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!!!

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!

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...

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

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!

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

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.