Who in their right mind would...

One of the byproducts of being trapping inside your own head for long periods of time is it gives you a lot of time to reflect on things that have happened in your life. On choices that you made. On the consequences of those choices. Mark S. used to say to me, in a somewhat exasperated voice, "Don't you know anyone who went somewhere, did something and came home?" Well, no I don't because what fun would there be in that story? As any teacher of writing knows, it's the details that make the story.

What is frustrating to me is that  I have a head full of these stories and no easy way to tell them. Of course a book of short stories, or submitted to Reader's Digest, but that isn't as fun as telling them in the flow of conversation. Kelly knows many of them, and while is a wonderful and truly amazing person, he does not have my flair for story telling. Karina, when she is in the mood, has the flair, but like any good child, somehow managed to tune out many of my stories.

So these stories are trapped inside my head along with those choices, and consequences. If I focus on them for too long I begin to question my own sanity.

Who in their right mind on the first day of summer after the first year of high school decides to get up early and go riding? Alone. Without telling anyone she is going or where. Dressed in shorts and a tank top and the little tennis socks that hide down in your sneakers. On a highly unpredictable barn sour horse.

When said horse gets spooked by a plastic bag blown up into his face is bolting full speed ahead towards a barbed wire fence. I did as any girl who read a 1,000 horse stories would do, I prepared for him to hit the fence and braced myself so I wouldn't go over his head. Too bad Wildfire never read any of those books. At the last second, he turned left and I went off and slid, ass first, down the barbed wire fence.

I am bleeding. I am in the middle of the desert. No one at my house is even awake, let alone know that I have left the house. Brilliant.

I get up, assess the damage, catch the horse who is giving his best "I'm sorry" face, and start walking. I can't get back in the saddle because I am cut from my backside to ankle on both legs, including a substantial wound on the back of my left leg.  We set out for home.

About half way there, I see a gentleman out watering his roses. I ask if I can borrow his hose. He is fairly horrified when I turn around and start hosing copious amounts of blood off the back of my legs. He asks if he should call someone. Nah. I'll be fine.

I made it to my friend Michelle's house, which is roughly a half a block from my house, but I know I can't go much further. Fortunately as it is early, her brother Jeremy is outside. I tell him to go get Michelle. She tells him to tell me to go away. This goes back and forth a few times before she stomps outside in her pajamas to find out what my problem is. In the most theatrical way possible, I slowly turn around revealing my shredded shorts, some big gashes and a whole lot of blood. After a gasp and an apology, she goes in the house and calls my mother.

My mother and sister arrive in the truck. My sister is to walk the horse home, but she is only 9 and he is a very big horse. He manages to cut himself before they even make it out to the street.

I head to the passenger's side door of the truck. My mother, who had just been ooohing and ahhing with concern asked where I thought I was going. I was not going to bleed on the upholstery of the new truck. Onto the tailgate I went, which was a pretty good trick since my backside is cut to ribbons.

At home, I clean up the horse's wound and help my sister put him away. My dad rarely gets rattled (I'll tell the fish hook story another day) and remains calm, paging through the phone book trying to decide if we should go to the ER or Urgent Care. Well, I am still bleeding here!

He decides the ER will be best. He lets me put a towel down on the seat to keep the blood off. We head to Southern Nevada Memorial Hospital (now UMC). The hospital where I was born. The county hospital. It doesn't attract the best clientele at times.

He drops me at the door and heads off to park. I go in and the charge nurse has me sign in and asks me to sit down. I decline. This conversation escalates until I again employ that theatrical turn and she decides I can stand. When she calls me up, she asks some perfectly ridiculous questions, including what kind of saddle was I riding in. Maybe she was checking for shock. Who knows. Finally my dad arrives on the scene to complete the necessary paper work and then they take us to a "room." On one side of me is a young man who has a kitchen/steak knife sticking out of his chest. On the other side is a woman coming down from a bad high who is screaming that she has to pee and why won't anyone listen to her?

A short male nurse comes in and has me take off everything from the waist down and put on a gown. I am lying face down on the gurney for obvious reasons. A strange man in a lab coat and a Hawaiian shirt keeps opening and closing the curtain. Finally he comes in and says, "Well, it has to be you, you're the only female with multiple lacerations, but you look awfully good for your age." Somehow my dad's birthday was down instead of mine.

He looks over all the wounds. He says I am very lucky that I only scraped my right Achilles and didn't cut it. He looks at the worst wound on the back of my leg and says it is too big to sew up. He is going to walk out. My dad stops him and says he isn't taking me home with this big hole in my leg. I am missing a piece of skin roughly one inch high and four inches across.  Well, okay, we'll give it a try.

My dad gave me the checkbook that had a leather cover to bite on. They numbed it up and irrigated this nasty wound and salvaged what scraps of skin they could. Forty-two stitches, give or take, the worst ones single stitches to try to hold it together. I will not be able to straighten that leg until it heals. And he leaves.

The same nurse returns and says, "If he keeps leaving this curtain open, we are going to have to sell tickets. Aren't you 'em-bare-assed?" My sense of humor was somewhat lacking at this point. He proceeds to stick a huge band-aid on my butt cheek. He then put telfa pads over each of the other wounds and wrapped gauze down both legs. At this point, I have to get up and put back on the bloody shredded shorts I came in wearing. I look like either something out of the Civil War or someone going to Halloween as a Mummy who only has half of the costume on.

Again my father graciously goes for the truck while I wait at the door, diligently not making eye contact with anyone. Our family doc took the stitches out in stages, leaving the single stitches in for quite a long time. This meant I spent a good chunk of the hot Las Vegas summer with no shower. No swimming. No riding. Sitting wasn't all that pleasant either. It was at this point my Dad took to calling me "Scarleg." Nice.

What does any of this have to do with cancer? Not a damn thing. But I had to let it out. I actually had a whole series of Who in their right mind, but once I started with the telling I couldn't stop. Other stories for other days.

Today was a less down day. We saw Zachary this morning and, in addition to the needles, he did some manual work on my neck. It still isn't upright, but it helped. He showed me some exercises to do. When I turn my head, you can clearly feel a ligament sliding over my neck/spine with a rather disconcerting popping. I'd appreciate it if that would stop.

My nose and the trach are still having some sort of tug of war. To be honest, it is kind of freaking me out. If I suction out my mouth I can breathe easily through my nose and the trach. Other times if I occlude the trach, no air is coming through my nose. Why not? I am afraid to ask.

I did a few household tasks. I finally got the wall calendar updated. It is a sign of the chaos in our lives that it still said 2013, although the months were April, May and June. Kelly and our helping crew live and die by the Google calendar, but I like it up where I can see it. As Reggie called it, her brain on the wall. Even if it is harder than hell for me to get my head back enough to see it at close range. I was awfully thankful for Karissa's enthusiastic help as for me to write on it entails some strange body positioning and closing one eye to get any sense of what I'm writing and where.

Last night was a very goopy night and I've been gurgly all day which doesn't bode well for a really peaceful night. I've mastered the washcloths, though, and can usually keep the bulk of the goo off my skin. We had a trach pull and clean right before dinner. Nothing says appetizer like having some suction complete with saline fish. Mmm mmm, that's good eats...

Tomorrow Kelly is going to work and I am going to fly solo. Sort of. Karina will be around some of the time. Hannah is picking Karissa up, so we don't have to brace for the 3pm hurricane tomorrow. This week I have a few errands to run (with supervision), plenty of things to do here, another acupuncture appointment and physical therapy on Friday. Miracle Mia is down with strep, so I will wait patiently for her magic. I also need some time in the gift shop with Lesley. She has done such a wonderful job taking over, but I know she is anxious for me to take back some of the ordering. She loves the unpacking, but the ordering not so much.

I am not as apprehensive as I thought I'd be about flying solo. Actually, although I'm trapped inside my head, I've spent relatively little time alone over the last nine months. I am looking forward to it, reassured by the fact that in the worst case scenario game, I can pull the whole trach out and Kelly could be home in twenty minutes. Not that I want to yank it out, but it is painless and if the other choice is not breathing....

My Sister in law is still in the hospital and could use some positive energy/prayers. My mother-in-law, whom many of you know through the comments she makes on this blog, is also in the hospital. Some minor drama, but thankfully she happened to be visiting my brother in law the doctor when it happened, so he got her the best care and quickly. I am so very thankful for that!

I haven't had an update on Sarah in awhile, so no news to share there. Rayne is not the next one in, after all. Alexis will be here, and then later in August my MIL, provided she is feeling up to snuff (there is no reason she shouldn't be).  Then it is pretty much back to school. And hopefully back to PTO, Stand, and whatever else I can figure out how to do with my alternative communication.

I hope I didn't bore you out of your minds. Until tomorrow...

Love,
Kiara