Spinal Surgery.
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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 surgery.
Also, the nurses were supposed to come check on me every two hours throughout the night, but she didn't. My brother had to set alarms on his phone for every two hours just so he could wake up and call the nurse in to come take my vitals.
It was honestly shocking. We had been helped and cared for so much the last time I was in the hospital, and now this nurse seemed to not care.
I was awake that entire first night because of how much pain I was in. The next morning, the nurses switched shifts again and the nurse on duty was one of my favorites that I had known from my last stay. I told him that I had hardly taken any pain medication, and he immediately gave me everything I was supposed to be taking. I was finally able to sleep after that.
My surgeon also came in that morning to check on me and I told him about the nurse who wouldn't give me pain medication. I was crying because of how much it hurt. He was SO mad. He immediately walked out to go talk to the charge nurse so they could leave a message for the other nurse so we could all be on the same page.
It took most of the day, but we eventually controlled the pain. (When you have surgery, it's a really dangerous thing to get behind on pain control, because it takes so long to catch up again). I slept most of the day since I hardly slept at all the night before.
Later that night, the nurses switched shifts again and the same nurse from before was back. The charge nurse, my parents, my new nurse and I all had a short meeting in my room to go over exactly what medicine I was supposed to take and when I was supposed to take it. I felt relieved knowing I wouldn't have to go through that pain again.
But I was wrong.
The same thing happened. I wasn't given pain medicine and I wasn't being checked on throughout the night, so the next morning, we asked for a new nurse.
I was in the hospital for five days. I was only supposed to be there for three. But I got so behind on pain control that I didn't want to leave until things calmed down a bit.
In the hospital, I had to walk laps for physical therapy again.
It was harder this time because I was in a lot more pain than my first two surgeries, and I still couldn't move my head or neck very well. But I continued to talk to God and I continued to listen to my physical therapists because I was determined to get better.
It's like if I was in my hospital bed and I REALLY had to go to the bathroom and I didn't want to ask anyone to help me, I would be stuck there in bed. Miserable. Or if I was really hungry but I didn't want to pick up the phone and call the cafeteria, I would starve. The help is there, ready to assist and ready to serve. But if you don't ask, you probably won't receive.
Trust me, asking God to help you in your life won't be as hard or awkward as it was when I had to ask my MOM to SHAVE my LEGS for me in the hospital.
Now THAT was hard.
💓 / Mickey
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 surgery.
Also, the nurses were supposed to come check on me every two hours throughout the night, but she didn't. My brother had to set alarms on his phone for every two hours just so he could wake up and call the nurse in to come take my vitals.
It was honestly shocking. We had been helped and cared for so much the last time I was in the hospital, and now this nurse seemed to not care.I was awake that entire first night because of how much pain I was in. The next morning, the nurses switched shifts again and the nurse on duty was one of my favorites that I had known from my last stay. I told him that I had hardly taken any pain medication, and he immediately gave me everything I was supposed to be taking. I was finally able to sleep after that.
My surgeon also came in that morning to check on me and I told him about the nurse who wouldn't give me pain medication. I was crying because of how much it hurt. He was SO mad. He immediately walked out to go talk to the charge nurse so they could leave a message for the other nurse so we could all be on the same page.
It took most of the day, but we eventually controlled the pain. (When you have surgery, it's a really dangerous thing to get behind on pain control, because it takes so long to catch up again). I slept most of the day since I hardly slept at all the night before.
Later that night, the nurses switched shifts again and the same nurse from before was back. The charge nurse, my parents, my new nurse and I all had a short meeting in my room to go over exactly what medicine I was supposed to take and when I was supposed to take it. I felt relieved knowing I wouldn't have to go through that pain again.
But I was wrong.
The same thing happened. I wasn't given pain medicine and I wasn't being checked on throughout the night, so the next morning, we asked for a new nurse.
I was in the hospital for five days. I was only supposed to be there for three. But I got so behind on pain control that I didn't want to leave until things calmed down a bit.
In the hospital, I had to walk laps for physical therapy again.
It was harder this time because I was in a lot more pain than my first two surgeries, and I still couldn't move my head or neck very well. But I continued to talk to God and I continued to listen to my physical therapists because I was determined to get better.
➼➼➼➼
During this time I was a stubborn and independent teenager, and this trial was slapping humility right in my face. Before my tumors, I loved being active. I loved working out and playing sports and just doing everything for myself. I had my driver's license and my own car and being the youngest and only child left in high school, I pretty much took care of myself.
But now, here in the hospital, I couldn't even sit up in bed without someone helping me. I needed my brothers to walk me to the bathroom. I needed someone to bring me food, and at times, feed it to me. I needed my physical therapist to put my socks on and help me walk my laps. I even needed my mom to brush my hair for me and help me in the shower.
I didn't feel like a seventeen year old anymore. I felt like I was somewhere in my hundreds.
But one of the biggest lessons I've learned from my experiences is that no one, NO ONE, can get through this life alone. We need help every day in every way. Not just if you have a lot of major surgeries. Not just if you are going through a trial. Not just if you are a hundred years old.
But every. Single. Day.
I know we would all like to be strong and independent and help ourselves, but most of the time, we really can't. But guess what?
That's how it's supposed to be.
We aren't supposed to always be capable of doing everything by ourselves. If we could, we wouldn't need a God. And I don't know about you, but I don't like imagining a life without God.
Heavenly Father loves to help. HE LOVES IT. He created mountains and oceans and the whole universe, and he wants to help you. Pretty cool, huh? But the thing is, He can't help us if we don't allow Him to.
But now, here in the hospital, I couldn't even sit up in bed without someone helping me. I needed my brothers to walk me to the bathroom. I needed someone to bring me food, and at times, feed it to me. I needed my physical therapist to put my socks on and help me walk my laps. I even needed my mom to brush my hair for me and help me in the shower.
I didn't feel like a seventeen year old anymore. I felt like I was somewhere in my hundreds.
But one of the biggest lessons I've learned from my experiences is that no one, NO ONE, can get through this life alone. We need help every day in every way. Not just if you have a lot of major surgeries. Not just if you are going through a trial. Not just if you are a hundred years old.
But every. Single. Day.
I know we would all like to be strong and independent and help ourselves, but most of the time, we really can't. But guess what?
That's how it's supposed to be.
We aren't supposed to always be capable of doing everything by ourselves. If we could, we wouldn't need a God. And I don't know about you, but I don't like imagining a life without God.
Heavenly Father loves to help. HE LOVES IT. He created mountains and oceans and the whole universe, and he wants to help you. Pretty cool, huh? But the thing is, He can't help us if we don't allow Him to.
It's like if I was in my hospital bed and I REALLY had to go to the bathroom and I didn't want to ask anyone to help me, I would be stuck there in bed. Miserable. Or if I was really hungry but I didn't want to pick up the phone and call the cafeteria, I would starve. The help is there, ready to assist and ready to serve. But if you don't ask, you probably won't receive.
Trust me, asking God to help you in your life won't be as hard or awkward as it was when I had to ask my MOM to SHAVE my LEGS for me in the hospital.
Now THAT was hard.
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