Is this what PTSD feels like?

So, I had a panic attack because I thought I was getting another MRSA infection yesterday.

That was fun.

I ended up having Chelsea (who thankfully was in a good-for-her mood) take me to the ER because Mom wouldn't because I was not willing to mess around and was in unbearable pain and hadn't slept for more than 24 hours. But Mom was convinced from the start I was overreacting so she refused to do anything. Of course. Including go and pick up the antibiotic my doctor called in.

They took my cast off at the ER (and put me in a hard splint when I left) and couldn't see any obvious signs of infection, just major skin irritation, so all they could do was get my pain down to a more manageable level and help the nausea I was having (because of the pain) and send me home. My doctor's office will be calling me tomorrow to get me in for a much sooner appointment than the one I originally had set up for two weeks from now.

Then, my uncle so graciously came and picked me up because Chelsea had no gas and my grandma was still incommunicado (I later learned she was at an all-day Bingo thing, so it all made way more sense). And we picked up the antibiotic on the way home, so I have that.

I feel like an idiot for going through all that for no real results, but damn, can you really blame me? My mom's ego trip was not worth more than my desire to make sure my health was okay. We'll see what my doc says whenever he gets to see my foot in person.

Recovery and Rewards

Monday, I had my first post-op appointment. The doc said everything looked great. He took the original cast off, took x-rays, removed the stitches, and then re-wrapped and re-casted it. Look what color I got!

It dried and ended up being the perfect shade of Wolfpack red, which makes me unreasonably happy. It's a silly, small thing, yes, but if I have to have this thing on my foot for another four weeks, I might as well have a reason to smile when I look at it, right?

Yesterday, I must have caught Mom in a really good mood or something, because she agreed to get me two early birthday presents that I really want. First, it was this.

Yes, that is Harry Styles' new album. I am ridiculously excited about it. A couple songs from it have been released already, and they are SO GOOD. I can't wait for the full album to be released on Friday.

Then, there were these.

Orange bluetooth wireless headphones. I need them because my headphone jack is broken and I can't get an upgrade/new phone until December. They're a really nice brand, too; they were on sale on Amazon for $20 when they were originally $90. They'll be here next week, and I can't wait to try them out.

Gotta find happiness wherever you can get it, right?

How fun.

The pain in my foot had been slowly improving over the course of the last week, you know, as it's supposed to, and it was honestly going better and faster than I expected.

Then, yesterday afternoon, I started feeling super intense spasms in the muscles and tendons right where my doc operated. And they just. wouldn't. stop.

So I started taking Tylenol and Ibuprofen on top of my Oxycodone, hoping that that would help, and nope, it didn't make a bit of difference.

By this afternoon, I was starting to get a little concerned, that maybe the couple of times I've stumbled and/or fallen had hurt my foot and messed up the recovery. Thankfully, my doc turned out to be the one on call this weekend (instead of his partner), and it took his office's call service about 60 seconds to get up with him and call me back.

Turns out, this is actually completely normal for what he did. I didn't know this because he didn't have to operate on tendons last time, but yeah. He said this is completely expected because he basically had to take the tendon apart to even get to the joint he needed to access. So this was a fun surprise.

Fun fun fun.

Yay me.

Recovery. It's more exhausting than you'd think.

Well, the surgery went great.

This first week in recovery, however, has been much more difficult than I expected it to.

They did a nerve block for the surgery - which, as an aside, the only other time I've had a nerve block, they started it when I was already unconscious, but this time they started the nerve block while I was awake and HOLY CRAP, that hurt so freaking bad for them to do and it was also one of the weirdest freaking feelings in the world to have your lower leg go completely numb in a matter of seconds - and when the block wore off Saturday morning, I was in so much pain that the Oxycodone (straight Oxycodone, not Percocet) didn't do a thing for the pain for the next 36 hours, even though I'd started taking it while the block was still working like they'd told me to. 27 surgeries in, I have a pretty good grasp on how to handle recovery pain, and this was intense, even for me.

By Sunday night, though, that started to get better, and then the stomach pain from the painkillers set in, which took another three days to really get straightened out.

Plus, there's the whole issue of dealing with this scooter and the fact that I have the balance skills of a baby giraffe. A few mornings ago, I slipped off of it, tipped forward, and fell to the ground, landing directly on top of the metal steering bar. So now my entire shin, the same shin that has to bear all the pressure as I push myself around, is one giant bruise.

(This isn't my exact one, but it's very similar. My right shin landed straight on the vertical bar.)

The rest of this week has pretty much solely consisted of sleeping. Next week, I actually have to leave the house, so that'll be interesting.

1 week down, 5+ to go.

A Major Prayer Answered

Five weeks ago tonight, I was a nervous wreck, honestly. I was so scared heading into surgery because all I could think about were the words "cardiac arrest."

Tonight, though? I'm really just ready for tomorrow. I want to get on with things. Sure, I have a bit of anxiety, but I do before every surgery, which is largely because I've been through several with complications. The anxiety is minimal, though, which is a huge answered prayer.

Maybe it's because I've had so much going on the past few weeks once I got through the last recovery, or maybe it's just because God really is that awesome, but I have really been looking forward to this surgery this whole time and not dreading it, despite the fact that this recovery is going to be rough. This is definitely a huge answered prayer.

Now, I'm just praying that Mom is feeling well enough to take me. Partially because I have to be at the hospital at 5:30 am and I really don't want to drag my 79-year-old grandmother out of the house at 4 am (the hospital is that far away), but mostly because I just really want her there with me. (So far it seems like she's going, but that could change at the last second.)

God is good, y'all.

#27, I'm comin' for ya.

This is all I have in me tonight..

This world is a sad and scary place sometimes.

I can't wait for the freedom of heaven.

Same old shit but a different day.

The past two weeks haven't exactly been blog-worthy.

Not that anything in my life really is lately, yet here I am, eight years in, still rambling about the pointless happenings of my life, but I guess that's a discussion for another day.

But surgery recovery is especially mundane. I didn't put on any clothes other than pajamas or leave the house for a solid week after the surgery, and I've only left a couple times since that day.

The good news is that recovery is going well. My foot is healing well and feeling better by the day. This is the minor surgery of the two I have to have, so it's good that this one is out of the way and that it seems to be successful and proceeding well. Fingers crossed it stays that way.

Speaking of two surgeries, I did get the other surgery scheduled this week. It will be April 21. A lady canceled her surgery the same day the scheduler called me, so they were able to get me in way sooner than I expected. I am thrilled about it. It's going to be a much more complicated surgery and a much longer and more difficult recovery, so I just want it done and over with.

The fact that I should be fully recovered by my birthday is just icing on the cake.

Until then, well. it's really just biding time. Nothing exciting happens here. Not in this house. Not in this town.

Can you tell I'm bored out of my mind?

One down, one to go.

Had my surgery this morning. #26. I know. Try to contain your jealousy.

It was successful. No more steel in my left foot.

Doing about as well as can be expected.

Aside from the time I was under anesthesia, I've been awake since 11 am yesterday, so that sucks. Hopefully I will sleep soon.

I'm glad this is over.

Now that it's over, I can heal.

The sooner I heal, the sooner we can get on to the right foot surgery, the much more complicated surgery.

The sooner I get to that surgery, the sooner I can start to heal and maybe get back to my normal and be able to walk semi-reasonable distances.

I want to start walking around the neighborhood for exercise, but I have to have working feet for that.

One step at a time, I guess.

Hopefully by my birthday in June, this will be over.

Hopefully.

Post-op appointment is in ten days, so we'll see.

One step at a time.

No pun intended.

Seven

Sunday, March 5th, my nephew turned seven.

My brain can hardly comprehend it.

I would move mountains to keep this boy safe and happy.

He is wild and exhausting and stubborn and sometimes frustrating, but he's also sweet and snuggly, fearless and free, smarter than most people think he is, and the silliest, funniest little boy I know.

I could not be more proud to be his Auntie Mal.

Keep dancing, Blake man. I love you to the moon and back.

These are so awkward, but hey, you try taking pictures with a sugared-up seven-year-old. ;)

At War With Myself

I should be going to bed right about now, but I need to get this out. (Also, I'm listening to Ed Sheeran's new album for the first time, and I don't want to stop.)

Okay, so remember how I mentioned that video I got from one of my soccer boys for Valentine's Day?

Truth time: I still have that video saved to my phone and have played it I-don't-even-know-how-many times in the past two and a half weeks.

Every single time, it makes me smile as wide as my mouth can stretch and gives me this warm feeling of being loved that is like wrapping up in a blanket on a cold day, but there's also been this recurring thought that I really, really wish would get out of my head.

I see my brother's face in the video, and I hear him saying the words "I love you," and as though it's out of my control, I think, I don't know how I got this lucky. It's not supposed to happen like this for me. 

Three and a half years of knowing him and the rest of my brothers, and a large portion of the time, my brain still cannot wrap itself around the idea that I actually deserve their love. It still searches for answers as to how a "girl like me" got chosen by "guys like them," why the good-looking and popular athletes who could have the attention of anyone on campus decided to love the semi-outcast, not conventionally gorgeous girl with health issues. Why did they pick me? I keep asking myself, as if that's something that really makes a difference after all this time.

Besides, I already know why they "picked me." I already know what they love about me. It's not like they've kept it a secret. They've told me time and again why they're grateful to know me and why they love me. They've never once made me feel like I was their "charity project," like a lot of people in high school treated me," yet I somehow still have trouble just accepting what they have told me, even though, in my heart, I know it's true. It's not like I don't believe they're telling me the truth. It's just that part of me still doesn't understand why it's true.

The good-looking, popular guys used to always be the ones who made my life hell. That's exactly why I was scared of these soccer boys in the beginning, and I've told them as such. I didn't think they could actually care about someone who was so completely different from them and anyone they usually hung out with. But when I learned they really were different from all of the others, when I learned they actually were who they appeared to be, the question became why are they wasting their time? That was the same semester my seizures came back; it would've been a hell of a lot easier for them not to bother with me than to invest in me and my life on top of everything they had going on.

Instead, Chirag and Justin sat at the ER with me for hours one day.

Justin and Bryce picked me up from the ER another day then spent close to 90 minutes taking care of me.

Bryce - how many seizures did he take care of me through between soccer and Reformation??

Isaiah brought me drinks when I was too sick to even leave my room.

Reafe, Tunji, Ricky, and Isaiah showed up to be my bodyguards.

So many of them carved time out of their schedules to spend time with me, whether it be lunch or dinner.

They listened.

They prayed.

They hugged.

They were always there.

Some of them are still always here.

And they've never even wanted a thank you for any of it.

I have a soccer ball sitting on my shelf signed by almost every boy from that year, a daily reminder of the memories that we share. I haven't forgotten any of it. So why is it that I still sit around wondering why I'm even in this position? It's been almost three and a half years. Will I ever accept this love, whether or not I think I deserve it? They believe I deserve it; isn't that enough?

One of them has reminded me many times that they all love me to death. He knows my insecurities, a lot of them do, and they've never judged me for them or been put off by them, so it's not that I'm afraid that I'm going to ruin things. It's just frustrating. I'm tired of spending time wondering why instead of just enjoying what I have.

It's been three and a half years. Is this ever going to make sense? Will I ever believe that I'm enough, that I deserve to be loved, that there doesn't have to be some crazy explanation for "guys like them" to love a "girl like me?"

"We accept the love we think we deserve." - from The Perks of Being a Wallflower...if this is true, Lord, please let me believe I deserve this, because I'm tired of my head being at war with itself.

I am crazy loved by some amazing guys who are the best friends a girl could ask for.

That's the truth.

That's what matters.

And that's more than enough.