Post by Gabrielle Visconty on Dec 24, 2019 10:07:48 GMT -6
12-20-19
8:39 pm
Room 212
The small hours – The time spent fading in and out of consciousness. I know 3 things now: One – My mother is dead and my dad is still alive; barely. Two – Facade. I am surrounded by people spewing sympathy. People that care when it is convenient or the proper time to do so. Three – I feel broken. Not in a physical sense, although I am pretty fucked up, but broken in the sense that I don't feel anything. Well, I know a 4th thing too... this morphine drip is the shit.
12-21-19
3:15 pm
Room 212
I have kept my eyes closed most of the day – I have a little trouble focusing and there really isn't anything to see. Plus, if I do open my eyes there is someone there waiting to ask me a stupid question or shine a light in my eyes.
Focus on the tip of my pen, Gabrielle. Which one? I see two...
How are you feeling, Gabrielle? Pretty fucking awesome, thank you.
Are you hurting? Only when I breathe.
Can we get you anything? Yeah, get me more morphine. Lol
You want me to turn on the TV? I am pretty sure I can still work a fucking remote, bitch.
12-21-19
7:09 am
Room 212
Running injury total: Concussion, whiplash, bruised kidney, bruised sternum, bruised spleen, four broken ribs, a punctured lung that collapsed on my way to the hospital, bruising on 60% of the left side of my body, and my left shoulder is super happy to have friends join it's pain party.
Consolation prize: I am in excellent physical shape. That combined with my age will be key factors in my recovery. I'm 'lucky' according to my Doctors. Gee, I'm so lucky.
Started receiving flowers, cards, stuffed animals... I don't even care.
12-22-19
4:40 pm
Room 212
Mémère and Pépère came by... My mom's mom and dad. Today I finally cried. It's not their fault, it was just the last crack in the dam – everything hit me all at once. Mom IS gone. The nurses ushered them out and they had to sedated me... I tried to get out of bed and ripped some stitches. I want to see Dad.
12-23-19
3:00 am
Room 212
Alone. Quiet. Can't sleep. Not good. I don't dare open social media or look at the overwhelming amount of txt msgs. Music selection is all dark... “Coming Undone”
12-23-19
8:12 am
Room 212
They're keeping me an additional day. Thanks Doc...
Lung and spleen are healing well but not like they had hoped... the ripped stitches didn't help my cause any.
All that and Tommy is here and digging through my personal belongings... Fucking creep. And I specifically asked for no visitors.
12-23-19
2:15 pm
Room 9 ICU
They finally rolled me down here. They are telling me that he can hear me... I'm not so sure. I just want to stay here in case he wakes up. He shouldn't hear it from a nurse or doctor.
12-23-19
5:21 pm
Room 212
Punched a nurse when they tried to take me back to my room. Enjoy the bloody nose, hag! Got sedated again... I think I ripped stitches – not telling anyone.
Tommy snuck me in a cheeseburger – had to triple check to make sure there was no Tasty Tommy Sauce on it. Sick bastard.
12-24-19
1:56 am
Room212
Just realized its Christmas Eve. Now I'm crying again. I'm so alone. Listening to dad's old music – Nine Inch Nails and a little of mine – In This Moment.
12/24/19
9:15 am
Room 212
There has been one constant, one thing that I have come to rely on; and it's pretty funny – Tommy Love. Creepy fucker has been by a couple times. Every time he has been the only truthful one in the room. He's not spewing sunshine and rainbows to me, he is talking my return, setting up rehab and physical therapy sessions; doing what a manager does. It's keeping my mind off of my current situation. I know he isn't going to hold my hand and try to offer sympathy. If he tries to hold my hand he is going to try to rub it on his crotch while he thinks I am out of it; that's Tommy and he hasn't changed – and that's why the sick fuck hasn't been able to get a hold of my hand.
I'll let everyone know I am alive; Fighter Talk and Twitter.
Dad's sister is here - Amy's talking to me but I haven't heard a damn word. Go away...
12/24/19
10:00 am
Room 212
Released. But where do I go now?
Can't fly for 2 weeks due to the lung. Looks like I'm going to South Beach, Miami – The Setai for rest and recovery in the Penthouse Suite. Good thing I earned a lot of Elite15 money this year...
Izumi. Answer your fucking phone!
12-24-19
10:15 AM
In transit to The Setai in Miami.
I'm out. Looks like the start of a long new year for me. Physical therapy, PTSD counseling, grief counseling, possible surgeries looming on recovery... Do I want to come back to wrestling? Do I want to put myself through all of this to be reminded daily of my wrestling life and heritage? I've got a lot of time to think on it, that's for sure. Right now I just want to detach from the world. Could this driver hit any more bumps in the road?!
8:39 pm
Room 212
The small hours – The time spent fading in and out of consciousness. I know 3 things now: One – My mother is dead and my dad is still alive; barely. Two – Facade. I am surrounded by people spewing sympathy. People that care when it is convenient or the proper time to do so. Three – I feel broken. Not in a physical sense, although I am pretty fucked up, but broken in the sense that I don't feel anything. Well, I know a 4th thing too... this morphine drip is the shit.
3:15 pm
Room 212
I have kept my eyes closed most of the day – I have a little trouble focusing and there really isn't anything to see. Plus, if I do open my eyes there is someone there waiting to ask me a stupid question or shine a light in my eyes.
Focus on the tip of my pen, Gabrielle. Which one? I see two...
How are you feeling, Gabrielle? Pretty fucking awesome, thank you.
Are you hurting? Only when I breathe.
Can we get you anything? Yeah, get me more morphine. Lol
You want me to turn on the TV? I am pretty sure I can still work a fucking remote, bitch.
My head is pounding.
12-21-19
7:09 am
Room 212
Running injury total: Concussion, whiplash, bruised kidney, bruised sternum, bruised spleen, four broken ribs, a punctured lung that collapsed on my way to the hospital, bruising on 60% of the left side of my body, and my left shoulder is super happy to have friends join it's pain party.
Consolation prize: I am in excellent physical shape. That combined with my age will be key factors in my recovery. I'm 'lucky' according to my Doctors. Gee, I'm so lucky.
Started receiving flowers, cards, stuffed animals... I don't even care.
12-22-19
4:40 pm
Room 212
Mémère and Pépère came by... My mom's mom and dad. Today I finally cried. It's not their fault, it was just the last crack in the dam – everything hit me all at once. Mom IS gone. The nurses ushered them out and they had to sedated me... I tried to get out of bed and ripped some stitches. I want to see Dad.
12-23-19
3:00 am
Room 212
Alone. Quiet. Can't sleep. Not good. I don't dare open social media or look at the overwhelming amount of txt msgs. Music selection is all dark... “Coming Undone”
12-23-19
8:12 am
Room 212
They're keeping me an additional day. Thanks Doc...
Lung and spleen are healing well but not like they had hoped... the ripped stitches didn't help my cause any.
All that and Tommy is here and digging through my personal belongings... Fucking creep. And I specifically asked for no visitors.
12-23-19
2:15 pm
Room 9 ICU
They finally rolled me down here. They are telling me that he can hear me... I'm not so sure. I just want to stay here in case he wakes up. He shouldn't hear it from a nurse or doctor.
12-23-19
5:21 pm
Room 212
Punched a nurse when they tried to take me back to my room. Enjoy the bloody nose, hag! Got sedated again... I think I ripped stitches – not telling anyone.
Tommy snuck me in a cheeseburger – had to triple check to make sure there was no Tasty Tommy Sauce on it. Sick bastard.
12-24-19
1:56 am
Room212
Just realized its Christmas Eve. Now I'm crying again. I'm so alone. Listening to dad's old music – Nine Inch Nails and a little of mine – In This Moment.
12/24/19
9:15 am
Room 212
There has been one constant, one thing that I have come to rely on; and it's pretty funny – Tommy Love. Creepy fucker has been by a couple times. Every time he has been the only truthful one in the room. He's not spewing sunshine and rainbows to me, he is talking my return, setting up rehab and physical therapy sessions; doing what a manager does. It's keeping my mind off of my current situation. I know he isn't going to hold my hand and try to offer sympathy. If he tries to hold my hand he is going to try to rub it on his crotch while he thinks I am out of it; that's Tommy and he hasn't changed – and that's why the sick fuck hasn't been able to get a hold of my hand.
I'll let everyone know I am alive; Fighter Talk and Twitter.
Dad's sister is here - Amy's talking to me but I haven't heard a damn word. Go away...
12/24/19
10:00 am
Room 212
Released. But where do I go now?
Can't fly for 2 weeks due to the lung. Looks like I'm going to South Beach, Miami – The Setai for rest and recovery in the Penthouse Suite. Good thing I earned a lot of Elite15 money this year...
Izumi. Answer your fucking phone!
12-24-19
10:15 AM
In transit to The Setai in Miami.
I'm out. Looks like the start of a long new year for me. Physical therapy, PTSD counseling, grief counseling, possible surgeries looming on recovery... Do I want to come back to wrestling? Do I want to put myself through all of this to be reminded daily of my wrestling life and heritage? I've got a lot of time to think on it, that's for sure. Right now I just want to detach from the world. Could this driver hit any more bumps in the road?!
