The Accident

Okay.  I am going to blog about this, get it out, then we don't have to talk about it anymore.

I have been waiting for a year for my family and Michael's family to come visit our new house.  Michael's family isn't able to come this summer, which I totally understand, but my family finally came.  The next posts are going to be about the epic fun we had and memories we created.  This post is going to be about what happened at the end of the visit.

I remember renting a pontoon boat and two jet skis for the afternoon.  We were going to take turns with all of it.

I got the chance to ride one of the jet skis first, which I remember being fun.

Then I remember a flash of going into a cat scan machine - something I've never done before.

I remember laying in a bed with blood on the rails and Michael and my dad on either side of me.

I remember someone pouring something cold over my chin and the water or whatever pouring on either side of my head.

I remember asking if Kara was okay.  (She was.)

I remember being in a room they called the ER.

I don't remember much.

By the time I started waking up, I was getting a sponge bath and getting settled in the ICU.  They said I had a severe concussion, a laceration on my liver, and something wrong with my adrenal glands.  I also had a cut on my arm with staples in it and a cut on my chin.

I guess I was in a jet ski accident.  It turns out the jet ski my brother was on hit me and I am so blessed that my arm took the brunt of the blow.  Honestly, when they tell me the story, I don't know how my back or neck didn't snap.  By the grace of God is all I can say.  It was an honest to goodness accident, but Tony has been beating himself up so hard about this that I will not be posting anything on Facebook about it.

So, when I was in the ICU, I pretty much slept as much as I could, in between the cat scans, x rays, etc.  I have no broken bones, no problems with my spine, no surgery needed, it's a miracle.

Michael and whoever else was with me left because apparently it was 11pm or something.  I went back to sleep until around 3.  That's when I remember all of the taking blood, more x rays, etc, every hour.  My neighbor had his tv on all night and I remember thinking how strange that was that he felt well enough in the ICU to watch tv.  I couldn't move.

By 6am, the sweet nurse said it was time to get up.  Because of my concussion, she wanted me up and walking so I could get out of there.  I wasn't settling in, I needed to get better.  I warned her I would throw up, she didn't mind.  In fact, she kind of encouraged it.  So, at 6am, she sat me up and I felt a dizziness I have never felt before.  She stood me up and I threw up into my bucket.  Those muscle relaxers had me peeing all over the ICU floor too.  Poor nurse.  I was too out of it and dizzy to remember even being embarrassed.  She cleaned it up, gave me new socks, and instructed me to stay sitting up in the small, uncomfortable chair.   I begged to get back in bed and she said no.  I was so tired.  I pushed the chair up against the side of the bed and slept uncomfortably up against the side of it.

My mom came for a bit, Michael came for a bit.  Visiting was very limited in the ICU.  Even though seeing them is what made me feel better.

I sat in that miserable chair from 6am to 3pm until they finally said I was good enough to be transferred to a real room.

I went from "prison food" - jello, broth, water - to real food.  I went from having my own nurse and her checking on me all the time to sharing a nurse and them leaving me alone unless I needed something.

I did breathing treatments all the time.

They took my vital signs all the time.

They took blood all the time.  (They were making sure the liver wasn't getting worse.  It wasn't.)

As soon as I got in the real room, I just wanted to see Tony and let him know I was okay.  I wanted everyone there to see I am okay and make me feel better.  Tony is a mess, even still, but he will get better eventually.

A long night in the regular room with a cat scan at 5:30am passed and they pretty much let me decide when I wanted to take muscle relaxers and when I wanted to take pain meds.  I was very nervous because I got a fever, but they assured me it wasn't high enough to be from an infection, and when I woke up a few hours later, it was gone.

After that second night in the hospital (one in the ICU and one in the regular room), I was able to go home in the afternoon.

My family had everything set up for me here at home.  It was sweet to see each person needing something productive to do for me, and seeing what they picked.  Tony had a whole fire built because he knew I'd love to do something normal and a fire with my family is one of my favorite things to do. My dad washed and waxed my whole car because he knew I love a clean car and have had zero time to work on it.  My friend, Jessica, kept Kara as much as possible so it would be a fun time for her and not a time of worry.  My mom and Michael visited me as much as possible because they knew I would need to see their faces.

Tony has a broken hand that still hasn't been reset.  The x-rays look disgusting.

Christina and Tony went back to Maryland to get him fixed up.  (They left a day later than they originally planned so they could see me home and well first.)

My dad went back to Florida and left my mom here to take care of me.  (He left several days later than planned.)

I don't know how long it will take to heal, but whip lash has set in and it is worse than any of these other injuries.

Praise God my injuries are minimal.

My arm has the most heinous bruise I have ever seen.  It's less like a bruise and more like a contusion.  And when they stapled it, they had to tuck tissue back in first.  Ga-ross!

My chin is starting to bruise, but the stitches will be ready to come out in a few days.

My guts are sore.

I'm bruised all over my arms from the IVs and them taking my blood.

I'm on A LOT of medicine.

I can't do anything.  My mom is here to help.

I'm praising God.  He was supernaturally watching over me and didn't want to take me.  I don't know why it wasn't my time to go, but I promise to find out.  He has a plan and a purpose for me and I'm excited to find it out!  I'm still here, and I'm glad.  Just seeing my family so afraid makes me cry at the drop of a hat.

This post may not have made much sense, but it's the best I can do with this bruised brain of mine.

Okay, done.  Now I can talk about all the fun we had next!