Alright guys, I thought it thoroughly and I think it's ok for me to disclosure what happened, and it hopefully will help someone to not do the same.
On May 14th, Monday, I went back to work. I thought I was prepared for the social anxiety, for dealing with people looking at me, but I actually wasn't. I wasn't much productive on my first few days back at work, but my whole team (which is essentially a suborganization within a company in the software engineering world) was extremely supportive. The FMLA could give me a medical leave of up to 16 weeks, but it was a personal decision to take 6 weeks. Actually, the initial idea was to take only 2 weeks of leave, work 2 weeks from home and then go back to work. But if you guys read my posts, you know that there were a couple complications along the way. My plan to go back to the Bay Area by the end of April went downhill when I realized my right leg was still in a lot of pain and swollen, and I felt safer being closer to the doctor.
Although some days I'd wake up in a better mood, I tried to get work done but I guess my seratonin levels were very low. The first month of the surgery just drains your whole energy. Or, at least, it drained mine. So, I went back to work and I couldn't produce much, but I felt VERY guilty that an elective surgery would impact my performance. I felt bad for being unproductive to my team and to my coworkers. I know it was all in my head. I talked to my manager and she was extremely complacent with the situation. They would even tell me that I could work from home a couple of days in the week. But despite all this, I still felt guilty. So what I did? I scheduled an appointment with a psychiatrist and got ADHD medication. Those pills are used by teenagers and adults with ADHD and I felt I could benefit from that since my attention span was f*cked up after 1 month and a half away. Not only that, I also got prescribed Xanax (Alprazolam), as a short-term solution for my anxiety. Apart from that, I was also taking opioids. If you know something about psychotropic medications interaction, you can already guess the sh*t I've done.
Let's go: my productivity became GREAT. I was able to focus and code and give insights on meetings. I felt like super-man during the day, lol. So by Friday, May 25th, I was completing 2 weeks back to work and I was feeling great. My nerve pains (which I've been having since the beginning of May) were unnoticeable. I couldn't stop talking. I felt happy about the smallest things. But none of this was natural. I was actually completely disturbed and couldn't even notice. By Sunday, May 27th, I had a mental breakdown. My anxiety was so high that I could feel my chest burning cold. I took an opioid and a Xanax, and then went to the pool. Trust me, this is the first time in my life I'm dealing with such medications and I was COMPLETELY ignorant of their side effects and interactions. I'm not saying I was innocent and I can take all the blame on what happened, but what I'm trying to say is that I didn't do anything on purpose, I was completely disturbed and trying to get better. When I got to the pool, I started feeling I was going to faint. I remember closing my eyes involuntarily and waking up seconds later, several times per minute. It was non-stop. I went up again and drank a bunch of water, and told my mom that I was afraid that I would close my eyes and not wake up again. That was honestly the feeling that I was having and the words I used.
Night came, I did the procedure and went to sleep, nothing major happened so far. At 4AM on Monday, May 28th (Memorial Day), I woke up with the same feeling that I would close my eyes and not wake up anymore. And what I did next was the most stupid thing someone can ever do, and I'm completely aware of the sh*tty thing I did. I went for yet another opioid and Xanax, and went back to sleep. Both pills depress your respiratory system. When you mix them together, the toxic threshold lowers down closely to the therapeutic dosage. While I slept, my respiratory system stopped working. I closed my eyes and didn't wake up. I aspirated during sleep. Prior to having a cardiac arrest, I made a very weird noise with my mouth at around 6:30AM. I know that because my mom told me -- she heard it from across the apartment and came to check on me. When she found me, I was pale, with colorless lips, drooling and not breathing. She started pushing me and screaming at me to wake up but I was completely out, unconscious, no pulse. She doesn't know English, she doesn't have a SIM Card here and she didn't know or have a way to call 911, so she went to the balcony and started screaming for help. I was very, very, very lucky. I had a neighbor who happened to be a nurse and was swimming in the pool (AT 6:30AM!!!), and she heard my mom's call for help (and she was also screaming the apartment number). She came running to help me, along with a guy that turns out works at the same Company as I do, and she started doing CPR on me. She did it for about 3 minutes until my pulse came back, but I was still unconscious. By the time the firemen, police and ambulance arrived, everybody thought I'd go in vegetative state. 8 minutes without oxygen in your brain is enough for you to have irreversible brain damage. They put me in the cot and took me to the ambulance. About five minutes away from the hospital, I regained consciousness. So, on my timeline perception, last thing I remembered was going to sleep, and then waking up aching in pain in the ambulance. A bunch of people asking me if I tried to commit suicide -- no, I didn't. I went to the emergency room and more doctors came and asked me the same thing. I wasn't able to answer with words because I was 100% dependent on the breathing machine, my lungs were full of liquid. I was feeling so much pain on my legs, and I was at some hospital I hadn't been before and had to explain them the surgery I had on my legs. They did a ultrasound on me and found one blood clot in each leg, the one on the right leg being larger.
Some doctors said that the reason for my respiratory system to have failed during my sleep is that some pieces of the blood clot might've gotten loose and went to my lungs, causing pulmonary embolism. Some other doctors think that it was because of those medications interactions. In any case, I was hospitalized for 3 days. For the first 26 hours or so, I couldn't drink or eat a single thing. I was just on saline and antibiotics. It was a nightmare, I never thought I'd say this but it was way worse than the thing that happened on my 5th day post-op when I went to the emergency thinking I'd lose my right leg.
As soon as my mom told my dad about that, he bought a ticket all the way from Brazil and arrived here 1 day after this whole thing. He helped me a lot too. At the same time, I was feeling so guilty, once again. This time, for f*cking up things and causing that much trauma to my parents. I know my mom saved me and I can't even imagine the trauma she experienced, finding me like that, screaming for help, going to the hospital without knowing if I made it there dead or alive. Being interrogated in a foreign language if her son tried suicide, and at the same time crying and worrying if I was gone for good (they wouldn't let her come with me in the ambulance).
I don't want to talk much about that week but I received a visit from coworkers and friends, and I wouldn't have the guts to tell it was because I f*cked up, because I was relying on pills to be able to go through this hard process and at the same time keep my productivity at work very high, while keeping my anxiety away. Completely selfish and stupid and I'll take sometime to forgive myself for that.
As a follow-up, I'm taking blood thinner (Xarelto) again, but now on a way higher dosage (30mg for 15 days, 20mg for 75 days). I also stopped taking the medications I was taking. The doctors at the hospital were really good and understood my whole situation. The only thing I felt bad for (that is, if I can actually feel bad about anything) is that I asked my doctors confidentiality regarding the LL. One of the doctors assured me that it was completely confidential and nobody would know about this. Next thing I know is hearing a couple of people (some nurses and nurse assistants) saying: "he was taking Norco, but it's reasonable, he went through limb lengthening, it must be very painful". I know this is nothing important and I won't even complain, just keep in mind that some people might not take your confidentiality request seriously. I know it was a hospital, but as far as I know, only the doctor needed to know about this, because he/she is the one prescribing the treatment.
Anyways, today has been more than 2 weeks since all of this. I'm getting better. This is the first time that I'm openly talking about this. I'm trying hard to overcome and forget what happened. I know I was that close to not coming back, or coming back with irreversible sequels, but somehow I got a second chance, and I really have to make it count. Some of you might judge me for keeping doing the procedure even after this, and I won't blame you. Sometimes I catch myself doing the same, wondering if I'm crazy for doing that. Makes you think about priorities, right? But I'm rational. I know that the procedure is fairly safe, and the only correlation one can make with what happened is that if I hadn't done the surgery, I wouldn't be taking the pills. Period. But I did the surgery and I could handle the medications initially, until I went back to work and started pressuring myself, which caused this mental break down. I caused this to myself and I know how to learn from my mistakes, and nothing like this will ever happen again. So that's why I will keep doing it. I've been through a lot and I overcame every obstacle. This was like the boss-obstacle lol, I can't imagine things going more wrong.
And I can at least take a few positive things from this. If it hadn't happened, I wouldn't know about the blood clots and wouldn't be treating them. I wouldn't have the help of my dad that was necessary despite this episode; I'm on the final stage of the procedure and was really a nerve wreck. I wouldn't know how dangerous these medications are, and I could do it again in the future, but without anyone around to save me. Things could go terribly wrong but they turned out fine, no sequels, apart from the memories that will take some time to go away. Finally, I'm feeling great. I'm not taking any pills and my productivity is high again. I'm feeling happy and motivated. I wouldn't be able to write that much if I wasn't. I'm excited about the upcoming weeks, about the consolidation phase. I'm looking forward to returning my life back to normal, about going back to the gym, going out with friends, going out on dates. I'm confident that things will only get better from now on.
) I never told my parents about doing LL. I knew at the time that I'm mentally and physically strong enough to cope. During LL I didn't work, just chilling, turning screws(externals) and watching comedies to keep good mood. I got valium to sleep better but my doc said only one pill before bed and I would rather myself then take more than that. People that do LL need to man up and stop relying on meds when it comes to mental strength.