I stare into the bright light above me.
I seem to find this light intriguing for some reason. Is it
a camera protecting me? Is it a metaphorical sign that God is looking down and
more importantly looking after me?
Outside there is the shuffling of feet moving from one end
of the room to the other, attending to call bells that pierce the air when they
sound. Someone would think that a large medical emergency has occurred. The lady across from me is barking madly and
I pray to the light that her germs aren’t energized enough to reach me.
I resort back to my mate the “light” and converse with it. In
my post anaesthetic state I utter a simple, “hi how you doing?”
A response might have been nice Mr Light.
***
Dear Reader,
You probably think I’ve gone crazy. Please allow me to
explain myself
My name is Ashton (you know me as the FED) and I have a
brain that doesn’t work.
I have what is known as a dural fistula, an abnormal direct
connection between an artery and a vein. And there are many of these abnormal
connections in my brain. I am clogged up there like a big clump of spaghetti. This
has led to one of the sinuses in my head being blocked off because the blood
has not been able to drain back and through my head properly.
In the last eight months, I’ve been through seven embolisations
to separate the fistula, have been seen by 10 different doctors (one of whom doesn’t know that we are secretly married), spent over two months in hospitals,
49 hours of surgery and God knows how many blood tests.
I’m known as an abnormal case (no surprises there.)
Something such as a dural fistula is not common in healthy 20 years olds but
more common in those in their 60’s and 70’s.
“Twenty years olds should be out living their lives!” one doctor
exclaimed to me.
It has been overwhelming. There’s no question about it. It takes a toll on not just your confidence
and well being, but also the people around you.
People have always told me that there will be events in life
that will make you grow as a person. To go through adversity such as what I’ve
gone through makes you look at life in a different way. It makes you appreciate
your life. It teaches you to fulfill every moment.
I’ve never been so grateful for the love and kindness I’ve
received from people such as the nurses who will offer you a Milo to help you
feel as comfortable as possible. Or the doctors who have been so gifted with the ability to help improve the
health and wellbeing of other people and yet still have time for a chat.
I’ve had well wishes from England to America and Malta to Saudi
Arabia. People everywhere have been letting me know that they are thinking of
me and praying for me. How lucky we are to exercise our ability to pray.
So please forgive me for talking nonsense to bright lights,
and thinking that they will talk back to me.
I do have more surgery planned for Friday next week. It’s hoped that
this will end all the long procedures that I’ve had and hopefully let me return
to living my life… with a new found gratefulness and a mantra of "living life to
the full."
PS. The jury is still out as to whether there is a connection between my condition and Mum's condition of Cowden's Syndrome. At the moment, we will just deal with one thing at a time.
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