Before I even go there, I want to give credit for inspiration to Pseudonymous High School Teacher @ http://phhhst.blogspot.com/ . Thanks.
Helicopter rides can be quite an exhilarating, terrifying, adventurous, and gripping ride. My first one didn't leave me disappointed. Nope, it met every expectation I had...and then some. Too bad I can't remember most of it.
I was in shock, no, not from the helicopter ride, although it could have been, that pilot was one crazy flier, I was in shock from blood loss...gallons and gallons of blood loss (can a body lose gallons of blood?). According to radio transmissions sent back and forth, I was being listed as a white female, bleeding profusely, and going into shock. Shock? I was thinking, don't people die when they go into shock? Okay, I wasn't thinking, I was actually on the verge of freaking out. The only thing is, people don't freak out when they are going into shock due to massive blood loss. They just kind of lay there. So, I suppose I was a silent freaker.
Anyway, the helicopter landed on the top of the hospital. It was so cool. It was just like ER, the television show. The ER team was waiting at the double doors. Once the helicopter landed, the team took me to the ER room. I remember them running next to the rolling bed, giving me oxygen, taking stats as best as they could...the lights on the ceiling flashing by like a subway riding through its tunnels. Things were fuzzy after that. I think I died...there in the midst of blood transfusions, failed IV pokes, people tugging at my listless body, my mom's tears, and my best friend's hair (she had HUGE hair). I really don't remember much...the tubes, the blood, the nurses, the chaos. At the end of the day, the paramedic slash doctor slash helicopter guy who worked on my vitals during my flight stopped by to say hello. He wanted to see if I had made it. He wanted to know if everything was going to be alright. JUST LIKE THE SHOW, ER!!!
Obviously, I made it. It took awhile, but I made it. The events that followed were just as surreal as the events that led me to that place. Dark rooms, small light bulbs floating above your head, a team of specialty doctors whispering, figuring and poking their way through your body. They shoved needles in places I didn't know needles could go. Oh yes, I remember those. Trust me. Anyway, keeping in line with the ER drama, the silver-haired doctor shoved a silver long needle in my not so silver colored rear and took a sample of my bone marrow.
I remember. The only light coming in was from the nurses station. My little area was dark, small, and cramped. My mom was there, along with my sister who had flown in from North Carolina, and the long silver needle doctor. Cancer, he said. Leukemia. Cancer, I heard. Death, dying, pain. Who was going to take care of my babies? Who was going to send them to school? Who was going to take them to church? Who was going to make sure they didn't do drugs, become unwed mothers, stay away from wife beaters? Good God, I didn't want to die, but Mr. Silver Needle Guy told my mom to start making phone calls and gathering family members, I may not make the night, too much blood loss, can't stop the bleeding, only hope is a pseudo remission...drone drone drone. I couldn't hear the rest. I needed to find someone to take care of my babies when I'm gone.
Enter my sister. She's eighteen months younger than I am. She came. She read to me every night that I was in ICU. She took my babies back home with her when I went through treatment. I knew everything was going to be alright after that. No matter the out come. She was a big part of my saving grace. I will always be eternally grateful.
There is more to my story. You know...chemo, vomit, weight loss (yay), hair loss, and a variety of other things that they just don't tell you about on the made for lifetime movies. But this part of my story was the hardest to tell.
Thanks Pseudonymous High School Teacher.