About a year ago, I went to have blood work done at a local lab. I cant even remember what it was for. Not surprising, as my mind was not very sharp back then, likely due to too little oxygen.
Randall and Daniel went with me - it was a Saturday morning. I couldn't drive then - I was so swelled I couldn't fit behind the wheel. Not that I felt like driving to start with. Randall had to help me up on the curb and I shuffled in. He signed me in, and I thankfully found a bench to sit on, as I couldn't fit in the chairs. I got called back and struggled to get to the sign in booth, sitting on the edge of the chair. I slowly got up and went around the corner to wait my turn, having to stand to wait - I couldn't sit.
I got called in and struggled to get up into the chair to have my blood drawn. It was high and I didn't have the strength to get up on it well, not to mention, again, I was too big to sit back too far. I wedged my way into it and the phlebotomist put the arm across the front, closing in over my stomach. She really couldn't get it to lock down, and tried her best to pretend like it didn't happen, trying to make me feel less horrified. I got the draw done and slowly made my way out of the lab, having to rely on Randall to help me step off the curb and get back into the van to leave. It wore me out for the entire day.
Today, I went to the lab for blood work whose results will dictate whether or not I can quit taking blood thinners or have to remain on them for my lifetime.
I drove myself to the lab.
I walked right up to the door after stepping up onto the curb, by myself.
I signed myself in.
I took a seat on a bench, more out of the underlying flashbacks.
I got called to the sign in booth, hopped right up and sat down in the chair with no issue.
I went to the secondary waiting and sat in a chair with room to spare.
I got called in, hopped right up into the chair and slid back so far that my feet left the ground. I bent my knees far enough back to put them on the little bar underneath the chair.
The phlebotomist came in, asked me to put down the arm, and I did, with plenty of room to spare,
I got my draw, hopped down and walked right out to the van, got in and made my way home, out of the van, up the stairs and back in the house, unassisted.
It's the little things that mean so much now. Thank you Jesus.
Thursday, June 30, 2016
Tuesday, June 21, 2016
A Year Ago Today...
A Year ago today....
I woke in my usual spot on our broken down sofa, where I "slept". Randall and Daniel slept in out nice comfy sleigh bed, a bad I could no longer sleep in because I couldn't throw my legs up onto it - it was just too high for me.
I use sleep as a figurative word, because I hardly ever got any. Before lights out, Randall would help me situate a pile of pillows behind me to try to get as comfortable as possible, sitting upright with my left leg as far up onto the sofa as possible, my right leg usually hanging down to the floor. I couldn't lay down - I couldn't breathe. Lights out at 10:00, and they'd stay out for a few hours. By 12:30 or so, I'd take a yard stick and reach with it to turn on the lights, and watch TV until about 3:00, until I was so exhausted that I could possibly get a bit more sleep. I'd turn the lights back off until Randall would get up about 6:00.
I spent the day sitting on the couch, having Randall and Daniel get me things, like water or food. It was father's day, but I didn't cook for Randall, I couldn't stand up that long. I thought a lot about my Dad, since it was the first father's day I'd spent without him. It's been a month since his death, so it was very fresh and raw. Yet, I didn't seem to get as upset as I felt like I should.
Then came the afternoon. I needed to go to the bathroom, so I asked Randall to help me up - I couldn't get off of the couch on my own. He pushed the coffee table back and planted his feet and reached for me. We did our usual "1..2..3.." and he pulled on my hands, but this time, instead of standing, I felt my legs buckle. Randall tried so hard to pull me up, but it was so painful, I ended up on my knees in the floor and begged him to let go. I had to get off of my knees, but my legs were so stiff I had to lay down to straighten them out, then sit up as quickly as possible. First I thought I was going to be able to use a chair and get myself up. I'm not sure what I was thinking - I couldn't even stand from the sofa.
I was at a total loss - what was I going to do? I sat on the floor for over 3 hours, scooting around on my butt, trying in vain to find a way to pull myself up. Mortified, I finally agreed to allow Randall to call 911. Within two minutes, we had a fire truck in front of the house. About 4 guys came in and were so kind. They made me feel so less self conscious, like they see this sort of thing all of the time. They took a sheet and ran it across my back at my shoulder blades and hooked it under my arm pits, bringing the ends around the front of me. There was one on each side of me, and one at the back, grabbed the back of my pants and in a 1 2 3, they raised me off of the floor, just like that, right onto my feet. They made sure I was steady, and I hobbled back to the sofa, thanking them profusely.
It took 4 grown men to lift me. Here I was, 420+ pounds, my legs so swollen that I could barely bend them, not to mention my 3X shirts so tight that my belly just hung out of them. I was in so much pain all of the time, and just genuinely miserable. My legs full of open, weeping sores, just wondering if everytime I closed my eyes was I ever going to open them again. I said my usual prayer for God to keep me alive, to somehow save me from this mess so I could watch my child grow up, so I could be the mother and wife I wanted to be, that they deserved.
On this date one year later....
I woke after a full night's sleep in my comfortable bed. I got up stuffy, the remnants of a horrible cold I am getting over, a cold that I am convinced had I caught this time last year, would have killed me.
I hopped on the scale...I am 349. I recently dug some older shirts out to wear, as my 3x shirts hang so very loose on me, and my 3x shorts hang off of my rear quite comically.
I listed some new items in my ebay store before heading to the kitchen and doing dishes.
I ran the vacuum, made breakfast for Daniel, later made him lunch, gave him a bath and cleaned the bathroom.
I administered OTC cold meds to the entire family as needed, and did a few other odds and ends. I felt awesome, cold and all.
I didn't even take a water pill, and only had some mild swelling in my ankles that evening, mostly due to the extra activity.
I know I have a long way to go before I am as strong as I once was, but oh what a difference a year makes. I have only God to thank for this, and can't wait to compare this year to next.
I woke in my usual spot on our broken down sofa, where I "slept". Randall and Daniel slept in out nice comfy sleigh bed, a bad I could no longer sleep in because I couldn't throw my legs up onto it - it was just too high for me.
I use sleep as a figurative word, because I hardly ever got any. Before lights out, Randall would help me situate a pile of pillows behind me to try to get as comfortable as possible, sitting upright with my left leg as far up onto the sofa as possible, my right leg usually hanging down to the floor. I couldn't lay down - I couldn't breathe. Lights out at 10:00, and they'd stay out for a few hours. By 12:30 or so, I'd take a yard stick and reach with it to turn on the lights, and watch TV until about 3:00, until I was so exhausted that I could possibly get a bit more sleep. I'd turn the lights back off until Randall would get up about 6:00.
I spent the day sitting on the couch, having Randall and Daniel get me things, like water or food. It was father's day, but I didn't cook for Randall, I couldn't stand up that long. I thought a lot about my Dad, since it was the first father's day I'd spent without him. It's been a month since his death, so it was very fresh and raw. Yet, I didn't seem to get as upset as I felt like I should.
Then came the afternoon. I needed to go to the bathroom, so I asked Randall to help me up - I couldn't get off of the couch on my own. He pushed the coffee table back and planted his feet and reached for me. We did our usual "1..2..3.." and he pulled on my hands, but this time, instead of standing, I felt my legs buckle. Randall tried so hard to pull me up, but it was so painful, I ended up on my knees in the floor and begged him to let go. I had to get off of my knees, but my legs were so stiff I had to lay down to straighten them out, then sit up as quickly as possible. First I thought I was going to be able to use a chair and get myself up. I'm not sure what I was thinking - I couldn't even stand from the sofa.
I was at a total loss - what was I going to do? I sat on the floor for over 3 hours, scooting around on my butt, trying in vain to find a way to pull myself up. Mortified, I finally agreed to allow Randall to call 911. Within two minutes, we had a fire truck in front of the house. About 4 guys came in and were so kind. They made me feel so less self conscious, like they see this sort of thing all of the time. They took a sheet and ran it across my back at my shoulder blades and hooked it under my arm pits, bringing the ends around the front of me. There was one on each side of me, and one at the back, grabbed the back of my pants and in a 1 2 3, they raised me off of the floor, just like that, right onto my feet. They made sure I was steady, and I hobbled back to the sofa, thanking them profusely.
It took 4 grown men to lift me. Here I was, 420+ pounds, my legs so swollen that I could barely bend them, not to mention my 3X shirts so tight that my belly just hung out of them. I was in so much pain all of the time, and just genuinely miserable. My legs full of open, weeping sores, just wondering if everytime I closed my eyes was I ever going to open them again. I said my usual prayer for God to keep me alive, to somehow save me from this mess so I could watch my child grow up, so I could be the mother and wife I wanted to be, that they deserved.
On this date one year later....
I woke after a full night's sleep in my comfortable bed. I got up stuffy, the remnants of a horrible cold I am getting over, a cold that I am convinced had I caught this time last year, would have killed me.
I hopped on the scale...I am 349. I recently dug some older shirts out to wear, as my 3x shirts hang so very loose on me, and my 3x shorts hang off of my rear quite comically.
I listed some new items in my ebay store before heading to the kitchen and doing dishes.
I ran the vacuum, made breakfast for Daniel, later made him lunch, gave him a bath and cleaned the bathroom.
I administered OTC cold meds to the entire family as needed, and did a few other odds and ends. I felt awesome, cold and all.
I didn't even take a water pill, and only had some mild swelling in my ankles that evening, mostly due to the extra activity.
I know I have a long way to go before I am as strong as I once was, but oh what a difference a year makes. I have only God to thank for this, and can't wait to compare this year to next.
Monday, June 20, 2016
B n B 2.0!
Welcome to the newest "upgrade" to Blueberries and Blessings!
Borrowing a phrase from Daniel, I decided to call this phase of my blog 2.0, as the balance of focus has shifted from scrapping to survive, to recovery and beyond. Definitely an upgrade!
I plan on looking back on the previous year each day that I post my new "A YEAR AGO TODAY" posts, and comparing various aspects of my quality of life, or lack thereof, just to help me focus on how far I have come, and never forget where I have been. I never want to get into a position of taking my life for granted, and I'm hoping by remembering these daily struggles, I will remain as grateful as I am today, if not moreso.
I have some vivid memories of tomorrow, so these posts will start then, but my excitement to watch myself continue to develop into all that God wants me to be is so thrilling. I am so happy to be able to share it with all of you, or at least those of you who might be still around!
Borrowing a phrase from Daniel, I decided to call this phase of my blog 2.0, as the balance of focus has shifted from scrapping to survive, to recovery and beyond. Definitely an upgrade!
I plan on looking back on the previous year each day that I post my new "A YEAR AGO TODAY" posts, and comparing various aspects of my quality of life, or lack thereof, just to help me focus on how far I have come, and never forget where I have been. I never want to get into a position of taking my life for granted, and I'm hoping by remembering these daily struggles, I will remain as grateful as I am today, if not moreso.
I have some vivid memories of tomorrow, so these posts will start then, but my excitement to watch myself continue to develop into all that God wants me to be is so thrilling. I am so happy to be able to share it with all of you, or at least those of you who might be still around!
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