Wednesday, January 29, 2014

When Things Go Wrong

No sooner had I written "Everything You Need To Know About the MIC* Jejunostomy Tube You Cannot Find", I was readmitted to hospital. In fact, I have two posts churning in my head as I am typing this right now. In this instance, all that I'd had planned was flung out the window.

Everything I love: this blog that others have said help them, my enjoyment of being part of support groups where we lean on one another in hard times, spending time with my friends and family...

Just...gone. None of this was supposed to happen! I remember being so angry. But now, let me tell you something...that previous Sunday I was urged by two doctors to go to the Emergency Department and I did not/ I did not go the the ED/ER/whatever. When the grueling pain of pseudo-obstruction (when the body thinks there is a real blockage when there is not, and there is so much trapped air you feel as though you might die. It's horrid).

Does this face look sick? I took it THE VERY DAY I was admitted, before my symptoms started to flare:

No. No, in this photo, I look sort of on the thin side, but otherwise fine. I went from this to once again bed bound by doctor's order, being turned like an old man ravaged by years wearing on his body and his mind pleading with God that he may come home soon as his family, when they show up, look at him awkwardly and scurry out the door faster than when they entered with ginger steps and quiet "hellos".

And you know what? The only difference between this imaginary gentlemen and myself is that I am you, spry though my own body has attempted to depart from me and making it the responsibility of healthcare workers is that stubborn dedication to thrive.

In this situation my G tube, which is to drain at all times, was put to suction.

Each canister filled quickly, but due to pain issue we went back to gavity drain.

Not fun at all. At all. At all.

This hurts physically. I was put on a morphine pump to give 1mg every 12 minutes, which caused my blood pressure to swing back and forth. I was given 5mg IV Valium every 4 hours, whether I asked or not due to the screaming, due to the fact that my condition in which my body adapts to all meds quickly. Everything that the nurses know to do to make their patients comfortable they did and they did very well. Again, St. Mary's, though small and not the most advanced, take the best care of me than one of the top ten ranked hospitals in the entire United States. I wouldn't go anywhere else.

This hurts emotionally. One of the night nurses was brutally honest, yet in the most kind and sweet manners than anyone could ever expect. Or not expect. That my body was going south and in some respects I was allowing it.

Yet through the tears scattering all over the clean linens, my soul's grief lodged in my face for the whole world to that instance I did not even care. Right then and there, I had one of the most precious gifts of all: someone to really and truly care about more than numbers...but as a person.

This goes for all of us. Not a single one of us who live with chronic illness NEVER ever thought to themselves "Oh! I think I would like to live in a manner in which at any moment my world would be upended and the question of survival is put into place".

(Well....some do. But that is another day's post).

Yet when things go wrong, there has to, for the sake of Wellness and Joy, be willing to see it for what it is: just something that flat out went wrong. And nothing more! It is not an omen of things to come.

It is not an excuse to pull the covers over and lay in bed all day.

It is not any reason to cut off contact with the ones who love you. LOVE YOU.

...And it isn't anything you did wrong. You do not deserve this burden.

There is a light. I have never been much of a fan of tunnels, but there is a grand sky to behold, that is the lens in which God watches us, cares for us, and at times even -- I believe -- weeps over us when we let our fire snuff out and give up our dreams.

None of us can afford to throw in the towel. I sometimes sit and cry, I might yell or throw a pillow (I'm not very ferocious..), but then that small storm passes and everything is bright and clear and even more vibrant in reward for surviving and agreeing to continue to grow and live past it.

Will you join me?

...and my growing plants?

Looks like this little guy has decided to rise up as well.

Sometimes -- not every single time -- daring to hope results in something more than what you planned.

When things go wrong...they become more and more right in time, and in wonder and love.

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