- Joined
- Aug 17, 2012
- Messages
- 117
- Reaction score
- 64
I am glad that I found this website. I find that I am able to fall into another place where I share common interests with other people. Others that understand why it is important to subscribe to more than one box subscription, constantly scanning the posts for updates, and eagerly waiting for the boxes to arrive. All of this has given me a temporary break from what has been one of the worst years of my life.
February 4, 2014, I had ligament replacement surgery performed on my left hand. Painful. I had a nerve block. The anesthesiologist did not wait for all the medications to work. So, I could feel all the needles going into the axilla area and I could not move, talk, or cry; I could only feel pain. Lots of pain. But, I was able to pick out the color for my cast; small consolation, I suppose. I had just made an almost complete recovery from a torn ligament in my right wrist that required surgery six months prior and now, I was back in a cast.
March 2, 2014, my sister called me and said that she needed to talk to me in person and that she would come over to my place. "Weird," I thought. She told me that our father passed away. My mother got the call while she was on vacation. I cannot even get into the emotions and my reaction of the news. I do not remember much the first couple of days. Everything was a blur. Tears. I broke out in hives. Tears. Migraines. Tears. Hair started falling out. Tears.
March 11, 2014, I had an accident. I had a puncture wound in my right hand. The wound went down to the bone. I went to the doctor the next day. He bandaged my hand and wrist. Hard cast on my left arm. Soft small cast on my right. Several days later, my hand started to freeze into a claw. It was painful. Seven days later, my doctor admitted me to the hospital because I was not responding to the antibiotics. I had over eleven rounds of IV antibiotics and my hand was not improving. And they had a feeling that the bone was becoming septic. the hand surgeon came in on Friday and said that surgery was needed. I woke from surgery with the nurse screaming at me saying that my blood pressure was high. I thought,"ok. What am I supposed to do? I do not have the answer." I was in the hospital for a week. I digress.
I want to thank the people that traded and, most of all, shared their stories, their lives with me. It gave me a bit of courage and strength to share. So under my pseudonym, I can reveal my story and how I feel in my melancholic state. Years from now, I will, perhaps, look back and see my progression through this period of my life. Until then, it is a day to day kind of thing.
February 4, 2014, I had ligament replacement surgery performed on my left hand. Painful. I had a nerve block. The anesthesiologist did not wait for all the medications to work. So, I could feel all the needles going into the axilla area and I could not move, talk, or cry; I could only feel pain. Lots of pain. But, I was able to pick out the color for my cast; small consolation, I suppose. I had just made an almost complete recovery from a torn ligament in my right wrist that required surgery six months prior and now, I was back in a cast.
March 2, 2014, my sister called me and said that she needed to talk to me in person and that she would come over to my place. "Weird," I thought. She told me that our father passed away. My mother got the call while she was on vacation. I cannot even get into the emotions and my reaction of the news. I do not remember much the first couple of days. Everything was a blur. Tears. I broke out in hives. Tears. Migraines. Tears. Hair started falling out. Tears.
March 11, 2014, I had an accident. I had a puncture wound in my right hand. The wound went down to the bone. I went to the doctor the next day. He bandaged my hand and wrist. Hard cast on my left arm. Soft small cast on my right. Several days later, my hand started to freeze into a claw. It was painful. Seven days later, my doctor admitted me to the hospital because I was not responding to the antibiotics. I had over eleven rounds of IV antibiotics and my hand was not improving. And they had a feeling that the bone was becoming septic. the hand surgeon came in on Friday and said that surgery was needed. I woke from surgery with the nurse screaming at me saying that my blood pressure was high. I thought,"ok. What am I supposed to do? I do not have the answer." I was in the hospital for a week. I digress.
I want to thank the people that traded and, most of all, shared their stories, their lives with me. It gave me a bit of courage and strength to share. So under my pseudonym, I can reveal my story and how I feel in my melancholic state. Years from now, I will, perhaps, look back and see my progression through this period of my life. Until then, it is a day to day kind of thing.
/emoticons/
