I am Off the IV Bag, Day #3

This morning, I forced myself to get out of bed and make French Toast for breakfast. I took the magical Rx that my neurologist put me on since my last hospitalization, the Rx that I believe now courses through my bloodstream and supplies ample blood to my brain. This cerebral blood flow is what I have been missing. It is improved so that clinically, I still have no symptoms of nausea or vomiting, and no need to take ondansetron, the iv antiemetic that used to keep my head and my intestines from wretching.

On my first shift of caregivers, Annie May was my caregiver today, and made my day splendid. She picked out pink clothes for me to wear (oops, that was yesterday). Correction. I stayed in my blue and white striped pajamas today, because I was weary. Too weary to make it in for a doctor appointment with Dr. Amor, whom my caregivers and I adore. Now I remember that I called to tell the office I was too tired to come in for a morning appointment, and Miss Sherylm me promise to call her later in the day, to ensure I was not feeling worse. What did I do? I slept. 

I slept like I was sedated and in a coma, with nothingness surrounding my very being. As if a zombie, I puttered around my room and tried to make a dent in my pile of mail that was slowly mounting. When I woke up to our daughter's voice, I sought for love and affection from her. I am convinced that I will be able to do more and more physical things for her, and with her. 

My caregiver Miss Noel, had taken charge while I was asleep. Dinner, ideas, appointments. There is plenty that we able to do together, and I will miss her until her next shift. Miss Noel has a way of laughing with me, and together we can feel our hearts being melted together once again. She is my personal assistant and we have the same character and discipline rules that can be easily enforced. 

I made it downstairs for dinner, since I had been in bed, asleep and resting. Suddenly, the end of the day is over and I have to take my nighttime medications, as well as ensure that we have a Mother-daughter dinner before us. Now I must sleep. My eyelids are closing and I must sleep.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

I Am Off the IV Bag, Day #2

Yesterday morning, I woke up to CADD pump pumping away. As usual, pump by pump, hum drum by drip drop. Except that the fluid was dripping on my left shoulder, and it was cold and wet. I knew it was not blood, because it was not warm.

Slowly, it dawned on me that my iv was disconnected from my PICC line, and this had mistakenly occurred sometime overnight. I woke up as if I went from 0 to 100 mph.  It finally hit me. I was not connected to my iv bag, and had not been receiving iv fluid for much of the night. In my groggy stupor, I tried to punch the iv back into the pump. Seconds later, my medical knowledge and training naturally intervened. I knew the iv tubing was contaminated, and that it therefore was no longer deemed a sterile line. I threw the end of the tubing into the trash can, letting the pump drip and drip, drop by drop. I fell back to sleep.

It was when I later woke up, about 30 minutes later, that I shot into high gear. My mind was both fascinated and intellectually dissecting what I should do next. All I could think of was, "This line is my life. This line has been my life, has saved my life for over two years. This is my line, the one we keep sterile, the one that has been infected ?6 or 7 times. The last one the PICC line nurse told me that I would ever be able to place in my left arm, as there was a large stricture in the vessel that required fluoroscopy to 'pop' the line into place. 

Yes, the last PICC line change was too hard to place at my bedside. Since the line kept going up into my frontal veins in my head (ouchy, yucky feeling, to feel a stick inside your brain), therefore they took me down the hallway from the hospital room and downstairs by elevator, all to make it urgently to the Radiology OR Suite. Let me be perfectly clear about this. My 'sterile' field travelled with my body, and I stared at the automatic fire sprinklers and took note of mild cracks and imperfections in the ceiling as I was whisked away for a procedure I never thought I would undergo: fluoroscopic placement of a PICC line.

As I lay in bed, I reflected on my pump and iv bag situation. Of course. For right now, the iv is not connected to me, so obviously I have to increase my po (per os, or by mouth) fluid intake to make up for the loss of central fluid going through my heart catheter. My mouth was dry and gummy, and yes, I could not wait to get my hands on something to drink. I reached out and grabbed my carbonated water, balancing just enough to prevent me from falling out of bed. I already had enough issues going on, and falling out of bed was not going to be one of them. I was obsessed with my PICC line and preventing contamination. Somehow, I made it to my pharmacy cabinet and pulled out two 4 X 4 gauze dressings and a piece of paper tape. I wrapped my PICC line double lumen ends together in this sterile gauze, all with one hand. I fell back to sleep.

Just like clockwork, Angelina arrived in time to help me figure things out. We did orthostatic blood pressures (positive by systolic mmHg and by tachycardia, increased heart rate) and decided to take the day 'easy'.

But then I remembered that I was invited to a Garden Party, as it dawned on me that my quality of life could possibly be improved permanently, and this was my miracle. My lovely and protective husband let me go visit, laugh, and play table tennis with a dear old friend. It was his daughter's Birthday, St. Patrick's Day, and my No Bag day! I almost fell a couple of times, and I still used my cane for walking. Every step was extremely deliberate, as if I was walking on water. Common sense said to keep using the cane, as my imbalance could lead to a fall.

But did I ever have a fun time...a festive family time of peaceful laughter. A place where I knew that I could be myself. Me. Watching my child playing with older children, both of whom knew us throughout the years. Watching the interactions between my mother and the others around her. Bleak deference to the elderly people in the house, who deserved to be waited upon as if they would not be with us tomorrow. I shall never forget this day, for God set things in motion so that nobody could deny the coincidental happenings of my PICC line.

Recently discharged from my favorite hospital, Good Samaritan Hospital, I had been slowly going 'down' on my PICC line rate. There was a time that I was on 100 ml/hr. On arrival to the hospital, I was at 55 ml/hr. Once home, I had weaned myself to 27.8 ml/hr, a simple TKO (to keep open) minimal rate that would keep fluid going, but not clot the iv line in my chest. I had been keeping in touch with my cardiologist team daily, and they knew that I felt okay so far. 

Sure, I couldn't jump in a pool, go for a 3 mile run, or ride my mountain bike from Los Feliz Boulevard at Hillhurst Street, and go for a grueling mountain bike ride. The ride included an incredibly physical effort to get to the top, which displayed the Griffith Park Observatory. I could not swim laps because the PICC line itself was still going from my left arm to my right great vessel leading into my heart.

I made up my mind to go to this party, feeling that I desperately wanted to get out of my house for a social event of past-life friends. Confirming it with my husband, off we went to the other side of town. We stopped along the way at the Glendale Galleria and, for the first time in 2 years, we took my daughter shopping for clothes. 

Since I had been ill and had collected 3 years worth of clothing attire when my daughter was 2, this was a memorable event. Besides, her pants were above her ankles, as she had an unexpected growth spurt. Later, my daughter would tell her Nanny how much fun she had shopping for clothes with 'Mommy'. I had no idea that this would be an impressional 'event' for her, too. And now I didn't have to argue about what she was wearing to school (my ulterior motive), since these were Mother-Daughter articles of clothing that suited her taste, too.

This little one had been ripped away and ripped away from her mother, hospitalization after hospitalization, PICC line nurse after PICC line nurse in the Master Bedroom, changing my iv dressing once a week. "Are you going to die, Mommy?" echoed in my ears repetitively, as well as, "Am I going to see you after school?" The little one came home to an empty house for the last 25 hospitalizations in the last 3 years.  I scooped her up and smushed kisses over her angelic face. "Mommy is better. Let's go shopping and then, we're going to a party!" WOW. I never said anything like that for as long as our daughter could remember.

This morning, I called my lovely mother-in-law, and my closest friends and family. I let them know I was still okay-ish but I had to take it really easy. I got short of breathe easily, and I still, even today, had to drink 4 bottles of various kinds of water.

Where will my life go now? I was up last night until 12:30 am, and had been up and down overnight for several years. Today I took a 3 hour nap, and I wake up rejuvenated. My hands lift up to the sky in gratitude to God, and I let Him lead my way.

I had another 'Awakening', like the one I got after going to Chicago. I do not know why God picked me to go through crazy times all my life while I juggled medical training that became part of my being. What does my being a medical doctor have to do with all of this? I have learned that my brain is my protection and my integrator of knowledge, based on experience with other patients, especially those at LAC-USC Medical Center. Unusual presentations, rare disorders, and keeping educated with current medical knowledge. I feel like I am still learning, still discovering, still polishing my expertise in TBI, dysautonomia, vertebral artery dissection with aneurysm, s/p diabetes insipidus, and now with a new diagnosis of Basilar-type migraine which has been my most recent savior of my life. 

God is taking care of me and how did He show Himself to me, as The One who makes all things possible? Perhaps I just 'happened' to be weaning myself down on the PICC line iv rate, and my doctor agreed and was informed. Perhaps I just 'happened' to be on such a slow infusion that one could logically say, "Why don't you pull out the remaining PICC line?" The one that starts under my arm skin and ends up near my heart. The PICC line is doing virtually nothing perhaps, and is at risk of infection and death while it is in, especially if no iv fluid is going through it. 

So today, I brace myself for another bout of fighting to live. The PICC line either needs to be reconnected to an iv and I need it virtually for life, and/or we can think about pulling it out.

I never thought I would see a day without being attached to my ball and chain, the iv bag and the iv tubing, respectively. But you mark my words. If I have to be the first person to practically recover from the dysautonomia, you will hear my story in time. My story is your story. The only thing that differs between you and I is that the injury and the cure may be completely unrelated. This is reasonable, since all my syndromes are rare.

But you have your diagnoses, your injuries, your illnesses, and your way of dealing with your problems, just as I do. Except perhaps this: my medical school friends and I prayed with our patients and included Christ as the Great Physician.

Is it a miracle? Can I really live off and without a PICC line? We were running out of veins, anyway, and received no 'recipe' for living longer by poking in the PICC lines in a certain order that saves the best veins for last. Out of veins? Out of life.

That is what I thought before. It is how I felt and what I saw. All the answers pointed downward, as if I was on a spiral with no place to step off of it. So, I jumped. I jumped into 'fighting' mode to fight to live. I jumped into 'trusting' mode so that my life, my plans, my inclinations, and my actions were all to glorify God.

Talking to strangers on the elevator, especially the ones in a wheelchair. I was in a wheelchair, too. Perhaps if I was lucky, I could live for a couple years on the PICC line. One hospitalization, the Holy Spirit told me to 'Sit up, Stand up, and then Walk'. Who am I to argue with God? No one. God had greater faith in me than I did in myself, and He knew that someday, I would be off of the PICC line. 

He lets me know that He is in my life. It is actually quite funny, as I have found God's sense of humor. Just ask Him to show you signs, and you, too, will be given signs to encourage you in your Faith in Healing. Every day, there are medical miracles that are published. Why can't you and I be medical miracles, too, instead of accepting what the medical school books teach doctors? My body and my presentation to the doctor's office are usually unusual. A touch of my own forgetfulness, my own Altered Mental Status, and my vomiting patterns may be a harbinger of an upcoming PICC line infection, or some other new diagnosis.

Go on. Lay it on me. I submit my sufferings to Christ, as He suffered for us on the Cross. In the face of impending doom, I sing, "Holy, Holy, Holy" out of our bedroom window, and the birds, squirrels, and bunnies make their way into our front yard. The yellow and orange hummingbirds outside my window no longer fear from my presence. Perhaps they all just think that I am another animal that sings like a bird. Perhaps in perplexion, they navigate their way into my garden. God's way. God's way of giving me a gift that no one can purchase: my own forest of animals, like Snow White in a cottage with a pie in the oven. My own family for whom I have great love and mostly these days, the breatholding sound of our daughter singing acapelo to The Phantom of the Opera. 

Today, I went to a doctor appointment, Costco shopping, bouquet-making, and finally, a nap of unpreturbed stillness. Some may call it a semi-coma state, as my brain is firing away while I sleep. I can feel that my brain needs this nap time to regroup, and I praise God as I mentally visualize single-file red blood cells making their route single-file, to the tiniest, insyest, binsyest capillaries that perfuse my brain. When I reach this point, I am down for the count. I praise Jesus the Physician and Healer to work in my body as I sleep, to allow neuroplasticity and rerouting of the vital signs so that I can walk like every one else: without being on a battery. If I feel like fainting, I put my back on the wall and slide down to the ground in utter limpness. After my nap, it is as if another new day has begun and I can once again rejoice in the Lord, singing, "Holy, Holy, Holy".

Enough for tonight. I should be finishing my first book, so that you can be a part of my life and so that you can learn from the scientific and the spiritual worlds. To me, that iv bag never belonged to me. I would look at it and say, "I do not accept you in my life. You will be gone from my life forever."

Now, I look forward for tomorrow and the blessings that I can be to others. Today, a little old lady was buying groceries, and the Holy Spirit whispered in my ear, "Give her twenty dollars". I immediately obeyed, as I had seen the poor woman had overstocked her shopping cart and had to send back several items, for lack of money.

Her response? She put her hand on her heart, and said, "Who would do something like this?" We pushed away our carts to the Exit while she was still at the cash register and was presumably getting back those items she really needed. I turned back 4 times to smile and warmed my heart each time. With every turn, I could assess that she was still in shock. I raised my hands to the Lord, for telling me that she needed the money. I gave her my last twenty dollar bill and I can not convey to you how fantastically happy I was that moment. It was worth everything I ever did to land myself in that store, at that time, and be a help to her. 

I was reminded once again: we are here on earth for one another. 

 

Tuesday, March 17, 2009: St. Patrick's Day, Tyler's Birthday, No IV day.

I woke up this morning to the faint odor of staleness. In my half-stupor, I began feeling the sheets and pillowcases around me that were tinged with my iv fluid that was supposed to be going into my heart. On closer inspection, the iv tubing had accidentally been pulled off and 30 ml/hr was dripping all over the bed. I used to practice being blind when I was little, so that I would know how to do something in the dark. 

I am drifting off to sleep as I try to stay awake long enough to make my entry. The world does not have enough places of recognizable reward. So I talk to our wonderful Lord Jesus. There were many times that I spent, giving my sufferings over to Christ. 

1. God woke me up with the wetness of life, an astounding sense of humor upheld.

2.God woke me up this morning with a large sense of fateful people just spontaneously and erratically

3. God woke me up this morning with my iv disengaged from my PICC line. Praise to the Lord.

Miracles, Education and Inspiration

March 16, 2009

Today, I contemplate all those who have helped me. To my beloved father who awaits me in Heaven. To my Mother Renee who has always been there for me, and who continues to give me advice. Others who have believed in me: my son, husband, and little daughter. Professionally and personally, my years at Stanford University School of Medicine were by far the best professional years of my life. Here, I loved going to work every day as an anesthesiology doctor in training (residency). I was treated as a person with a brilliant brain (albeit up for question by some), in sharp contrast to over-rigors I suffered at LAC-USC Medical Center. Here, several Attendings believed in me while my peers seemed over concerned with my life.  

As I begin another route, another path to physical wholeness, I must pause and thank Dr. Nabil Rashad, Dr. Thanga, Dr. Steve Haddy, and Dr. Vladimir Zelman. You helped me take my assigned ICU cases into the ORs, making me cemented in caring for the critically ill. Thank you for all the ICU patients I had to take into the ORs...the old lady with a stroke, the young man who is now paraplegic from inflicted gunshot wounds. I had to analyze their iv lines, central lines, arterial lines, and take the patient off the ventilator. I had to squeeze the AmbuBag over and over again after trachestomy after tracheostomy after tracheostomy. Perhaps my peers were trying to make my life difficult; this I felt was true.

 A single parent through medical school, internship, residency, and Critical Care Fellowship, I eagerly sponged up my guts to make it through, one day at a time. Not many people know this of me, but I left a full scholarship spot in medical school, trading it for a better chance for my son to live better. What a compliment it is, to have our children give us new perspectives in life. 

My child was crying every night I was a single parent in medical school. My decision was easy. I wanted it all. A family, a profession, and success in spite of obstacles. Thank you to an elder medical student who took me by the hand, and off we drug ourselves to the Dean of the School of Medicine. She helped me acquire a letter of recommendation and official transcripts of my classes already taken. Sealed, stamped, and ready to carry. I left Oklahoma the next day.

Off from Tulsa, Oklahoma we got into my red 3-cylinder Chevy Sprint, together with a few clothes and many medical school books. I left an entire 2-bedroom apartment full of furniture and all my personal effects: antique photos, canopy bed, towels, everything. Thank you to the unforgettable Medical School wives, who helped box up my apartment up and put things in storage. Thank you to the best buddy truck driver who not only picked up my boxes, but also brought them to me in California. And sent me my first dozen roses, for my graduation from USC Medical School. I had always joked that I received more roses from my patients, than from men. As a single parent, I was too busy putting whatever leftover energy of the day that I had, back into my child. Sure, I failed at many things. Sure, I made mistakes that I am sorry for. And sure, I learned a lot. And helped the sick. I saw the door to Heaven, so this confirms that my past life must be okay with God, that He forgives me for my sins of comission or omission, such that I will be ready to go to Him when my Time is again at hand.

Thank you to the nurse midwife that talked me into going into Anesthesiology. God was watching out for me when I was accepted to the only programs I selected: USC Anesthesiology Residency, a transfer to Stanford University School of Medicine for completion of Anesthesiology first, and then acceptance into their prestigious position as one of the Critical Care Fellows. Had I known that Stanford Anesthesiology and Critical Care would be, in reflection, the best professional years of my life, one would think that I would have enjoyed it more, taken more chances, accepted more dances.

But I remembered that my father used to always tell me, "I just LOVE going to work every day! I can't believe that I actually get paid to do what I enjoy! I can't wait to get to work every morning!" Stanford Anesthesiology program, thank you for teaching me innumerable lessons. Believe me, I loved going to work every day, and the Hospital and its ICU were my home shelter of love and acceptance. I was so well trained that any Attending Physician had to go through me or another Critical Care Fellow to admit a patient to the ICU, and my Attending Anesthesiologists would always back me up, even if that really mad Attending decided to raise the bar a little harder and go tell my Attending his/her problem with me. Thank you, Drs. Rosenthal, Pearle, Mihm, and Feeley. To Jocelyn, Maria, and the nurse that got killed on the Life Flight helicopter in bad weather: you all helped me retain my sense of peer friendships and unconditional love. You kept me going on, from day to day.

Almost 3 years after the car accident, my iv PICC line is churning at 29 cc/hr. At the newest hospitalization 2 weeks ago (I think the total is now 25 hospitalizations since the car accident), for 5 days Dr. Cannom was able to save my PICC line as Neurologist Dr Verapamil (not his real name, but I believe the drug gave me back the lacking cerebral perfusion pressure to allow tiny, single-file, red blood cells to carry oxygen and nutrients to the master computer center of the body, the human midbrain) made a new diagnosis: that of Basilar-type migraine. It is only the beginning of this miracle of cerebral perfusion. 

Walk with me and see what I can do. If I can do things, you can also strive to do them. Do not take, "No" for an answer. Make things happen in your own life, as I have. Be the miracle. Feel your body shivering as you get up out of bed and trust in the Lord, knowing that you should have died 5 times in the last 3 years.

Whereas before, I could not get out of bed without taking iv ondansetron, now I can get up slowly and carefully balance on my cane.  I can walk! Whereas before, I would have to wait an hour for the iv ondansetron to take effect, now I can brush my teeth when I first wake up in the morning. From being bedridden to being in a wheelchair, to walking with a cane, the Lord has indeed given me the miracle of a walking life.

I can not end this entry without thanking my husband for sticking with me. The words I have to say to him? They are too personal to list here, and he already knows the joy I have in being a family together. I also thank all of my caregivers for their love and patience with me. Even though food disappears out of the refrigerator, toilet paper is missing in bulks of 10 at a time, and a set-aside-to-do-the-dishes ring disappears. It is hard to find a consciencious, caring, actively working caregiver to feed the sick, change the sheets, and help me walk from place to place. 

I probably have not been the best patient in the world, but understand that I fought for myself whenever I thought it was necessary, and I used every bit of my medical training to keep myself alive. With God's Blessings, I go now to take my usual 3-4 or 5 hour nap of the day. I envision my brain as it heals itself unto this deep sleep.

If God permits, I will awaken to the sound of the birds outside my window seat, and my eyes will open to watch the baby hummingbirds flitter outside the leaded glass window. For now, that is all that I ask. Once I wake up, I will give thanks to God for another morning, for another evening. I give thanks simultaneously as my orbital muscles contract so that my eyelids go from a closed, to an opened status. I will ask Him for my assignment for the day, and I will carry out my day for Him, with Him, and in Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Whatever lies before me now, you will be able to live through with me as I attempt to share my blessings and my Faith in God. As I am now tired, I will start tomorrow to carry you with me as I walk in my shoes of thunder. Never a dull moment. 

You will start out tomorrow by carrying my 5 lb CADD pump for me. I'll tell you the rules of the game in the morning. In the meantime, may I leave you with this parting thought: there are many of you that are not able to keep up with a medical diagnosis, or a special or rare abnormality that the doctors have never seen nor read about, perhaps because it is rare. You can still question the doctor's plan regarding your body, you can make your own deviations with your doctor's consent so that your health care is tailor-made, and you do have some control over your life, your shoes, your clothing, and your money. In the meantime, I'm putting in another bag of iv fluid, and another 9 Volt battery. I will listen to the hum, drum and drip, drop 30 times a minute, as D5NS courses from my left antecubital area into my right superior vena cava. I will listen to it all day and all night, 24/7.

My advice for the day (check with your doctor first): Be the Best Person You Can Be. 

Just one day at a time. Take a long shower. Start afresh and walk through life with me. Say one prayer for me. Say one for someone else you know. Prayer really does work. This is not a cliche. I should have been dead by now. The least you can do is to pray for your children, every day. God will protect them and save them from harm.

God wants to use my life for your inspiration, for your nightly peace, and for your future inspiration. 

Another PICC line infection

After going to Chicago, seeing old friends, and then the famous camping out at a neighbor's back yard and sleeping in a child's teepee a couple of nights ago, I have had an awakening. Listening to lectures on the brachial plexus, listening to 'doctor talk'.....it re-awakened a different part of my brain. Everyone says I look much better. I still need help keeping my balance, remembering which of my 32 medications to take and when to take them. Most importantly, it looks like I may have a neurogenic bladder and I have an appointment with a urologist tomorrow. Hopefully, I won't pee in my pants before then. I met a lot of my neighbors, ministered about God with a very Godly man, was inspired by how inspiring my 'story' was to new friends, and was at so much peace to see children and families having such a great time together. I loved singing to the Eagles on guitar by several gentlemen who knew how to play. What follows is a synopsis to catch you up to today. It will be peacemeal, just so you know, since my thoughts go back and forth over this last month.

"Went to a garden party......

You can't please everybody

You might as well please yourself"      Ricky Nelson

The single Mom in me, the disabled Mom in me, and to the physician in me. I'm going to start taking better care of myself. At the suggestion of the manager/owner of a local store, I started taking some homeopathic mushrooms to boost my natural killer (NK) cell activity by up to 300%, consolidated calcium with Vitamin D and magnesium (I'm constantly hypomagnesemic), something for imbalance in my system, a natural product for constipation. My new motto, since the Chicago trip, is "Simplify life and maximize health". Really, I just don't want to have a PICC line infection every 3 months. I'll run out of veins.

Oh, boy. Important things to catch up on: bout of cystitis (bladder infection) a month or so ago where I was peeing not only in my pants (hello 80 year old group ;-) ) , but more. I was passing blood and blood clots through my urine (how do you spell P-A-I-N) so much that I have another story for you.

4 weeks ago, my caregiver dropped off a sample of urine at my primary care physician (PCP) that looked cloudy. They do the dipstick test, checking for blood, white blood cells that fight infection, nitrite that the bacteria produce. Needless to say, it was positive, otherwise I would not have sent it in. (I had all the symptoms of a urinary tract infection (UTI: frequent peeing, pain during peeing, feeling like you need to pee after you just did it. In my book, antibiotics and pyridium anesthetic for the urinary tract, go together. So if your doctor tells you that you have a UTI, make sure and ask if you could also have pyridium for the pain. By the time I got to the doctors' office, we had a second sample that looked like pure blood. The nurses were questioning whether I was on my period, it looked so bloody. Since I feel I have a history of not being 'believed', it's a sensitive point for me. I turned to any one who questioned me about the origin of the blood, and I said, "I know the difference between my orifices. The bloody sample came from my urethra, not my v.......a."  I love my PCP's office. They call me if I haven't been in for a week, and I call them to say, "Hi" whenever we're not in a crisis together. But I can't help it. Boh. I'll be glad when everyone believes me the first time. It's so cute to see the different things that need to be talked about. The Origin of the Pee.  On to other things, quickly.

3 weeks ago, I was admitted to a well known heart institute. My presenting symptoms were altered mental status (AMS) and increased nausea/vomiting. Harbingers of more badness to come, with my peripherally-inserted central catheter (PICC) line about to become royally infected. I never wait until I'm fully septic (bacteria in the blood), otherwise I'd be half-dead in someone else's Intensive Care Unit (ICU).(I used to help run 3 types of ICUs: surgery/trauma, cardiothoracic, and neurosurgical. I am not searching for repeated visits to the hospital, especially the ICU. :-). I know my body and its presenting symptoms. For example, my lungs never wheeze when I get asthma attacks. 

2 weeks ago, I was discharged from the hospital after a 6 day stay. I was sent home on intravenous (iv) antibiotics after the 'Grandfathers' of Cardiology and Vascular Surgery waited for the antibiotics to start killing the bacteria. I was sent home on 14 days of iv daptomycin (I get 'red man's syndrome' as each drop of vancomycin goes in, so the precious Infectious Disease doctor removed my need to have a red face, low blood pressure, the feeling as if large ants were crawling on my head, and a need for premedication that makes one drowsy.

1 week ago, we ventured out as a family and went on a plane to Chicago, where we used to go every year before our car accident. (The car occupants were me, my daughter, and our puppy whom we still have). We were there for six days. I awakened.

I'll let you know about Chicago tomorrow. Today's Labor Day anyhoo. Happy to catch up with you and I hope you're enjoying your Holiday vacation. Either by playing or working (which some people have to do to make money). Keep your head up to the Heavens.

Yours in Christ,

Dr. Margaret 

Ran away from home at 16 years of age and moved in with my then boyfriend. Went to school and got my Cosmetology License so I would never have to work for minimum wage again. When I was 19, I had a baby and took off work/school for 10 beautiful months. Received my Real Estate license, and caravaned around Ridgenorth, looking at all the beautiful indoor decor. Went back to college and after 5 years, I was Pre-Med and graduated Cum Laude with a Bachelor's in Arts in Biology from California State University, Northridge.  I won 1 of 3 Outstanding Student Awards, amongst other memorable events. Thank you, Skottie, for talking me into being Pre-Med. I'll tell you about that story tomorrow.

What am I posting, she asks. 

In second grade, one of my first memories was that of the dying Jesus on the Cross. It was a very large statue that displayed much detail. I could see and feel the crown of thorns on the head of Our Lord, and I could feel His Sufferings for me. I accepted Jesus Christ and while my life has fallen short of some successes, He has always been with me to provide comfort.

First of all, I am 48 years old. Raised 6 kids starting at 13 years old. Patting my brother's back meant that I, as the second eldest, grew up caring for people. Babies. Precious little ones.  I ran away at 16 years old, because by then I thought I knew everything. I knew how to bake an entire Thanksgiving Dinner, make 35 double-decker lunch sandwiches for 7 kids to eat one sandwich per day, and do laundry for 9 people.

I was an excellent student in high school, when I developed as a person and made many stupid mistakes. Just like all of us. Went to an Alternative School so I could have an ID to show the LAPD. The ID gave me permission, so that I could either go to school, or not go to school. Thankfully, my father was praying for us daily. Our Angels protected us as my best friend got shot in the head and was found dead in the bushes. Everyone in the high school went to her funeral, and I still think of her and all the life that she has subsequently missed.

I graduated high school at 16 years old by taking the California Proficiency Exam, then graduated first Cosmetology and then Real Estate school. Ran away at 16 but my ex-husband made me go back to school, and for this I am still grateful.

I was a battered wife for 9 years, and bore a much-loved son. Once in medical school, my ex-husband left with our child, and there was no "Amber Alert" then. I was blessed and deeply touched, yes even endebted to other Christians who taught me so much about life. They know who they are. Medical School was an enlightening time in many respects, and ever so gradually, I looked forward to seeing a life of some kind ahead of me. There were very close friends who understood me and helped me develop my character. I knew God was with me. I broke medical school in half so I could be nearer my family, to help me raise my son. Left an apartment full of furniture, and the medical school wives so kindly boxed everything up and mailed it to me. Thank you to all the Tulsa, OK groups of people I know. At the time, I could not have been in a better place. Alas, I left and drove back to CA in one day's notice. Once in CA, I tried calling two local medical schools.

One medical school said, "No." We don't have any positions opened for a medical student to transfer. The other medical school Dean said, "You did what? I have to meet you." Thank God, I could continue medical school and obtain my MD. During this time, I met a nurse practitioner while delivering babies, and she counseled me very much. I was a single parent with a young child, and she wanted me to pick a Residency program that would 'give me a good life' ... so God arranged a meeting or two, and I was accepted into a prestigious program, that of Anesthesiology residency..

I was handed ICU after ICU patient as a beginner, and learned from the beginning of my training how to provide anesthesia for the critically ill receiving tracheostomy or other surgical procedures. I became so adept at caring for the critically ill, so eventually, I became very good at it. Touche. God kept His watch over me as Critical Care became my specialty, with both Stanford University Medical School and the University of Pennsylvania ICU experiences that could fill a book alone.

Do not ever think that God has forgotten or forsaken you. He will never leave us, even to the end of the earth. Are you surprised that you got into a car accident today? God knew this car accident would occur when you opened your eyes in the morning. If you have given your life to Christ, and dedicate your efforts unto the Christian faith, you will have all the hope that you need: hope for forgiveness, hope for sufferings, hope for healing and for faith in God to keep your life on track.