Thursday, January 21, 2016

Learning How to Walk Again

I thought you would enjoy this.  Joe wrote this for his Literacy class.

Joe Deters
Mr. Bichler
Honors Comp/Lit 10
9-25-15
Personal Narrative
Learning how to Walk
“It’s time,” I hear as the physical therapist walks into my hospital room. I had just woken up as she came into my room. Still a bit dazed and confused, from just waking up and the all the morphine, oxycodone, and Motrin I was on, I started to get my bearings. My mom who had slept in my room with me was anxious and concerned, as she always was. I look around and see my sister, my dad, and my aunt alongside my mom. I had resented this moment. As my head cleared of the fog, the pain kicked in. The morphine the doctors had put in my spine had worn out. The pain was the worse I had ever experienced in my life and there was no stopping it; all I could do was try to fight through it.
“Let’s start off by getting you to sit up,” the physical therapist told me. I tried to sit up, but it was an impossible task for me to do on my own.
“Can you help me by grabbing my hand?” I asked my mom. She came by my side and grabbed my right hand. The therapist grabbed my left hand and pulled me up, so my back is off the bed. They helped me swing my legs over the side of the bed and I’m finally sitting up. I never thought it was possible to be exhausted and out of breath by a task as simple as sitting up. My whole back was in pain; I had never been so uncomfortable. I felt as if I wasn’t in my own body. My family commended me for managing to get the first step in a hard process down. I never thought this process would be so hard and painful. I came into this surgery thinking that it would be much easier than this. In order to complete the next step, I had to summon the strength and positive mind set I had the day before.
I woke up the day of my surgery anxious for the procedure, not because I was scared but because I couldn’t wait to not be in constant pain every day. All of the pre-op work was done the day before; today, all I had to do was show up to the hospital and receive the surgery. After waking up, we headed across the street to Aurora Children’s Hospital. We arrived there 2 hours before surgery. I checked in and headed to a room where I waited for my surgery. The next hour was filled with jokes my sister was cracking in between the visits of various different doctors, involved in the surgery, checking up on me and making sure they had all of the correct information. After the wait the doctor who was performing the surgery came in and told my family and me that they were ready. My family said their good byes and wished me luck.
Before I knew it, I was being wheeled out of the room on my bed. I was took down numerous hallways by the nurse pushing my bed until I was in front of the surgery room. I was met by my anesthesiologist. All the months leading up to the surgery I wasn’t nervous at all, but once I went into the room and saw all of the machines and needles everywhere, I  felt my heart begin to beat faster. “I’m going to put this mask over your mouth. It contains oxygen so just breathe normally,” my anesthesiologist told me. Those words were the last things I could remember before my battle of recovery began.
Hearing the encouragement from my family I manage to summon the strength required to do a simple task that seemed impossible to me. I summoned all of my strength, and with the help of my mom and physical therapist I managed to slowly make my way off of the bed and onto my feet. After I was on my feet, the hardest task so far was now in front of me. I kept thinking to myself walking is so easy and simple, how can it possible be this difficult? The strength I had was beginning to fade. “I don’t think I can do this. I need to sit down. I can’t do this.” I cried in almost a silence voice.
             “You can do this.” My physical therapist told me. ”Just keep putting one foot in front of another. I can have your sister follow behind you with a wheel chair and if you get dizzy or feel like falling down you can take a break and sit down.”
I knew now that I couldn’t give up. I move one foot in front of the other slowly. All I could feel and focus on was the pain, stiffness, and numbness in my back. I had never felt anything like what I was currently experiencing. In order for me to keep on going, I had to think about only one step at a time. “Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot,” I thought to myself. Soon I was outside my room, and I was walking down the hall. Each step was its own battle. Within 30 seconds and only half way down the 200 foot hallway, I was exhausted and fatigued, but I managed to keep going. My pride and determination to finish kept me from giving up and sitting in the tempting wheel chair. I had to summon every ounce of strength within myself to keep moving forward. Soon, I was at the end of the hallway and was turning around. Slowly I began to move faster and faster knowing that all I had to do was make it back to my room. I pushed the pain out of my mind and only focus on reaching my goal. On my left, I saw door after door passing by. Seeing my room near gave me the strength to take the last few steps and end the battle I was fighting.

As soon as I get to my room I collapsed onto the bed, and the pain returned to me. But, I didn’t care; the hardest part of my battle was fought and I had won. The battles would only get easier from here on out. My family was proud of me and commends me as I laid there. The joy of knowing what I had accomplished helped me to numb out the pain. Within minutes of laying back onto the bed, I passed out, due to the sheer exhaustion from the fight combined with all the pain medication I was on. I slept peacefully knowing I was able to overcome by far my biggest obstacle of recovery.

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