I don’t remember last Easter, I spent it in a coma. My husband tells me that every day when he saw me, I would look at him and say “help me.” It broke his heart. I was vomiting so much blood that my blood pressure was 40/20. My blood sugars were over 1100 and I was bleeding from every orifice. Not a pleasant thing to think about. My neighbors and friends that were here when the ambulance took me away were convinced that I wasn’t going to be coming home. The EMT’s and fire department that came were all co-workers of my son and knew me personally. I used to go to the firehouse to make dinner for the department. They all thought I was going to die as well. So many of them spoke to me about it when I saw them at the fireworks for the 4th of July.
My first actual memory was on the Wednesday after Easter when I opened my eyes and a doctor asked me if I knew where I was. I knew from looking around that I was in an ICU, but I had no idea what hospital I was in. I could see that they had accessed my port in addition to two other IV’s going in me with blood transfusions. It was weeks before I was able to put the whole story together of what had happened. My husband told me about our daughter putting clothes on my unconscious body before the ambulance arrived. Her friend was here and offered to help, and even now it brings tears to my eyes to think of my daughter telling her “No, it’s my mom and I need to do this for her.” She was protecting my dignity and it breaks my heart to think of my 16-year-old going through that.
I was so weak when I came home, and for weeks afterwards. I had severe short-term memory loss. Nerve pain in my feet and legs from the high blood sugars still plague me, along with the guilt I feel for putting the people who love me through such grief and pain. I can never express my gratitude to all of them. I remember being afraid to fall asleep thinking I wouldn’t wake up. My husband would panic when he couldn’t get me on the phone and would send a neighbor to check on me, and they all came. They would sit with me until Rudy came home. It’s a year later and I still feel the emotional baggage of all that happened.
It’s appropriate that it’s Easter, the day we celebrate the resurrection of out Lord. Today I’m going to celebrate my miracle too. I’m going to celebrate being alive and I’m going to spend the day telling everyone how much I love them and how grateful I am that they were there to support me and my family.