Hero

People are calling me a hero for having gone through this. I do not feel like a hero. A hero to me is someone that has control over their own actions.

Something happens (shit hits the fan), they assess the situation, decide on a course of action, and then execute accordingly. They may be scared but they do what they have to do anyway. Then it's crossed fingers and prayers that everything will turn out all right.

I just wasn't conscious for any of this. I didn't consciously know that I was on the verge of dying. I wasn't consciously afraid of death, of being ripped away from my husband and our children, and our families. I didn't experience the fear.

My loved ones on the other hand did very much experience this fear. My husband is absolutely my hero. He did what he needed to do. I believe in my heart and soul that he saved me. He did not give up. I don't know how he did it and I cannot even put myself in his shoes. He is my rock, he is my heart, he is the love of my life and I truly believe I would not be here if it weren't for him. Staying by my side. Taking care of everything that needed to be taken care of. My mom came to take care of our children, so he could focus on me, he did not leave my side. I may have been unconscious and out of it but that means the world to me. He stayed with me.

The next couple of posts will be about what I experienced while I was in the drug-induced coma. It will probably be about as exciting as listening to someone describe what they dreamed last night. So bear with me, but I have to write it down anyway.

To be continued...