Miracles for Mickey

Stay caught up! Read -  "Two Weeks of Fame" May 9th, 2016. Another date I was always going to remember. April 18th, April 22nd, April 25th, and now May 9th. It was another early morning surgery, so we had to be at the hospital earlier than anyone should actually be awake. The surgery took a few hours, and this one was scary. Just one little slip up could mean the rest of my life in a wheelchair. But, thankfully, everything went great! Except recovery. The night after my surgery, the nurses switched shifts and I met a new nurse I'd never seen before. She seemed really nice and ready to help at first, but when it came time for medicine, we quickly realized it was going to be a battle. She refused to give me the pain medications I was supposed to be taking. Because of how young I was and since this was a new nurse who wasn't totally familiar with my case, she was nervous about giving me any narcotics. She even tried to take my IV out only a few hours after

Stay caught up! Read -  "Talking to God" After almost a week in the hospital, I was finally released on Thursday, April 28th. My family had rearranged the basement so it could be my room for the next few weeks and I would be as comfortable as possible. My grandma had flown out from Tennessee to help take care of me so my parents could go back to work. Even though my family had done everything they possibly could to help me, I felt like I shouldn't have been home. I didn't feel good enough to be home. I felt like I should have still been surrounded by doctors and nurses and hooked up to different machines and monitors. But now, our old recliner would have to do instead of my accommodating hospital bed. Our chipped and scratched whiteboard was the new way of keeping track of my medications, instead of the nice and organized one at the hospital. And the hardest part of all, was having to settle for apple slices instead of the hospital mac and cheese. But I wasn&#

Stay caught up! Read -  "Neck Surgery" When I was in the hospital after my surgeries, I never prayed. Not once. I mean, to be fair, I physically could not kneel down. I couldn’t fold my arms or even bow my head. So instead of praying, I just talked to God. And guess what!? It’s pretty much the same thing. For my physical therapy, I would have to walk laps around the fourth floor of the hospital. And even though one lap was probably less than half a basketball court, it felt like a marathon to me. My head throbbed and my neck was so stiff that I couldn’t even look down to see where I was going. My left side was still weak from surgery and my whole body ached with every movement. So whenever my two physical therapists would come in to take me for these torturous walks, I would pretend to be asleep and hoped they wouldn’t bother me. But, unfortunately, they somehow always knew I was faking and would start unhooking me from all my wires and machines befor