Friday, November 28, 2014

She's Alright Now

I have a great deal in which I yearn to share, but am not quite sure where to begin. Therefore, I will just follow the waterfall of emotions in my mind and see where this particular post takes me...

It was very much so like any other day of surgery, with mom and dad and a bag of essentials in tow as I entered the hospital. For the second time since it had been instated at the opening of summer, I was placed into the IR waiting room prior to my procedure with my interventional radiologist. I was somewhat accustomed to these “peanut procedures” now with this particular doctor, and was greatly anticipating this one because of the bout of pain I had been experiencing the entirety of summer. October 1st, in my mind, could not get here fast enough. Pain, as many of you know, is a vile force to be reckoned with, and I was tired of not being able to sit comfortably. The only comfortable position in which I could muster up on any given day was that of lying on my stomach. Not to mention, if I ever wanted to have a sex life of any sort, this surgery would be undoubtedly be instrumental in helping me to do so.

With that said, the morning of the surgery arrived and I kissed mom and dad goodbye with a mere peck on the cheek as the staff wheeled me into the operating room. I was not scared in the slightest, I had done this “process” (so to speak) too many times before. Not to mention, my trust was placed in the attending performing the operation. He had operated on me in much more dire circumstances prior for several years. For me, this surgery was almost symbolic of a new awakening; one in which I was addressing a problem that had been bothering me for quite some time now...not just on a physical level, however, but an emotional one, too.

I awoke in the ICU with my oxygen level in ruins; apparently, I had a horrific allergic reaction to morphine while under and some fancy word (relating to my breathing level) had dropped incredibly low. What was supposed to be perhaps a 1 night stay in the hospital turned into an 11 day one. I was dissatisfied, but I do not remember the vast majority of what I went through (thankfully). Nor do I blame any of the staff nor anesthesiologists, as their skilled handiwork is what got me through that operation.

I am still, however, having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that that operation could have been my last day on Earth due to the unfathomable allergic reaction I endured while under general anesthesia.

I will write more before long, however for now I am off to retire to bed. Since returning home in mid-October, I have been dealing with a great deal of other life matters (some pertaining to my Klippel, others not). This, I find, is a rather confusing time within my life but I am trying to embrace it with both arms (with the assistance of my family and friends).


Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Check Out MY New Facebook Page

Hey all! If you are wondering where I have been, I have started a Community Page on Facebook about my struggle with Klippel and mental illness. I LOVE blogging immensely and am not giving up on it by any means - rather this is just a new platform for me to have some fun with as I have been blogging for several years now.

So please feel free to check out my page and like it ( : xoxo - Ari

https://www.facebook.com/Ariannasbeautifullife

I will be updating on here within due time... for now, however, I am just having fun experimenting with the Facebook page a bit. Don't worry though, as I still have heaps of stories filled with trials, tribulations, and happiness that I look forward to sharing on here. 

Sending you all so much love! 

Sunday, November 2, 2014

Different Is Beautiful

I like to write with lipstick. ( =



Some days I would quite rather I was not different, but the same as everyone else... - While I appreciate my Doctors and Nurses at the Hospital immensely, they are not people I would have ever wanted to have to know. I never wanted to have to know nor need them. Not in my perfect world, anyway. This, however, is not a perfect world and I am not a perfect person by any means. None of us are, so I am told relentlessly by professionals in the mental health field. They're right - even those highly-esteemed by society for things such as their looks, wealth, occupation, etc. are not perfect... We, as a human-race, are so incredibly far from perfect. We are all designed by something bigger than us, to be who we are. We are not all meant to blend - to the contrary I am afraid. I do not know if I will ever make peace with having this condition prior to leaving Earth someday (when a higher power calls me Home). Despite my contempt for what it has done to me and my family, however, I will learn to embrace what separates me from the vast majority of others out there by not hiding - I will not be ashamed of being different. I didn't choose this condition, it chose me. I will live in spite of it and live my life to the fullest, in hopes that one day I can reach my highest potential in terms of academics, humanity, etc. 

Different IS Beautiful, even though at times it feels like a damn curse.