As I look down and see the scar, ringing in my ear the Dr. telling Bob you must help us keep her from moving or she will bleed out and we will lose her. The sounds of the nurses coming into the room and lifting back the covers and saying you must not move. This went on for 24 straight hours, even the turn of my head would make the blood gush from the open gaping wound that was created to remove one blood clot then two. The wound center and the wound vac later stuck to my leg like a giant suction cup. As the weeks progressed and I was sent home, healing was daily and progressing nicely . One month to the day later returning to work for one day and the next in an instant paralyzed from the waist down sitting on the throne calling out to my husband, Bob I can't feel my legs and he lifting me up and carrying me to my bed, I could not even roll over. Then asking him to carry me to my chair before the EMT's arrive and asking my daughter to paint my toe nails before they got their. I remember so vividly my daughter coming and telling me mama its gonna be ok, as she caressed my head tears running down her face, hang on help is on the way. The EMTs arrival and the mad dash to Sanford health where once again Dr. Schultz with ashen face after seeing the dopplers told us, there is another blood clot. Back to surgery, this time unable to walk myself down the hall to that operating room. I awoke, again I had not died. It was all so surreal and then one day later another blood clot and another surgery. The prognosis very grim at this point and the family summoned to come, I may not survive this one. The Dr.s voice cracking as he told me, we are going to try and save your life, but I may have to amputate your leg ! I awoke again, I was not dead. Lifting the covers to see if I still had a leg or if it was gone, seems like just yesterday. It has been 5 years now and the blood tests and clotting we have been able to control, it has been quite a journey. What I remember most is Dr. Schultz anger that my smoking had caused all of this, he was furious.Today I still light up that cigarette knowing it is killing me and that it is eating away the synthetic bypass material that lets the blood flow thru my femmerol arteries supplying my entire body. The prognosis: we will try and save your life, but you may lose both your legs. Still I light up and suck on the killer cigarette as though this is just a dream.. God HELP me...Another surgery 8 months later for the gaping wound is still open but now the size of a quarter yet deep enough to see the arterie. A skin graft taken from the butt, which by this time the harvest is plentiful. Back to the operating room, this time on my own two feet but with staph infection from the groin area all the way to my heart.. antibiotics being pumped intravenously just above my heart. Dear God can you Help me. The leg I can only feel in the very back, there is so much nerve damage that I am told it will never get better and we can never open the leg up on either side ever again. If the graft with a life expectancy of 10 years fails (that is without smoking) we will amputate both legs at the hip. Still I light up and suck on the killer. My God has never left me.
The Whisper: My child I am here, knock and the door will be opened for you.
