fact… let me share with you what Titus did last night!
So… we ALL know my kids are prone to the “interesting and odd” behaviors, and Titus is the firstborn, so he’s expected to lead in such things. Last night he did NOT disappoint!
He walked into the kitchen with a can of Lysol in his hand and said, “Hey mom. Wanna see how I protect myself from the rona?”
I turn from my dishes I was angrily washing at the time and said, “Uhm, Ok? What do you do?”
He proceeds to pop the cap off the Lysol, take a deep breath, close his eyes, and SPRAY IT ALL OVER HIMSELF from head to toe without missing a beat!!!
I stood in total shock, speechless, for a few seconds before shouting, “Titus! What are you doing?!?”
To which he cheerfully responded, “What? I’m making sure I don’t get it! Better safe than sorry!” Put the bottle on top of the fridge, turned on his heel, and skipped off through the house whistling a happy tune!
This is the point where I feel I must add that I AM NOT AN EXPERT PARENT! Hahaha!
So, other than Titus and his odd antics, the rest of us are doing decent thus far.
No fevers, no chills, and none of the “severe” Covid symptoms so far. Mostly the gross flu-like symptoms for everyone. And I hope that is the worst it gets.
We are treating our symptoms. Cough medicines, Motrin, Tylenol, all the vitamins and mineral supplements, LOTS OF WATER, some body armor drinks, Gatorade, orange juice, and so on. I’ve also made sure everyone spends some time in the sunlight outside as well. My hope is that we kick it together like the strong little tribe we have become over the past few years.
I must also add, before I end this post, that I am PROUD of my kids! They are troopers! They are strong! They have battled through so much in their young lives, and have come out on the other side as little warriors! And this Momma is super thrilled at the amazing abilities they have shown in the times of adversity and yuck. Every night when I lay in my bed I am beyond thankful for the blessings that are my kiddos! Gosh… I’m so blessed!
And with that, I will keep you all posted as we trudge through this, another of many tunnels we have endured, and how we fare through the yuck and gunk, and how we come out on the other side!
It’s been way too long since I have posted and shared my thoughts and words with you all!
Many blogs have been started, and none finished.
Life has been… just a little hectic.
We’ve been exposed to COVID in January (or February, I don’t even remember… it’s all running together now).
Sinus infections, allergies, the bathroom remodel, leaky water heater, car decides not to start, fevers, sleepless nights… I’m sure I’m leaving something out!
One thing got me this weekend though, and I didn’t even think of the impact until I told a friend about it this morning.
Sunday, I didn’t make it to church. The second week in a row.
Babies with fevers, and older kids trying to decide if their symptoms were of a contagious sort, or allergies… I was ragged.
I took a moment, after being smothered by one of the twins for constant cuddles and attention, to just step out my back door and breathe. I was standing in my back porch when my tiny grandmother walked in with her broom and dustpan. She saw me out there tossing boxes and whatnot in all my frustration (I was honestly throwing things to vent, not clean) and she figured I might need a little help cleaning out there. I had just laid the babies down for their nap and just wanted a moment of peace.
I was overwhelmed. Drained. Exhausted. Lonely…
In she walks with her broom taller than she, and says, “Well, where should I start?”
At first, I was frustrated. I won’t lie. I just wanted to sit down and mope about my circumstances. I just watched a live video of a church service I wanted to be present for in person. I had one child begging me not to make him go to school the next day and it wasn’t even 1pm Sunday afternoon. I was struggling. Deeply.
But I got up and showed her this TINY area that was “priority” to get cleaned and said we should start there.
“This is really where I wanted to clean up, and then I think I’ll go take a break while the babies sleep…”
Well… anyone who knows my grandma KNOWS she’s not going to settle for some little space.
Two hours later, ¾ of the back porch was cleaned, swept, and wiped down. I could feel the Fibro flare up wanting to start up almost immediately. I was completely drained. But… I felt good.
I didn’t feel great. But I felt GOOD… this was something I hadn’t felt in weeks! I looked around us, little Grandma with dustpan in hand and her other hand on her hip, observing a job mostly done.
A cleaned floor, washer and dryer both running with things that were being cleaned, and no more smell of clutter, trash, and yuck all around.
I didn’t take any pictures of this grand event, before or after, so there isn’t much to aid the visual for you wonderful readers today.
However!
Picture in your mind’s eye a mother drained. Torn. Sad. Angry. Isolated. Frustrated. Confused. Stressed, and just… done.
And then this tiny woman, 4 ft 9, marching in with purpose and with a single phrase inspiring motivation I didn’t even want in the moment… bringing just enough spunk with her into my house, she lifted me more than she will ever know. Regardless of how I express it to her.
It’s the little things that bring the biggest rewards.
I know this isn’t one of my longer posts, and it really doesn’t need to be tonight.
It’s a post of appreciation for an amazing woman in my life.
It’s a post to remind myself that I truly am most assuredly blessed beyond measure.
It’s a reminder that I can get through these long days, and longer nights. Through all the stress, exhaustion, frustration, and everything that weighs me down, I can get up. I can find my motivation again.
I see you, tired mama. Sad mama. Weary, worn, and burnt-out mama.
I see you… and I am praying for you!
We will rise. We will come from the tunnel that today has brought and bask in the light!
“Weeping may endure for the night… but joy comes in the morning!”
“Anxiety in the heart of man causes depression, but a good word makes it glad.” –Proverbs 12:25 NKJV
Last night definitely did not go as planned.
I did not sleep until after 4:30am and woke up close to 10:00am.
Of course, we were all a bit sluggish, not very functional, and honestly, a lot of my planning made space for such a morning.
My boys DID help me with the inside of the house.
We got trash out of the house, washed a bunch of dishes, swept all the floors, and cleaned up the main part of the house nicely.
Also, I woke up almost pain-free! It was a good start to the day, at least. 😊
Tonight wasn’t so bad either.
I went to work at my job (that I LOVE), did some more cleaning there, read a little, and did other, work-related things.
The twins went to bed for a nap before I left for work, so everyone at my house got a little break before the evening fun began.
This is where I just need to sing some praises for a second.
My grandmother is A SAINT!
She comes over to help out with the twins, and she really loves doing it.
It gives her something to feel needed for, and she is bonding with the twins so well!
They adore her, and she just soaks up every little snuggle and cuddle she can get from them.
I love walking in the door and seeing her sitting with one twin in her lap and the other standing beside her at the couch. She has a smile a mile wide and they are just talking up a storm to each other in my living room. It’s picturesque.
Grandma is safely at home with Grandpa now, and everyone is either asleep or at least settled here, now.
So, I sit here again, writing up some lists and ideas for another good tomorrow.
I’m pretty excited about it, really.
And that gives me another tidbit to share…
I used to say, “I hope tomorrow is better.” And I would critique myself and my day (my own worst enemy, right?!).
As I write in my journal, planner, or make my lists now, however, I write down the good things.
“We got everything on my list done today!”
“We got some things done today.”
“Nobody fought like cats and dogs today.”
“School was done in record time!”
“School actually got done today!”
It doesn’t even matter how small the good is, if there is good to be found I will use it.
It is important, because we are in a time when depression is heavier, anxiety is higher, and fear is greater.
Missing the school days…
I have seen my children fall into depression because they cannot hang out with friends, or maybe they are completely disconnected from friends and other support, and all we have is us, in our home, doing our best to stay safe and healthy in every way we can.
Of course, I have to work. This is a necessity!
It doesn’t matter how bad things get out there, it seems. The bills must still be paid. The car still needs gas for appointments, work, and getting those groceries my kids are wiping out in record time.
And so, we keep moving.
We keep going forward, every step we can.
So what if we take a few steps back now and then. As long as we are moving, we will make it.
I am doing all I can, and I am working with my boys to help me by doing all they can.
Yep, we have burn-out days. I get frustrated with their lack of interest in helping. I get upset when they try to avoid school (gotta love remote learning…not!), and I get discouraged when they are impossible to talk to, reason with, and work with.
But we have come such a long way from who and where we were three years ago, two years ago, and even one year ago!
Things have been gradually changing for the better, and that’s the point! We are moving! Taking those steps. Climbing that mountain. Moving those obstacles. Creating the life we only dreamed would be a reality “some day.”
I’m pretty excited! And I can’t wait to see what tomorrow holds for my little family, now. 😊
“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” — Albert Einstein
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