What does it take...part 2

December 4, 2007

After a long night of constant interruption and multiple IV changes (my veins were D-O-N-E) I woke up feeling much better than the previous day, for starters I didn't have a tube stuck down my throat, I was able to talk and I could sit up...YAY! However, my arms were killing me! I hadn't noticed until then that my poor little arms were four times their normal size and nowhere near their normal color. They were a mix of black and purple with little bits of blue here and there and it hurt to look at them much less move or touch them. But I figured that was the last of my worries just now. My mom had spent all night next to my bed on a little recliner chair,much to my hubby's protest he was sent to his mom's hotel room to get some sleep. It was 5:30am and everything was quiet, my mom was passed out and I was left there to reflect on what had happened and why I was there. I blamed myself naturally (what mother doesn't!) but now I know that I was wrong then. Life has ups and downs and the lower the downs the higher the ups will feel...or so has been my experience. Not wanting to wallow in self pity I decided my time was better spent sleeping my body ached and it needed rest.
A couple of hours later I heard my mom talking with one of the nurses and I also heard the one voice that I would bother to wake up for...my hubs. He looked better than the previous day but his face was still puffy, which told me two things 1.-he had spent time alone, because that's the only way he ever cries and 2.-he hadn't gotten as much sleep as I wished he had. He had a perma-frown on his face that I had not seen since my brother had passed of cancer five years earlier. He wasn't my happy care-free hubby that I knew and loved. A funny thing happened when he saw me tho, his eyes immediately came alive and a strained smile touched his face. You know one of those smiles that are meant to tell you "I'm ok" but you know isn't genuine because it doesn't touch the person's eyes? He approached my bed and gave me a kiss that said "thank God you're still alive!" I don't know what he'd pictured he'd come back to but he seemed relieved so that was good. I asked the nurse when they would take me out of ICU and he laughed and said to not get my hopes up, the entire hospital thought that I was a goner...fun! He told me that I would be evaluated by a physical therapist that day and that I would also get a visit from an occupational therapist. Up to this point I had no idea what the difference between the two was. While we waited for the PT and OTs to show up my mom left to shower to my mother-in-law's room (the hospital had a hotel so they stayed there), my dad and father in law got ready to go back home before the ice storm hit, and my hubby kept me company and updated me on all the people he had talked to. I found out my best friend was on her way to see me. My best friend was at the time a post trauma ICU nurse (now she does just trauma) so as soon as she heard the words "heart failure," "intubated," and "ICU" (from what she tells me that's all she heard) she hoped on a plane to San Antonio (home), picked her mom up and drove to Oklahoma (some 8 hours). Am I loved or what?!? ;D
When the physical therapist got there he asked me how I was feeling, I told him that I felt like I got hit by a bus other than that just fine :) then he told me that they wouldn't let me out of the ICU until they could see that I was strong enough to stand to which I replied "heck, let's do laps!" He chuckled and told me we would try walking 3 feet to the recliner first so that the nurses could make my bed. Then he told me I had to walk very carefully because I had a rather large c-section cut to take care of (gulp!) and I had a catheter in(double gulp!!...hmmm no wonder I hadn't had to use the restroom!). So carefully, I got up...mostly by myself and with a walker I walked to the recliner and sat down. At that point the occupational therapists asked me if I would like to wash my face and brush my teeth. I couldn't remember the last time I did that and I immediately though "OMG!!! What do I look like!" so I told her yes please and she went and got me cool water to rinse my mouth with and warm water to wash my face. My hubby got me a brush from my overnight bag and I brushed my too tangled hair and one of my sister in laws gave me a lipgloss she had bought me...God bless her!!! Once I felt ten times prettier than I had been feeling I got up (by myself this time) and walked over to the bed, I didn't want to lay down but I could feel my body weakening and was relieved when they told me I had to lay back down.
Once the therapists left my cardiologists nurse practitioner came in to introduce herself and see how I was doing and I thanked God that I had just gotten pretty because this was my chance to bust out of ICU! So I told her I felt great with a fake smile plastered on my face and told her that I really wanted to get out of ICU and into a normal room I didn't care if I went to the post-partum unit or the cardiology unit I just wanted out of the too much beeping, never sleeping, not in anyway private ICU. She said that she would consult my OB and cardiologist and let the nurses know if they can put me elsewhere as soon as she could to which I insisted..."today...please!"
And so I was left there waiting for someone to bust me out of ICU. Meanwhile my mother in law asked if she could go to my house to "clean up" (translation, clear out everything that is baby related and lock it in a room where I won't have to face it when I came home...if I came home) I told her that she would have to take my husband and I didn't feel comfortable with him leaving until I was out of ICU so then she asked what I needed from the store because she needed to make herself useful somehow so I told her I needed really tight sport bras from my swelling boobs, lipgloss, hair ties, and food for my hubs. She left happy that she had a task and I was left to wait. Luckily I didn't have to wait too long. Shortly after the nurse came in to tell me I would be moving to the post-partum surgical unit in a couple of hours. Just as my mother in law and sisters came back the ICU nurses came in to say goodbye and to transfer me to my new home. They kept telling me how when I came in they were sure that I would be there for weeks and here I was a little over 24 hours later leaving their unit to which I replied "it's cause I'm cool like that" the truth was and is that it was a miracle that I was even there much less leaving ICU after 24 hours of having arrived there. They told me that as soon as I got to my new room the nurses would introduce themselves and I would get lunch. I can't honestly say that the thought of sharing a wing with a whole bunch of women that were happy and healthy playing with their brand new babies was a welcome thought but it was a better alternative than sharing a wing with a whole bunch of people that were near death. The trip to the new room was filled with anxiety for me because it kept reminding me of the last time I had been rolled somewhere and it was shocking to feel my lungs working the way they are meant to be this time, not feeling like I was going to drown (or barf) right there and then and just being able to feel. The first time I had been rolled somewhere was when I was being transferred to the operating room and I just remember the rooms flying past me and me feeling like I was still within chaos and being unable to understand that everything that was going on was real. And here I was a day and half later completely aware of everything that was going on around me...a little too aware.
The post-partum unit was no picnic for anyone in my family but then again I didn't expect it to be. Just as we were getting settled in my hubby got a phone call from my best friend saying that she was there and asking for directions to the hospital. After a few minutes she came flying in the room with mom (hers not mine). She gave me a quick hug and launched straight into nurse mode. She grabbed my chart and headed for the nurses station. After 20 minutes or so she came back in and briefed us on what exactly happened. Well it was her lucky day because she arrived just in time to talk to all my doctors. This was the first day that I actually remember seeing my OB after everything happened and through sobs she explained to me that I had (magically) gotten a "sudden" onset of preeclamsia which might have been what triggered the heart failure and that my official diagnosis was of peripartum cardiomyopathy (PPCM) and that she was REALLY sorry for our loss...this wasn't the first time or the last time I would hear this from her. To be honest, by this time a strange and comforting numbness had set in and I would not and could not cry in front of my family. So as my OB sobbed and apologized I just stared blankly at her and couldn't bring myself to ask questions.
After all the doctors came and went one of my sister in laws asked if there was any way that they could see my daughter. Then I suddenly realized that I hadn't gotten to see her and understand what I was seeing because last time we met I had been on a skyscraper high that would make most potheads jealous. So I asked the nurse to bring us my daughter and asked my mother in law to bring me my daughter when they were done with her. My mom protested because she thought it would be too painful to see my daughter at which point she met hormones Martha (she's not nice) the thought that seeing my daughter would in any way hurt me I still don't understand. She was the perfect being as far as I'm concerned. So after some firm talking I got my wish and got to see my baby again.
Michelle was the perfect combination of the one person I love the most in my life (other than my child) and me...how could she not be perfect! She was exactly the opposite of what I pictured. She had my hubby's itty bitty eyes and one eyebrow (eek!), she had a perfect little head with tons of little dark curls, little elven ears with no earlobes just like her daddy, a little round nose and a complete lack of lips just like me. She had long, "alien" fingers and toes that were too long just like my brothers...how did they get their genes into my daughter? I thought. Because she had been dead for a while in utero her skin had little lacerations that I knew didn't hurt her but I couldn't help but wonder if she suffered and sent a little prayer that she didn't up to God. Other than the lacerations she looked like she was sleeping until you touched her cold little body. This time she had the cutest little dress on and a little hat that was too small for her Garza (my side) head but it was all the better because her little curls peaked out of the cap.
While everyone spent time with my Michelle in another room I sat on my bed with my best friend on one side and my husband on the other and together for the first time since our entire clan had arrived we cried. It was impossible to justify such a wanted child having been gone before everyone got to enjoy the feisty personality that my husband and I already knew and loved. And yet here we were Michelle-less.
That evening was tough. My husband had to leave with his mom and sisters to "clean out" the apartment and remove the car seat we had just put in the car a couple of days before.
While he was gone flowers and cards flooded my hospital room from his coworkers and family. I convinced the nurse to take out my IV and promised to take ANYTHING I had to take. She cleared it with my doctors and removed it and also removed my catheter. OK, so if you've never had a cath...um scary!!! But not very painful, I just kept thinking "what if I pee myself as soon as she pulls it out?!?" she assured me that I wouldn't pee myself (much) and that if I did there was a pad under me...yeah that made me feel better (sarcasm is a hard thing to project in text). My best friend promised to stay by my side through it and couldn't help but laugh at me during the removal which caused me to laugh for the first time in what felt like years! Then my best friend suggested I take a shower and that she would help me (she was still in nurse mode afterall!) so we asked for a new gown and told them that I would be taking off my heart monitor for a little while. And I took the best shower I have ever had! Or maybe it was the most needed, either way I came out of that shower feeling like another person and feeling incredibly grateful that I have such a wonderful person as my BFF that she would fly to the middle of nowhere just to take care of me.
When J (my hubs) came back the hospital's social worker came in to talk about the arrangements we needed to make for our daughter. We decided that we would not be able to survive any sort of service so we opted for the priest to bless her one more time before she went off to the funeral home to get cremated. Because someone had suggested it, my husband had already talked to a funeral home and had the information to give the social worker. We gave her all the information that she needed for Michelle's stillbirth certificate (or whatever they call it) and she told us what to expect once we were released from the hospital.
Then my husband and I were left to rest and grieve on our own. We discussed what kind of urn we wanted for Michelle and gossiped about how much our family was already getting on our nerves lol. We laid there for what seemed like hours holding each other and crying stopping only for the lady that had to take my weight and blood pressure several times during the night. Finally we decided that it was time to go to sleep. My husband was going to sleep on this sofa turned cot that he pushed right up to my bed so we could hold hands while we slept and we let our exhaustion take over us until we'd be awaken by the blood pressure lady (as we called her). The following day I would work on busting out of the hospital for good.

to be continued....