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Early Reflections - Post Trauma

April 04, 2012 | Comments: 0 | Views: 119

EARLY REFLECTIONS... "What Happened" - A Retrospect 1 year later

Were the stars aligned differently... was there a shadow cast upon the moon? Or was it the coming of my own sense and internal impending doom?

Looking back...what really happened on the evening of June 8, 2006? I remembered my daughters were all with me... couddled, cozy and content.

Although my breathing had become increasingly labored, I maintained minimal fear... For I had confidently learned to control my asthma for nearly 43 years... without any fear!

But this evening, something was different, something went wrong... I was drowning in an airless world and needed help! I used inhaler after inhaler... in home breathing treatment after treatment... I even rushed outside for air and resorted to loosening my belt.

I urgently called upon my brother for my own family insurance and then went to the hospital where I received immediate and critical care. However, the longer I remained there... the more questions were posed... the more fears arose... as I became acutely aware.

Once at the hospital, everyone appeared hurried... they all rushed around me... seemingly distracted and non committal. I felt that I was the only one who knew that I was indeed deathly ill!

As time elapsed and things went from bad to worse and from worse to even worser... "As critical as critical can get" said one doctor - My life became uncertain as to "will I live or will I die"? For me... time had evolved into slow motion and my world became out of control as I kept asking "Why me...why me...oh, why"?

Everything seemed to spiral downward and I distinctly remember hearing voices, fear, panic and someone saying, "This is not good... he's not responding"! Again, I thought to myself inside, "How could this be, I had just spent the past week golfing"!

However, for 18 days... me eyes remained closed! I was medically sedated... my body did not twitch, move nor flex while positioned in a frightening and deathly pose.

Family, friends and loved ones all came to my bedside. A constant and gentle aroma of love drifted in and out of my room and whispers, prayers, and pleas for me not to die!

Although hard to believe... somewhere... somehow... I heard them all and felt every tug, hug and kiss! As I silently cried deeper than deep inside... and wished and wished and wished!

On June 26, I briefly awoke... my eyes opened and my nightmare turned confusingly real? Again, I felt death from my head to my toes... I could not move, speak or feel.

Was I alive... had I been in an accident...was I paralyzed... never to move again...never to hug my children...where was my faith? What happened to me on June 8?

Each night... empty and alone... I saw myselfs reflection in the lights and mirror's from above as I lay strapped, connected, and harnessed between life saving tubes, fluids and machines. All the while, with my cognitive thoughts and memory intact... I laid there thinking, this is not right, "I'm a Green"!

All the machines, medications, and I. V's... a bi-pap, an air bag, a respirator, a ventilator, a tracheotomy... the constant and painful suctioning sounds over and over... the myriad of nurses, therapists, doctors, nutritionists all striving to keep me alive! Despite the mental, emotional, and physical consequences and questions or treatment should I survive?

Then it started... the uncontrollable body movements...earthquakes in my legs! Indescribable, violent, uncontrollable, gut wrenching shakes, jerks, tremors and sweat that increased throughout my body each and every day.

Doctors scratched their heads and then they were gone, only to be replaced by someone new. They confusingly rotated weekly to address and treat my ever increasing needs. In every case... with every new doctor... I received the same puzzled, socially and culturally inept medical looks, comments, and excessive patronizing leads.

They implied the answers to my condition laid within their medical degrees and books. They initially said my symptoms were due to the aftermath of the "assault to my body"... and then they said it may be the lasting side effects of the paralytics which seemed to create the ever so lasting and uncontrollable pain. All I knew was that my mind, body and spirit were completely and utterly drained!

Each day I was engulfed in the clenches of despair... the grief that surrounded me... and my own internal fear. I was beyond the point of heart ache... past my emotional and physical breaking point... even my eyes could no longer shed a tear.

My body was exhausted... I was spent and thought there was nothing left... I was ready to give up... I was ready to die... I wanted to die! But I knew that I could not stop fighting for "life" hearing my children's loving poems and letters read to me and then seeing their tear soaked bright and innocent eyes.

And, so I lived... I remained on life support machines and continued to receive critical care while staying cognitively in tune... and observing my families desperate looks and need for any "lively" signs from me and smiles or offers of hugs. But, all the while... my body and mind was being poisoned and overdosed with a cocktail of drugs.

I couldn't speak... although I attempted to communicate by blinking letters, words and thoughts with my eye's using an alphabet board. Despite the endless efforts and kindness of my family and friends, it seemed that no one could understand me as I continued to pray to my lord!

I was helpless and hopeless... doctors asked and answered their own questions... what I wanted or whether I was in pain? Their answers were always a contradiction to my own thoughts and feelings... I wanted to scream the opposite to them but, all in vain!

I asked at least 1000 times daily... "Why did this have to happen... what did I do to deserve this? The answer never came as I continued to struggle and fight... second by second... minute by minute... day by day... month by month... just to exist!

There was always the question that had lingered within my mind... so, using that alphabet board, I was finally able to ask my sister... "Am I going to die"? My darling sister using her most convincing effort, tearfully stated, "No Brett... you have already survived"!

But, for 51 days... I visited what I now know is hell! There was horrendous treatment and daily nightmares that somehow became real... almost surreal. But, through family perseverance and divine intervention, I was transferred to another hospital facility.... To hopefully get my mind, body, and spirit well.

I spent 46 long, hard days in, in-patient rehabilitation services... depressed, angry and confused not able to walk or really desperate to see my children. But, my family, friends and the angels above were all there with me to help visualize... and see that in the end, my kid's and I would be together again!

During this time, I constantly battled unsuccessfully to attempt to understand my new body. I fought every day to accomplish some of life's simple and silly little survival tasks from the cause of which still seem's foggy.

With nearly every goal unmet, I was discharged from rehabilitation services... which at the time I thought, "I wasn't ready... this is unfair"! For my coordination and balance was that of a 9 month old. I could not sit unaided, balance, walk or talk well... and was strapped to a darn wheel chair!

What happened to me on June 8, 2006? Well, in short... I died from an asthma attack! But from the angels above and the prayers from below... I was brought back!

However, as a result of the assault to my body, I was ultimately and correctly diagnosed with Post-Anoxic Action Myoclonus... "Lance Adams Syndrome"! I really didn't care what they had called it before or they wanted to call it now... after all the months of medical speculation, guesses and treatment... all I wanted was to go home!

Although my journey was far from over, I left to heal and progress upon my own familiar ground. But what I experienced was an uninvited, tormenting and raging emotional breakdown.

From once being physically and mentally strong, athletic, confident, successful and proudly independent... To the reality of becoming completely in every sense of the word... totally 24 /7 "dependent"!

Yet, I worked harder than hard and struggled every day for improvement often pushing myself beyond my limitations. I desperately needed to regain lost weight... lost strength... to again become independent... and create new expectations!

Although I was told that I improved each and every day, I continued to experience emotional, physical and mental exhaustion as I struggled for the need and care that I had to receive every day... in every way!

Everyday, I battled and felt alone! Oh, the sweat... the tears... the falls... the bruises and so many broken bones.

After one reality is that I am disabled... maybe not forever... maybe so? Although I still find myself looking back in life's rear view mirror... I also know I have to let go!

No more asking... what happened to me on June 8th? No more thinking was it god's plan... my fault... or just plain fate?

As time has passed I think, "It is what it is"... and that I must focus upon "Now what"? The answer came quickly and was quite simple for me..." To never, ever give up"!

I visualize without any doubt... that I will move forward... I will survive... I will live and talk and walk again! Make no mistake about it... I will get "my" life back in the end!!

So... after all is said and done and all the words have been spoken. This is a new day, a new month, a new year, and I found a new man named "Brett" has awoken!

Brett Green - June 2007

Source: EzineArticles
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