Healing is a long process. Longer than one would expect. Longer than one would want. The good news is that physical healing begins immediately.
At the moment the train hit my truck my brain shut down to protect me from the reaction to what was happening. Bones fractured. Muscles tore. Internal organs were lacerated. The brain was concussed.
At the same moment, healing began. Blood rushed to the injured areas. Cells began forming to repair damaged tissues. Bones began knitting back together. Precious resources diverted to where they were most needed.
It took, literally, hundreds of dedicated professionals to save me and put me back together. My rescue began with the first responder who told me that I was hit by a train (I didn’t believe him), but he was going to get me out. He handed me off to the EMTs (of which he may have been one), who transferred me to the emergency room personnel at UC Davis Medical center. I never got to meet any of those people.
On Tuesday (or it may have been Wednesday) I met the trauma team who told me of the internal injuries to my kidney, liver, spleen, and diaphragm. The orthopedic surgical team came in to tell me about the repairs to my elbow and the fractures to my ribs, spine, scapula, and sternum. I could scarcely take it in. I’m fortunate to be alive and, further, the only surgery I needed was the, already completed, repair of my elbow. Although my diaphragm had been punctured by a broken rib, a piece of fatty tissue had lodged into the hole and was being held in place by my swollen spleen. My spleen was bruised, but not ruptured, so no surgery would be necessary. My spine and ribs were held in place by all the muscles and ligaments surrounding them, so I didn’t need any surgery to repair them either.
It appeared that I was ready for regular food, but my body dispelled that illusion by shutting down my colon and closing off my digestion. Apparently my system was not ready to expend energy processing food. Consequently, I spent the next week with an NG tube to take stomach contents and an IV to put in nutrition. This wreaked havoc with my blood sugar, so each meal came with a dessert of insulin. The determining factor of when I could leave was my ability to process food and get these IVs and tubes out of me.
After nearly 3 weeks in the hospital, I was allowed to go home (more on that part later). The tubes came out. I was able to walk around the hospital floor. I could eat regular (well, hospital) food.
Truth be told, although there were teams of people helping me, it was, ultimately, my body determined when it was ready. Sometimes all one can do is wait.
