The Desire of My Heart2

November 11, 2003 we celebrated our 3rd anniversary. November 12, 2003 was my post-op appt. My mother took me. The hospital had 3 different parking areas. We had to park in the one farthest away from the door. As we were walking towards the door, we had to cross a muddy area because of some construction. I began to step down from the curb and tripped, slipped, or just plan fell. Neither of us know for sure. Thankfully my first impulse was to remove my shoe and sock. My foot began to swell instantly. My mom being the soccer mom type tried to tell me to walk it off. I knew by the pain that there was no way I was going to stand up. I suppose I was crying, I'm not sure. A paramedic walked over from his ambulance and asked if we needed help. He picked me up and carried me inside. I remember he asked me how old I was and he commented that he was younger than me. I was used to it since I look young for my age. Now, this is where things get a little hazy. I didn't wait long before some nice lady came in with a yummy little shot of something to ease the pain. I recall someone saying that they would've had to cut my shoe off of me. My foot got three times its normal size. I kind of remember some x-rays. Then there was a trip to an Orthopedic doctor. More x-rays. Finally, I was told that my foot was broken. Theres a bone that runs from you little toe to your ankle, perhaps there are some other connections in there, but anyway, around about in that area. Thankfully I didn't get a cast. Instead I had to wear an air boot. It was the ugliest thing I ever saw. I would slip my foot in as best I could, tighten the straps, and push a little button to fill the bottom and sides with air. Sort of suspending my foot in cushions. My toes stuck out the end. However, it ment I could take it off and shower. I never did get to my post-op appt. But, my doctor decided that she would still do the surgery. I went back to that hospital early the next morning. I was nervous. I remember waking up before they brought me into the recovery room. I was alone. I'm sure they expected me to be out longer. I was shaking from the anesthia and morphine. I thought I was convulsing. I was so cold. Above everything else I felt angry. I don't know why, but if I'ld had the strength and both feet I would have walked right out of there right then. Then, I guess I went back out. When I came too again my mom and husband were standing over me. There was a nurse also near by. Everybody looked pathetic. My body was still shaking and at first I thought maybe I was dead. By the looks of everyone there was something to be sad about. I'm not sure of the exact things being said. I remember the nurse saying that I may never be able to have children. She was standing on my right. My mother, to my left, began to argue with the nurse (she didn't want me to know yet). I could see my husband through my tears, pacing back and forth at my feet. I have to tell you that I balled like a baby. Good and loud. If the entire floor didn't know that I was unhappy then they were deaf. Thinking about it now, I doubt that I fully understood what she had told me. In fact 2 days later I had to have my mom tell me again. From there I was horrible. They told me I couldn't leave until I used the rest room. I demanded that someone take me right away. I wanted to get out of there. I forced myself to "go". Soon I was in the car on my way home, but it was even worse. I remember some of what I said. But, it was like someone else was talking. I believe I told my husband to leave me. That I was moving back in with my parents. Many hurtful things. I used language that I would never have dreamed of useing. I was so angry at everyone and everything. I remember my dad was at home when we got to my parent's house, he carried me. I'm not sure when I stopped ranting. I remember though, that I got quiet enough that I could hear someone breathing (it was me) and I was halucinating. Probably from the morphine. At some point there was a wheel chair next to me. Because I had three insissions in my stomach it hurt to much to crutch. I could use it to wheel myself to the bathroom. Then I could shuffle on my good foot to the toliet. And that was pretty well all I could do for myself. Unless you've been laid up, you have no idea what it means to need someone. Someone for almost everything. Things are pretty hazy for...I guess 2 days. I remember my mother giving me a bath. Don't get me wrong-physically I probably could've managed once I had everything I needed brought to me. But, I couldn't do it by myself. Between the drugs and my emotions I was truely pathetic. We both cried. Like I said, 2 days later I woke up a little clearer. I asked my mom to explain everything. This is the first conversation about my infertility that I could really take in. She told me that the doctor removed the cysts, but that while she was in there she saw that my uterus was malformed. I would need to go to a fertility specialist to confirm it, but she had seen the doctors pictures. She called it a unicornuate uterus. ( I'll let you do your own research).

to be continued Thursday.