In January of 2001 I took a break from teaching to work in furniture sales. Acutally, I should say that I took a break from teaching and ended up in furniture sales. I had become a bit disenchanted with public education, which is more than ironic that I'm thinking about this right now after finally escaping the strangling grasp of the state of North Carolina. Ok, that's a bit dramatic. But, as usual, I digress.
I left teaching because I was not happy. It was more than just being unhappy with my job - it really all stemmed from me not being happy with ME. My mom called it a "quarter life crisis" since a book with the same name came out that same year. I'm pretty sure she saw it on Oprah or something. I think she was just happy to put a label on what was wrong with her oldest child! You can read more about a quarter life crisis here: http://www.quarterlifecrisis.com/. I never read the book so I can't recommend it, but the concept makes sense. A twenty-something person gets out into the real world for a few years and then questions his/her career decision, relationships, lack of purpose, etc. I was definitely doing all of the above.
My biggest issue, though, was that I was questioning the existence of God. I had become a Christian at the age of nine. "How could a child so young truly make that sort of decision," I wondered. "How do I believe in something I can't see?" Even though I used to think I at least felt something, some sort of Godly presence, I wasn't feeling it anymore.
Until...
While working in the furniture store, I met a sixty-something African-American gentleman who basically served as a custodian. He cleaned and moved large furniture items and repaired things. I'm sure he did other things as well but I was far too invloved in myself and my own problems to learn more about him.
Whenever we ended up in the break room together it made me uncomfortable yet at the same time I wanted to hear what he had to say. He talked to me more than to the other sales people, or at least it seemed that he did. I think he said he had been a professor. Or was it a minister? I'm not even sure anymore, but he always called me "Teacher."
"Ok, Teacher, today is the 14th and it's falling on a Tuesday. Mathematically, can that happen again in the same year?" Well, I had no idea, of course. Math is not my thing (understatement). But I would listen politely while he explained why it was or was not possible.
"Teacher, what do you do if a child in your class steals something?" I would give some sort of developmentally-appropriate-approved-by-the-state-of-Virginia type answer and then wait for his reply. "But is that really getting to the root of the problem, Teacher? Isn't that just a bandaid?"
He kind of blew my mind.
Then, one day we started to talk about God. This kindly former professor or minister or something introduced me to a theory called Pascal's Wager. (Yes, this was the same Pascal you learned about in math class in high school.) The theory deals with your choice in whether or not to believe in God, specifically the God of Christian faith. Pascal said that if you choose to believe and you are right, you will be rewarded with heaven, and thus have gained. If you choose to believe and it turns out there is no God and no heaven, you have still lived your life so the loss is infinitisimal. Or, in other words:
| God exists | God does not exist |
|---|
| Believe in God | Infinite gain in heaven | Insignificant loss |
| Disbelieve in God | Infinite loss in hell | Insignificant gain |
You can read more in depth about Pascal's Wager as well as more about his many contributions to religious theology, literature, math, and several other areas here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pascal's_Wager. Pascal was a pretty versitile dude.
So for awhile I kind of clung to this. It was better to believe that there was some bigger, better being looking out for me on a daily basis. And if I thought hard about bible teachings, I sometimes remembered this bigger, better, omnipotent and omnipresent being knew the number of hairs on my head. This was exactly what I needed - some sort of rational thinking to satisfy my analytical mind. (I said analytical - not mathematical.) It was better to believe and be wrong than to not believe and be wrong. So I'd choose to continue to believe...just in case.
Ten years later, my feelings about God and how I know He is real couldn't be any more different. But that's another blog. I'm just so thankful for that man who cleaned that furniture store. I wish I could remember his name. I wish I could thank him. I wonder if he has any idea that he helped me through such a dark period of my life? Or, maybe he does. An unlikely friendship between a chubby, 20-something, teacher-on-a-break and a retired African-American man whose former career is now fuzzy to me. Maybe he was not a man at all...maybe...could he have been an angel?
Well, I love him in God's way.
Remember saying that as a child? It was always my way of disowning my crummy kid brother yet remaining loyal to my family at the same time. Sometimes it was the way to distinguish the way in which I loved a boy outside of my family. "No, I don't LOVE him! Eww! I just love him in God's way!"
Even as a child I understood that God commanded us to love one another. I think I even understood that we should love everyone unconditionally. I wonder, though, how many people actually knew that I loved them? My mom and dad? My crummy kid brother and annoying little sister? My best friends? Who knows that I love them right now? My husband and my kids? My friends and neighbors? The people I work with?
This morning I spent a lot of time thinking about how I show people that I love them. My mind traveled back to the book The 5 Love Languages by Gary Chapman. I read the book as a newlywed and it really opened my eyes about how to show someone that you love them. If you aren't sure what the love languages are, you can read a summary here: http://www.5lovelanguages.com/learn-the-languages/the-five-love-languages/ . There's lots of cool stuff on the website and you can even take a test to find out what your primary love language is.
While I'm sure I can always do more to show my family that I love them, there is a special group of people that will become a big part of my life over the summer. I have the honor and the pleasure of leading a group of teachers who will be the very first staff of a brand new preschool. This is HUGE! God's letting me do this? I already have such a deep and precious love for these ladies - some of whom I have not even met yet! I know from past leadership positions that the relationship you have with your team is vital to the quality of work that you do. Happy, supported, validated people are productive, passionate, and loyal!
So how...how do I do this? How do I show people that I barely know how much I love them? I'm going to have to listen and pay very close attention. Or maybe in some cases I'll have to just come right out and ask. What will these ladies appreciate most? Having a mess cleaned up for them? Kind words of encouragement? A hug? I don't know yet, but I'm going to find out...and in doing so I think I just may find out a lot more about what loving people "in God's way" actually means. And that, my friends, sounds like the beginning of something BIG!
1 Corinthians 13:4-7
4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
A friend of mine used to take her then elementary-aged children to McDonald's once a month as a treat. She would not allow them to get cheeseburgers, but instead ordered Chicken McNuggets. Surely chicken is healthier than beef, right? To help matters, she would also instruct her young ones to remove the "peeling" as she called it, just like peeling a banana before eating it.
My kids would never go for this, and they're 2 1/2 and almost 4. I don't know how she kept this up as long as she did.
We all know what chicken nuggets really are. If you missed the chicken nugget episode of Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution last year, you need to google it, and fast. Once you do, you'll want to sign the petition to help America's kids change their eating habits as well. You can do that here: http://www.jamieoliver.com/foundation/jamies-food-revolution/.
But already, I digress...
I get why kids like chicken nuggets. I like them, too - they just taste good. I especially like the dinosaur shaped ones by Tyson. Purist that I am, I dunk them in ketchup. What I'm trying to understand though, is how kids' tastes evolve over the years. Tonight at dinner my almost-four-year-old begged for some of my General Tso's Chicken. He LOVED it. He's been my better eater all along. When he was a baby he ate anything. Then he went through the picky years as most toddlers do, and now he's braving new territory. He's officially sworn off broccoli but finally agreed to eat ham on Easter...and liked it!
I've also been getting creative with our food names. Evil Doctor Porkchops and Bullseye Beans were scarfed down with no argument.
My baby girl is much more into the dinnertime drama. I'm never sure if she truly doesn't like the food I've offered or if she is just practicing for her teenage years. Running from the table screaming, "I don't liiiiike eeeeet!" and flinging herself headfirst onto the couch is funny the first time and cute the second time. After that, it's really just a scary peek into the future.
So when do these changes take place and why? How much is nature and how much nuture? So far, the threat of no treat if you don't eat your dinner wins if it's a food she likes but just doesn't want to eat at the moment. Otherwise, she's perfectly fine with her choice if the food is offensive to her.
I've read several articles suggesting that children at this age simply want to have control over something and eating tends to be a pretty easy way for them to have that. Taste buds also change as we grow. But whyyyy? It can make what used to be such a pleasant time of day a headache - or worse - a battle that ends in timeout complete with a side of uncontrolable crying.
The bottom line in our house is that if you don't eat what's on your plate, you don't eat. So far, we haven't had much of an uprising over this. My theory is that both kids really like breakfast and lunch foods but we tend to have "different" foods for dinner. I think they can survive on what they've eaten during the first two thirds of the day and make do. I feel though, that the storm is a-comin'. Someday soon the requests for something else to eat are going to be made. And before then I'm going to need to decide...does the rule stand, or can they make themselves something else when they're big enough? We'll just have to see...
What are your dinnertime rules? I'd love to know...
I've done this since I've had my own money to spend. I'll have a bad day or a bad week or a bad month. Then, the feeling creeps up on me like laughter, starting somewhere deep inside and travels up my spine until I just have to let it burst out. It's a compellingly strong urge - certainly comparable to what a migrating butterfly must feel at the end of the summer. I must...go...shopping!
Now, before you send me for a good dose of Prozac, let me explain that this is exactly my point. We all have our ups and downs. It's as natural as anything and God gave most of us the proper brain chemicals to deal with adversity and pull ourselves back together.
He also gave us multiple other ways to make ourselves feel better. There's exercise (not a big favorite of mine but I will acknowledge it's value). There's friendship (also known as counseling if you pay for it). There's church (a personal favorite of mine as well). Then, much newer to the antistress/antidepression scene, there's retail therapy.
My disclaimer is here: I'm not talking about the kind of shopping that causes you to make late mortgage payments. I'm talking about a few new things. A new sweater, a new pair of shoes, a new tube of lipstick. The fact is, I feel like a million bucks when I carry a new purse and wear a new pair of sunglasses. The key word here being FEEL. YOU are in charge of the way you FEEL.
Maybe it's the time spent wandering around looking that takes my mind of whatever it is that I almost chose to feel bad about. Sometimes I even get to shop by myself. Being a mom of a 2-year-old and 3-year-old, that's a rarity, so maybe it's that, too. Regardless, I think a little shopping is good for the soul. Anybody wanna go to the mall?
Just when I thought it was safe to go back out into the real world...
WEDNESDAY.MARCH.2.2011: Woke up as usual. While standing in the bathroom, I felt really dizzy. My vision went dark and my hearing dimmed for a few seconds. I sat down on the bed and called for Josh. I thought maybe it could be low blood sugar so I asked for some orange juice. After resting for a minute I felt a little better.
Throughout the morning all I wanted to do was sleep. Our new cleaning lady had come for the first time (God love her!) and I could barely keep my eyes open. She was at the house all morning but once she left in the early afternoon I decided I'd try to take a shower. Bad move. I could feel myself feeling faint again while I was in the shower. I sat down on the shower step and the next thing I knew I was on the floor. Thankfully, Josh had just walked into the bedroom to check on me when he heard the thud. I must've only lost consciousness for about a second or two but it's a miracle I wasn't injured. He helped me dry off and get back into bed.
After that episode it seemed obvious that I should call the doctor. I knew the nurse would say, "Go to the emergency room," and of course, she did. Next I called my primary care physician trying to get someone to see me instead of going to the ER. I couldn't bear another three hour wait at Rex. Their reply was that I needed to get to the ER and implied that I'd best stop messing around. So we made arrangements for the kids (thanks MA, Gma, And Gpa) and headed for the beltline.
Fortunately the wait was much shorter that evening. I don't know if I could have handled it otherwise. After an exam, the doctor determined that I was probably just a little dehydrated so they gave me one unit of fluids and sent me back home. The ER doctor did note that my platelet count was exceptionally high and suggested that I follow up with a hematologist within a few days.
When I got home, I had the exact same dizzy feeling. I knew something else was wrong but in a way, I think I was too exhausted to deal with it.
THURSDAY.MARCH.3.2011: Woke up exhausted. Slept most of the day. The only new development was (TMI WARNING) sticky, tarry looking poop. I'm no doctor but I've read enough about baby poop that I knew that couldn't be good. I prayed it would go away by tomorrow and went back to sleep.
FRIDAY.MARCH.4.2011: It didn't. And I was still tired. I seemed to feel a little better, getting up to get a drink of water and ate a little. But I promised my Mom the night before that if my symptoms didn't go away by this morning I'd call the doctor.
I called mid-morning and it took until almost 4:00 for the PA to get back to me. She ordered a CBC and the nurse scrambled to find a lab close to me to have it done STAT. The closest one is in Clayton so we quickly called MA to watch the kids and we got there as fast as we could. Arriving at 4:45 apparently was not good enough to have a CBC done. Never mind that they only take ten minutes to do...
So on to the JoCo ER. Now, let me take a moment to say that I have been really impressed with this ER. It is very small and is affiliated with the hospital in Smithfield. Josh, myself, and our daughter have all been there for different emergencies over the last year and a half and we have gotten great care. I didn't have to go to the ER side of the hospital; just was taken straight to the lab. We went in immediately, they drew my blood, and then we headed back home.
Within an hour my doctor (surgeon) called me himself. He said that my hemoglobin had dropped to 5 and should be around 12. He was surprised I was still walking around. For some reason it didn't register with me that hemoglobin is your iron level. I've had low iron before, dropping all the way into the 9's while I was pregnant with one of my kids.
My doctor made arrangements for me to be directly admitted into Rex (THANK YOU, DR. E!!) instead of going through the emergency room. He said to hang tight and somebody from Rex would call me when my room was ready. We called Gma and Gpa to come stay with the kids once again. (Not sure what we'd do without them.) I sat and finished my dinner because I knew I wasn't going to be allowed to eat anything for awhile. That's the drill when I end up at Rex.
By 11:00 that night I was hooked up to an IV getting three units of blood and some fluids. I had a visit from the IV team because my arms were still black and blue from my first hospital stay. They used a tiny ultrasound paddle to find my veins and even numbed me a little before they put the needle in. They're really good at what the do...and I'm not a newcomer to needing their services. I'm a "tough stick" so they say. I was also warned not to get out of bed without help. That startled me a bit.
SATURDAY.MARCH.5.2011: For some reason I thought I was just going to be in the hospital for the night...When my doctor's PA came in that morning, he certainly set me straight. "Don't expect to be out of here before Monday," he said. He explained that the most common cause of such a low hemoglobin level after surgery was internal bleeding. Now they just had to figure out where it was coming from.
PLAN A: The first thing they did was an endoscopy. I was stressed because I didn't want to be sleepy for the rest of the day but I actually woke up really easily and didn't really feel any more effects. My GI doctor was out of town so his partner performed the endoscopy. He cracked me up. He found a small ulcer in my stomach but he wasn't certain that there had been much bleeding coming from that. So...
PLAN B: He wanted me to swallow one of those tiny pill cameras to see what was going on in my intestinal tract. You can read more about them here: http://www.popsci.com/node/19963. Even though it sounds really cool, I had a bad feeling about this from the beginning. If you have a kink or a stricture somewhere in your intestines, it can get caught and then you have to have another surgery to remove it. So...
PLAN C: In order to check for issues, I had an Upper GI with small bowel follow through. If you are not a fluoro lab regular, what that means is that I swallowed some barium (a LOT of it actually) and the radiology tech kept taking xrays every 15 minutes to an hour until the barium had reached my large intestines. Well, that can take up to several hours. In this case, I had xrays from 1:30pm to 7:30pm that night and it still wasn't where it needed to be so they called it a night.
The good news: My hemoglobin had held steady in the 9's throughout the day. They decided to give me two more units of blood overnight to see if it would go higher.
SUNDAY.MARCH.6.2011: One more xray at 7:00am. The barium had reached its goal. However, the verdict was that my system was moving far to slowly to try the pill camera. That was really a relief. At the same time, that meant nobody was 100% sure where the bleeding was coming from.
My PA came in that afternoon and reiterated what my doctor had explained on Friday night. After any kind of surgery, especially on organs, blood can slowly ooze from the surgery site. It can be a little or a lot. He compared it to when you get a really bad burn on your skin. It doesn't bleed nor does fluid just flow out of it. It literally oozes. And like an oozing burn, all internal bleeding eventually stops. If it doesn't, obviously you would die. So, the plan was to wait at least another day, check my hemoglobin levels every six hours to see if my body could keep them up on my own. My crelbows certainly appreciated being assaulted every six hours. Not.
MONDAY.MARCH.7.2011: My GI doctor stopped by early and asked, "What are you still doing here?" He announced that I looked way better and that he expected Dr. E to release me. And...he did...at like 4:00 that afternoon. He had been in surgery all day and didn't get up to do rounds until then. Ugh. My hemoglobin had risen to the 10's and I was keeping it there on my own. Goodbye Rex!
Since then I have been eating myself out of house and home. I had lost 18 lbs. from the day of my surgery in February but now I've gained back about four. For once I'm not too worried about gaining weight. In fact, I'm kind of happy about it. From the day I came home from my surgery in February, I lost a total of 66 lbs. - mostly fluid that they pumped into me from the first hospital stay. I was happy to find that I weighed exactly the same on Monday as I had the Friday that I was admitted. I hope and pray I never have to go through that again!
As I write this, I have about a week left of medical leave before I return to work. I am working on building stamina and getting my strength back. I think it may be a couple more months before I really am myself again. I have to stop and be thankful though. I am alive...and that's a big deal! :)
I have to give a shout out to the nurses on 7 East at Rex. I have now been in their care four times. They are wonderful but I hope next time I see them it's at the mall or something!
Ok, so are you ready? Here we go...
SATURDAY.FEBRURARY.5.2011: Started vomiting uncontrollably after dinner. Lasted all night. This was very different than the stomach troubles I'd had and lasted far longer. I was worried and so was Josh. Something had to give.
SUNDAY.FEBRUARY.6.2011: Called GI doc's after hours line and GI doc himself called me back. He said we would set up a CT for Monday. Felt ok for the rest of the day...didn't eat, of course.
MONDAY.FEBRUARY.7.2011: CT at Rex Hospital with inconclusive results. Directed to see my surgeon ASAP. Not feeling too terrible.
TUESDAY.FEBRUARY.8.2011: Visit with my surgeon who concludes we should go in and check things out laporoscopically. Out of work for 3-5 days. Him: How about tomorrow? Me: Right. Cause I don't have two preschool open houses to attend, a birthday, Valentine's day with my own kids and kids at school, plus a field trip. How about February 21st? I wasn't feeling too bad. Of course, I wasn't eating.
FRIDAY.FEBRUARY.11.2011: My birthday. It was an early release/staff development day at school and all I could do was to make it until the kids left the building. Drove home and commenced vomiting. Or wretching, I guess is the better term. Nothing was coming up but a little bit of bile. It lasted all night.
SATURDAY.FEBRUARY 12.2011: Still wretching. The bile had turned dark during the night and I started to get scared. Josh called his parents to come and watch the kids and we left for the ER around 1:00. Triage was immediate. Being seen by a doctor was not. We waited for three hours, me in a wheelchair with a trashcan in my lap. Miserable.
5:00pm they came to get me. As usual, me feeling lame...like somehow I must be overreacting. I couldn't be that sick. I'm just vomiting. Right? Wrong. They started an IV and hit me with dilaudid and phenergan. Better. They admitted me.
9:00pm Finally took me from the ER room to have a CT, (so not comfortable laying flat when you're in pain and nauseous) and then up to my hospital room.
11:45pm My surgeon calls with the result of the CT. They can see an area of concern which may or may not be scar tissue. They put an NG tube down my nose to see if they can sop up any bile/digestive fluid. They can't get much, which means...there's a blockage. I am literally about to pop. There are several emergency cases in the OR at the moment and I will have to wait a bit. I went to sleep. Josh didn't.
SUNDAY.FEBRUARY.13.2011: 2:00am I was wheeled down to the OR for surgery.
4:40am Josh got the call that I was ok. I was back in my hospital bed at some point but I don't remember much.
Later that morning my surgeon came in an explained what had happened. Honestly, he really called it "The Perfect Storm" and said he'd never seen anything like it.
1. My gallbladder had malfunctioned back in the fall. That may or may not have caused much of the pain I'd been having since it was removed in November and the pain continued. But still, it was probably part of the storm.
2. Due to scar tissue from previous surgeries, one portion of my intestine had adhered to another portion and had tangled. This tangle was causing an obstruction, which apparently was getting worse and worse over time. That was the main cause of the pain which was always associated with eating. Because when you eat, you make digestive fluids. They usually keep going through, mine were not.
3. The line that runs from my lap band to my port was tangled up in the whole mess. If you're not sure what a lap band looks like on the inside, here's a diagram.
Josh and I saw actual pictures from the surgery. My surgeon has promised to get me copies and I hope to add them to this blog. Pretty amazing to see your insides in a wad.
Throughout my hospital stay the doctors had a lot of trouble keeping my heart rate, blood pressure, and respiration stable. Had I come into the hospital in good condition, I could've probably had this surgery and been up and about in a week. Unfortunately, it didn't work out that way. I was just so, so sick that surgery hit my body like a brick wall at 75 mph.
I came home with what I estimate to be 60 lbs of extra fluids. About half of that is gone so far. I look and feel pregnant with the flu. PT is helping and I'm moving around a lot better. Once again, I just find myself thankful to be alive. I'm so appreciative of all the good thoughts and prayers as well as all of the support from Josh's parents and our friends and family. We were fortunate enough to have my mom come stay for a few days. Friends have brought meals.
We are blessed and I look forward to feeling better and better each day!
I haven't blogged in awhile. It isn't that I haven't had ideas, I've had tons! Even though my time is limited, it isn't that I haven't had time either. It just seems that every time I think of something good to write about, I stop and second guess myself.
Sometimes I try to organize my pre-blogging thoughts when I have a few minutes alone, such as in the shower or on the way to work. I start to flesh out what I want to say and how I want to say it and suddenly I find myself wondering if I say this...how will that sound to this person or that person? Will it be misconstrued? Will someone disagree with me so strongly that we'll no longer be friends? Will I find myself in the principals office? Literally? Could I get kicked out of church for using swear words? Is it way too gross to keep talking about my digestive system?
I've become a co-dependent blogger.
Freedom of speech is an American right. For now anyway. I know I CAN say whatever I want. But should I? Even if this is just a blog, I want what I say to reflect my values and beliefs. Is it right for this to be a place to vent? Yes. And no. What if my kids read this years from now? What if my MOTHER reads this?
I think the real problem here is that I've never worried too much about speaking my peace. So I guess at this point I'm just wondering...Am I growing up? Or am I just drinking the kool aid?
