I'm asked sometimes how we're doing. The truth is, we're not doing well. I nearly put myself in the pysch ward on Friday last week because we're just getting snowed under despite all the efforts we're putting in to stay solvent, stay sane and stay healthy.
The drunk driver that nearly killed Lisa ended up causing severe disc injury to her spine (L4 - S1) for which she is going to physical therapy now. She loves the therapy and says that it is helping her feel better. There is a stim machine that the therapist puts her on and as she is using the machine, she says she can feel the machine helping her spasms lessen.
We're tallying up bills to send in for restitution when the guy is sentenced November 28. As of tonight, Lisa's bills total nearly 50k, and we'll be finding out the remainder tomorrow when she calls her physical therapist to get those totals as well.
I worry that she will not win restitution. As it is at present, nearly every day we get a new bill from a hospital, service, or car place telling us how much we owe here, here and there. We got another bill today saying that the tow yard where the wrecked car was taken is billing us, and has been since the 18th of July. What a nasty way to get a surprise additional charge. What can we do with a wrecked car except...? What? Take it home and look at it?
So it's another bill to pay.
I am not recovering well either. The doctor put me in a wheelchair on Tuesday. People are talking and spreading rumors at work about me, that I "want attention," and I'm doing this and telling people about what we're going through because I don't have enough attention being paid to me. Each setback is met with a "what's new" attitude, accompanied with much eye-rolling and negative commentary.
Like we planned this. I tell people at work about what's happening because I'm reaching out for help. To get kicked in the teeth is brutal.
Nobody plans to nearly lose their wife, and lose their own health in the process. I fear I'm losing my sanity. I will be meeting with my doctor in the afternoon to evaluate starting me on anti-depressants.
Thank God for our friends and family stepping in to alleviate some of the pressure and stress. One donated food today. Another donated ten bucks.
Thank God for people that actually have hearts. Thank you to those that have helped. You mean the world to us.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Among other things
Lisa went in for an MRI the other day. Getting her in for the MRI itself was difficult enough: because the drunk driver that hit her didn't have car insurance (though he was driving a late-model Bimmer), we're on the hook for all of her medical expenses.
The morning of the procedure, she nearly backed out. "I don't think we have the money to pay for this procedure," and "I don't want to have to lie there for an hour, it's going to be so boring." Nevermind that the night before, she could barely walk, and is regularly popping percocet to manage the pain.
What frustrates me is that Lisa is not willing to go through and get an examination done because she's worried about the cost. I don't give a damn about the cost. Cost means very little to me right now because I am seriously concerned about how much Lisa is hurting. It's NOT NORMAL to constantly be in pain, to worry about being able to walk more than one block, and to have to take a pill to function. The most common refrain out of her mouth is, "my back is killing me."
No surprise I jumped all over Lisa when she considered not going in for the MRI. We now are waiting on results of the scan. The technicians told her that she would be getting the results within a few days. Every time I get home from work and see her smiling at me, the first thought that comes to mind is: "did we find out anything about Lisa's back today?"
Nothing yet today on any results. Frankly, will we even see anything? She had an MRI done in the E.R. the night of the accident. Lisa was unable to feel her pelvis, legs and feet for several hours after the collision. We all thought she was going to be paralyzed. The initial scan that day came back with no obvious broken bones or soft-tissue damage (I don't know if the E.R. staff were looking for soft-tissue damage, the thing that I remember most is that they all were saying that there were no apparent broken bones).
The scan on Monday I hope can give us some results on what, if any, issues Lisa is continuing to have. It's not thrilling to see Lisa in pain, and concerning she is still on percocet.
On my side of things: I'm still recovering from my hip arthroscopy. The surgery kicked my butt, and the recovery has been difficult. I was supposed to be off crutches two weeks ago. Still not off them. Have a doctor appointment in the afternoon and am afraid that he'll yank away the crutches from me. I'm on percocet every day as well.
Welcome to October?
The morning of the procedure, she nearly backed out. "I don't think we have the money to pay for this procedure," and "I don't want to have to lie there for an hour, it's going to be so boring." Nevermind that the night before, she could barely walk, and is regularly popping percocet to manage the pain.
What frustrates me is that Lisa is not willing to go through and get an examination done because she's worried about the cost. I don't give a damn about the cost. Cost means very little to me right now because I am seriously concerned about how much Lisa is hurting. It's NOT NORMAL to constantly be in pain, to worry about being able to walk more than one block, and to have to take a pill to function. The most common refrain out of her mouth is, "my back is killing me."
No surprise I jumped all over Lisa when she considered not going in for the MRI. We now are waiting on results of the scan. The technicians told her that she would be getting the results within a few days. Every time I get home from work and see her smiling at me, the first thought that comes to mind is: "did we find out anything about Lisa's back today?"
Nothing yet today on any results. Frankly, will we even see anything? She had an MRI done in the E.R. the night of the accident. Lisa was unable to feel her pelvis, legs and feet for several hours after the collision. We all thought she was going to be paralyzed. The initial scan that day came back with no obvious broken bones or soft-tissue damage (I don't know if the E.R. staff were looking for soft-tissue damage, the thing that I remember most is that they all were saying that there were no apparent broken bones).
The scan on Monday I hope can give us some results on what, if any, issues Lisa is continuing to have. It's not thrilling to see Lisa in pain, and concerning she is still on percocet.
On my side of things: I'm still recovering from my hip arthroscopy. The surgery kicked my butt, and the recovery has been difficult. I was supposed to be off crutches two weeks ago. Still not off them. Have a doctor appointment in the afternoon and am afraid that he'll yank away the crutches from me. I'm on percocet every day as well.
Welcome to October?
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Go alone
Some right little rays of wisdom plopped into my lap today. The pearlized bitties of knowledge were things that I already knew, things that already made sense, and things that shouldn't have had to be explained to me yet again.
But there I go. I am one of those guys that bears having things repeated to him because hey presto, saying it once, saying it twice isn't going to be sure it's a saving grace in my brain. No. It has to be repeated and added upon, expanded upon, and examined with a different perspective. That perspective changes often, so it bears repeating: repetition works for me.
Lisa was able to make it into a doctor's office today. The hours after the last time we talked online, she was able to reach the clinic and finally make it in to get an evaluation done. After x-raying and much hemming and hawing, "there aren't any problems, but we'll send you in for physical therapy." We already knew she didn't have any broken bones. We already know she doesn't have any compound fractures of her vertebrae sticking out her backside. We know that her skeleton is holding up alright.
What we don't know is why Lisa hurts so much. I started last week with 60 percocet pills to cope with my hip surgery. I counted today how many pills we have left in my bottle. Minus three pills that I've given my darling, we've gone through enough to leave a remainder of only 15. Lisa takes one percocet per day, usually in the early afternoon when she is hurting the most. What is hurting her?
Her pain is obviously soft-tissue derived.
When the doctor said that there isn't anything to be done but go through physical therapy, it goes beyond frustrating. It's numbing and hurtful and sad and wasteful. It's all of that and more. I hate it.
I'd like one day to be able to manage all of this myself - ourselves. When Lisa and I don't have to depend on chemicals, people, tools, kids, whatever, to get through the day. I learned today that sometimes that isn't how things are supposed to work out.
Pearly bit of wisdom.
We aren't supposed to go it alone. None of us are.
But there I go. I am one of those guys that bears having things repeated to him because hey presto, saying it once, saying it twice isn't going to be sure it's a saving grace in my brain. No. It has to be repeated and added upon, expanded upon, and examined with a different perspective. That perspective changes often, so it bears repeating: repetition works for me.
Lisa was able to make it into a doctor's office today. The hours after the last time we talked online, she was able to reach the clinic and finally make it in to get an evaluation done. After x-raying and much hemming and hawing, "there aren't any problems, but we'll send you in for physical therapy." We already knew she didn't have any broken bones. We already know she doesn't have any compound fractures of her vertebrae sticking out her backside. We know that her skeleton is holding up alright.
What we don't know is why Lisa hurts so much. I started last week with 60 percocet pills to cope with my hip surgery. I counted today how many pills we have left in my bottle. Minus three pills that I've given my darling, we've gone through enough to leave a remainder of only 15. Lisa takes one percocet per day, usually in the early afternoon when she is hurting the most. What is hurting her?
Her pain is obviously soft-tissue derived.
When the doctor said that there isn't anything to be done but go through physical therapy, it goes beyond frustrating. It's numbing and hurtful and sad and wasteful. It's all of that and more. I hate it.
I'd like one day to be able to manage all of this myself - ourselves. When Lisa and I don't have to depend on chemicals, people, tools, kids, whatever, to get through the day. I learned today that sometimes that isn't how things are supposed to work out.
Pearly bit of wisdom.
We aren't supposed to go it alone. None of us are.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Ashes
We are exhausted. Almost three months of recovering from the drunk driving accident has resulted in... what? We're skipping around on our toes and blithely throwing roses everywhere at how good we're doing? None of that is happening here. We're taking each day as it is, because that's all we can do. How are we doing? Exhausted. Tired. I'm mad.
I'm mad that Lisa is suffering like she is. I'm mad that she had to even suffer at all like she has been. I'm beyond mad that she is in pain. She isn't supposed to be hurting. She isn't supposed to be walking around in pain, like she's been beat up. But she is. My wife walks around like she's been set upon by a pack of wolves, and she doesn't say anything. When her self-control is at a low, she walks like she's about to fall over; her feet dip, her posture sags, and her gait becomes like this: walk, walk, drag, stumble, walk, walk, walk.
She's stumbling!! Lisa walks like she has just been in a car accident. Even though the accident was three months ago.
Three months I've been seeing Lisa toughing it out.
I'm angry. I'm not a person that asks for reasons from heaven, "why, why, why??" That isn't going to do her or me any good. I'm angry that we have to be pragmatic about Lisa's functionality. That I have to be tough and make sure that Lisa can do the things that she is normally doing. It infuriates me that she is weak. That she gets tired. That she is constantly in agony - there are no words for how I feel.
Lisa smiles through everything though. I understand why. What reason does she have to make everyone around her upset? She doesn't. So she won't do - or say - anything that would upset anybody. Even if it means when she is having a bad day, that she has to accept haranguing from her side of the family. The kids don't even know how badly Lisa is hurting. Sometimes I don't even know.
Drunk drivers suck. What on earth were you thinking when you decided to drive that night, when you decided you would intentionally drive straight into my wife? She saw you immediately swerve into her lane and come straight for her. YOU FOLLOWED HER OUT OF HER LANE WHILE SHE WAS TRYING TO AVOID YOU!!!
YOU HIT HER ON PURPOSE AND TRIED TO KILL HER.
What on earth were you doing? I don't know what is wrong with you that you would decide to light up a joint, smoke it, have some booze, then go out and try to kill someone's wife.
The world tastes like ashes. We smile and laugh at the normal things that we are a part of. But at the end of the day, the flavor has gone. I constantly worry about Lisa. She's tough, but I don't want her to have to be. I am tired of worrying. If it means that I get to keep Lisa, I'll worry and eat ashes. The thought of losing her, like we almost did that horrible night, freezes me.
Lisa, I love you. If it were possible to take your pain and put it onto that person who did this to you, I'd do it in a heartbeat.
Be well my dear. Thank you for being the strong, kind, brave woman you are. You're so much better than I am.
I'm mad that Lisa is suffering like she is. I'm mad that she had to even suffer at all like she has been. I'm beyond mad that she is in pain. She isn't supposed to be hurting. She isn't supposed to be walking around in pain, like she's been beat up. But she is. My wife walks around like she's been set upon by a pack of wolves, and she doesn't say anything. When her self-control is at a low, she walks like she's about to fall over; her feet dip, her posture sags, and her gait becomes like this: walk, walk, drag, stumble, walk, walk, walk.
She's stumbling!! Lisa walks like she has just been in a car accident. Even though the accident was three months ago.
Three months I've been seeing Lisa toughing it out.
I'm angry. I'm not a person that asks for reasons from heaven, "why, why, why??" That isn't going to do her or me any good. I'm angry that we have to be pragmatic about Lisa's functionality. That I have to be tough and make sure that Lisa can do the things that she is normally doing. It infuriates me that she is weak. That she gets tired. That she is constantly in agony - there are no words for how I feel.
Lisa smiles through everything though. I understand why. What reason does she have to make everyone around her upset? She doesn't. So she won't do - or say - anything that would upset anybody. Even if it means when she is having a bad day, that she has to accept haranguing from her side of the family. The kids don't even know how badly Lisa is hurting. Sometimes I don't even know.
Drunk drivers suck. What on earth were you thinking when you decided to drive that night, when you decided you would intentionally drive straight into my wife? She saw you immediately swerve into her lane and come straight for her. YOU FOLLOWED HER OUT OF HER LANE WHILE SHE WAS TRYING TO AVOID YOU!!!
YOU HIT HER ON PURPOSE AND TRIED TO KILL HER.
What on earth were you doing? I don't know what is wrong with you that you would decide to light up a joint, smoke it, have some booze, then go out and try to kill someone's wife.
The world tastes like ashes. We smile and laugh at the normal things that we are a part of. But at the end of the day, the flavor has gone. I constantly worry about Lisa. She's tough, but I don't want her to have to be. I am tired of worrying. If it means that I get to keep Lisa, I'll worry and eat ashes. The thought of losing her, like we almost did that horrible night, freezes me.
Lisa, I love you. If it were possible to take your pain and put it onto that person who did this to you, I'd do it in a heartbeat.
Be well my dear. Thank you for being the strong, kind, brave woman you are. You're so much better than I am.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Pride Hurting
Since July 18, 2009, our family has been put through the maelstrom. Every day is different. There are the good days and there are the bad days. The bad days don't seem to stop coming, though. We're not the kind of people that complain. We were raised to not be complainers. Complaining never really did anybody any good, did it?
So, we don't complain.
I see Lisa at night, shrugging off the mask she wears. Lisa tries so hard to not be a burden to anybody that it's second nature for her to smile even when she shouldn't be smiling. Lisa smiles when she hurts. She is perpetually working to make sure the people she socializes with are okay. Lisa won't take care of herself; she assumes the burden of caring for everyone.
I see her at night shrugging off the mask, and showing her pain. She has to get into the bath tub every night to relax the spasms in her back. She asks for my percocet when the pain is really bad. Lately she's been asking for my percocet everyday.
I give it to her. Without it, the smile will still be there, but at night, Lisa explodes into pain. Two days ago, my Aunt Chris and Lisa went for a walk around the block. They walked two blocks. When they got back to the house, Lisa dropped Eva's hand, dropped Keona's hand, and nearly collapsed. She sat down and looked at me with pain in her eyes.
"I can't even walk a block without hurting."
My bride has a pain threshold so high that I can't tell when she's in pain. I am now able to see cracks in her facade. The pain is radiating through. Today is her birthday. On her facebook status she said, "Happy birthday to little, crippled, OLD me!" Lisa is 35. She is much too young to feel crippled and old. But she does.
It breaks my heart to see her bucking up under the pain when she shouldn't have to. Lisa is kind, caring and brave. Why would someone as good as her be hurt so badly?
I tell her that I'm blogging about our family's experience and she is embarrassed. Lisa is kind, and doesn't want to be a burden to anybody. I'm sharing this pain. She doesn't want to share the pain. Lisa would rather take care of me, and would rather take care of everyone if we let her.
The thing is: sweetheart, I can't let you take care of everyone. You're dying with pain everyday. You can barely walk. You need modern medicine to be able to function without the pain. I know how much you hate taking percocet. I know how often you've gone without any painkillers because you're deathly afraid of becoming an addict.
Darling, I love you. I want to take away your pain. I don't know what to do when I see you at night, hunched over and hurting. It would be nice if you took a bath just to relax, not to minimize your pain. It would be nice if you didn't have to use my cane and my medicine.
I will always give you everything I have, everything I need, to help you and make you feel better.
We can't even get Lisa in to see the doctor to treat her. Nobody is willing to see her and help her. We're stuck.
So, we don't complain.
I see Lisa at night, shrugging off the mask she wears. Lisa tries so hard to not be a burden to anybody that it's second nature for her to smile even when she shouldn't be smiling. Lisa smiles when she hurts. She is perpetually working to make sure the people she socializes with are okay. Lisa won't take care of herself; she assumes the burden of caring for everyone.
I see her at night shrugging off the mask, and showing her pain. She has to get into the bath tub every night to relax the spasms in her back. She asks for my percocet when the pain is really bad. Lately she's been asking for my percocet everyday.
I give it to her. Without it, the smile will still be there, but at night, Lisa explodes into pain. Two days ago, my Aunt Chris and Lisa went for a walk around the block. They walked two blocks. When they got back to the house, Lisa dropped Eva's hand, dropped Keona's hand, and nearly collapsed. She sat down and looked at me with pain in her eyes.
"I can't even walk a block without hurting."
My bride has a pain threshold so high that I can't tell when she's in pain. I am now able to see cracks in her facade. The pain is radiating through. Today is her birthday. On her facebook status she said, "Happy birthday to little, crippled, OLD me!" Lisa is 35. She is much too young to feel crippled and old. But she does.
It breaks my heart to see her bucking up under the pain when she shouldn't have to. Lisa is kind, caring and brave. Why would someone as good as her be hurt so badly?
I tell her that I'm blogging about our family's experience and she is embarrassed. Lisa is kind, and doesn't want to be a burden to anybody. I'm sharing this pain. She doesn't want to share the pain. Lisa would rather take care of me, and would rather take care of everyone if we let her.
The thing is: sweetheart, I can't let you take care of everyone. You're dying with pain everyday. You can barely walk. You need modern medicine to be able to function without the pain. I know how much you hate taking percocet. I know how often you've gone without any painkillers because you're deathly afraid of becoming an addict.
Darling, I love you. I want to take away your pain. I don't know what to do when I see you at night, hunched over and hurting. It would be nice if you took a bath just to relax, not to minimize your pain. It would be nice if you didn't have to use my cane and my medicine.
I will always give you everything I have, everything I need, to help you and make you feel better.
We can't even get Lisa in to see the doctor to treat her. Nobody is willing to see her and help her. We're stuck.
Descending to hell
Lisa was hit by a drunk driver on July 18, 2009. She was driving home from Arby's, after getting some fast food for the two of us. The kids were in bed. The baby was asleep next to me in the car seat. I was watching some crap television show that we had recorded earlier on our DVR.
Lisa was only supposed to take 15 minutes to go to Arbys and then come home. She didn't make it home in 15 minutes. She was driving westbound with a sack of munchies next to her, and was less than two miles from our house when she was hit.
Lisa was hit by a drunk driver. The driver was driving eastbound with his brights on. The road that Lisa and the drunk driver were on is a three-lane road. Lisa was in hers, he was in his. He was blinding her.
Lisa flicked her high beams on-and-off, quickly. On-and-off. Just like that. A quick flick of the lights to let the opposite driver know that she couldn't see. The drunk driver hesitated, then immediately swerved into her lane and hit her head-on at approximately 40 miles an hour. He tried to kill her.
Lisa didn't make it home in 15 minutes. The fire department called, "your wife has been in a car accident." I made them call me back through relay. I couldn't hear what the fireman said. When the videophone rang:.
"Your wife has been in a car accident..." and like that, my world ended. "She was taken by ambulance to the hospital."
After rushing mind-numbingly through the night to her side, I saw her. Lisa was cut up and bruised. When she saw me, she burst into tears. I couldn't kiss her. I couldn't touch her lovely face.
Lisa's face was encapsulated by a neck brace, and she was on a body board. Lisa couldn't feel her feet, her legs, and her hips. Her back was on fire. A battery of tests showed no obvious injuries.
A week, a month, two months, then three.
Lisa cannot walk without a cane. The first two weeks, Lisa is in bed. She can't move. Our church brings food for her and for us; I was hit two days after my bride was. We are both bedridden. Our children are in the care of family for almost two weeks. Eva is traumatized. Everything scares her. Keona wonders when she'll be seeing mommy and daddy. Our baby has to learn to like formula; Lisa can't feed him. She is in too much pain.
Lisa is not getting better. It is now September. Lisa stumbles as she walks. The stairs are an ordeal.
The drunk driver only spent two hours in jail. He is fine.
We need to move. Lisa and I have a hard time living in our house now. It hurts too much to use the stairs. What can we do?
Lisa was only supposed to take 15 minutes to go to Arbys and then come home. She didn't make it home in 15 minutes. She was driving westbound with a sack of munchies next to her, and was less than two miles from our house when she was hit.
Lisa was hit by a drunk driver. The driver was driving eastbound with his brights on. The road that Lisa and the drunk driver were on is a three-lane road. Lisa was in hers, he was in his. He was blinding her.
Lisa flicked her high beams on-and-off, quickly. On-and-off. Just like that. A quick flick of the lights to let the opposite driver know that she couldn't see. The drunk driver hesitated, then immediately swerved into her lane and hit her head-on at approximately 40 miles an hour. He tried to kill her.
Lisa didn't make it home in 15 minutes. The fire department called, "your wife has been in a car accident." I made them call me back through relay. I couldn't hear what the fireman said. When the videophone rang:.
"Your wife has been in a car accident..." and like that, my world ended. "She was taken by ambulance to the hospital."
After rushing mind-numbingly through the night to her side, I saw her. Lisa was cut up and bruised. When she saw me, she burst into tears. I couldn't kiss her. I couldn't touch her lovely face.
Lisa's face was encapsulated by a neck brace, and she was on a body board. Lisa couldn't feel her feet, her legs, and her hips. Her back was on fire. A battery of tests showed no obvious injuries.
A week, a month, two months, then three.
Lisa cannot walk without a cane. The first two weeks, Lisa is in bed. She can't move. Our church brings food for her and for us; I was hit two days after my bride was. We are both bedridden. Our children are in the care of family for almost two weeks. Eva is traumatized. Everything scares her. Keona wonders when she'll be seeing mommy and daddy. Our baby has to learn to like formula; Lisa can't feed him. She is in too much pain.
Lisa is not getting better. It is now September. Lisa stumbles as she walks. The stairs are an ordeal.
The drunk driver only spent two hours in jail. He is fine.
We need to move. Lisa and I have a hard time living in our house now. It hurts too much to use the stairs. What can we do?
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