#8 August 2005

Good news! The nurses told me that I was about ready to go home, so they're going to be putting me in a new room in a couple days. It has a normal, non-hospital bed, in there. Its supposed to be more like home so I can "get acclimated." Every step that takes me closer to getting out of here is wonderful!

#7 August 2005

Yesterday my physical therapist came to my room. He said "Lets go to walk up and down some stairs to practice." I agreed, and we went down this set of stairs and at the bottom there was a door, so he said "Hey, lets go in to here." It was the gym and he made me work out. What a mean little trickster. He knows I hate working out so he gave me a little fake-out. Meanie. I complain about him so much but my parents keep making me go. Its not like the things he has me do at the gym are hard but its frustrating because all I want to do is stay in my bed. But I get why I have to go-- I shouldn't just stay in bed my whole life.

And he head Dr. of this brain injury unit comes into my room at like 7:00 AM every morning with the widest eyes and he's so chipper and he's says "Good morning Bree, time to wake up!" And I want to kill him. I hate to wake up, I always have. They say I do all my healing while I sleep, so why don't they let me sleep more?

I just want to go home. I think I'll be fine if they just let me go back home. But oh no, my parents don't want me to go home yet and the Dr.s say I have to stay. I don't get why a Dr. has the right to tell you if you can leave or not.


My dress came while I was in a coma. I found pictures of it online and I called to find out more, but it was around $2,000. I've got better things to spend my $2,000 on so I sent pictures to a tailor in Hong Kong and took my measurements and sent those to them too. It was only about $200. Yay for me! Too bad I can't wear it yet.

#6 August 2005

The hospital lets me leave every-once-in-a-while. Eddie and I left once to go enjoy some time in a park, and I've been to my cousin's surprise anniversary thing, and last night I went to my other cousin's rehearsal dinner thing. That means my wedding was supposed to be one week ago exactly. I wouldn't have been a good, capable wife then but I wouldn't now either, although I am getting better very fast. It was great to see my relatives-- they are wonderful! But it was sad to see what I missed out on.
Tonight I'm going to their reception. I really did get screwed. But I'm happy that someone got to get married.

#5 August 2005

Last night I woke up and I needed to go to the bathroom. The nurses have been making a big deal about going to the bathroom for some reason. So I yelled at Eddie but he couldn't hear me (my voice is super weak!) and for some reason it didn't occur to me to push the button by my bed to call the nurse. So I tried to walk myself to the bathroom. Everyone is right, I can't walk well, especially not alone. So, as soon as a stood up I fell. That woke poor Eddie up! He came running over to help saying that I could have hit my head as I fell or something. He was all worked up over it!
We decided not to tell anyone because he feels bad because I fell on his watch and I don't want to give people another reason to fuss over me. Thats getting old. My Mom always has someone here watching me.
Here is our solution: we took a soda can and put pennies in it. That way I can shake it to make noise. I would do this with the horses, but the intent there was to scare them so the would run.

#4 August 2005

So I told Eddie all my theories because I trust him so much. I told him I think it might have been my parents, but a better theory that is a bit more realistic is that it's my school. Like they're doing research? Or maybe the hospital is doing research? But Eddie told me I have to believe it. He had me feel this scar doing up the back of my head and he told me to check the side of my right rib cage. I guess they needed to operate on that part too when I was having surgery because my lung collapsed. I looked and there's this big, lumpy, purply scar there. But neither of them hurt?

I really don't get it but if thats what Eddie says maybe it's true.

Now that you mention it I have this dream-like memory thing where I was getting an MRI and this other one where Eddie's parents were showing me pictures on their computer of Eva Longoria. I really trust Eddie and my parents but its all so dramatic. That doesn't happen to anyone. I'm just some normal girl with a perfect life. If it's all true, then its not perfect anymore.

#3 August 2005

I learned to talk finally! My first words were to my hot fiancee, Eddie, the day of his birthday. When he was leaving for work (he sleeps in my room on a cot because my parents always want someone with me) I told him I love him. Cute, huh? The good thing about re-learning to walk and talk and stuff is that it makes for some really cute stories.

Being wheelchaired/walking with lots of support from nurses, we went to the hospital gift shop. The hospital gave me $20 to buy something for Eddie for his birthday. From the first second I walked in there I knew Eddie wouldn't want anything from there. It was just a typical tacky hospital gift shop. Or hospital "gift shoppe," if you will. So I just opted to get him a card and some balloons. The card is the ugliest thing ever but I was so tired standing I just took the first one I saw.

When Eddie got home from work I was so happy to see him and I even tried to steady my hand enough to put make up on for him for his birthday. He said I was so cute! He better think I'm cute, he asked me to marry him!

I wasn't with it and I was pretty tired, but from what I hear my Mom made him a cake out of brisket with frosting covering it. He said that he tried to cut it, but it was pretty tough, so he was thinking that my mom made the hardest cake ever. But then he discovered in was a big piece of meat, with the plastic bag and all. A while ago I told my mom that Eddie says he'd rather have a brisket than an actual cake. He's weird; he doesn't like sweet stuff.

#2, August 2005

My Dad is at work in CA so my therapist, Ron, wants me to walk to him when he gets back so I will have some work to do. But its so hard and tiring. Every day I have therapy where I go down stairs to go to my speech therapist, Paul, to work on learning to talk again. They say I will be able to talk normal pretty soon after I get talking. I guess its "cerebellar mutism," whatever that means. Then I go to the gym. They put me on this stepping machine thing to get me used to the walking motion again. I remember everything. Like I remember how to walk and all the words, but I just can't get my body to balance on my feet and my mouth to say the words. I still haven't figured this whole "coma" thing out yet.
They put me on this machine thing where you lay down and you're kind of crunched. Then you use your legs to push yourself up so your extended. It's supposed to strengthen your legs but it just made me throw up. I don't know, I think it was the motion or something. Gross, huh? Ron better not do that to me again!