For the last year, I have been thinking of a gentleman who left an entry on my guestbook over three years ago after my first coma.  He told me almost everything that he went through during that time he was in a coma and thereafter my only thought was I hope I am never in that position.  Little did I know that is exactly what life had in store for me.

On February 27, 2003 I was having a more than severe asthma attack, we had tried the rescue inhaler, the nebulizer, and I had already received two Kenalog shots in a matter of three hours.  I was a very nice color purple and it was determined that I needed to go to the hospital.  Normally I have to be taken to the hospital kicking and screaming.  This time it was different, I asked my husband to take me to the hospital.  The asthma was not the only thing I had going on at the time, as a result of edema, my left foot was so swollen that I could barely walk, putting my foot on the floor was painful and my foot was also full of water, the water found a way to break through the skin, and anything that I put on that foot was constantly soaked.

After I told Richard that I needed to go to the hospital, it took me about an hour and a half to get dressed and when I was finally ready to go, I got to the door look at the stairs and told Richard that I would not be able to make it down.  He asked me if I wanted him to call 911 to which I answered yes.  By this time my husband was fairly alarmed, I have asked to be taken to the hospital (something I never do) and told him to call 911 (I always told him that if he called 911, I would divorce him).  I talked to him the best that I could about a couple of things that needed attention and then he asked me to sit down to wait for the paramedics who would be here any minute.  That is the last I remember.  I woke up in the hospital seventeen days later. 

By the time the paramedics arrived, I was unconscious.  They rushed me to the nearest hospital: two blocks and a half from my place.  They started working on me immediately , I was placed on the machine that would breath for me and was rushed to the operating table where they proceeded to remove the top of my left foot.  However, they failed t notify my husband  of anything that had been done to me.  My husband found out about my foot because even though I was unconscious, I would lift my left leg and shake it, he said that I did this repeatedly until he went to check my foot and found out what had been done to it.  He asked if there was any topical anesthetic for my foot because it was hurting.  He was told that I shouldn't feel any pain as I was under the effect of three different anesthetics.

I know it is very common to have someone under anesthetic, perform surgery and the patient will not feel anything, but I am not a common patient.  I am a very different type of patient.  I can feel pain even though I am under anesthetic, and even though I may be unconscious, I will fight anybody that does something to me against my will and without my consent.  And that is one of the biggest problems I had while in the hospital.

It was determined that I had a deadly lung infection and in order to help my lungs heal, I had to go on an induced coma.  They had managed to solve two problems, but there was one more problem that needed to be addressed.  My heart was pumping so hard that the doctors thought that my heart would explode at any moment.  I received jug, after jug of Nitroglycerine.  So you have an idea of what I am talking about, it was not a bag, not even a bottle, it was a jug.  So I was set, my foot had been taken care of, I had been put on a deep coma so I would recover. I had a machine breathing for me and I received Nitroglycerine for seventeen days.  If you think this is the end of the ordeal, I have to tell you that this is only the beginning.

After I got out of the coma, I was told that I started attempting to remove the tube out of my mouth so they put me on restrains.  I broke the first set of restrains so they had to bring new ones.  The doctors told my husband that the prognosis was not good, that I would probably die and if I didn't, I would have to spend the rest of my life in a convalescence home.  They attempted to remove the tube to see if I would breath on my own and it didn't work.  This happened three times.  After the third time the doctor told my husband that I would need a tracheotomy to which my husband told them to keep on trying until I was able to breath on my own.  After several more attempts I finally was able to breath on my own and a coupe of days later, I regained consciousness.

I was not here.  I was between worlds so I cannot tell you what happened after the seventeenth day either, but I can tell you that I ate two pair of restrains, got up from the bed and walked to the bathroom where I fell down and it took a huge orderly to help me stand on my feet.  Needless to say, next time I remember is that I am wearing the restraining jacket.  There was something else that happened while in the hospital:  I was treated with disrespect, I was hit twice by one of the nurses/nurse aid and they were incredibly rough with me.  After the second time I was hit by the nurse/nurse aid, I told my husband about it and he made the necessary arrangements for me to be able to go home.

I remember seeing the sunlight and then waking up on my bed, an ambulance had brought me home and the guys brought me up and left me in my room.  I don' t remember for how long after that did I sleep, but I would say it was about a week or more that I didn't do anything but sleep.  I finally woke up one day, everything was still foggy but at least I knew what was going on in my surroundings (sort of), and I realized that I was wearing a diaper.  I had no control of any of my bodily functions and had to be changed the same way you change a baby.  Imagine my embarrassment when I realized how long my husband had been doing that.  I had to wear diapers for about four months and then I had to be potty trained.  I also had difficulty with my legs, I couldn't walk, so I had to relearn how to walk, I had to relearn how to write and as of today my writing skills are not what they used to be, but the one that affects me the most and is the thorn on my side is that I have problems with short term memory.

I have cheated dead one more time.  I had to relearn many things that are taken for granted, every breath I take makes me think of how wonderful this world is and when I think about something that was said a little while back, I smile and count my blessings for the incredible amount of wonderful friends I have.  Overall, I love live 100 times more than before and I will do whatever it takes to continue going forward.  

Life is the richest dish we will ever have.

             

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