Today I’m torn between celebrating and mourning. Why? Because today marks three years since my surgery. Part of me is screaming “You’re here! You’re alive! You should be celebrating!”. Should be – Hah. The other part of me can’t help but to get stuck reminiscing on that day and the events that took place.
I know, I know, you can’t go back in time. You can’t change the past. I feel like I’ve written this post a hundred times already and I’m a broken record.
But how do you avoid wondering? If things had gone as planned, if I went home the next day, would I still have ended up this way? If they hadn’t given me a medicine they knew I was allergic to and put me in the ICU, would this still be my life? And how do you get past the anger and resentment of such actions? If they hadn’t given me that medicine, I wouldn’t have ended up in the ICU with my Mom in tears and my Dad sitting by my bedside… I wouldn’t have had to ask the nurse if I was going to die while my Mom slept. I wouldn’t have heard the doc tell me if I’m ever given that med again, there’s a significant chance that I may not make it… These doctors visited me every morning, including a visit on my surgeons day off (before he went to play golf) and my other surgeon called to check in from the airport. I thought this was kind and caring, until I was told repeatedly that they probably did it out of guilt… And to be honest, I HATE that people told me that because my feelings of “Accidents happen, it was no one’s fault and I’m going to be okay!” turned into this anger that felt a lot like hate. Can you imagine that feeling, hearing the doc say next time you might die, knowing it is the #1 medicine given for car accident victims? I now wear a medical bracelet but what if I was unresponsive and it broke or they didn’t see it in time? And how could I possibly EVER consider another surgery (which I need) knowing that someone may “accidentally” give it to me again and it could mean that I die this time?
I did my due diligence, I told EVERYONE, the doctors, the nurses, the intake coordinator… They even ordered the notes from my previous surgery which is when they discovered my allergy. So how can anyone say they didn’t know? How could it have possibly gone undocumented with everyone I told and the notes right in front of them?! I have lost everything… My mobility, my health, my money, my career, my race cars (both my hobby and my passion)…. It’s gone. All of it. And how can you not wonder if things would be different if that hadn’t happened?
All I know is that I’m both angry and I’m in tears. I want to get stupid drunk and wait for this day to pass. I want to eat cake (random, I know) and fried foods ha-ha. And then there’s part of me that wants to remain in the dark and not face the day at all. Not face the day and it’s already 1:00, that is kind of amusing. But there’s also part of me that wants me to take care of myself… Take a bath instead, get wine instead of vodka, get cake or fried foods but not both. Find the happy medium. What I really wish is that I could find peace and not feel this way every year. I wish I could let it go… But for now, I have to let it be here, with me and accept that this is what I’m feeling… Ugh.