Christmas in July is over, a new Christmas will be here in the blink of an eye...
Why I awoke to have the urge to come here and be me, well, I really don't know. Why Christmas, I am not exactly certain. What made this topic flash into view, cast in giant letters that are large enough to appear on the Times Square screen that flickers across the front-line of my brain? IDK...
Okay, not the truth. I was thinking of exercise and going swimming this morning, BUT I am so lazy, as I sit here in my bright floral pj's with the orange and blue birds all over my legs (I love these pajama's) and I sip my coffee from a big bold mug.
Exercise... hmm. Christmas, what?
Here's the thing. I was very ill at the end of last year. The kind of illness that sneaks up on you. The kind of being sick to the level of almost losing your life. The kind of sick where, when I came fully back to life, I never even understood what had happened to me for weeks and from time to time I know that I still don't get it. As a matter of fact, I am still discovering things that happened while I was "unplugged" from the planet and only remotely related to" living".
Some of the things that happened are very sad, some of the things are very emotional, even more there are bright and shiny spots in the whole ordeal. I think most of my family and friends have P.T.S. related to the time spent waiting for me to wake up and be me. I am more than likely the one who had the easiest time, while I was on the vent. When I came off of it, there were a few days, when I believe my loved one's thought I might have brain damage. I moaned and fought through the days and nights. I was unreachable. Dark dreams, fighting to escape, I have many stories to share when I am ready. But, this morning it is Christmas!
Although, I am rolling everyday since my hospital stay like I am back to "normal", I am far from that location in my life. I am tired and my body is still weak and lacking. I swear that I need a care giver and a house cleaner, to help me make it through a normal day or week. By the end of the day, I am hollow and wilted. So, I know that I need to manage my hectic work life an find a way to exercise and build myself up to more than I am now. I have done well and can walk, "Look Doc, no cane!" However, it is time for the next phase, past the being able to step up on curb or the get my self up the stairs at work phase.
After this attempt at the morning writing "cleanse", I really do need to get in gear and get my ass to the gym. But, Christmas, I mentioned Christmas... so let me tell you why.
Last Christmas Eve, was the evening I was removed from a regular hospital room and placed in the rehab unit. When I woke up, post ventilator, I had lost a huge amount of muscle mass. I could not stand or walk, I could not even really feed myself, (trust me there are plenty more stories)... I was just a blob. I got pissed off at 100 pound physical therapist who could man-handle me, as she was doing her patient evaluation. I am not accustomed to being the patient or to be the one to need help. I helped patients and carried them from place to place if need be. It was harsh and cold to me, but I just did not understand that I was lucky to be in this shape instead of vanished from the planet, as the Julie I used to be.
So, I go to the rehab unit. I have a brief family visit and then everyone was banished to go out and have Christmas Eve beyond the hospital, since they had spent so much time at my bedside for the last 15 days. I thought I was good and happy, but when it became still and silent, when I could no longer cheat and hug the wall or the furniture to make my way to the bathroom (there are rules in rehab, because you cannot handle yourself, it's too dangerous!). I got scared. The reality of my condition was apparent. Staff of the hospital often continued on to a disconcerting conversation after the "smiley" introductions: "So, what quality of life did you have before this hospital stay"? "Did you have a caregiver?"
CAREGIVER, Quality of Life, WHAT? I am the caregiver! "Did you dress yourself?" Really, who was I, what happened to me? Why was I eating broiled fish and broccoli on Christmas Eve, in a bed with the rails up and an alarm that sounded for the entire wing to hear, if I as much as set my big toe on the floor?
It was the low of low's, when the nurse explained all of the rules and left me with paperwork to date and sign. It was Christmas Eve, December 24, 2013... I knew that. I picked up the pen and sloshed my signature across the bottom line, it was not legible, but at least I had some clue how to sign it. The date box loomed next to my unreadable name, but it remained empty. I held the pen and stared out of the window, looking at a fabulous and amazing picture of some of my grandchildren in Christmas garb with huge smiles, a poster with Elton John in his big blue glasses, that read, "Julie, you and I have a date" , alongside a beautiful snow globe that a friend had brought me.
December 23, 2014... 12/24/13, no big deal. The space remained blank and my panic mushroomed. What? What freaking reason could there be for such a disconnect between my brain and that blank on the page below me. Actually, I could not envision way it should look, the way I have it written in the above line here. There seemed to be no auto pilot, I guess that plane crashed somewhere in the storm of drugs and mechanical breathing that were the master's of my body for a while. Yep, that plane must have went down in flames! The Times Square billboard was dark and blank, there was not one letter or piece of punctuation to help me visualize and get anything written. The date sounded empty in the hollow of my brain, as I screamed out in into the void inside of my head, it is CHRISTMAS EVE, DECEMBER 24TH! I was lost, so I picked up the pen and scribbled.
Then I let lose the tears that dripped over the "Christmas Fish" remains. I was extremely cautious not too move too much within the confines of my prison bed, lest the alarm would sound and alert everyone that I was lost...and not able to care for myself mentally nor physical.
The night got worse and more lonely... I even had an accident. How low can you go? I sent scrambled text messages to a friend, I just wanted to go home! But, I could not write or remember or tell time off of the wall clock. I could not really stand or walk. The Christmas Fish was real, and I never want to go back there again.
So, today, how blessed that I rise and walk and write. Today I go out to become just a bit stronger, as I go to the gym to work and make myself healthy once more...This year, there will be no fish for Christmas!
P.S. I do know why I came here to be me, today... thank you, R.
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