What if?

Stuff got me thinking about my weight and how I got to be the size that I am now so I found a BMI calculator online to see just how heavy I really was (or wasn’t) when I was a teen. Turns out I wasn’t as fat as I was told and thought. I weighed 135 pounds in the 6th/7th grade and thought I was very overweight. I was told I was fat and to stop eating so much, but at the same time, that same person said I had to finish EVERYTHING on my plate each night at dinner. So the BMI calculator said that at age 13 and at a height of 5’2″, 135 pounds put me at the beginning of the “overweight” range of the BMI scale. Had I lost 12 pounds I would have been in the “normal” range.

It makes me wonder how different my current weight would be had I been told that I wasn’t fat instead of being lead to believe I was this huge, gross thing. And it’s not like me thinking this made me just sit inside and stuff my face all day. I rode my bike or walked to and from school just about every day, which was just under a mile away. I played outside with my siblings, friends and neighborhood kids. We moved the summer between my 7th and 8th grade years of school and I lost 10 pounds in the weeks leading up to us moving into our house because I went to the pool at the apartment complex every day. 8th grade started and I, again, walked to and from school, then to friends houses, back and forth, etc. Yes, I ate junk food, what kid/teen doesn’t, but I was also moving around a lot and yet I still gained weight. So maybe I’d be the same, but I still wonder what if.

Last Wednesday

So it’s pretty obvious I won’t be blogging every day this month even though I signed up for a blogging challenge. Not a big deal and not actually required for this challenge. I just need to get back in the habit of blogging again.

Wednesday was a busy day for me. I had an appointment at 2. That’s it, that was all I really had to do. I have not mentioned it since 2015, but I have wounds on both of my legs. I have a home health nurse that comes out at least once a week to bandage my legs and I am currently going to a wound clinic once a week to have the doctor check on the progress of their healing. Sometimes I only need to go to the wound clinic once every 2 or 3 weeks and at those times, a home health nurse comes out twice a week. I’ve been going to the clinic since Fall of 2014. The doctor still doesn’t know exactly what’s wrong. There are different things on each leg. Doing a biopsy on various wounds didn’t help to figure anything out either. All I do know is that if I don’t get my legs wrapped, they swell (specifically my feet and ankles) so that’s fun.

Anyway, I got to the clinic about 5 minutes before my appointment, got called back to a room about 25 minutes later and left an hour after that. That’s pretty good time for me as sometimes I can be there closer to 90 minutes just for the actual appointment portion itself.

Afterward, we were planning to go to Target, but it had started raining and the parking lot was packed with people looking for a spot, but nobody was leaving so we decided to go another day. I think we’re going to try again this Wednesday. We stopped at Taco Bell on the way home for dinner. I got one of the $5 Stacker boxes, which came with one of their new stackers (it’s basically a quesadilla with cheese and beef), 2 tacos (1 regular and 1 in a Doritos shell), plus a drink. I got the Orange Freeze Pop. OMG! It tasted just like an orange creamsicle popsicle. It was so good! I also ordered a Crunchwrap Supreme. I’m so glad I ordered that because the tacos only had beef, cheese, and lettuce on them so they were not really filling at all. In all the years that Taco Bell has had those Doritos shell’s, this was the first time I had one. It was ok, but not something I feel like needs to be in my life again.

So we got home, I ate my early dinner and watched tv, then I can’t remember what else I did that night. I started typing this up on Thursday and then kept forgetting every day after to finish. Yeah brain!

Happy New Year

It’s a new year. And it’s 8 minutes until the 2nd. I decided on the 30th to sign up for a January blogging challenge. Me, who is becoming more of a procrastinator with every passing day, who would have thought I’d wait until the last minute to sign up and then wait until now 6 minutes before the 2nd of the month to write up a post for the 1st.

If looking back through my posts I’m correct, my last actual post, meaning not just a share of an Instagram post, was on March 9, 2016. I’m not even sure what happened in 2016 that I wasn’t into posting, but if you’ve been checking in on me here (or Instagram), you know that my mom passed away last year in February. I pretty much stopped wanting to do anything after that. It wasn’t in the “I don’t want to be alive anymore” sense of not wanting to do anything, just the “I’m too numb to do anything more than play mindless games on Facebook” sense. I barely ate the first week after she passed. I had to force myself to do so. I never even posted what happened to her, but I won’t give the super long story, just a shorter version. Her death was very sudden. She had had knee replacement surgery on her right knee in April 2014 and it never quite felt right afterward. It was still hurting her like she had never had the surgery. Come forward to January 2017 and she saw a new ortho surgeon who did some x-rays and ran some tests and found her knee to be infected. She had surgery to take out the fake knee and clean out the infection. A couple days later her hemoglobin dropped and she needed a blood transfusion. This happened 2 more times. She was bleeding from somewhere, but they could not run tests to find out where it was happening because she wasn’t well enough. So she was bleeding and needed tests run but they couldn’t be run because she was bleeding/not well. Her last day the O2 in her blood was high. They were trying to get it to go down by putting an oxygen mask on her that was more pressure than a normal mask, but it wasn’t working. My brother and I had gone to see her that day and the mask looked really tight and uncomfortable, which could be why it wasn’t working as she kept trying to take off the mask. She wasn’t thinking clearly, due to the high O2 level, so she wasn’t understanding why she needed to keep the mask on. A few hours after my brother and I left, they took off the mask and sedated her and put her on a respirator. I think it was too late to try this method to lower her O2, and she ended up coding (meaning her heart stopped). She didn’t code immediately after being put on the respirator, but about a half hour later.

The hospital called my mom’s boyfriend, who was at work, and he then called me, but the way he told me about it, he made it sound like she was ok. So I called the hospital myself and they told me she was definitely not ok and that we needed to get down there ASAP. I am not even sure why the hospital called him. They had instructions to call me first, as the oldest child of my mom’s, and I would inform everyone else. They definitely never had the instructions to call her boyfriend. Nothing against him, but my siblings and I were never sure if he would choose the best results for her in this type of situation. She did not have any end of life paperwork filled out. We tried, but she wasn’t ready to do it. Anyway, after I talked to the hospital, I called my brother and sister and they started making their way to the hospital. My brother picked me up since he was closer to me than my mom’s boyfriend was and on the way our sister’s fiance called to see how close we were and my mom started coding for the 4th time during the call. Since my mom did not have end of life paperwork done, it was up to us 3 kids (well mostly me I guess, as the oldest, but I wanted all 3 of us to be ok with the decision) on what happened so they kept performing CPR every time she coded. My brother and I got up to her room just before she coded for the 5th time and our mom’s boyfriend arrived when she was coding for the 6th time. One of the nurses was talking to us and saying that after the first code they had shined a flashlight in her eyes (like they do) and there was no response, no pupil dilation or anything. The nurse had also told us that there was no way to tell what type of condition my mom would come back in, if she came back, and that they very likely had broken all of her ribs doing CPR (which would have been a long and painful recovery even without everything else going on). Because of all of this, during the 8th code, we were all in the room with her (in the corners, along the wall, away from the nurses working on her) and we decided to call it and let her go. She might not have had the paperwork done, but she had told me a few years ago she did not want to be in a vegetative state. I think knowing that and the nurse telling us what she did, helped make the decision “easier”. Not that it was easy at all. I got to sit with her a while afterward. She was still hooked up to the respirator though and I wish she had not been. She had been in the hospital before and sedated while on a respirator, so this just seemed like that and she always recovered from that. As morbid as it may sound, I think I needed to see her truly gone to help grieve better. Even now, almost a year later, I’ll look over at the mantle where her urn is, and think to myself “are you sure? are we sure? are you really gone?”. I’m not sure how much that would have changed if I saw her off the respirator afterward, but I’m full of “what if’s” about the whole situation. Especially what if when my brother and I went to see her earlier that day and they had told us about the oxygen mask and possibly having to intubate her, what if I had thought to ask about them just doing it then instead of waiting. It might have helped. Then again, if it was truly going to help, wouldn’t they have done that, to begin with? If. If. If.

So that’s the story. Yes, this is the short version. 😄 The long version involves everything after the initial knee surgery to the point where she had the replacement taken out.

I really cannot believe that it has been almost a year since we lost her. She was my entire support system, which is another reason I’ve done pretty much nothing since losing her. I’m not sure what to do. I had something very important I wanted to do, that she was going to be by my side throughout and I can still do it, I just have to go about it totally different since my mom is gone. If you didn’t know/don’t remember, I was living with her and her boyfriend since around May 2014. I’m still living in the house with her boyfriend. Neither of us are in the best health and should not be living alone, so it kind of works for us. Plus this way his dog is not alone when he goes to work. She has separation issues, abandonment issues, and anxiety because of it, so it’s better if someone is here with her. She also misses my mom a lot. She will lay on my mom’s side of the bed or on her clothes (that we still have not gone through) when she seems especially sad.

I think this post has gone on for a very long time, sorry, but internet cookies for you if you’ve reached the end. I meant to talk about more than just my mom, but that will have to wait for another post.