Month in Review

It's been far too long.... What an unfaithful tomato I've been, neglecting to write for so long.  Usuallly my lapses in posts indicates an inordinate lack of excitement in my life, but Whoa Nellie, that is not the case... The last month has been filled with numerous blessings, but for much of the month those blessings have seemed to pale next to the laundry list of bad news, doctors' appoinments, dialysis and overwhelming anxiety.  It's hard to see the forest through the trees & in the midst of all the happenings I began to feel like Job -- even though I still dressed better (but not by much).  It's been a trying month, and its only now that I'm ready to write about it... 

·       Big Hands, Little Spaces…..

About a week after I returned home from having exploratory surgery I returned to the surgeon.  Nurses caring for me in dialysis were concerned about the incision being infected.  It would be the first of many visits…..  Upon seeing the doctor he concluded that I did indeed have an infection.  My naïve hope was that antibiotics would be sufficient weaponry to fight the infection – oh, no, nothing near so tidy.  Instead the incision was torn open from top to bottom and I was layed open like a Christmas ham.  But unlike the ham, there was nothing deadened during this process.  The physical pain was bad, but the mental images I had of the process made it worse, but I was in for more.  In order to make sure the infection hadn’t compromised the integrity of my muscle layer (this could be detrimental to the underlying structures)  the surgeon had to push around on the inside layer – big hands, small space – I’d rather forget how this felt, but words really can’t describe…

Now I had an open cavity, the staff quickly instructed me on how to pack the space and I high-tailed out of the office in search of a shoulder to cry on and pain pills.  For the next week I had the space packed three times daily. When it was time to return to the surgeon we were pleased with the healing that had taken place – we were, the surgeon was not!  He took one look at the wound and instantly was displeased.  Apparently, the manner of packing had allowed tissue to heal on top, but not at the base of the wound.  This ineffective healing can lead to abscess formation, the surgeon “doc big hands”  took his finger and without so much as a “this might hurt” he ripped open the healed tissue.  ‘Ouch’ doesn’t begin to describe the intense shock wave of pain this sent throughout my body.  Later, my dad said he came close to punching the doc…. It seems barbaric and it was excruciating, but it needed to be done.  But, it was discouraging, yet another set-back when we’d been so sure of the progress…  So again we returned home to pack the wound.  This routine continued for a couple more weeks with good results.  Eventually, while hospitalized I would receive a wound vac and that sped up the healing process, but then that’s a whole ‘nother story….

·       Arresting Developments

Since having my peritoneal catheter removed I have been receiving Hemo Dialysis.  You might remember that I had a brief stint with Hemo in December.  I visit the center 3 times a week for about 3 ½ to 4 hours.  Hemo, though necessary, life-sustaining and all that jazz has not agreed with me this go around.  Nausea, shortness of breath, pain and swelling seem to plague my off days and fatigue is my constant companion.  I dreaded each treatment and eyed the clocked with the intensity I used to eye chocolate.  It was on one such day, mid July that I remember thinking the last hour of treatment was taking FOREVER – I was certain the clock hand was stuck.  I also remember feeling twinges in my chest and shortness of breath, I briefly thought maybe I should tell someone..  I don’t know if I did, but the next recollection I have is waking unable to catch my breath and hearing “analyzing rhythm – non-shockable rhythm”.  In a corner of my mind I knew that was a defibrillator’s mantra and wondered why I was hearing that.  Shortly thereafter my vision cleared enough to see a myriad of medical workers hovering over me and paramedics strapping me to a gurney.  The ride to the hospital was fairly uneventful, medics trying multiple times to establish an IV access and me giving them my medical history.  As best I was able to glean from them, I had stopped breathing and required defibrillation to re-establish a normal heart rhythm.  When I arrived at the ER I again went into an irregular rhythm (of which I converted out of myself) --- the ER doc explained to my parents that he was nearly certain I had been victim of a heart attack.  Time being of the essence I was rushed to the cath lab for an exploration of the vessels of my heart and heart structure.  This test eventually ruled out heart attack and enforced that I have a very healthy heart.  This was an immense relief – doctors finally concluded that “coding” was a result of electrolyte imbalance related to dialysis.  I spent 5 days in ICU while they worked to pull as much fluid off as possible and establish a healthy “dry” weight for me.

My hospital stay was a dark time for me. I couldn’t sleep at night or during the day and quickly my nerves became very raw.  I experienced a lot of anxiety then and even when I went home.  Coding hadn’t been scary during the times of incoherence, but it was the aftermath.  I truly anticipated meeting Christ that evening.  I remember praying He would be with my parents and comfort them and making sure my heart was right with Him.  I had concerns, but such a peace in that moment. 

·       Work Release

My most recent blow was this last week.  I have made it a habit to call my place of work when anything news-worthy has come along.  I was excited to get back to work and was planning to do so in a week and a half.  I still wasn’t quite up-to-snuff, but was working to regain my strength.  I received a call on Tuesday from my boss asking for an update on how I was doing.  I told her I couldn’t make any final say-so’s til I saw my doc, but was anxious to be back in the next couple weeks.  That’s when I got the news that my position had been cut.  If I wanted to come back the company would do there best to find a place for me, but my own job woudn’t be waiting for me… At that moment I thought how very much I could empathize with Job, it felt like the floor dropped out.  I did my best to retain my composure on the phone, but it all fell apart after the call went quiet.  I’ll write more later about this…

·       Whew Doggies – well if you didn’t believe at the beginning, I’m sure you will now agree – A lot has happened in the span of a few weeks.  Along with the events, has come a myriad of emotions, lessons, and blessings, but that, my friends will have to keep until next time.

"The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away;
   may the name of the LORD be praised.”  Job 1:21

 “Skin for skin!” Satan replied. “A man will give all he has for his own life. ⁵ But now stretch out your hand and strike his flesh and bones, and he will surely curse you to your face.”

 ⁶ The LORD said to Satan, “V  Joery well, then, he is in your hands; but you must spare his life.”
 ⁷ So Satan went out from the presence of the LORD and afflicted Job with painful sores from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head. ⁸ Then Job took a piece of broken pottery and scraped himself with it as he sat among the ashes.
 ⁹ His wife said to him, “Are you still maintaining your integrity? Curse God and die!”
 ¹⁰ He replied, “You are talking like a foolish^[b] woman. Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?” Job 2:4-10