I've been thinking about how I wanted to write this blog for several weeks. Today, as I drove from UW campaign rally to campaign rally, my mind would drift to how I wanted to write today's blog. A lot went through my mind, and some tears were shed, both happy and sad. I'm writing this after getting home from a walk in the nearby park with my dog. Amazing how a walk in the rain will help break writers block.
The reason I wanted to write something today is a year ago, Sept. 18, 2011, I was laying in an operating room at Kennestone Hospital and amazing doctors were fighting to save my life. The basic story was one of the veins in my brain had a clot which caused my brain to swell. To save my life, doctors removed part of my skull and placed it in my stomach for about 6 months while the swelling went down. This surgery was a week after I suffered from a stroke at the age of 26.
How do you put into words what has transpired a year ago today?
Shock - Who has a stoke at age 26? Who walks around with a part of their skull in their stomach for six months? Who goes from being fairly healthy to fighting for her life?
Pain - Surgery, tests, physical therapy, headaches, medicines...
Confusion - Why did this happen? What does my future look like? Will I ever have my life back?
Depression - Why did this happen to me? Why do I have to basically rebuild/relearn my life?
Instead of dwelling on these thoughts, I'd rather talk about the positives that have happened in my life since those brave doctors made the choices they needed to on Sept. 18, 2011.
-Tripp: I'll start with my 1-year old nephew Tripp (or as I love to call him Bud-Bud) Tripp is basically the best medicine a person could ever get. Running around with this lil guy is the best thing in the world. I've been able to watch him go from a small baby who loved to cuddle with me while I recovered, to a extremely energetic lil boy who loves to play chase. And he is the sweetest thing - nothing bets him seating in my lap as we read "If I were a dinosaur" for the 28+ time that day
-Love: I have felt such an outpouring of love this last year that sometimes I cry tears of joy just thinking about how much love has been poured out on me and my family. From those who brought food for my family, to those who sat with me while I vented or cried, I can't even begin to list all the examples of love I've felt this past year
-Prayer: I've always believed in the power of prayer, but I've been use to asking my close friends/families to pray for a certain issues. Never in my life have I had entire churches, people across the country and people in other countries interceding on my behalf to God asking for my healing. I still meet what some would call strangers, I call angels, who tell me they prayed and are still praying for my full healing.
-Trust: Through this experience, I went from a very independent lady to at times, totally dependent on family, friends and doctors. I've learned that I can't do everything on my own. Sometimes you need someone to hold your hand, push you to get out of the bed and do your physical therapy (Elise!) and make the best medical decisions that are needed.
-Laughter: There has been a lot of tears this last year, but there has been a lot of laughter - from dancing the "Interlude" late at night at summer camp with my 11th grade girls, to going on a girls trip with my mom and sister-in-law to Charleston, SC.
Beauty - One of the first things I remember after surgery is my dad telling me about how half my head had been shaved for the surgery. I lightly felt down the right side of my hair and felt my long curls, and then down my left side to find short, shaved hair. As I'm watching my hair grow out now, I'm enjoying the simplicity of it. While I cried at first, I know enjoy it.
Family - I have always loved my family, now I LOVE my family. I don't know how many sleepless nights my parents went through the last year, the hours my brothers spent in my hospital room or the cards, phone calls and texts my family sent to encourage me the last year, but I value every ounce of it. I wouldn't replace my family for anything.
Faith - To say this last year has been easy would be a lie. To say my faith wasn't tested would too. I never lost my faith in God - but I sure questioned Him, his plan for me and why this all happened. I've mostly stopped asking "why?," although if I'm honest, I'd admit that there are times when its dark and I'm lying in bed I still wonder "why?" My new question to God is "What?" What is God's plan for me in all of this? What does God want to me to learn from what? What does God have next for me? I've found it's a relief for ask "What?" instead of "Why?" Many times the "Why?" will never be answered, but the "What?"will make my faith grow.
Each week a new piece of my life returns - Isabelle coming back to Marietta after living with my brother in Birmingham for a few months, my skull being put back into place, fewer and fewer pills taken each day, moving back into my own home, returning to the youth group at Riverstone to mentor to my 11th grade girls, being a counselor at Summer Camp, going back to work full time (and now taking on six of United Way's top accounts), going to watch Auburn football at Jordan-Hare stadium - just to name a few.
I will always have the scars to remind me what happened a year ago. But as I've said in an earlier blog, my scars are pictures to tell my story. While I wished this never happened to me, I can find comfort in all the good that has come out of this.
The only thing I have left to say is THANK YOU to everyone who has played a part in my recovery. You are all my guardian angels!!!!
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Scars are visible reminders of your testimony
Awhile ago I wrote a blog about the phrase, "chicks dig scars," and about how I disagreed with that idea when it came to scares on girls. But I've been inspired recently to revisit my thoughts on scars the last two days.
The first inspiration came from one of the shooting victims in Colorado. As a form reporter, I've been watching all the coverage since the horrible incident occurred. On Saturday, they were interviewing one of the survivors in the hospital. The guys was commenting about how he may have been hit by several bullets, his scars will be forever reminders of how he survived and has a life to live.
My second inspirations came from my dad. Today as we were getting ready to head to the golf course, he asked me where I got the scar on my right shoulder. Surprised that he forgot, I reminded him that his demon beach tent attacked me when we were at the beach in April and that scar is still there.
So here are my new thoughts on scars - no, I still don't think chicks dig scars on their own bodies, but every scar tells a story of survival. They are the pictures you have to tell your testimony. While they can be reminders of extreme pain that you went through, they also are reminders that you survived and are now thriving.
Here are some of my scar stories (as I wrote this list I noticed that all of my scars are on my left side - strange!)
- I have a scar on my forehead near my left eye from when I had chicken poxs as a toddler. I must have really scratched that area.
-I have a line in the middle of my left arm when I burned myself on the oven trying to pull out some pizza when I was in middle school. It's hard to see this one in the summer as I tan.
-I've told you about the scar on my back from the psycho beach tent
-I have two small scars on my face (on in between my eyes and one just to the side of my left eye) that happened when I fainted in the bathroom right before I had my second surgery to put my skull back together. Those two are easily covered up with make-up
And then there are the two scars that started the original blog and I think tell the most dramatic story of my life
The first is the U-shaped scar on my left side of my head. This is where, on the early morning of Sept. 18, 2011, a team of amazing surgeon performed brain surgery to release pressure on my swelling brain to save my life.
Luckily, I have very think and fast-growing hair so the scar isn't noticeable. It took me while to even find an old picture where you can see it. You can kind of see it in the below picture that was taken probably a week after I got home from the hospital. I'm napping with my sweet little nephew, Tripp - who will turn one in August!!!
And then there is the "Frankenstein" looking scar on the left side of the stomach. This is where, in an amazing testimony to today's technology, those doctors stored the piece of skull flab they removed to help relieve pressure on my brain. Yes, I walked around with a portion of my skull in my stomach for about six months. No photos of this one, but I did strut around the beach in a bikini in April showing off my scar with pride!
Amazingly, both of those scars were reopened in February to put my skull piece back to where it belongs after my brain had healed. So in a way they are two-for-one scars.
I was angry when I wrote the first blog because I thought these scars were ugly. But now I have other ideas. These two scars remind me of those brilliant surgeons, and how through it all, they were always all at the right place at the right time to save my life (a couple of times). They remind me of the hundreds of people who were interceding on my behalf, calling out to God and praying without ceasing for his healing hand to come to my rescue. It reminds me of the crazy journey I went on the last year, and in some ways are still on. And they remind me that I have a testimony to share - a testimony of healing, a testimony of faith, a testimony of love, a testimony of overcoming fear, a testimony of the power of prayer, and testimony of how my body failed me many times the last year, but God never did.
So while I wish I didn't have all the scars on my body - I do realize the purpose they play and the stories they tell.
The first inspiration came from one of the shooting victims in Colorado. As a form reporter, I've been watching all the coverage since the horrible incident occurred. On Saturday, they were interviewing one of the survivors in the hospital. The guys was commenting about how he may have been hit by several bullets, his scars will be forever reminders of how he survived and has a life to live.
My second inspirations came from my dad. Today as we were getting ready to head to the golf course, he asked me where I got the scar on my right shoulder. Surprised that he forgot, I reminded him that his demon beach tent attacked me when we were at the beach in April and that scar is still there.
So here are my new thoughts on scars - no, I still don't think chicks dig scars on their own bodies, but every scar tells a story of survival. They are the pictures you have to tell your testimony. While they can be reminders of extreme pain that you went through, they also are reminders that you survived and are now thriving.
Here are some of my scar stories (as I wrote this list I noticed that all of my scars are on my left side - strange!)
- I have a scar on my forehead near my left eye from when I had chicken poxs as a toddler. I must have really scratched that area.
-I have a line in the middle of my left arm when I burned myself on the oven trying to pull out some pizza when I was in middle school. It's hard to see this one in the summer as I tan.
-I've told you about the scar on my back from the psycho beach tent
-I have two small scars on my face (on in between my eyes and one just to the side of my left eye) that happened when I fainted in the bathroom right before I had my second surgery to put my skull back together. Those two are easily covered up with make-up
And then there are the two scars that started the original blog and I think tell the most dramatic story of my life
The first is the U-shaped scar on my left side of my head. This is where, on the early morning of Sept. 18, 2011, a team of amazing surgeon performed brain surgery to release pressure on my swelling brain to save my life.
Luckily, I have very think and fast-growing hair so the scar isn't noticeable. It took me while to even find an old picture where you can see it. You can kind of see it in the below picture that was taken probably a week after I got home from the hospital. I'm napping with my sweet little nephew, Tripp - who will turn one in August!!!
And then there is the "Frankenstein" looking scar on the left side of the stomach. This is where, in an amazing testimony to today's technology, those doctors stored the piece of skull flab they removed to help relieve pressure on my brain. Yes, I walked around with a portion of my skull in my stomach for about six months. No photos of this one, but I did strut around the beach in a bikini in April showing off my scar with pride!
Amazingly, both of those scars were reopened in February to put my skull piece back to where it belongs after my brain had healed. So in a way they are two-for-one scars.
I was angry when I wrote the first blog because I thought these scars were ugly. But now I have other ideas. These two scars remind me of those brilliant surgeons, and how through it all, they were always all at the right place at the right time to save my life (a couple of times). They remind me of the hundreds of people who were interceding on my behalf, calling out to God and praying without ceasing for his healing hand to come to my rescue. It reminds me of the crazy journey I went on the last year, and in some ways are still on. And they remind me that I have a testimony to share - a testimony of healing, a testimony of faith, a testimony of love, a testimony of overcoming fear, a testimony of the power of prayer, and testimony of how my body failed me many times the last year, but God never did.
So while I wish I didn't have all the scars on my body - I do realize the purpose they play and the stories they tell.
Friday, July 6, 2012
From Surviving to Thriving - Summer Camp 2012
I just got home from spending the past week in Covington, GA being a counselor for my church's youth camp. I have a sentimental attachment to this camp for so many reasons that I wont' go into in this blog - the most important reason being as a rising 7th grade girl I walked down the aisle of Mobley Hall to the altar to ask Jesus to be my Lord and Savior. I grew up going to this camp, and have been a counselor since graduating high school. For the last 5 years, I've been with the same group of girls who are now rising 11th grades.
What few people know though is this year I had a lot of anxiety and fear about returning to camp. It's hard to think I was in that place - the speaker, Mark Fritchman, was my high school youth pastor; his wife was my small group leader; I love spending time with my girls; we had a great theme of "Hunger Games" planned for our cabin. On the outside I was super excited about camp this year - but internally I was wrestling with should I really go to camp this year.
If you've been reading this blog then you know my story - how I have battled with major health issues the last two years. Shortly after Summer Camp 2010 I got sick - with the "great" food at camp, we thought I was just reacting to the food. What we didn't know until I was admitted into the hospital for over a week in August 2010 was that I have Crohn's disease. My doctor said I the Crohn's disease was likely dormant for years, but the food and stress of camp likely triggered my first major Crohn's flare up.
Prior to Summer Camp 2011, I was determined to not deal with the same food issues. So I packed up a lot of food that I could survive off of if the food in the cafeteria wasn't a good choice. I will tell you that I remember having a great time at camp - the speaker was awesome, God did great things in the lives of my girls, we all had lots of fun. But little did I know the biggest test of my life was right around the corner. For those that don't know - I went into the hospital for a Crohn's flare up, then after being home for less than 24 hours, my parents took me back to the hospital on Sept. 18 and it was determined I had a stroke. And then I went from improving to needing emergency brain surgery to remove part of my skull on Sept. 25.
The last 10 months I've been dealing with recovering from stroke (which included putting the skull piece back on my head in Feb.) and also trying to get the Crohn's disease under control. As you saw from my last blog I have finally agreed to my doctor's recommendation to go on Remicade - I have my third infusion on Monday. And while I've been dealing with horrible physical roller coaster, emotionally and spiritually I have been through it all.
So while I was excited on the outside - I was scared on the inside. I was terrified that something health related would come up at camp - Crohn's flare up, major headaches/migraines, total exhaustion. But I can tell you that I was great health all week!!!!! I did a great job of listening to my body - so when I needed to rest I did, and when I felt like to could run with my girls (like defending our flag from all those rising-college men in the sock war)
I think part of this is that I changed my thoughts on my fear - with the help of Pastor Terry. I talked with him before camp and knew that the thoughts I was thinking were not from the Lord, but were meant to hinder me from doing what I was called to do - minister my 11th grade ladies.
My passion has been working with these girls for the past 5 years. Mark talked a lot about having a passion and purpose this week. "If you'll give God your passion, he's going to give you his pace," and "When your passion meets your ability, and when your experience meets an opportunity; you'll have impact and find your purpose." While camp is suppose to be for the students - I did get some great encouragement and confirmation that I was suppose to be at camp - no doubt.
The last 10 months, or really two years, I've been trying to survive all the health issues that have been thrown at me. Now, I'm determined to do more than just that - I'm going to THRIVE!!!!
Here is a list of a few highlights from camp:
-11th grade guys and girls winning the Sock War and Overall cabin competition
-Dancing the "Interlude" at 1 a.m. with my girls in the cabin
-Getting to know tons of new campers and counselors
-Attending the "sunbathing" leisure activity for 4 days straight
-Heckling the "Aqua Dancing" instructor while laying out at "sunbathing"
-Spending the week with my youth pastor and small group leader
-Decorating the camp with a Hunger Games theme
-Hearing my co-leader take the Hunger Games and use it to minister to our girls ("I volunteer as tribute," friendship, "Girl on Fire")
-Using my mistakes in dating to encourage and advise my girls to make better choices
-Praying for my girls that they would be filled with the Holy Spirit
-Worshipping God without fear
-Going from surviving to thriving
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Crohn's update - and the only update I'll offer
One thing I hate talking about is my struggle with Crohn's disease. Diagnosed in August 2010, it's been an up and down battle of different medicines, treatments and symptoms. Part of the reason I hate to talk about it is because it's not a very "glamours" disease to talk about. For those that really know the disease, it involves issues with your digestive system which leads to extra trips to the bathroom. Another reason I hate to talk about it is it seems that everyone knows someone who is related to someone who has Crohn's and they'd love to match us up so that we can further talk about this annoying disease. But for those of us that actually have Crohn's, you know that everyone's disease is a little different - what works for me might not work for you, and what triggers my Crohn's (dairy and stress) aren't big triggers for you.
So I'm writing today's blog to give an update on my Crohn's, but I'm doing it with some rules. This is all I really want to say on it - sorry if I seem rude, but I don't really want to answer any questions or hear about your own Crohn's story. I don't want this disease to own or define me. It's only a small piece of my life!
Anyway, as of today I am officially taking Remicade to deal with Crohn's disease. Remicade is a biologic infusion that I will have to take about every month from now on. I've had a lot of reservations in taking it, but at this point it's really my only option. All of the other drugs aren't strong enough, and I'm on a large perscription on prednisone which isn't a great option. My biggest reservations have to do with some of the side effects - which are more prevelant in people my age. The big one is cancer, but it is also not a good drug to take when considering getting pregnant (not something I'm looking to do right now - but it's definitely one of my life dreams.)
This all started about 2 weeks ago when I went into my Crohn's doctor for a test and he found that the Crohn's was flairing up. We started talking about moving to a biologic - the first option wasn't available due to insurance. As my doctors team was working out the insurance issues, I continued to get worse and worse, until I got to where I couldn't hold down any food and was experiencing constant cramping. I went to the ER on Friday and got some meds to help with the pain - but by Sunday morning, my doctored adviced me to come back in to be admitted. Once admitteed, he got the ball rolling to start the Remicade.
So far the Remicade has been fine - but I've only bee on it for a couple of hours.It looks like I'm going to get to come home on Wednesday, and hopefully the Remicade will deal with the extreme cramping.
What lies ahead with my Crohn's? I am in the process of trying to find another opinion. While I like my doctor, I'd still like to get another doctor's opinion. Other than that, I don't know and don't have any answers to it.
Sorry if I seems like I'm being vague or tight-lipped about my Crohn's. As I said early, I don't want this disease to define me, and this is one way I can fight and win that battle. I hope you understand and respect that.
So I'm writing today's blog to give an update on my Crohn's, but I'm doing it with some rules. This is all I really want to say on it - sorry if I seem rude, but I don't really want to answer any questions or hear about your own Crohn's story. I don't want this disease to own or define me. It's only a small piece of my life!
Anyway, as of today I am officially taking Remicade to deal with Crohn's disease. Remicade is a biologic infusion that I will have to take about every month from now on. I've had a lot of reservations in taking it, but at this point it's really my only option. All of the other drugs aren't strong enough, and I'm on a large perscription on prednisone which isn't a great option. My biggest reservations have to do with some of the side effects - which are more prevelant in people my age. The big one is cancer, but it is also not a good drug to take when considering getting pregnant (not something I'm looking to do right now - but it's definitely one of my life dreams.)
This all started about 2 weeks ago when I went into my Crohn's doctor for a test and he found that the Crohn's was flairing up. We started talking about moving to a biologic - the first option wasn't available due to insurance. As my doctors team was working out the insurance issues, I continued to get worse and worse, until I got to where I couldn't hold down any food and was experiencing constant cramping. I went to the ER on Friday and got some meds to help with the pain - but by Sunday morning, my doctored adviced me to come back in to be admitted. Once admitteed, he got the ball rolling to start the Remicade.
So far the Remicade has been fine - but I've only bee on it for a couple of hours.It looks like I'm going to get to come home on Wednesday, and hopefully the Remicade will deal with the extreme cramping.
What lies ahead with my Crohn's? I am in the process of trying to find another opinion. While I like my doctor, I'd still like to get another doctor's opinion. Other than that, I don't know and don't have any answers to it.
Sorry if I seems like I'm being vague or tight-lipped about my Crohn's. As I said early, I don't want this disease to define me, and this is one way I can fight and win that battle. I hope you understand and respect that.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Election day - the great HAIR debate
I can remember only two times in my life that I've cried really hard over what my hair looked like.
The first was in kindergarten. This was during a time when my favorite thing to say was "No brush, no bows." I can't remember where my mom was, she might have been out of town, but it was my dad's job to get me ready for school. What I do remember is getting to school and going straight to my teacher in tears, crying out - "Just look at what my daddy did to my hair." Apparently his efforts of putting my hair in pig-tails wasn't very good, and it cause me to cry. My parents still laugh about this story.
The second time was last fall. During this time my parents and doctors were slowing telling me about the ordeal I had been through. It felt like I would get little pieces at a time. But my dad was the one to tell me that they had to shave part of my hair to do the surgery - and that because it was an emergency surgery, it wasn't a good hair cut. Although I didn't have my voice back yet, I do remember slowly reaching up to touch my head on the right and feel the long, wavy strands of hair. And then I tracked over my left side, and felt the brittle pieces of shaved hair. Tears slowly streamed down my face. I think part of my tears was this was the first thing I was actually able to comprehend. A lot of what I was being told seemed like a dream - stroke, brain surgery, removing part of my skull - it didn't seem real. But actually feeling my hair made it a reality.
A few days later my hair dresser came to see me. I cried and begged for her to cut my hair to make it look better - but because I was still in the ICU she said I needed to wait. Mom took me to her house the day after I got out of the hospital to even it out. And I went back to her in March to get it cut again - my hair grows very quickly, is think, and has crazy curls in it.
Besides "how are you feeling?" the question I get most these days is "Are you going to keep your hair short?" Apparently my new hairstyle is something everyone wants to talk about and give me advice for. I don't really have an answer to what I'm going to do. I have two feelings about it:
1. I look at myself in the minor and see a new person. And the haircut is sometimes a reminder of what I've been through these last few months. It wasn't a decision I made - it was made for me in an effort to save my life.
2. Having really short hair makes it really easy to get ready in the morning
I know I'm definitely going to keep it short for awhile - it gets too-stinkin' hot here. But I don't know what's next. So I've decided to let my friends and family decided. Below are two pictures - one is my long hair style, and the other is of me with short hair on Easter. Let me know which one you think.
Long Hair : (This is from when my best-friend Elise and I went to Hawaii)
Short hair: (This is from Easter)
I can't wait to see the results!!!
The first was in kindergarten. This was during a time when my favorite thing to say was "No brush, no bows." I can't remember where my mom was, she might have been out of town, but it was my dad's job to get me ready for school. What I do remember is getting to school and going straight to my teacher in tears, crying out - "Just look at what my daddy did to my hair." Apparently his efforts of putting my hair in pig-tails wasn't very good, and it cause me to cry. My parents still laugh about this story.
The second time was last fall. During this time my parents and doctors were slowing telling me about the ordeal I had been through. It felt like I would get little pieces at a time. But my dad was the one to tell me that they had to shave part of my hair to do the surgery - and that because it was an emergency surgery, it wasn't a good hair cut. Although I didn't have my voice back yet, I do remember slowly reaching up to touch my head on the right and feel the long, wavy strands of hair. And then I tracked over my left side, and felt the brittle pieces of shaved hair. Tears slowly streamed down my face. I think part of my tears was this was the first thing I was actually able to comprehend. A lot of what I was being told seemed like a dream - stroke, brain surgery, removing part of my skull - it didn't seem real. But actually feeling my hair made it a reality.
A few days later my hair dresser came to see me. I cried and begged for her to cut my hair to make it look better - but because I was still in the ICU she said I needed to wait. Mom took me to her house the day after I got out of the hospital to even it out. And I went back to her in March to get it cut again - my hair grows very quickly, is think, and has crazy curls in it.
Besides "how are you feeling?" the question I get most these days is "Are you going to keep your hair short?" Apparently my new hairstyle is something everyone wants to talk about and give me advice for. I don't really have an answer to what I'm going to do. I have two feelings about it:
1. I look at myself in the minor and see a new person. And the haircut is sometimes a reminder of what I've been through these last few months. It wasn't a decision I made - it was made for me in an effort to save my life.
2. Having really short hair makes it really easy to get ready in the morning
I know I'm definitely going to keep it short for awhile - it gets too-stinkin' hot here. But I don't know what's next. So I've decided to let my friends and family decided. Below are two pictures - one is my long hair style, and the other is of me with short hair on Easter. Let me know which one you think.
Long Hair : (This is from when my best-friend Elise and I went to Hawaii)
Sunday, April 8, 2012
My God's not dead, he's surely alive!!!
Happy Easter - I hope everyone had a great day recognizing one of the most amazing moments in history - when Jesus rose from the dead.
I've had the opportunity to spend Easter in several locations through my life - one year I was in Spain and saw the breath-taking processionals from the churches in Madrid. And last year I was in Hawaii and got to sit on the beach, admiring God's fantastic creation at a sunrise service.
This year didn't have anything major to make it special - but I can honestly say it was probably one of my favorites.
My title to today's blog comes from the worship song, "Like a Lion." The song has taken off in the contemporary Christian charts, but it was written by my church's worship pastor - Daniel Bashta. As we were singing this song today, that line meant more to me than the hundreds of times I've heard that song.
Since this whole ordeal started with my health, through it all my mom has consistently said to me: "Your body might have failed you, but God never did." Even those times when I cried out to God with frustrations, anger, unanswered questions - he was always there by my side. Even sending angels to surround my bed as an answer to my mother's prayer. And while I had a team of terrific doctors who did everything within their power to make me better - it was God, responding to the countless prayers lifted up for me from family, friends and strangers that have me where I am today.
Singing those lines about God being alive and roaring like a lion just reminded me that he is alway there, and he will fight for us, not against us.
So, as we celebrate the greatest day in history, I am so thankful that Jesus is alive. Because he has not only saved me spiritually, but he roared like a lion to save me physically. Thank you!
I've had the opportunity to spend Easter in several locations through my life - one year I was in Spain and saw the breath-taking processionals from the churches in Madrid. And last year I was in Hawaii and got to sit on the beach, admiring God's fantastic creation at a sunrise service.
This year didn't have anything major to make it special - but I can honestly say it was probably one of my favorites.
My title to today's blog comes from the worship song, "Like a Lion." The song has taken off in the contemporary Christian charts, but it was written by my church's worship pastor - Daniel Bashta. As we were singing this song today, that line meant more to me than the hundreds of times I've heard that song.
Since this whole ordeal started with my health, through it all my mom has consistently said to me: "Your body might have failed you, but God never did." Even those times when I cried out to God with frustrations, anger, unanswered questions - he was always there by my side. Even sending angels to surround my bed as an answer to my mother's prayer. And while I had a team of terrific doctors who did everything within their power to make me better - it was God, responding to the countless prayers lifted up for me from family, friends and strangers that have me where I am today.
Singing those lines about God being alive and roaring like a lion just reminded me that he is alway there, and he will fight for us, not against us.
So, as we celebrate the greatest day in history, I am so thankful that Jesus is alive. Because he has not only saved me spiritually, but he roared like a lion to save me physically. Thank you!
Monday, April 2, 2012
More than just a normal life - an extraordinary life
It's been a while since I posted a blog update and a lot has happened since Aubie showed up at my front door to give me a War Eagle get-well present. So here are all the amazing, exciting things that have gone on in my life.
The first thing you should know is I am typing this blog sitting on the couch at my townhouse in Marietta. The only company I have is my dog Isabelle (who is now 1 year old as of Saturday). She is going back and forth between destroying one of her toys on the floor to trying to help me type this blog. This is the first time since September 2011 that I have been able to live by myself, and boy do I feel good. I moved back into my house on Saturday. I do want to give a special thank you to the amazing Cobb County School ladies who worked hard to get my house ready for me to move back in. From cleaning the dust that had settled over the last few months to sprucing up the decor with amazing tidbits of design, my townhouse said welcome home as I walked through the doors. Mom and I added to the updates with fresh flowers out front and on my back porch - and yes mom, I have remembered to water them!
You're probably wondering how I finally got to this point to move back into my townhouse after months of dealing with health issues. Well that's easy - you bring the number of doctors you have to see on a regular basis down. Now I haven't just stopped going to see these doctors. My team of doctors - while they sometimes didn't agree with each other - fought like warriors to do everything within their power to save my life (twice!). I can literally say I trust them with my life. But their jobs are done.
The first to go was my infectious disease doctor. He was pulled onto the team late when I was diagnosed with a staph infection in January that put me back in the hospital. After having to go every day to the hospital to get IV anti-biotic to make sure a staph infection didn't re-emerge after my skull was put back in place, he removed the pic line in my right arm and we said goodbye.
The next goodbye was a little harder to say - and that was to my neurologist. This man has fought for me, and I very much view him as the general of my doctors. He would come to my room at the hospital early in the morning and late at night just to check on my progress. And he even called me before he was about to go out of town for 2 weeks just to make sure I didn't need anything before he left. When he walked into the exam room at my last visit, he almost didn't even know what to say. He was amazed at my recovery. He said I only need to come back to see him at the office, as needed, but hopefully the only time he'll see me again is somewhere around the Marietta Square.
The final goodbye to my team of doctors happened last week with my neurosurgeon - who I affectionately call McDreamy (not to his face though!). While it was sad to say goodbye, it was a physically and spiritually exciting time. Let me explain that before I reveal what McDreamy said...
The Sunday before I went to the doctor, my pastor spoke about why our church loves to have people come up and give testimonies. He referenced Job a lot in his sermon about how we need to trust God - who is good and who has great plans for all of us. I went up for prayer after the sermon to share with some good friends my fear - that my Job like story wasn't over. Yes, several doctors have cleared me, but I was terrified that something else was waiting around the corner to knock me back down. If you've followed my story for just a little while, you'll remember that just when it looked like things were going well, anything and everything bad that could happen did. I guess it's the reporter in me, but I'm a facts girl. So I really needed God to answer my prayers and take away my fear by a very fact-based way.
So back to the doctor's visit with McDreamy - after looking over my two scars (and not seeing any infections), my neurosurgeon basically cleared me completely - I can swim, play sports, fly, run, live by myself... His quote - "You can live a normal life, and I hope you never have to come and see me again." Sometimes God answers in a whisper and sometimes he answers in a loud thunder. This was the boom I needed to hear to be at ease of where I was health-wise.
But I'm not just going to live a normal life; my plan is to live an extraordinary life.
Part of this extraordinary life is enjoying new things. One example is golf. For about 4 years, my golf clubs have sat in the back of my closet as a memory of a bad relationship. I've decided to not let one person keep me from an activity my entire family loves, so I've dusted of my clubs and hit the course. Two weekends ago I played nine holes with my mom. I won't tell you what my score was, but I'm of the opinion that the highest score in golf wins - right?
I'm also setting big goals for myself. The first is to run a 1/2 marathon this fall. I want to do something to mark the one-year anniversary of when this crazy ordeal started to show how far I've come. I've been looking at different races and I think I'm going to do the one in Chattanooga, TN in October. I've been talking with my sister-in-law, the personal trainer, about how to get ready for the race, and she's so excited for me.
And I'm also trying not to sweet the small stuff. This is very much a saying my mom says a lot, but I'm a little more like my dad and can get stressed easily. So this is very much a work in progress. But after everything I've been through these last few months, the stuff that use to stress me out really looks tiny and unimportant.
So who knows what else this extraordinary life has coming - but this time, I'm excited to be on this ride. Stay tuned...
The first thing you should know is I am typing this blog sitting on the couch at my townhouse in Marietta. The only company I have is my dog Isabelle (who is now 1 year old as of Saturday). She is going back and forth between destroying one of her toys on the floor to trying to help me type this blog. This is the first time since September 2011 that I have been able to live by myself, and boy do I feel good. I moved back into my house on Saturday. I do want to give a special thank you to the amazing Cobb County School ladies who worked hard to get my house ready for me to move back in. From cleaning the dust that had settled over the last few months to sprucing up the decor with amazing tidbits of design, my townhouse said welcome home as I walked through the doors. Mom and I added to the updates with fresh flowers out front and on my back porch - and yes mom, I have remembered to water them!
You're probably wondering how I finally got to this point to move back into my townhouse after months of dealing with health issues. Well that's easy - you bring the number of doctors you have to see on a regular basis down. Now I haven't just stopped going to see these doctors. My team of doctors - while they sometimes didn't agree with each other - fought like warriors to do everything within their power to save my life (twice!). I can literally say I trust them with my life. But their jobs are done.
The first to go was my infectious disease doctor. He was pulled onto the team late when I was diagnosed with a staph infection in January that put me back in the hospital. After having to go every day to the hospital to get IV anti-biotic to make sure a staph infection didn't re-emerge after my skull was put back in place, he removed the pic line in my right arm and we said goodbye.
The next goodbye was a little harder to say - and that was to my neurologist. This man has fought for me, and I very much view him as the general of my doctors. He would come to my room at the hospital early in the morning and late at night just to check on my progress. And he even called me before he was about to go out of town for 2 weeks just to make sure I didn't need anything before he left. When he walked into the exam room at my last visit, he almost didn't even know what to say. He was amazed at my recovery. He said I only need to come back to see him at the office, as needed, but hopefully the only time he'll see me again is somewhere around the Marietta Square.
The final goodbye to my team of doctors happened last week with my neurosurgeon - who I affectionately call McDreamy (not to his face though!). While it was sad to say goodbye, it was a physically and spiritually exciting time. Let me explain that before I reveal what McDreamy said...
The Sunday before I went to the doctor, my pastor spoke about why our church loves to have people come up and give testimonies. He referenced Job a lot in his sermon about how we need to trust God - who is good and who has great plans for all of us. I went up for prayer after the sermon to share with some good friends my fear - that my Job like story wasn't over. Yes, several doctors have cleared me, but I was terrified that something else was waiting around the corner to knock me back down. If you've followed my story for just a little while, you'll remember that just when it looked like things were going well, anything and everything bad that could happen did. I guess it's the reporter in me, but I'm a facts girl. So I really needed God to answer my prayers and take away my fear by a very fact-based way.
So back to the doctor's visit with McDreamy - after looking over my two scars (and not seeing any infections), my neurosurgeon basically cleared me completely - I can swim, play sports, fly, run, live by myself... His quote - "You can live a normal life, and I hope you never have to come and see me again." Sometimes God answers in a whisper and sometimes he answers in a loud thunder. This was the boom I needed to hear to be at ease of where I was health-wise.
But I'm not just going to live a normal life; my plan is to live an extraordinary life.
Part of this extraordinary life is enjoying new things. One example is golf. For about 4 years, my golf clubs have sat in the back of my closet as a memory of a bad relationship. I've decided to not let one person keep me from an activity my entire family loves, so I've dusted of my clubs and hit the course. Two weekends ago I played nine holes with my mom. I won't tell you what my score was, but I'm of the opinion that the highest score in golf wins - right?
I'm also setting big goals for myself. The first is to run a 1/2 marathon this fall. I want to do something to mark the one-year anniversary of when this crazy ordeal started to show how far I've come. I've been looking at different races and I think I'm going to do the one in Chattanooga, TN in October. I've been talking with my sister-in-law, the personal trainer, about how to get ready for the race, and she's so excited for me.
And I'm also trying not to sweet the small stuff. This is very much a saying my mom says a lot, but I'm a little more like my dad and can get stressed easily. So this is very much a work in progress. But after everything I've been through these last few months, the stuff that use to stress me out really looks tiny and unimportant.
So who knows what else this extraordinary life has coming - but this time, I'm excited to be on this ride. Stay tuned...
Friday, February 24, 2012
A surprise visit from Aubie is the perfect medicine
What do you do when one of the things you've loved since you were a child shows up at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers to wish you well as you're recovering from brain surgery? Well if you're me then you turn a bright shade of red and are speechless - which is uncommon for me.
This is what happened on Feb. 17 when my dad opens the door and Auburn's mascot, Aubie, is standing there. I felt like I was about 7 years old.
Part of that was because I was about that age when I met Aubie for the first time. I come from a big Auburn family - grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, parents - all have ties to the city of Auburn and Auburn University. As a kid, I remember going to A-Day with my dad and brothers, and we also got a chance to meet the team and get their autographs. While my brothers were excited to meet the quarterback or wide receiver, the highlight of my day was getting a photo with Aubie. As I've grown up and attended Auburn for school, I've seen and encountered Aubie several more times. I've even interviewed friends of Aubie while working at the Plainsman, the university's magazine. But all of that didn't make my encounter with Aubie at my house any less exciting or less surprising.
The surprise was set up by my aunt and uncle, Skip and Susan. They had thought about having Aubie visit me while I was in the hospital, but decided against that since you never knew how I would feel each day after the surgery. So the story my parents used to foul me was that Skip and Susan were coming to spend Friday night with us because they wanted to see how I was doing after the surgery. I was excited to see them as we always have fun when they're in town. The only red flag that should have clued me in that something was up was that my dad suggested I wear an Auburn t-shirt since "Skip and Susan were coming to town." He specifically asked me if my t-shirt with the old Aubie logo was at their house - it wasn't, but he was pleased with my national champions t-shirt. (Dad never provides suggestions as to what I should wear). But wearing Auburn stuff around Skip and Susan makes sense. They're our tailgating buds, and as I said earlier, we're a Auburn family.
Skip and Susan arrived for lunch, and my mom, dad, sister-in-law Jessica and my lil nephew Tripp all had lunch together. Tripp was decked out in Auburn gear too, wearing a hat that Skip and Susan had bought him for Christmas. Shortly after lunch, it seemed that everyone's phone was ringing, but I still had no clue that the entire gang was conspiring behind my back. Then dad said he heard the doorbell ring and asked me to come to the hall and close my eyes. Not being one that is keen on surprises, I covered my eyes.
When I was allowed to open them - there was Aubie standing at my front door. As you can tell from the pictures, I turned bright red with excitement.
But I have to be honest. Not only was I beyond excited to see Aubie pay me a personal visit. I was overcome with love and thanks for my family who had worked to organize this great surprise. These past six-plus months have been filled with a lot of set backs, tears, pain and confusion - but what has been a constant has been the love and support I've received from my family and friends. I can't thank them enough for all that they have done for me - and the visit by Aubie was icing on the cake.
Aubie hung out at with us for about an hour before he had to run back to Auburn. It was so much fun hanging out with him. For a Tiger that doesn't speak a word, he has great gestures and movements that made it easy to carry on a great "conversation" with him.
I think the only one who wasn't excited to see Aubie was my lil puppy, Isabelle. While she is a huge people puppy, I think she was a little frightened by a large tiger in the house. The only pictures we got with her and Aubie, someone is holding her steady while she's trying to run away.
Aubie was very impressed with our "Auburn" room in the basement. He spent time exploring all the Auburn items we had, and even tried to "steal" the glittery Auburn hat my grandmother bought me when I was little. It did look good on him though.
And Aubie was very comfortable taking pictures with Tripp, my 6 month old nephew. Tripp is half Auburn tiger (my brother) and half LSU Tiger (my sister-in-law). Hopefully hanging out with Aubie gave him a head start in leaning more to his War Eagle side.
I can't begin to say thank you enough to Skip and Susan for organizing this. This was a great surprise and the perfect medicine as I'm on my road to recovery. I will always remember this day as a dream come true!
War Eagle,
Ashley
This is what happened on Feb. 17 when my dad opens the door and Auburn's mascot, Aubie, is standing there. I felt like I was about 7 years old.
Part of that was because I was about that age when I met Aubie for the first time. I come from a big Auburn family - grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, parents - all have ties to the city of Auburn and Auburn University. As a kid, I remember going to A-Day with my dad and brothers, and we also got a chance to meet the team and get their autographs. While my brothers were excited to meet the quarterback or wide receiver, the highlight of my day was getting a photo with Aubie. As I've grown up and attended Auburn for school, I've seen and encountered Aubie several more times. I've even interviewed friends of Aubie while working at the Plainsman, the university's magazine. But all of that didn't make my encounter with Aubie at my house any less exciting or less surprising.
The surprise was set up by my aunt and uncle, Skip and Susan. They had thought about having Aubie visit me while I was in the hospital, but decided against that since you never knew how I would feel each day after the surgery. So the story my parents used to foul me was that Skip and Susan were coming to spend Friday night with us because they wanted to see how I was doing after the surgery. I was excited to see them as we always have fun when they're in town. The only red flag that should have clued me in that something was up was that my dad suggested I wear an Auburn t-shirt since "Skip and Susan were coming to town." He specifically asked me if my t-shirt with the old Aubie logo was at their house - it wasn't, but he was pleased with my national champions t-shirt. (Dad never provides suggestions as to what I should wear). But wearing Auburn stuff around Skip and Susan makes sense. They're our tailgating buds, and as I said earlier, we're a Auburn family.
Skip and Susan arrived for lunch, and my mom, dad, sister-in-law Jessica and my lil nephew Tripp all had lunch together. Tripp was decked out in Auburn gear too, wearing a hat that Skip and Susan had bought him for Christmas. Shortly after lunch, it seemed that everyone's phone was ringing, but I still had no clue that the entire gang was conspiring behind my back. Then dad said he heard the doorbell ring and asked me to come to the hall and close my eyes. Not being one that is keen on surprises, I covered my eyes.
When I was allowed to open them - there was Aubie standing at my front door. As you can tell from the pictures, I turned bright red with excitement.
But I have to be honest. Not only was I beyond excited to see Aubie pay me a personal visit. I was overcome with love and thanks for my family who had worked to organize this great surprise. These past six-plus months have been filled with a lot of set backs, tears, pain and confusion - but what has been a constant has been the love and support I've received from my family and friends. I can't thank them enough for all that they have done for me - and the visit by Aubie was icing on the cake.
Aubie hung out at with us for about an hour before he had to run back to Auburn. It was so much fun hanging out with him. For a Tiger that doesn't speak a word, he has great gestures and movements that made it easy to carry on a great "conversation" with him.
I think the only one who wasn't excited to see Aubie was my lil puppy, Isabelle. While she is a huge people puppy, I think she was a little frightened by a large tiger in the house. The only pictures we got with her and Aubie, someone is holding her steady while she's trying to run away.
Aubie was very impressed with our "Auburn" room in the basement. He spent time exploring all the Auburn items we had, and even tried to "steal" the glittery Auburn hat my grandmother bought me when I was little. It did look good on him though.
And Aubie was very comfortable taking pictures with Tripp, my 6 month old nephew. Tripp is half Auburn tiger (my brother) and half LSU Tiger (my sister-in-law). Hopefully hanging out with Aubie gave him a head start in leaning more to his War Eagle side.
I can't begin to say thank you enough to Skip and Susan for organizing this. This was a great surprise and the perfect medicine as I'm on my road to recovery. I will always remember this day as a dream come true!
War Eagle,
Ashley
Monday, February 20, 2012
Finally I'm off the roller coaster and regaining my life
On Valentine's Day 2011, I woke up about 4:30 in the morning with horrible pain in my hip. After having had one before, I knew without a doubt it was a kidney stone. I called my mom and she rushed me to the hospital. I was right and the kidney stone ended up having to be blasted to pits as it wouldn't pass naturally. I thought when that was all over, that it would be the worst health trouble I would have to deal with. Boy was I wrong.
The good news is I now feel that I'm getting off this roller coaster of hell and regaining my life - one little bit at a time.
I've been home from the hospital for a week - even getting released from the hospital was a trial. The surgery to put my skull piece back where it belongs was on Wednesday, Feb. 8 And I love my surgeon - he did a great job with the scare on my head that you can barely see the stitches or scare. The surgery was fine - it was the recovery that almost killed me. For three days after surgery I was fighting horrible pain in my head. I knew it was a migraine, but many people at the hospital just thought I was not dealing well with the pain from the surgery. I didn't know how bad the first surgery hurt because I was kept in a deep sleep for a couple days afterwards. So this time, for three days I lied in my room with the lights off and I would tell everyone to shut up. The smallest noise felt like my head was going to explode.
There is a funny/amazing story during this time. One night my mom went to watch my nephew so my older brother could come see me. While Franklin and my dad were sitting in my room - not talking at all - I kept screaming about how there were too many people in my room, they were too loud and they needed to shut up. My dad kept telling me that there were people in my room other than him and my brother. What we found out later was that my mom was at my brother's house praying that God would send his angels to surround me. So while my dad thought I was dreaming, mom is convinced the people I saw were angels. Only I told them to be quiet cause they were too loud. My parents still give me a hard time about that.
After suffering with a migraine for 3 days, they finally diagnose me with a migraine and give me new meds to addresss the migraine. That was such a huge relief to go from pain from the surgery and a massive migraine, to just slight pain from the surgery.
But our adventure out of the hospital wasn't over yet. Over the weekend, the nurses came in to give my parents masks to wear. Apparently my white blood count was so low that if I got sick, I really didn't have anything to fight it. So I was stuck in my small little hospital room while everyone who came in had to wear a very uncomfortable hospital mask.
We finally got to Monday and all of my six doctors were clearing me to go home that day. I was excited because I was bound and determined that I was not going to spend another Valentine's Day in the hospital. But one of my doctors didn't want me to leave until I got another 2 pints of blood transfused (this would be the grand total of 7 pints of blood transfused during this hospital visit). Apparently my blood level was like at 7.4 (anything below 7 is not good, 12 is normal) and he was worried about me leaving without a bigger supply of blood in case I had another Crohn's flare up. I was fine with that, until it took all day to get the process even started. They started the first pint of blood at 5 p.m. It takes 2 hours for each pint and then I had to wait an additional 2 hours afterward for them to draw labs after the transfusions.
It was 11:46 when I got in my mom's care to drive home and 11:55 when I walked in the door of my parent's house to go to sleep. It was close, but I met my goal of not spending Valentine's Day in the hospital.
Now I'm home trying to recover. I go everyday to the infusion center at Kennestone to get IV antibiotics to make sure the staph infection doesn't appear again. They give these through my pic line in my right arm. Wednesday is the last day I'm suppose to go, so hopefully they will remove the pic line then too. And I have stitches in my head and staples on my stomach where they stored my skull for the last six weeks. Those will be removed on Monday and hopefully I can start transitioning back to work after that. One more step in regaining my life!!!
It's been a long, painful, emotional, scary journey these last few months, but I know without a doubt I've been loved by so many family and friends. And I've been covered in prayer by people around the world.
This past Sunday, when they called for testimonies, my parents and I walked up. As I do a lot of public speaking for work, I normally fine with speaking to large crowds. But as I walked up to the stage, I heard whispers of excitement and claps of praise from the congregation. And after my dad spoke, the entire congregations stood up. I was overwhelmed and had a hard time just saying thank you to the hundreds of people in the church, many I don't know, who have been praying for me these last six months.
As my mom has said, my body might have failed me, but God never did!
Thursday, February 2, 2012
And the horrible roller coaster ride continues...
Hey Friends and family,
Some of you already know this and others have heard rumors. So I'm here to set the rumors straight.
Yes I am back in the hospital. It once was known as Kennestone hospital but at this point I'm thinking it should be called Hungerford Hospital. It all started on Monday morning when I fainted in the bathroom and hit my head really bad. This was after I spent the entire weekend suffering from dizziness and horrible headaches. I spent the weekend in the darkest part of my parent's basement.
My face looks horrible (I look like I lost a fight), but the good news was I didn't hit my head where there isn't a piece of skull. But while I was in the ER on Monday I started bleeding due to a major flare up with my Crohn's disease (my big trigger is stress and the week before with the staph infection is likely the trigger). So yes I did hit my head and I did start bleeding a lot in the ER but they weren't all in the same. I've heard that there was some talk that I was bleeding from my brain, but that didn't happen.
I was given 5 pints in blood transfusions on Monday (you have 8 pints in your body) and moved to the ICU.
I am now in the step down area feeling a lot better. But it sounds like I'll be here for a little while longer. I know have about 6 different doctors and their latest idea is to hold me at the hospital through the weekend and look at putting my skull back together early next week. This way they can monitor me for any more Crohn's flare ups (which was made worse due to the blood thinner that I am on). And continue to give me meds for the staph infection. Otherwise it sounded like I would go home for about a week only to return again.
Now with everything that has gone on so far, I won't totally believe it's true until it really happens. Basically I won't believe they're going to do the surgery until I'm on the table and they're telling me to count backwards from 10. But I really hope it happens. This surgery has been pushed up, pushed back more times than I care to remember.
Emotionally, I think I'm just trying to deal with everything. I better today than I was on Monday. But this has been a horrible roller coaster that I can't get off of.
And I'm bored beyond belief in the hospital. All I can say is there is no good day-time TV. I'm open to visitors, but on a limited bases due to being in the step down unit from the ICU. Just call, text or e-mail me before you come - PLEASE!!!!
So hopefully this will put the rumors to rest.
BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR PRAYERS, ENCOURAGEMENT AND LOVE - PLEASE KEEP IT COMING. I NEED IT!!!!
-Ashley
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
A horrible rollar coaster in my never ending nightmare
Some of you have heard some or part of the news and for others this may be new. But I wanted to pass along a health update of what has transpired over the last week - and my subject line says it all!
Last Wednesday, I met with my surgeon and he decided to move forward with my surgery to move the part of my skull from my stomach back to where it belongs.I had an infection on my scar and he said it would be easier to go ahead and fix the skull while he fixed the infection. I was a little excited but overwhelmed that things were happening so quickly.
Then all things changed. I woke up on Friday morning with a horrible, horrible headache (and for a brief time I wasn't responding correctly (I could think of the answers, but they weren't coming out of my mouth.) Thinking that I could be having another stroke, I was rushed to the ER where I hung out in almost all day. I had tons of fevers, topping out at 103. My surgeon decided to admitted me and move forward with the surgery as soon as he could (I needed to come off the blood thiner in order to have the surgery so the date was set to Wednesday). While in the ER I went through tons of tests including a MRI, MRV and a spinal tap.
On Saturday morning, it looked like things were moving fine toward the surgery, but then someone from infections disease came by my room. Apparently they took a culture of the infection on my head and discovered that it had developed into a staph infection - what type they didn't know, but they put me on strong meds and put me in solitary confinement. Whoever came into my room had to wear a gown and gloves. On Sunday they found out it wasn't the bad staph infection like mersha, which was the good news, but decided to post-pone my surgery for a couple weeks. I was super upset but though I still had good relationship with my surgeon and he'd still move forward (he was out of town all weekend).
On Monday I met with him that afternoon and he said it was my decision but he'd be willing to move forward with the surgery. He'd clean up the part that had the staph infection - which turned out to be superficial, then move forward with the surgery, or I could chose to wait. I liked the idea of moving forward - I'm reading to have this all behind me.
But today has been hell!!! Apparently my neurologist and infections disease doctors went ahead and moved forward with a plan to focus on the infection for another 2 weeks, then start considering the surgery. Their actions basically tied the hands of my surgeon - he basically lost the lead in my treatment. He could move forward but it could put his career in jeopardy. I could tell he wasn't happy when he came in my room, and he know he'd be upset. But he did promise that he wasn't leaving me and he would be the one to do my surgery. A few hours later I met with my neurologist. He said he felt the need to come and personally explain why they changed things cause he knew I would be upset and not agree.
So it looks like I might be going home on Wednesday - which I so ready to get out of this place as I'm going a lil crazy. But it's also frustrating knowing that I'll have to come back another time to get everything complete. Will this nightmare ever end?
As as I said in my subject line - these last few days has been a horrible rollar coaster. Just a few as I got excited about the good things ahead, everything would fall down and I had another huge hill to climb. I have cried more tears these last for days than I can remember. Tears are rolling down my face as I write this e-mail. I'm past putting on a happy face - I just don't have the energy to do that.
And I'm sorry if I haven't responded to your text, phone call or e-mail. Part of me doesn't know what to say, and in many cases I don't know what to say. I feel disappointed, I feel let down and I feel defeated.
And as I told my parents, I also don't know how to pray right now. Besides screaming out - God why? - nothing else seems to sum up my thoughts and emotions. I'm thankful that I have dozens of friends and family standing in the game for me, serving as intercessory prayer warriors for me. But this has been a huge trial of my faith. Just when I think things are getting better, I feel slammed back to the group. Hopefully one day, probably years from now, this will make sense. But right now it is just a nightmare.
I'm sorry if this is the first time you are hearing this news, but thank you for your continued support.
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