I have been so busy the past week or so I have not had the chance to get on here to continue my story… A good glass of wine, silence, perhaps I can continue on.
I have been seeking counseling for my depression. When you get to a point that you cannot go a day without crying, full rage, and complete exhaustion all in a span of 30 minutes, you are past due. Yes, I was and still am at times, at that point. My counselor says is PTSD for the many things I have incurred throughout my childhood and early adult life.
So far, we have summed up that I have (depending on my mindset for the day) abandonment issues, depression, PTSD, unresolved issues from my schooldays, I have a wall built up, which he says will take some time to break through to start feeling again. I have allowed people to use me, but at the same time I push people away who I do not want to hurt with my sharp tongue and brutal honesty.
I have not allowed anyone to know the “complete” me, I have never told my “complete” story to anyone, not even my husband of 25 years. There are many things he does not know, nor will he. I cannot give full control of myself because I do not trust. I do not trust, because those I trusted have hurt me, it’s a vicious cycle.
My PTSD is contributed to some childhood instances I will not go into here, but there are many more contributors. Such as, my son, who I have already stated in another post, is a very violent bi polar (now) man, who when growing up we had to take precautions not to even leave a knife out for fear he would use it on one of us in the middle of the night. This went on until he was 15, bigger than me, certainly outweighed me, and I could no longer control him. He was physically abusive to myself and the entire household, refused to take any kind of medication, stating we were “just trying to drug him so he wouldn’t be human”. I finally made one of the most heartbreaking decisions of my life. I asked the court to remove him from my home. This was not an easy decision, but at the time I had a 3 year old baby at home, and the fear of him doing something to her when he was in one of his rages, outweighed everything else. We were all, as a family, mentally and physically exhausted. His behavior did not change when he was a ward of the court, he was still raging and refusing to take medicine. To this day, he blames me for everything wrong in his life, and states that I abandoned him as a mother, I allowed for him to be drugged so he could not think on his own, and the blame continues with many more accusations… Sometimes, you just don’t know what to say. But our relationship is not that of a mother/son type. It’s hard to explain if you have never lived with a bipolar person before. As I have said in the past, my mother is bipolar, but she doesn’t get violent. Her thing was sleeping all the time, among other things, but never violent.
Another cause, he has found for the PTSD, is my 4 miscarriages. I never received any counseling for them after each one. The first one, I actually held in my hand after I delivered. The arms and legs were little buds, head formed, eye sockets in place, and the entire face starting to form. The other 3, thankfully, I was given DNC’s for. I do not think I could’ve survived seeing the others…. One was more than enough.
I had trouble getting pregnant for the longest time, and staying pregnant. So when I was pregnant the 5th time with my (now) husband, I did not get attached. Yeah, I took care of myself, but would not allow myself to get attached. No one was to bring any baby items into the house, and so on. Then I reached week 20 where you could see the sex of the baby. I still was numb to it, always fearing the worst. I had heard heartbeats before that never lasted, and I still did not expect to have this one carry to term. The ultrasound showed a very healthy baby girl. I cried…. we all cried…. This was the furthest I had made it in my previous 5 pregnancies….. so maybe it was time for a little celebration??? I was still quite skeptical, as anything could happen and it would go downhill, but I started to have a budding attachment for my girl. I could start getting excited (still being cautious) and buy things for our baby when she came home!
Very uneventful pregnancy once we reached that 20 week milestone. All was well, baby progressing such as she should, then labor. I had worked all day and went home that evening not feeling well. I had a cold and just ached all over from coughing, and all the other crap that comes with the snotty nose, sore throat and so on. We went to dinner with some friends, and I went home and laid on the couch until bedtime. At 11:30 that evening my water broke, and we were off to the hospital. I had warned my husband that I have short labors, we were 45 minutes from the hospital, so out the door we went. Both of my older children with us.
Got settled in a room around 1:00, no hard labor……… started feeling the need to push around 4:30 or so…..I remember hearing the nurse say “Your blood pressure is high” DUH!!!! I’m pushing a watermelon out of a lemon!! (I was not a good patient lol)… but after 4 pushes our baby was crying, red, moving and perfect!
Went home that same day with my in-laws waiting at the house to help take care of the older children while I rested and got back on my feet. They only stayed 2 days, there was no need for them to be there any longer, I was up and running around. So they went home.
Three days after I had my baby, we went for our first “outing”. I remember walking though the stores and was having trouble breathing. We went home, figuring it was too soon for me to be on any big adventures as of yet….. The labored breathing became more and more as the days went on. I went back to the Dr. on the 6th day after delivery and he told me I had fluid in my lungs (pneumonia) and to go home and get rest. This was on a Friday.
By Monday, I could not hold my baby, couldn’t eat, or lay down to sleep… if I did, I would stop breathing, so back to the Dr. we go… My blood pressure was 180/160 and my Dr. sent me straight to the emergency room with immediate attention…. Little did I know this trip back to the same hospital I was in just a few days earlier would change my life forever…..
As soon as I walked in the door of the ER, there was a nurse waiting for me and took me to the back. My husband had the baby and was parking the vehicle so he was not there when they came and got me….
By the time he was allowed in the back, I had monitors on my body, an infectious disease dr., cardiologist, lung dr, and many more attending to me. I had no idea what was going on, I just wanted oxygen so I could breathe, which they gave me. I was poked and prodded of blood, tissues, and God knows what else, machines beeping everywhere, xrays, ultrasounds, the works. What got my attention was the ultrasound tech was trying to get me to lay flat so he could look at my heart, and I could not lay down because I would stop breathing…. when I was finally still enough where he could do his job, I could tell something was very wrong. The look on his face, and him yelling to get the cardiologist in there, yeah, it was not good… As he is doing this, I look out into the nurses station, and see my baby being passed in between all the nurses, and my husband nowhere is sight. I had no idea where he could be, he wasn’t with me, and now the baby was being cared for by strangers. I had no idea at the time the Doctors were telling him that it was unlikely I would survive, that my heart had started shutting down, heart failure. Or the official diagnosis Post Partum Cardiomyopathy.
After a short while I was moved up to the CardioICU unit, still unaware of what was wrong with me. My doctor came in and told me he needed to put a catheter in through my vein in my neck to monitor my heart. OK??? So what’s wrong with me?? He said he would tell me later, he needed to attend to me before he could talk to me.
After what seemed like a lifetime, my husband was allowed to come in my room. I asked him where the baby was, and he told me he had one of our friends come get her until his mom and dad could come back to our house. I remember him saying “Have they told you what is wrong with you” “No, just know I have all these monitors going off and a huge hole in my neck where they inserted the catheter. He said that my heart was giving out on me and the Doctor had told him to call all my family in to make arrangements. Unless I received a new heart from a donor, I was going to die. Which means, for me to live, someone had to die that was compatible with my genes (or however that works)… I fell apart then, and the nurses had to come and give me something to sedate me. Monitors were going off because my heart rate when up (again) and my husband was asked to leave the room for a bit. I had 3 children at home, one a newborn, the others 11 and 12. I couldn’t die! I had too much to leave behind!
I spent my days and nights laying in bed. They would not let me get up to use the bathroom, nothing! If my heart rate was up too much, no visitors. I finally convinced my husband to go home and get rest after the 3rd day (I believe) in the hospital.
He was gone maybe a couple hours when my cardiologist came in to check on me like he did every morning. As he was checking my catheter placement, I started hyperventilating and could not breathe…monitors ringing everywhere and nurses running in the room. I asked my doctor what was wrong in between my breaths and he said I was having a heart attack. NOW THIS!?!? Was I ever going to live!!!
So, off we go to the cath lab to put a stent in my heart. Turns out I needed 2 instead of the 1 he originally thought.
I was brought back to my room, where my husband was waiting for me when I returned. He had only been gone a couple of hours, and back to the beginning for him. We were all so tired, and not knowing what was going to happen….. it was a huge drain needless to say.
For the next few nights, other than the occasional alarm on my heart monitors it was rather uneventful. I remember one morning around 3am a team of doctors came into my room and introduced themselves as the team who would put my new heart in when one was available. To say that fucked with my mind is an understatement. I had been moved to the top of this list die to the severity of my illness and it was just a matter of someone dying for me to live….. ya, that’s a wonderful thought….
I shall continue this story later….. think that’s enough for this evening 🙂
Peace, Love and all that Jazz!