It’s been a minute, hasn’t it? My last post is from September 3rd, which is the day my life changed. I’m not exaggerating, by the way. I know it sounds like hyperbole, but if anything, I’m underselling it. You se, I was in the hospital and unconscious a few hours after this was posted. It’s a lot for me to digest and even though I’ve been home three weeks, I’m still mulling over what happened.
I’m not ready to get into all the gruesome details, but suffice to say that I was unconscious for a week in ICU, woke up, and spent another week in PCU regaining myself to the point where I could be discharged. The first few days I was awake, there was talk of intensive physical therapy (PT) and other therapies as well (including occupational and speech). On the second or third day, the physical therapist said that she had nothing else for me because I had succeeded all expectations.
After waking up, I learned that I had not been expected to live. With all that was going on with me, I was given a 10% chance to make it through. When I woke up (and would not stop talking, apparently), there was talk of months of rehab and maybe me staying at a rehab facility before going home.