The New Tattoo

Well it has been a very long time since I have written I was having difficulty transferring posts from my iPad to the blog. So sorry. I wrote this Dec 12 2013. I have been in and out of hospitals fighting infections, having treatments for months on end, and I am completely exhausted. If I am to be honest I am feeling really worn down. At times I have wondered if I have a bit of depression with everything that’s going on, but then my friend lets me realize how can I not be mentally worn down with everything that’s going on. All the exhaustion and pain can get to you a lot of times.

I have been trying so hard to be upbeat for this blog but recently I haven’t been feeling upbeat so I haven’t been writing, but I decided to get off my butt and at least try. Then out of the blue my mom decided to give me my Christmas present early. She bought me an iPad, and I figured why not type up a blog while in bed. So here we go….

I’m going to tell you all about my new tattoo. This tattoo is from when I was in a Vancouver Hospital for 10 weeks . This was the hospital stay when I went for a treatment that went very very very wrong. This treatment gave me a taste of severe delirium.

At some point early on in my treatment a nurse or someone, possibly even a doctor, had accessed my Picc line and did not use proper sterile procedures. Due to this I ended up with bacteria and fungus that went into my bloodstream. This bacteria travelled into my heart and all over my body, it even almost crossed the blood brain barrier. The one fungus was Candidida and I cannot remember what the gram-negative bacteria was because there were multiple.

My treatment continued because my doctors did not realize I had contracted these bacteria and fungus through my Picc line. The delirium was able to grab hold real tight because of this loss in treatment time. When they found out I had this new illness along with my many others to treat they had to cancel my treatment, but it was way too late I had already started to regress to behaving like a three-year-old.

I did not know who people were, I did not know their faces, people would scare me, I was terrified all the time, and I even had to learn how to walk again. What I remember the most was how terrified I was.

The one thing I knew was that my doctor had written on my medical board this too shall pass by God’s grace. I stared at that saying on my medical for weeks. It was the only thing that didn’t upset me. Anything that was placed on my board like pictures with letters and well wishes to get better, and crafts made from my friend’s little kids, I couldn’t remember who they were. I didn’t know who anyone was. I knew my mom that was about it.

When the delirium was starting to take hold I was about the mental capacity of age twenty. I was still able to go to the fourth floor and go outside where they have a garden on the roof. I would sit under their cherry blossom tree because the cherry blossom tree is my favourite tree, I felt safe under it and I would sit there for a long time. Within the next two days my mental capacity went down to about age fifteen. That’s when I started breaking off the branches with the leaves and the cherry blossom flowers and bring them up to my room. I would put them in a vase so that I could stare at them all day.

Soon I was getting tired and I was having trouble walking out to the garden. That’s when I would say my mental ability went down to about a five year old and then that’s when things get a little bit more hectic and difficult. By this time I was walking with a walker and I was still able to go out to the garden and relax but things were getting a lot more confusing to me. I was having difficulty with people scaring me, I couldn’t walk by people in the hallway because it reminded me of people that hurt me in the past.

It was so difficult that within a couple days my mental capacity went down to about a 3-year-old and that’s when all hell broke loose. I even tried to escape the hospital, succeeded, and had security running across the street after me in downtown Vancouver. Quite a funny site since I was still using a walker. So I ended up having 24 hr care aides by my side for my safety.

Because of this I was no longer allowed to go to the garden, which meant I was no longer able to sit by the cherry blossom tree, which meant I had nothing to look at to keep to keep me calm. Luckily I had a loving roommate named Diane who had a plan. She phoned up someone special that she knew.

Her son is married to the daughter of someone very famous here in Canada who teaches about nature and the environment (I have not been able to ask him for permission if I could put his name in my blog). Anyways he said to Diane go out and buy an orchid that looks exactly like the cherry blossom flower and then your roommate can stare at it to keep her calm. So that is exactly what she did, he told her the name of this special orchid and it kept me calm for the rest of my stay at the hospital.

So I took a picture of my orchid from the hospital, along with the saying that my doctor put up on my board, and that was the inspiration behind my tattoo as you can see below. I hope you like it.

“Rocker” and “Swinger”

It has been awhile since I have opened this laptop, but one thing I do know for sure is that I need a light-hearted or funny post. I mentioned in an earlier post (The End of an Olympic Dream), when I was 16 I had been scouted to go play ice hockey in Lake Placid, New York. So I decided to tell a few of my New York adventure stories this week. For those of you who have been asking me to tell it, my tattoo story will be up this week as well if all goes according to plan.

My parents had to drop me off in Lake Placid at my school a couple of nights early. There were no other athletes/students yet, only teachers and dorm parents. The reason my parents had to leave me early was due to the fact a tragedy had just happened in the world, Swiss Air 111 had crashed. We were living in Halifax Nova Scotia at the time, and my parents were helping with the disaster response. My mother was working in the morgue as a critical incident stress counselor. My father was working in the forensic dentistry identification area. I was so proud of my parents and all the work they put into helping as many families as they could.

The End of an Olympic Dream

I confess, I confess. I honestly am almost ten years behind in technology since I have spent so much time in hospital. You will have to be patient with me as I learn how to use this blog properly. I also have to admit I did not have any material written ahead of time before I posted public so I thought a few funny stories while I am laid up would be a good idea. Therefore, this is an introduction to my grade twelve year I spent after being scouted for an athletic school.

When I was 16 I left home to attend an athletic school in the United States. I was quite excited to be truly venturing out on my own, and I was not timid one bit. In fact, at this age my brain tumors were already in full force (which we did not know) and I believe they in a way made me a fantastic athlete. I would train six hours a day and not even complain to coaches. I was head strong, angry, driven, powerful and pompous. You would not have liked me back then unless you really understand how narrow minded competitive athletes have to be to succeed. The truth is if you do not believe you are the best, you never will be the best.

I was so excited because here I was going to be training at the Olympic facilities in Lake Placid New York, with real Olympic athletes. I had been scouted to play ice hockey and I could not have been happier. The only problem being I was currently training for the Junior Team Canada Field Hockey team also in Ontario, Canada. But in my eyes this was going to be a whole new start for me, I had nothing to loose. I was determined to be the best, in both sports, that was my plan. So I thought….