Part Two: Off the Rails and Into the ICU

This has taken me weeks to write because it is the hardest part of this ride.

It’s when the ride broke down and was hanging me upside down.

It’s when my world changed forever.

And honestly, even though I am in loads of therapy and have a great support system, I am still so raw from these changes.

So here we go, let’s talk about it…

The first thing I remember was a nurse throwing his badge in front of my face, saying his name, then telling me it sounds like an auto parts store, easy to remember! He wasn’t wrong. His name was alive, bouncing around in my brain so much that even the next day, I called the cardiologist who did the stent placement by the nurse’s name.

BTW, the names are not even close to each other… but let’s just say, I was dealing with a lot!

Mr. Auto Parts Store and other nurses stood around my bed, watching me come back alive, and let me tell you, I was alive. So alive that the nurse at the end of the bed had front-row seats to my first act: projectile vomiting straight at her as her eyes grew wide. They stabilized me after hours of the same act, but with a different broadcast time.

Then it was off to ICU, where the drugs were wearing off, and if I moved my head a certain way, my stomach thought I was upside down again.

Doctor after doctor came in. Even though I knew it was serious, I felt like I was out of the woods, until one asked if I had my affairs in order or had signed paperwork before all this happened.
I flat-out said no. They explained that there was a risk my aorta could rupture in my stomach, and it was something we needed to be aware of. A friend of mine had this happen ten years ago, and I knew the seriousness of it. That’s when it really hit me, this was a huge deal.

She asked if my mom was around, because I was in no shape to give my orders or sign anything. I was clear enough to say that my orders were: I didn’t want to die. She left to find my mom.

Because I smelled and felt like I’d had the craziest night out of my life, I asked the nurses for a sponge bath. That’s when they took wipes to my skin, and I could feel the coolness on the right side, but on my left, there was no sensation of temperature. Immediately, I told them my left sensory was off. There was some discussion about additional testing that day, but as far as I know, it didn’t happen. They did come and do an X-ray and had me cough while listening to my lungs. When they asked me to breathe deeply, I could barely breathe in. It was the strangest sensation, something that had been so easy for me to do yesterday was now a task I could barely manage.

What was going on? What had happened?

By mid-afternoon, it was time to move me to the next floor. Well, the phrase from one nurse to another over the communication device was: “It’s time to kick her out of there.” My nurse apologized for the choice of words. She probably saw the look on my face when I processed what had just been said, probably thinking I wasn’t in earshot or was too out of it to notice.

Oh girl, I heard you loud and clear.

On to the next level of this ride… and trust me, it only gets weirder from here.

Note: Everything I share here is based on my own experiences, memories, and perspective. It’s how I lived it, how I felt it, and how I’m making sense of it now. This is my voice and my story. I’m just telling my side in hopes someone feels a little less alone.