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Showing posts from June, 2014

Temper

As a child I had a wicked temper.  A wicked one.  Never violent, just loud. As I aged it became a non issue and very seldom ever surfaced. Since my SCAs my temper is back.  Violence with loudness.  I've broken keyboards, thrown things at walls, slammed doors, stomped, and then the loudness.  My level of volume is in direct proportion to the frustration I'm under. Not just volume but the words I use.  I could curse with the best sailor out there. The real question is why? Why has it become so bad since my SCAs? Why is it impossible to control? It's not fair to my kids, or my husband or really even to me. It's like I see red and the words just pour forth. I can keep a tight hold on it for days, or weeks, or even a month, then in a single day it's just lost. I hate myself for it.

24/7/365

People that don't experience chronic pain are not able to understand what it is like.  They may be able to sympathize but they just don't know. 24/7/365 days a year my S-ICD site hurts.  That sounds like a pretty tame statement but it's pretty wild when you think about it.  Not an hour, not a minute, not a second goes by that I'm not in pain. The level of pain can vary. The intensity varies. The strangle your breathe and take it all away changes. Today was one of those days where tears ran freely down my cheeks. I told a friend I wanted to find the biggest sharpest, knife I could and cut it out. I'm scared one day I actually could.  It bothers me that much. Yet as much as it hurt it felt marginally better having as much pressure applied to it as I could with my arm.  I'd like to know why?

Surrealism

I got my ICD about 23 days after my SCA. My first SCA was July 17, 2012 and I had my ICD implanted on August 8, 2012.  Much of that time was spent in coma, being cooled, in cardiac ICU. My first memory was July 26, then again one on July 28 (Austin's birthday).  Then one memory of me calling Dr E to tell her to get me out of Calgary. That they wanted to cut me open and put a thing in me. I didn't want it. I wanted to go home. She should help me.  Dr E little did Calgary know talked me into the ICD. She told me I did need it. That I couldn't go home without it.  After talking to her I finally consented to getting it.   A person came around showing me the ICD toolbox. I got to hold it. I had no understanding that there were lead things that went in heart.  I thought the toolbox went in by my shoulder and that was it.  Was it a bad explanation? Was it my memory?  I look back at some of my social media posts between July 26 and August 8 and I'm floored by how b

Drip drip drip

Smile. Put on a brave face. Be grateful you are alive. Fake it to you make it. Then for some reason the mask slips. You realize you haven't been fooling the world, you haven't even been fooling yourself. The tears fall, drip, drip, drip. Down reddened cheeks, off the chin, into the ears. Drip drip drip If tears are cleansing then I should be the cleanest around.  I can go months with nothing making me cry and then for some reason everything does. The world as a whole doesn't realize what the experience is like.  What it does to you, how it changes you, the profound affect it has on not only yourself but those closest to you as well. Is it wrong to cry? Is it wrong to dwell? dwell is the wrong word , what about revisit.? Why do the tears come. Is it grief for that which was lost or that which will never be realized? Or is it simply frustration? Or exhaustion?

Oops did it again

A little over a week ago my kids and I participated in a Friday night "amazing race" community event.  Many different mini-events. Not intense but repetitive.  It was fun we all enjoyed it.  But the next day I hurt in places I didn't remember could hurt. Roll forward to Wednesday and my son learns to ride a two wheeled bike.  Huge accomplishment.  It's taken six years. Huge accomplishment.  Saturday I go to ride with him and falter getting started.  The pedal rakes the entire side of my leg and lodges behind my knee. I fall forward onto the crossbar. I hurt places that shouldn't be hurt. The handle bars jab me in the side getting me on my S-ICD.   I saw stars.  I came down hard and weird on my ankle trying not to fall. I hurt, am bruised and am limping. When will I learn I'm not his age?  I remember always resenting my mom as a kid when I was always told by her she was too old to do anything with me.  I was five years older when I had my son.  I don't

Waking memories

Sometimes something will trigger a memory or at least give me a sense of déjà-vue. Austin wakes up and tells me he is scared.  I ask him why.  He is thinking of the time him and dad went to a bank and dad started crying. Austin says dad was so upset leaning on the counter he couldn't talk.  So Austin had to tell the lady he was crying because his wife just died.  But today almost two years later Austin is upset he didn't tell the lady that his mom had died. Innocence of children. This brought back to me waking in a hospital bed.  I'm thinking I should know that voice.  Why do I know that voice? Who is that? I'm looking past her out the window, thinking Red Deer doesn't have skyscrapers.  I'm in a white room. Hmmm. Why are there tall buildings? Who is this woman talking to me? Why should I know her? I'm a long way up. Hmmm why do I have needles in me? Why do I have an IV? This looks like a hospital room.  Hmmmm. Hey that's the Calgary Tower. Hmmmm.