FRIDA

Almost, but not quite...

   I am not really a big selfie person, but when these pictures were taken, it was one of my best friend Claudia's bachelorette weekend (hence why my shirt says, "BRIDE TRIBE"! Her last days of the single life before she becomes a wife! So my make up was looking nice, my hair was kinda working with me, and I was feeling my clothes, and the celebration was amazing. These were the last joyful pictures of me, and will be for a while, because... this happened. 

   I severely fractured my tibia. while this accident does sound silly, it sure as FUCK was not lol. I was at a trampoline place called, "SKY ZONE", I remember I was sitting down with my daughter (OH YES! I HAS A BAY-BUH!), and watching my husband (OH YES! I IS MARRIED!) and his friends jump. They were all getting tired, and then asked me to go. At first I was hesitant (even that day I was thinking of not going, because I was tired), but after everyone convinced me to go on, and bounce, I did. I was jumping, and I remember hearing my husband's friend say, "GO HIGHER!", and I said, "No! I'm scarred!", and his friend was like, "JUST DO IT! IT'LL WILL BE WORTH IT!", so I did it, and I remember I did end up going higher (actually really high), and I remember thinking to myself, "WOW! This is really high, I'm scarred!" I went up great, but when I came down, all I could hear was, "POP!"

"FUCK!!!!!"

"SHITTTTTT!!!!!!!!!"

   All I could honestly remember was screaming my husband's name, and everyone telling me to calm down.

BITCH! I JUST FUCKED UP MY LEG! WTF!

   Everyone believed I either popped the bone out of place, or I tore a muscle, but I already knew something was wrong... something was very, very wrong. I knew I somehow, someway I broke it.

   After I was put in the ambulance, I received morphine, and arrived at the hospital. They took my vitals, I had x-rays done, CT scans, and was given a lot more morphine. After all that mess, it turned out I was not trippin' and I indeed fractured my bone, my tibia to be exact. 

   I was bummed, I was so bummed, because I knew it was going to take time to heal, and I was going to have multiple surgeries. The surgeon said my knee won't ever be like it use to. It'll get better, but it won't ever be like what it use to be. My husband's family had to come down and take care of my daughter, while my husband stood the night with me, in the hospital.

   The following morning I went into surgery, and had my external fixator put in. I stood in the hospital for about five days, and this is when it all started to emotionally hit me (LOL! Because even though it literally all hit me (the physical pain) this shit was way different).

   The first part that was the hardest was being away from my daughter. I have woken up almost every moment and every day since I gave birth to her and see her beautiful, shining smile. Now I was waking up to take some morphine or percocet to make the pain go away, or waking up to have doctors or nurses talk to me. Going to the bathroom started to become a bitch. First, they had me use a female urinal, and after I got annoyed of that, I forced myself to walk to the toilet. While that seems easy, it actually wasn't. My fixator was huge, and it was heavy, and if I didn't have anything to support my leg, it HURT. Sometimes I would stop drinking water, because going to the bathroom, was just so painful (for my leg) and difficult (you can't bend you leg, so you are almost crooked on the toilet), I just didn't find it to be worth it. 

   While something simple as going to the bathroom was hard for me, walking and transportation was harder. They started me with physical therapy ASAP, and while I was literally just recovering from hours within surgery. They began teaching me how to use my new equipment I was going to be using. I was given a wheel chair, crutches, and a walker. The crutches were a little hard for me, but the walker I was able to use with ease. 

   The first thing they had me do was walk from point A to point B, a short distance, maybe three feet, maybe more, and I couldn't believe how hard it was. How weak I was, how out of breathe. It was just a complete 180 from everything I have known. I knew it was difficult then, but it wasn't until I got home where I learned it was going to get harder. 

   The first day I went home, my parents were waiting for me at the hospital with my baby girl. She was so excited to see me. I was so overjoyed to hold her and kiss her, and I was happy to just have her in my arms. Shortly after my husband arrived with our car, and it was time for me to go home. My parents took my daughter into their car with some of my equipment, and my husband (with the help of the transfer people from the hospital), got me into the car with the rest of my equipment... and it sucked. 

   I couldn't get any support on my leg, and it was so painful. Remember I couldn't bend my leg, so I had my leg sticking out, and almost getting pushed down because of the foot area inside of the car. Anything I did just made it uncomfortable, and on top of that, I had a lot of pressure from being pushed down because of the foot area. I couldn't wait to get home...

   When I got home it was bittersweet. I was happy to be home, but it just seemed it wasn't going to work for me. My house wasn't really wheelchair accessible, it was a hot mess, and I remember just going into the house and just crying. I just felt so helpless and weak. I have always done things for myself, and now that I wasn't able to... I just felt so... useless.

   Of course, my husband, and my family tried to comfort me, but I was just so emotional, I couldn't really process it yet. I remember laying in bed, and feeling so alone. The following day, we went back to the ER, because my leg was leaking some fluid. In my discharge papers, they said to seek medical care immediately if there was any fluid is leaking, so we did just that.  Luckily, it was just normal fluid, but even at the ER I had another major melt down. I just hated it. I hated the fixator, I hated my leg, I hated how I couldn't do anything for myself anymore, I hated being in pain, I hated going to the bathroom, I hated being weak, I hated it! I hated it! I hated it!

   Everyone told me it was okay, they understood, the fixator is going to come out soon, etc. Yes, they were right... but I didn't see it quite yet.

   Over the next few days things began to get a little easier. My family and my in laws would come down and help with me and my baby. Both my husband, and our families were doing everything they could to help make the situation easier and better. Most of the time, I stayed in bed, and rested (the percocet), and during my free time I would get into my wheelchair, and spend time in the living room with my families and my daughter.

   Some days were really good (no pain, felt happy, rested well), but then there were some days where I was completely miserable (felt lots of pain, felt weak, felt useless), and those miserable days were completely awful. 

   At first I would ask myself, "Why did this happen to me?", but after a while, I was very grateful I didn't have anything worse happen to me, like breaking both legs or snapping my neck. While this situation isn't awesome, I kind of had a feeling like maybe this is the universe's way of finally letting me get some rest, and for once focus on myself. Because to be perfectly honest, I was starting to get a little burnt out, and depressed. 

   Both mine, and my husband's families live very far, so I usually have my daughter 100% of the time. While that is not an issue, there were sometimes where I just needed a small break. Whether to  focus on cleaning, or cooking, or get some time to myself. Just a little help was what I really needed, but I really couldn't, because our families were so far away and my husband works the night shift, so he slept most of the day. 

   This also became hard, because during this time, my daughter was severely teething, and for a good couple of months she was waking up about 2-3 times a night, and sometimes would take a long time to go back to sleep. For a while I was able to handle it, but after a while, it started to affect me. So with the lack of sleep, constantly caring for my daughter, a house, a husband, and pets. I was starting to feel worn out. I was just exhausted, I was lucky if I was able to get a shower in. While I understand that's mom life, I just wanted a little help, or just a small break to recharge. 

   Now that I am resting (because I kind of have no choice lol), I decided to finally do something I really wanted for myself. I really wanted to go back into blogging and creating art again, so I decided today to make my blog. With this blog I just want to blog about my life, and the art I create along the way. While I have told you about how I got into this predicament, and why I started this blog, I never  really got to introduce myself. So here it is :D let me tell you about me...

   My name is Trisha, but for blogging and art purposes, please call me BLAZE. I am a 26 year old, mother of one, navy wife, going to school to get my BA in Fine Arts. I am an eclectic Wiccan, born in the year of the snake, and in the time of the Virgo. I like art, music (J-Pop), and video games. My dream is to publish my own comic book series, and if I get lucky, publish my own video games as well. On September 12, 2010, I was diagnosed with Raynaud's disease, and I hope one day I can contribute, and bring more awareness to Raynaud's disease. I also suffer from anxiety, and depression, it's a constant battle, but in the end, I always win. 

   I hope over time with this blog I can post lots of art or any creative projects I am working on. I want this blog to just share my life with the world and my journey as I create art, and my journey as I work to get my BA, and make my dreams come true! I hope you enjoy my journey as well! Here's to the future!

"Regardless of warnings, the future doesn't scare me at all"

- Utada Hikaru

_BLAZE