elizabeth brown

Recovery is funny. It’s almost like riding a roller coaster. Sometimes things move quickly, sometimes you can hear the gears grinding as they slowly pull you along, and of course, there are always the ups and downs. Right now, I’m in the slow, plodding-along portion of recovery. I’m slowly clearing doctor’s appointments off my calendar, and each visit has brought more good news about what my doctors describe as a phenomenal recovery. This week, I emailed work leadership with my return-to-work date. It was surreal. Returning to work has always been a goal, but there were times when I honestly wasn’t sure it would ever happen. Heck, six months ago, I couldn’t manage the most basic human functions without some form of high-level medical support. Now, I’m planning to return to the job I love. **January 4th is officially my return-to-work date!** I’m excited, nervous, and probably experiencing a few other emotions I haven’t quite identified yet. Leadership and I have developed a solid plan to help me transition from being a *medical care recipient* back to being a *medical care provider*. It’s a transition I’ve dreamed about, and now it’s actually happening. This weekend is the annual ECMO patient and family reunion, and I have so many emotions about going. I’m anxious to see the incredible staff who provided the care that saved my life. I have some memories of the people who cared for me, but between the medications, sedation, and everything my body endured, those memories are jumbled at best. I’m looking forward to putting faces to the names and meeting some of the people who were part of my story, even when I wasn’t fully aware of what was happening around me. According to my doctors and everything I’ve read about recovery from what I went through, my progress is nothing short of a miracle. I know how fortunate I am, and I know my recovery is the result of extraordinary skill, dedication, teamwork, and a whole lot of people refusing to give up on me. Healthcare can be a thankless and emotionally exhausting profession. The people who cared for me spend their days facing the worst-case scenarios, fighting for patients who may or may not make it, and carrying the weight of outcomes they can’t always control. I hope that when I walk into that reunion without oxygen or any other medical support, they get to see the outcome that makes all those difficult days worth it. I hope I remind them that their work matters, that the battles they fight make a difference, and that sometimes the patient they worked so hard to save gets to come back and tell them so. I went into the hospital thinking that, at worst, I had a mild case of pneumonia. I came terrifyingly close to never coming home. And now, I’m preparing to return to the other side of healthcare, with a much deeper appreciation for what it means to be the person in the bed instead of the person providing the care. Recovery may be moving at a snail’s pace right now, but I’ll take slow and steady over the alternative any day. I've included a photos of me in my Trash Panda Swoveralls. I won a design contest before I became sick. Seeing and being able to wear my goofy idea brings me so much joy. Of course if I'm chilling on the porch my buddy Murphy is going to be with me.

The Sucky Part of Recovery Arghh! I’m doing more and more, which is GREAT… but my body isn’t so sure about all this progress. I’m using muscles I haven’t really used in months, and being off my RA meds is a pretty spectacular combination for pain. My shoulders, neck, chest, pecs… basically everything is reminding me that I’ve been through a LOT. Who knew putting together LEGO could be such a serious pec workout?! I’m pretty sure a massage would go a long way toward convincing my shoulders and neck that they can relax now. But I can do this. I can do hard things. This is kind of the sucky part of recovery. I’m doing so well. I’m off all extra supports. I’m up, walking, talking, driving, doing errands, doing daily life stuff… so from the outside, it probably looks like I’m healed. And I’m not. I’m on a really great pathway, and I’m incredibly grateful for that, but I’m nowhere near being back to my old self yet. There isn’t always some huge, dramatic milestone to celebrate. Sometimes progress looks like doing more, hurting more, resting, and wondering why you’re not farther along yet. I’m frustrated. I’m sore. And honestly, I’m just venting a little. I need to give myself some grace and remember to have patience. I really have come an incredibly long way in a very short amount of time. My body is still catching up with everything I’ve asked it to do. I can do hard things. I have done hard things. And I’m going to keep doing them. But first… some pain meds and a nap.

No News Is Good News I'm still off oxygen—and I am loving it! I absolutely crushed PT last week, even increasing my speed and incline on the treadmill while talking! That feels like a pretty big deal considering where I was a few months ago. At this point, it's really just a matter of time until I can return to work. I'm still a bit of a weakling and tire easily, but I'm getting stronger and better every day.  My shoulder and chest are still painful, but the pain is feeling more like muscle pain now, which makes sense. I'm using muscles in ways I haven't used them in months, so apparently they're filing formal complaints.  My hands continue to slowly regain sensation and strength. Although I did have to ask a complete stranger to open a bottle of Coke for me while I was out running errands. It's humbling, but I'll take progress wherever I can get it! I also had my post-ICU dental appointment. The verdict? One broken molar and a new cavity. Apparently dental problems are pretty common after prolonged intubation because it creates a perfect environment for all sorts of dental issues. So that's going to cost me several hundred dollars to fix. Because apparently my body wasn't finished sending me bills.  And then there's my liver labs. We finally figured out why they are elevated: gallstones! Seriously, can I catch a break?  The good news is that I'm not having any symptoms, so apparently I'm passing *silent stones*. Since I'm not having symptoms of an acute gallbladder attack, we'll avoid surgery for now. I'll manage things with diet and may look at doing more precise imaging if things don't improve.  I'm also going to start taking a GLP-1 medication again. It's covered by insurance, and after discussing the benefits and risks with my doctor, the benefits make sense for me. It should help me get back to the lifestyle changes I had made before I got sick. And now that I'm able to get out and **MOVE** more, I'm excited to keep building on that progress.  Now for something only tangentially related to my ICU stay... A few months before I got sick, I entered a few designs in a contest for Swoveralls. There was voting, and TWO of my designs won! Someone told me, "Of course you're going to recover—you have to see your designs get released." Well... **They're being released next month!**  So if you have a need for the world's most comfortable overalls—and honestly, who doesn't?—keep an eye out at www.swoveralls.com **Jimothys (Trash Pandas)** **Otter Romp** Free your waistband.  I also want to publicly thank the amazing people at Swoveralls for being so supportive throughout my recovery. Thank you, Kyle and team! And finally, to everyone who has donated so generously: **thank you.** Your generosity has taken a tremendous amount of stress off my plate and allowed me to focus on what really matters—getting better. Still recovering. Still rebuilding. Still getting stronger. And still here.  #ICanDoHardThings