Monday, January 20, 2014

With A Heavy Heart...(A Post as Raw As Mine Come)

* I am currently inpatient for infection as I write this

We were on our way there. It shouldn't be much longer than 20 minutes or so, mum was saying. 20 minutes or so felt like three exceedingly long lifetimes at that point. It felt like steak knives were being jabbed into my thigh (outer and inner) and left buttock. Every second in which I was forced to endure the pain was excruciating. I was rather frightened as I knew another 20 minutes there could have a hazardous impact on my rapidly weakening condition with cellulitis – 20 minutes was enough to go from awful condition to an absolutely nightmarish one. There was nothing else we could do as we were already in Boston, mere minutes away from the hospital. Yet, there was unexpected traffic on Sunday during an early afternoon due to a bridge somebody had decided to shut down.

I sat in the backseat of the car; my crying was incredibly heavy and persistent, accompanied by occasional shrieks stemming from a concoction of pain and frustration. In that moment, I was fighting for my survival and that was the way in which my inner warrior (or lack thereof) chose to manifest itself. My poor parents had the great misfortune of having to listen to me the entirety of the way in a cramped car (a 1979 trans am, our other, much more spacious car, was broken). It must have been an arduous task as seeing somebody you love in such unrelenting pain is a form of torture in itself. I was freezing and trembling all over, and the pain was growing worse by the instant. I didn't know how to cope in that moment. Sanity was a friend from my past that was long gone by now.

If I am being incredibly honest, I wanted to die and be freed from all my misery at that point. Please mom, I said. Pull over and just kill me. You and Dad. If you love me you'll do it. I have great trouble writing this even in this very moment, as it brings back the most horrific of memories. However, when the pain is so extraordinary and uncontrolled and your temperature is so exquisitely high, you are certainly not thinking coherently. Can you imagine what my parents must have felt though? They had been through this with me numerous times before, but never had I requested for them to kill their own daughter. Before you think me absolutely mad, please try to understand that it literally felt as though a bevy of steak knives were impeding upon the infected part of my body. Try to understand that I had a headache so prominent and painful, along with legs that felt like mush and difficulty breathing due to the exasperating infection. I was out of my mind, but with due medical reason.

We eventually arrived there, and the ER at CHB took immediate notice of my down-trodden state. They wasted no time triaging me and then getting my condition under control as my temperature was just under that of 105. On the way to the ER, I said something to my parents that I know was rather hurtful to them. At one point, someone in the car made an innocent remark in regards to my relentless shrieking and hysterical crying.

“You have no right to say anything,” I said. “This is your fault this is happening to me. You guys were the ones who did this to me.” I know what you are probably thinking. What an absolute ingrate this young woman is to have made such a malicious comment. And, admittedly, that hadn't been my first time making a comment like that during a time of medical urgency. For me to imagine you calling me an ingrate is probably somewhat mock-able, as you are probably thinking much worse of me at this moment. I get it, I truly do. Sometimes I hate myself for making comments like that, for making my parents feel as if I even think they are partially responsible for my medical condition when I know they would have never wished this upon me.

I have a big heart, I swear I do. So where do comments like that come from? I was physically sick and emotionally a wreck, but that is no excuse. In those moments, when such medical injustice is upon me, it's almost like I look for someone to blame out of anger. My parents, however, are not those people. No one is to blame, that much I know. Still, my anger got the best of me and that in itself is very dangerous. My infections will come and go, but those are the kind of words that haunt a parents forever. I sincerely wish I knew how to be a better daughter, but I don't. I am trying, though, if not somewhat aimlessly.


To parents who of children who have this condition, we know it's not your fault. We know you would change things a million times over if you could. I cannot take back the remarks I've made and the hurt in which I've cast upon my family, and that too is something in which I have to carry around with me for eternity.  - A

3 comments:

  1. Arianna I know your parents know that you didn't mean it. I know if my kids ever say something mean, they don't mean it, they are acting out of duress of some kind and I let it roll right off me. I know they do, too. When people are in physical pain such as yours, it is impossible to take anything mean they might say seriously. Yes, its hurtful at first because people have feelings, but easily dismissed, no one could ever hold a grudge against you, and your parents are the very best kind of parents. They have nothing but love for you, when you are in pain, they can't stand it. Could I go as far as to say that when you say something terrible and human, it helps the situation? I think it does....it helps them not die of sadness over your pain, and instead get some adrenaline going and helps them demand the best for you. I know this sounds somewhat unusual, but I think all things that happen are happening to help the situation which is your pain and getting it under control. Everyone loves you, and wants the best for you especially when you are not yourself and in pain and screaming mean things. They KNOW, you don't mean it, you are just in pain and they understand that. Plus its just you being feisty and that means, you're alive and fighting this. (((((((((HUGS)))))))))))

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  2. I think in this condition we are "normal" Arianna. I have talked with many others that suffer as we do and have. You've summed up moments of deep conversation in your post but, you can not take sole passion of the actions, words and thoughts that your writing about. I think we have all experienced them or are going too,,,, I think we're normal,,, at least I feel even more normal after reading your post.... Thank you

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  3. You carry enough. Your words are not those spoken to hurt. These were a cry for mercy which your parents all too well understand. They too have shouted, pleaded for mercy for you. Instead of doing so before you, they likely stood before God speaking from their heart. Still your heart lovey lady. Thoughts abound.

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