sunsets and babies

I did finally meet with my primary care physician, who is just as lovely and wonderful as everyone had told me she would be. Maybe finally I will have a somewhat continuous and happy proper relationship with my doctor. An interesting development to be sure. The doctor checked me out, and reminding me that 'this happened so recently,' gave me a strong head nod at my pulmonary sounds and my cardiovascular system. Very strong. It's probably one of the things that brought me back.

Each day I feel a little stronger, and I am circling closer each moment - centering back to me, my old self, if it exists anymore. I keep waiting for a dramatic change, an awakening, or a clearing of life cobwebs, or some paradigm shift. It has yet to annouce itself, if it is coming. I feel slight changes, small things that peek out a few times a day to remind me that I came very close to staying dead. And tears come too, but I can't even process what I am crying about. Sometimes it is when Trent retells the story, or when he holds my hand at sunset and I know he is overwhelmed that he can watch another day end next to me, when I see a friend and feel unmistakenly thrilled to be listening to their stories, their lives, or when I hold Trent's new nephew - a beautiful reminder of the fragility and tenderness of life. This emotional reservoir has encased me, and I am not even going to try to sort it out yet.

changes

In the wake of my drowning and recovery, Trent and I are starting to shift a little in our dreams and plans. Not dramatically. I will still be teaching through the museum, still work on my photo projects, and keep going strong with shooting weddings and portraits. He will stay at his job, and contiue to work on his writing. But we've decided to give up Mexico for the time being and be settled in one place for a while. We still haven't received our SENTRI passes to cross the border quickly, and that means we're spending too much time up here in a little ghetto alley apartment while we wish we could be in our nice house there. So we compromised, for my health, and our sanity, to look for a great house in San Diego where I could really launch my business, and we could be aethetically happy and safe.

And we found the perfect house in Kensington, a neighborhood that we both really like. We are two blocks from the library, an art house cinema, restaurants, studios, cafes, a park and all sorts of shops. The house is 2 bedroom, with a huge open living/dining room with all original wood built-ins. Fireplace, mirrored hutch, intergral windsor desk, breakfast nook that looks out onto the patio with grape arbor and bougainvillea, greenhouse, and garage with weathervane. It is in need of some TLC, so perhaps we'll be like that couple on PBS weekend mornings with all sorts of improvement projects and kerchiefs on our heads, but we are thrilled to have it. This means that there will be a proper guest room for visitors, and plenty of space to spread out.

Deposit is paid, we will wait to post pics when I get them, and the lease is finally signed.

drowned and back again

This past week of being home recovering has been fairly uneventful, but that is good for the healing part of my getting better job. My throat is still sore, from being tubed for three days, and there are painful points along my sternum that are sure to make themselves known when I move suddenly or lean over. Yesterday was my first day without a nap, which is also some progress.
I've been listening to Trent and my parents recount the story, and it's amazing to me that my brain is selectively editing out this trauma. I have no memory of even going to the beach that day, let alone most of my week in the hospital.
My dreams have been coming lucidly though, and unconsciously I think I am venturing into scary places I could have gone.
This weekend I had a dream that I was no longer able to move my legs, no matter how hard I tried. This kind of paralysis could have happened. It is really amazing that my body bounced back as it did.
Last night I dreamed that I was underwater and not able to breathe. There was panic and fright in the dream that I don't recall from the actual event. Little by little maybe my brain is helping me understand the depth of what I went through.

Trent gave me a pair of pearl earrings when I returned home. He handed me a small wooden box, and told me these were something beautiful that came from the ocean. My eyes well up when I think of what he must have gone through with me that morning on the beach, with my lips blue and my pulse lost. He has been extraordinary though this whole thing.

latest update

I had an nearly normal day yesterday. We spent the weekend in the states which hasn't happened for a while without a reason. So we were free yesterday to join the ranks of healthy American comsunerism: Trent bought a toyota, the we went to a giant mall where we had Pat and Oscar's for lunch, read design magazines at the Border's and saw Superman Returns. The best part about that was the sostume design, and Trent asking if Lois was on a super diet.
The feeling of being overwhelmed and shocked anew kept creeping up on both of us, but still it was a farily normal day. Happy, very happy, to be back in eacth other's company, we started talking about what happens next. It was a great to have that conversation.

near drowning

Near drowning

On Monday Trent and I went surfing at Oceanside. I was paddling out in waste deep water, and a wave came and knocked me off the board. Witnesses said someone surfed by and either hit the back of my head with their board, or my head hit the board on it's own. It knocked me unconscious. At that point my lungs filled with water and I began to sink. Trent saw me, grabbed me, and pulled me out of the water and stared CPR because I wasn’t breathing and water was coming out of my lungs.
Things fell into place:

Trent was met on the beach by an off duty fire department officer who immediately started to get the water out of my lungs.

It happened in front of a lifeguard tower, so within two minute I had four lifeguards who shocked my heart with paddles [invented by a BLS alumni]twice on the beach.

The firemen, the police and the paramedics arrived, stabilized me and brought me to the hospital.

It was a critical enough situation that the Chaplain met Trent outside of the emergency room. I was placed on a ventilator and an IV, and Trent talked to the ER doctor about the situation before he called my parents.

The ER physician told Trent that I could die in the next few minutes, I could live and not know who I was or recognize anyone else, or I could live and be normal, but he need to be prepared for all three.

I stayed in the ICU for two days in an induced coma, on a ventilator. At one point I was on 80 micas of hard-core sedatives four hits of adavan and two hits of morphine all through the IV. The nurse told Trent that 30 micas would be enough to knock out David Ortiz for two days. I was still fighting to pull the tubes out after all these drugs. In retrospect, even unconscious I still want to have control over what happens to my body.

My parents flew in and stayed by my side for the rest of the week. Trent slept next to me in the hospital.

I remember very little of it all. I do remember the horrible thought that I couldn't assume my life and my body to be the same. All neurological tests came back normal, and I am told that I will be back, eventually to full capacity.

I was discharged yesterday, feeling normal, and not normal. I have a few physical reminders of what my body went through. The pain in my sternum, the infection in my lungs, the few scrapes from the sand and track marks from all the IVs.








I know I am very lucky. I know that this is going to effect me in many ways, ways that I can't even imagine today. And I do know that I feel good with where I am and with what I am doing with my life. I am reassured that I am pointing in the right direction.