The Day Death Changed Me pt 2
My recovery was more than pain it was like dying slowely in agony and misery.
The first day at the hospital I realized pain relievers would be my new best friend and that I would grow to hate every nurse in the world . I watched them scrub concrete off of my raw skin so many times and each time it seemed like it was only getting worse. I would cry and beg for mercy in hopes that one of them would show sympathy and stop the process of pain , though the only person that seemed to show any was my dad.
I watched him as he watched me. I wanted to be strong to show him I would be alright , but I knew better than that . My father was in no way prepared for this. I saw it in his eyes. He wanted to cry . To cry with and for me ,but he was stronger than me and knew that he couldn't show his weakness, not even now, not when I needed him the most.
I don't remember being released from the hospital that night or even the ride home. I'm not even sure how I was able to get from my fathers car to my bed, but I do remember waking up in the middle of that night.
I was in pain, so much pain .My skin was stuck to my bed, I couldnt move any part of my body . I was scared. I screamed and yelled and couldn't remember why I was covered in bandages and splints. I only knew that I needed help and I couldn't get up to get it .
The next few weeks were filled with bed rest, hospital visits, cleaning bandages, and scrubbing my skin. I couldn't take a shower ,no matter how hard I would try or how many pills I would take, the pain was just to much. I would have to give myself sponge baths and rip my wounds open trying to clean them . It adventualy got to where I would refuse to let anyone touch me .I was so tired of it . I was in misery. Twice a day I would have my skin tortured and when the bandages would stick I would have to rip them off of my skin thread by thread. It was to much for me. I couldnt wait to just be healed and free.
I was alone most of the time left to fight it on my own, but every once in a while a friend would visit. I would beg for them to help me out of my bed and take me away. To take me anywhere but there. Knowing that I was on bed rest, many would say no; however, the best friends said yes. Was it dangerous ? Yes. Careless? of course. Immature? Oh yea, but above all it was worth it . Getting me out of my house was just like saving me. It gave me time to feel alive again. It took me away from my pain. If only for a moment.
This recovery didn't just test me , it tested my friendships and my friends loyalty. I will be telling you all about my test in the coming chapter "Mental Recovery".
Thank you for taking time out of your day to read about my recovery .Feel free to leave a comment and let me know what your thinking.