It was June 20, 2010 that I went to the emergency room, my lungs filled with blood clots and with not much time left. Fortunately, I survived.
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I can't believe it's been 2 years. I still remember it all like it was yesterday.
I remember that exact hospital bed in that exact room. Room 738. I was lucky enough to have a private room. A solid week of doctors and nurses streaming in and out of my room at all hours of the day and night. Blood being drawn constantly around the clock. The IV machine pumping bag after bag of the blood thinning drug Heparin into my body. Huge bruises all over my body. Out my window was the helicopter landing pad. I remember wishing I could take off in the helicopter and leave the hospital.
It was 6 straight days of pure misery. Because of the tubes and wires and the 24/7 oxygen, they wouldn't let me take a shower. That was miserable. The doctors and the nurses mostly did their jobs, but I hated the underlying theme of all my interactions with most of the medical staff. It was that I weighed 577 pounds, that gastric bypass surgery was the only way out and that I would be on blood thinners the rest of my life. I accepted none of that.
Well, here we are 2 years later and things are thankfully a little better! No more blood thinners, I'm down 311 pounds and am almost off all prescription medication.
But I will never, ever, ever forget that miserable week in the hospital. It motivates me and is a driving force to this day.