Monday, June 3, 2013

New blog series: old, buried posts

 Since I am busy with my other projects,
taking notes from the on-line author's course
Even with the arm apparatus, I can write, but not too much.

I decided to bring you into my process in sifting through older blog posts. I am focusing these days on the Caring Bridge posts from the first two years. It is such an amazing process for me. I see how many themes are still hanging around today, like the reconstruction surgery, and how many have been resolved. But most of all, I see transformation. What a gift, to be able to witness, and look back on, your own transformation.
I also see a big transformation with the style of my writing. Do you? I'd love to hear your comments.

Thursday, September 20, 2007 11:34 PM, CDT
[four months after NF]

So I go to Soroka yesterday for this appointment to measure for the
special pressure bandage. I was told to go to the plastic surgery
outpatient clinic for this. I got there on time, and waited for a half
hour.....not so surprising. I got into the doctor finally and he said "no,
this is done at the occupational therapy clinic- go there with these
papers". So, I take the 15 minute trek to the completely other side of
Soroka in the hot sun, and start looking for this clinic. I follow signs to
the 2nd floor, get down the corridor, and then the signs stop. I had no
idea where to go for the occupational therapy clinic. I look to my left, and I see a well-lit
room and good air conditioning blasting out from it, so I took that
entrance. I go a bit down into the entrance and find myself in the
twilight zone of staring at *my bed* in the intensive care unit.
Thankfully it was empty. I started bawling right there. The nurses came
up to me and asked me what is wrong, who am I, is that old man my
grandfather (there was an older man on a ventilator in the near bed). I
was finally able to tell them who I am, that I was here almost dying
nearly 5 months ago, in this bed. They didn't remember who I was.
Anyway, I got out of there and went into the waiting area and cried
more. It was really intense to be there and see (and hear) all the stuff I
had seen in my memories of the experience (plexi-glass separator walls,
monitors, hooks in a hoop device over the bed that I remember things
hanging from...), and the tweets and beeps of that elderly man's
monitors brought me back also to hearing that all the time. I wasn't
ready for the experience. I was just looking for the ot clinic! Bet you
didn't know that in Soroka hospital they are right next to each other- OT
& ICU. So, after about a half hour of trying to get myself together, I
eventually did find the OT doorway and went in. And if what I just went
through wasn't bad enough, they told me at the OT clinic that I am
missing a permission order from the .....plastic surgery clinic!!!!!!! Yes,
homicide came to mind.

I had to trek back across the Soroka campus to the Plastic surgery clinic.
I got back there, red eyed, hot beyond belief, in pain, and so completely tired
and had to wait more for the doctor again. I finally got into the doctor
and the one I had seen before was out to coffee, so I saw a different
one. Young guy who hadn't heard of my case. Joy. He said he had to see
the wounds. I tried to argue and tell him that the problem is clearly
sated on this letter, and that was 3 weeks ago, and I was told it'd take a
year at least to get better, so what would be different in 3 weeks? I
didn't want to disrobe- 3 layers of bandages and silicone under my
clothes, and I didn't feel I should have to go through all that. He insisted
he has to sign that he saw them and that it is a hypertrophic scar. Of
course, Soroka being a teaching hospital meant that there were 2
residents there, too. I should charge per viewing, really. So, I consented
for the sake of getting this all over with and getting the proper bandage.
Get this- when I started unwrapping my ace bandage from the thigh,
the doctor actually said "why don't you use a proper pressure bandage
on that?" Um.... **Hello***!!! This must be the effect from your
So, I eventually got the document I needed and trekked *back*
(remember- 15 minutes, hot sun, yadda yadda) to the OT clinic, this time
avoiding the ICU. There they took my papers and told me they'd call me
to set up an appointment. What? Can't you measure this thing now so I
can get the proper bandage soon? Nope, those people aren't here
any more for today. Yes, it's all true- I couldn't make this up if I tried.
They did call today, wonder of wonders, and I have an appointment for
next Monday morning (4 days). I specifically asked if any more papers
are needed and looks like I have what I need. Here's hoping against the
Aside from medical bureaucracy, there is still the emotional side I deal
with a lot. These scars and the whole experience stays with me almost
every minute of every day.....still. Crazy, right? It is either discomfort
from the scars, or bandages thereof, or little compensations I always do
to avoid discomfort, or thoughts about it all. Sometimes I feel it defines
me these days, although I know that's not true. I feel like my life
revolves around this experience. I know it's not the case- my birthing
practice is completely separate from that (and going well, baruch
Hashem), and my life is returning more & more to normal as the days
go on. But, the sleep problems still plague me, and the trauma still
dances around in my psyche. I am still seeing this trauma therapist, and
she is very helpful. Can't imagine where I'd be without her.
During Rosh Hashana davening, I cried. A lot. It was the "who shall live,
who shall die, who by fire, who by stones, etc..." that got to me. This
whole thing was decreed last year, at this time period. Now the next
year decree is being formed. I wonder if it was a harsh decree, or a
compassionate one- the fact that I didn't die- is that the compassion, or
the fact that this awful thing happened to me- is that the harsh decree?
I had a strong feeling that the real teshuva that can come from this
experience for me can change any next harsh decree, if there is to be
one. We can change it; Gd says so. It's not like a predestined decision
no matter what you do- it is proactive- we can always change the
decree. T'fillah, Tzedakah, and Tshuvah...for me especially the tshuva
resonates- to change the decree. I am definitely more focused on this
year's davening than I have been in the recent past. Really reading
those words- every one of them. If I am not interrupted by one of my
kids. :-)
G'mar chatima tova to everyone. May we have a year of health, success,
and real joy.


I will be doing sometimes these types of posts, with old posts being brought back to light, and sometimes new posts dealing with the 'today'. Depends on what I need, and what is going on.

 Oh, and did I tell you?
I have a title for my book. :)

1 comment :

  1. Hi Sara,
    i never read all your blog from the beginning but I do remember this particular one. It made me cry reading it. all I can say (bkz i am at work and have to leave right away) is that - You've come a long way, baby!!!!
    You're still not where you'd like to be, but the fact that you can look back like that - wow! still, would like to remind you re our old conversations of getting someone to help you oversee and coordinate all your difft treatments, etc. like a counselor at Tishkofet, also what you wrote a few months ago regarding yoga - to help relieve the pain or some of the pain you're experiencing - - is that still relevant?

    gotta run,
    thinkg of you,
    love and regards to all.
    also happy birthday to Robert