- Living on “Candy” (Painkillers and Purgatory)
I was home, but the nightmare had simply changed its scenery. For a year and a half, I existed in a fog. I was popping painkillers like candy just to be able to sit at the table with my family. This is the part people don’t see—the invisible endurance test. You aren’t “recovering”; you are just surviving the next hour.
In the meantime, I gathered with my son and husband, this time living with his mother, in order to help me with the child. We learned to walk together, I started walking with a cane, instead of crutches. A couple of months later, we came back to our apartment, just the three of us and I started to teach myself again how to do basic chores with my new body.
- The Wall of “No”
I started reaching out to doctors, clinics, and specialists. I presented my case, my 11 surgeries (by that time), my scars, and my pain. And one by one, the doors slammed shut.
”Surgical treatment cannot be applied”
”We only recommend rehabilitation”
”Just give it time.”
And the worse:
“There is no point in looking for surgery abroad, better look for clinics dealing with prosthetics, the nerves are just cut.”
When you hear “No” for the tenth time, you start to believe that this is it—that you will be “The Girl with the Pain” forever.
While doctors were giving me dead-end answers, I was fighting a battle they didn`t see. Before the accident, I was in my final year of university. I refused to let the crash steal my education, too. Between appointments and pain, I studied. Completing my degree during the “Dead Zone” was my first quiet victory – a way to prove myself that my mind was still sharp, even if my body felt broken.
- The Turning Point: Managing Two Battles
While my own body was a construction site with no workers, I had to manage another crisis: my son needed one final surgery. He has had 2 plastic surgeries here on his legs, after third degree burning and I didn`t trust the same doctors to do the third one. This was my true initiation into medical logistics. I realized that if I couldn’t find a solution for myself yet, I must find one for him.
I spent nights researching hospitals, sending inquiries for me and him. I learned how to “speak doctor,” how to read between the lines of a medical report, and how to not count the “no”-s.
- Lesson Learned: The DIY Medical Dossier
In this period of silence and rejection, I learned the most important lesson of my life: Never trust the system to hold your hand. I started building my own medical archive. Every scan, every discharge summary, every blood test was digitized and categorized. I stopped being a “patient” waiting for a miracle and became a “researcher” looking for a loophole. I was still a beginner, though. I sent the records everywhere I found, but I was too scared to make a movement on my own. Then, a friend of ours proposed to lead us to a hospital abroad for a medical opinion for my son.
Read my Practical guide on How to Search for Medical Treatment and to Avoid my Mistakes here.
Continue reading the story: Chapter 5: The First Trip (Expectations vs. Reality)