Please don’t ask me what happened…I am not sure I even know. I only know one minute I was pushing my son’s stroller down the road fighting an icy wind and the next minute I was being intubated in an ambulance. Dx: Acute respiratory failure.
They said my chances were slim, and since i have no viable family, a foster care agency set about trying to find an adoptive home for my son. I sank into a coma on February 19th, 2010. My blood pressure was so low, I have since been told, that young interns kept a 24-hour bedside vigil to make sure I did not flatline.
I still remember all the nightmarish morphine hallucinations that plagued me for weeks after I awoke on March 17th. I could not speak, had a tube up my nose, a tube in my skull, and a big hole carved in my throat – a tracheotomy tube in place. I was a veritable ghoul. A ghost with a pulse, albeit faint.
I did not know who I was, why I was in the hospital, how old I was, my name, how to eat, how to walk. A giant 90 lb baby with a bedpan. All I knew was that I had a baby boy and I had to find him. And within two days of regaining consciousness, I located William James.
I spent a month in the ICU, slowly relearning how to walk, speak, eat solid food, and breathe from a tube with the aid of machines. I also had to relearn how to use my cell phone and iPod, and to my delight, I could text if I could not speak. I tortured many busy friends with endless rambling that month, needless to say!
I was afraid to sleep…the hallucinations were so vivid and real, and my arms were bruised, overripe bananas – but skinny networks of tangled wires and IV tubing.
SO I stayed awake for days on end, listening to all 6k + songs on my iPod and endlessly gazing at photographs of my baby boy. I willed myself to live. And here I am. Finally going to regain full custody of my son, I pray, on Friday…twenty pounds and a zillion doctors later. God is good. Or whatever you believe in.
I used to be a singer and a flautist, my pride and joy. I will never sing or play the flute well again, save for yet another miracle. But I can breathe, and I will keep breathing. In. Out. In. Out.
Oh, just to breathe. Oh, to hold my son again. I am so grateful I could sing about it.
But I can’t sing.
However, I have not ruled out another miracle.
Life can be like that. Just hang on.
And here is my proof. The pictures above and below were taken last week. L’chaim!!!