Feet on the mend

Finally took myself to the doctor today to have my feet looked at. I wasn't sure how I'd react or what they'd do, and was pretty anxious leading up to the appointment. The doc was pretty amazed at the damage I'd done to myself by sliding accidentally on a carpet (shallow second degree, ugh), and pulled out a basin to do some debriedment. I may have freaked out a little, but it didn't hurt nearly as much as I thought it would. The doctor was completely unsympathetic, haha! It didn't take long though, and she said I'd done a good job of keeping them clean. Then she gave me a bucket of gauze and xeroform and saline, bandaged me up, and sent me on my way! Easy! (Kind of.) I changed the bandages tonight, and was amazed at how clearly I remember all of the smells. Everything has a scent. The xeroform, the bandage, the wound - I guess remembering these smells like it was yesterday is part of a traumatic experience. I found it more interesting than upsetting though, whew! 

The doc has me leaving them open at night, and bandaged during the day. Fingers crossed for a speedy recovery, and that my boots fit okay tomorrow!

Moving on

I think about moving on often. When will I be completely recovered? Will my scars fade? Will they flatten with time? I've been told that there is no recovery from PTSD and I suppose that makes sense. Something primal gets rewired in our brains to keep us from further harm, and that's not something that can be easily adjusted, or perhaps even completely.

Today, in an act of pure silliness, I attempted to charge down a carpeted hallway at a friend. I tripped and slid a little on the carpet, earning myself two rug burns on the tops of my feet - one small, and one quite large. First, I was shocked. What have I done?! Then I had an immediate flashback to being in the shower right after my accident, looking at my skin. That hasn't happened to me for a long time (having a flashback that is). I had a full on panic attack as a result. I had somewhere to be though, so forced myself to calm down, clean my rug burns, and get downstairs. I managed to get through the next few minutes, but all I wanted to do was curl up somewhere and cry. When I got back upstairs with my fellow field camp instructors, I pretty much couldn't keep it together anymore, and showed them my feet. They immediately rallied, my dear friend cleaning and bandaging my feet while making me laugh, while another brought me wine and still another brought me chocolate. 

This was possibly the shortest lived panic attack I've ever had, and it wasn't necessarily because I'm getting 'better' (although I guess I would argue that I am) but rather because I was surrounded by people who cared about me, and to whom I didn't need to explain that I was having a panic attack as a result of PTSD from an even that took place almost 3 years ago. They saw an injury and a sad face and they immediately set about making me smile. 

Friendship is a truly powerful thing. It makes the idea of moving on seem attainable - and reminds me that I don't have to do everything myself.

Taking things into your own hands

In other words - don't be afraid to let people know what makes you uncomfortable! Last night my family went for Hibachi. I love Hibachi! I love to watch the food being prepared right in front of me, I think the chefs are skilled and funny, and I am getting good at catching flying food with my mouth! But I hate, hate, HATE the part where they make a big blaze of fire. I can't help it. When my family first suggested going for Hibachi, I said no. All I could think about was how I'd be on edge the whole time waiting for it to happen. But I knew they wanted to go, and I didn't want to not go because of this thing that happened more than 2 years ago. I guess there's a part of me that still wants things to be the normal they used to be. So, I said yes.

I started to get anxious and upset pretty much at that moment, and by the time we got to the restaurant I was in a pretty foul mood. Shame on me!!! But I was doing my best to keep it under wraps. Mom and I had discussed asking them not to make the fire, but we did that the last time we went and it happened anyway (we'd asked a server instead of the chef) and that was hard. We decided that it would be better to know it was going to happen than to expect it to not happen and then have that expectation be denied.

But then, the chef arrived, and I realized I could just tell him. He's the one in control of what happens on that stove, and I really didn't want that part of the show. So I did. And it was No Big Deal. And from that moment on I could relax, enjoy the show, and have a great dinner with my family. Sometimes I have to be reminded that wanting something because of my accident doesn't make it any less important or reasonable than anything else that someone wants. Just because I have to ask for it instead of it being typical doesn't mean I shouldn't ask for it.

Lesson learned: Tell people what you need. In my experience they're happy to comply, and even happier that you asked for it instead of sitting by and suffering in silence.

A New Day

It's been a little over a year since I first got my compression garments! I have worn them nearly 24/7 since last October (6-8 more months to go), and I'm celebrating today by NOT wearing them. IT FEELS GREAT. I felt a little awkward walking through town on my way to Deike this afternoon, but I made it without mishap. I can't help but still wonder if people are looking at me and looking at my scars, but for the first time, I found that my thoughts were more dominated by the sheer joy of feeling the sun and the wind on my legs rather than what people were thinking of me. Glancing down at my legs as I walked into Starbucks (I rewarded myself with a hot chocolate), I almost laughed out loud because all I could think was 'man, my legs look so good,' - and you know what? Although it does hurt to find people staring at me, the fact that I can look at myself now and be happy both that I have come so far and with who I am now trumps that like nothing else.

It's a good day.

Letting go of anger

This is something I thought I was over - being angry at people for not knowing what I've been through and not recognizing that it's something I'm still dealing with, but apparently not. The most recent incident of this involves posting about this incredible documentary on facebook and asking people to check it out. A few weeks ago I posted a picture of a bug on facebook, and within 10 minutes 15 people had commented on it. It's been more than 24 hours now, I think, and a grand total of three people have 'liked' my posting. I'm definitely not asking for sympathy, just recognition that this thing happened to me, it happens to a lot of people, and it's a huge thing. It's confusing because I don't want people to define me by my burns, but I guess I also do, at some level, because I want them to know that I've been through this incredibly difficult thing and come out the other side more or less intact - in fact, I would say I'm stronger, and in some ways, even happier than I was before. The tag line of the documentary (Trial by Fire) is 'Lives Reforged', and they say something about metal becoming stronger when it is forged with fire, and the same being true of the human spirit. I like that thought, and that imagery. It changes your perspective from being broken or injured by fire to being honed by fire, and although I still sometimes struggle with the first perspective, I really do believe the second is more applicable.

Anyway, I guess it is important to me that people know this about me - sometimes people say things about me laughing too much, or being especially giggly, and once someone asked me how much I'd had to drink (because I was bouncing around conversations and groups of people and being myself - incidentally I hadn't had anything to drink)... these are just offhand comments, not meant to be hurtful, but it makes me want to turn around and say something along the lines of 'I just spent months of living one day at a time, trying so hard to learn to be happy with myself again; what does it matter to you if I am thoroughly enjoying my life?' I'm not laughing or giggling because I'm vapid and shallow, I'm laughing and giggling because I know so much more (about life and myself) than I did a year ago and I want to appreciate and enjoy (and show my enjoyment of) every minute.

So, yeah! I'm trying not to be upset that people on facebook aren't reacting to my expression of need (with the exception of a few wonderful, wonderful friends) - because after all, it's facebook, right? And most relationships on facebook are pretty superfluous. Maybe I'll just have to be more vocal in the future. :)

279 days

Hello! How's it going? What have you been up to? I've been settling into a masters' program at Penn State, meeting people, making friends, taking classes, being insanely busy... and also, taking care of myself. I had a checkup this past Friday that went excellently - my doctor was completely floored when she saw my scars/previously injured areas (what would you call that?), and she wanted to know the name of the stones that my mom used on me (and which I am continuing to use now) so that she could recommend them to her other patients! My mom is so awesome.

While I was there, we talked about silicon, which was fun. I got some sheets of it to play around with - you use it inside of the compression garments, and it helps keep the scar tissue moist! Pretty neat! I have yet to try it out in force though; you have to wait 45 minutes after moisturizing to put it on because it works best if it's sticking directly to you, and I am really used to moisturizing and then falling into bed. Lately, it has been precisely that. One of my new garments will have the silicon built in, so that's really neat! I asked for three different colors this time: bright pink, purple, and red. Woo! I'm excited for some springy/summery colors.

I would say that things are normalizing. I'm not there yet, but when I look back on some of the older posts, I'm struck by the pretty significant change in my outlook. Or rather, inlook. :)

208 days

Today is the 6 year anniversary of the burn injury of a person for whom I have so so so much respect. She is so confident, beautiful, smart, and caring - I hope so much that when I reach the 6 year anniversary of my burn injury, I will feel the same way about myself.

In the meantime, here's a quick update on my progress:

Since moving to State College, PA to begin grad school I have been going to the Integrative Bodywork School of Massage Therapy 3 times a week to have my scar tissue worked on. They are so incredibly great - I can't imagine being here without them. I don't have a lot of scar tissue, but what I do have is either thick or has the potential to limit my mobility later in life (or both).  Basically what they do is grab some tissue, pinch it as hard as they can, and when it's good and pink (means the blood is flowing) they twist. Ouch. I do it every night (even when I go to IBSMT), and sometimes we are rewarded with this odd sort of popping sensation under the skin where the scar tissue's binding to other tissue or muscle is being ripped.
I'm not going to lie, it grossed me out a little bit at first, but it's just like any other gross thing - if there's a positive connotation, you grow to like it. (For example, I really enjoy the smell of sulfur because it reminds me of Yellowstone.)
The other reward is that slowly but surely (and surely faster than before) I can see scar tissue flattening out in some places, and becoming less discolored, and areas on the rest of my burn where my natural color is coming in.
Between that, my TA responsibilities, my classes, and the tiny bit of research I'm trying to fit in this semester, I have just enough time to eat and sleep. And go to Wegmans, the BEST GROCERY STORE IN THE WORLD.

Also, I need to give a serious shout-out to my mom, who was doing these massages before I came to PA. Although we weren't doing exactly the same thing that IBSMT does, they raved about how good my burns look and complete 100% credit goes to my incredible mother and her patience and willingness to break her thumbs on my scar tissue for 2 hours (and sometimes more) every day. I think every day about how lucky I am to have my mom, and my whole family.

:)