Thursday, July 4, 2013


I don't know how many times I started writing about Friday, February 8th.  Nothing too terribly eventful happened that day (the things that I do remember are that my Mom and Mama Jo came home from their cruise and Mom finally made it in to see me...and that's about it actually) but I'd start crying every time that I tried.  For weeks I'd go back and read some of my posts and become terribly saddened so I'd find something else to do.  I really wish that I would've pushed through and written about my experiences as I barely remember them now.  I remember that Saturday, February 9th Mama Jo and Mom both came to see me and I ended up being released that day!  I remember that Sunday, February 10th I went with the family to lunch for Nicholle's birthday.  At that point I could walk but I was in a lot of pain.

I can't remember if it were on Sunday night or Monday night that I got significantly worse.  One of those nights, around 2am, I stepped out of bed to make a quick trip to the bathroom.  I put one foot down and fell to the floor in immense pain.  I tried to get up but began crying in pain.  Both of my legs from my knees down were in excruciating pain and, for the first time, both of my hands were too.  I tried and tried but I could not get up.  I couldn't move or scoot myself anywhere.  I was 27 and had literally fallen and I couldn't get up.  My cell phone was out of reach.  I was terrified.  I was in more pain than I'd ever felt before.  I wasn't sure what to do.  I  lay on the floor and cried and cried and prayed.  I finally found a way to slowly inch myself with my shoulder blades and hips across the floor to the side of my bed.  It was only about a foot that I had to move but it took me until 5:30am.  When I reached the side of my bed I bit my lip as tears streamed down my face and I literally FORCED myself to roll over and get on my knees so that I could use my elbows to pull myself up and onto my bed.  After I made it into my bed I just lay there and cried.  And cried.  And cried.

That day Noelle came over to see how I was doing.  I told her about the incident.  Between her and my Mom they decided Noelle needed to move in.  She moved in on either that Monday or Tuesday and stayed until...well...she ended up living with me and my house until mid-March.  Anyway, she first moved into my spare bedroom but after a second falling incident during which I lay on the ground screaming her name for almost three hours, it was decided that she should probably move into my closet.  She put a blow-up mattress in there and moved right on in.

By Wednesday I couldn't do anything for myself.  I was in such extreme pain from my knees down and my elbows down that I literally had to be fed, bathed, dressed, etc.  Noelle carried me piggy back to the bathroom as needed.  Donna brought me a wheelchair so Noelle could put me in it and I could go to different rooms of my house.  I remember lying in my bed and crying while Noelle rubbed pain-a-trait lotion into my calves.  I remember another time that I fell and Noelle came to get me up.  I was on the floor and had managed to roll onto my back and get wedged at an angle on my bathroom floor.  She helped reposition me before we got me up but after I was repositioned she sat on the floor with me and we talked.  She thought I needed to go back to the hospital and that she should call an ambulance.  I told her that I absolutely would not go and to not worry because I had an appt with my Rhuematologist in Seattle that Friday.  I remember her calling Mom to ask her what to do.  In the end, I won.

Friday morning came and Mom, Mama Jo, my wheelchair, and I loaded up into my mini-van for our trip to my dr appt. that afternoon.  None of us really thought that I'd end up staying there and Mama Jo and Mom had joked that even if they did keep me, they were taking the van back home because they and their husbands had a double date planned for Saturday night.

I don't remember much about the drive to the hospital or getting to my dr's office.  The only real memory I have is when my dr walked into the exam room and saw me in my wheelchair.  She started to tear up and that made me tear up.  She leaned down and hugged me and I just remember her telling me that I was one sick little girl and she would figure out what was wrong.

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