When I was fourteen I experienced a “spiritual awakening”. I can’t really explain what happened. All I know is that one day, as I was lost in thought, I suddenly realized what I wanted to do with my life. I knew that I wanted to be a writer, or some other kind of artist, but that seems so insignificant now. It was like the simple knowing of seeing a road ahead of me opened me up somehow to higher things. I saw the world in this new light and it was alive, beautiful and, well, spiritual. It was as if a veil lifted and I could see the spiritual world and the physical. My heart opened and overflowed.
I had been started to read the Harry Potter books when I was twelve and for the first time I discovered the wonder of a escaping into a world more magical than my own. Yes, I went to extremes with it and soon learned what true worship was. I created altars to the world of Harry Potter and became emotionally involved with the story so deeply that it was unhealthy. But that’s another tale. The fact is, I discovered at fourteen that I was capable of creating my own worlds to escape into. Thus, writing and art became my focus.
I had always known, without a doubt, that there was a higher being, a Creator, someone who understood me and loved me. Being brought up a Christian (though a rather nontraditional one) I identified this being as God. I had often felt His presence strongly when I was in church, but not because I listened to the sermon. It was because I was still and listened to that Presence that I could not ignore. The goings-on of the church service meant nothing to me and I assumed they weren’t particularly thrilling to God either since He was obviously wrapped up in a conversation with me.
So when I had this “spiritual awakening” I felt again that Presence, only this time I wasn’t in a church. It was with me all the time. My eyes were opened to the natural world around me and I saw something more beautiful and more spiritual than any church building. I saw Nature. I talked to God through all things that grew, especially trees. I talked to God through the stars, the sun and the moon. However, when I say I “talked” to God I mean that I communed. My words were few, but the language of my heart I let flow towards this Great Spirit. I truly began to believe in magic.
My connection to nature grew very strong and I began to feel individual presences. Earth spirits, if you will. I no longer saw a tree, a flower and a rabbit. Instead I saw a spiritual beings in a spiritual world.
I remember once, when I was walking home from school and talking to nature in soft whispers that no one could hear, that I discovered that I could feel spiritual energy coming from the bush a was running my fingers through. My fingers tingled. I experimented by pulling energy out of the leaves and then sending it back in. To me, this seemed an a very intimate way of communing with the energies in nature. Later I would learn this technique as Reiki and learn how to use it properly not just on plants, but on the human and animal bodies for healing.
My sister and our close friend Jessie became interested in the world of fairies and soon my spiritual tie to the Earth and the Divine took on a more solid outline. We walked any forest we could, calling out fairy chants and leaving gifts of flowers and sweet cakes and drinks, hoping for a glimpse of one of our winged friends. Through this we learned patience, concentration and quietness. We learned how to blend in with the Earth, to feel one with it. Though we knew it not, we had become advanced in meditation.
I also felt a oneness with the trees especially and felt sure that there were spirits or fairies of some kind who lived in them and were the essence of trees. In my backyard there was a particularly handsome tree. I felt a strong connection with it and often spent time sitting underneath it or exploring it (or, at least, the parts I could reach). It wasn’t long after this that I began writing a story about a girl who could talk to plants and animals. This girl had a tree that she confided in named Mr. T. He was based on my favorite tree, which I then began calling by that name and even talking to. At night when I was lonely or couldn’t sleep, I would imagine that Mr. T left his tree and came to sit with me and talk with me.
Me, my sister and Jessie soon found that others shared our love of the Fae, though perhaps in not such a childlike manner. We discovered the wonders of metaphysical shops and New Age music. This soon led me to the internet where I frequented such sites as http://www.newage.com.au. Here is where I, with my spiritual life thirsting, took the lead and started sprinting down the path of this spirituality that centered around nature and the Divine Spirit who made it and dwelt within it. I didn’t read much, though. I found most of the articles hard to read. I wasn’t familiar with any of the terminology or practices. I learned more just by being in nature and going where my heart lead.
This was around the year 2000 and reality shows about haunted houses and spirit mediums were at their height. My sister and our friend were, of course, big fans of these shows. We were soon using the Ouija board, holding séances and doing automatic writing, all of which truly delivered results (much to our pleasure). It wasn’t long before I decided I wanted to be a medium and help spirits on their way to heaven. Unfortunately, we didn’t know how to correctly use a Ouija board and ended up with some bad experiences. I left my desire to be a medium behind at sixteen.
I knew that I was psychic. Granted, I’ve always been very sensitive and spiritual (true to my Cancer zodiac sign) . I cpuldread people very well (though I don’t by any means use this as excuse to judge a person before getting to know them). I got deja vous so much that it became annoying. I would have dreams that came true. However, something more started happening. When talking to Spirits I always heard them better than the others. I was very sensitive towards energies that objects held. For instance, we went to the history museum when I was 14 and I was bombarded with horrifying images of what every artifact has lived though. I was so spooked and overwhelmed by the intensity of events these objects had lived though (this was a World War II museum) that I had to leave and regain my energy and composure.
This same year my liver disease reoccurred in my new liver, which had been transplanted into me three years prior, when I was eleven. I was put on a high dose of steroids at this time and, let me tell you, steroids mess with my emotions. It’s like having horrible PMS, times ten. The steroids not only made me puffy (which is very hard on a girl in middle school who didn’t have many friends or a lot of self-confidence) but I would also start crying for no reason at all. Then I started just feeling numb. I began to hate myself so much that I would cut my arms.
When I was fifteen, almost sixteen, my mom sent me to a therapist she knew.
“You’ll like her, Becca. She’s into very spiritual things, just like you.”
I did like her. Not only was she spiritual, but she had some illnesses just like mine. I wasted no time in telling her that I was a psychic, I wanted to be a spirit medium and urged her to share with me what her spiritual experiences were. She asked if it would be okay if she used the Bible so we could read what it had to say on the matters at hand. I figured, why not? The Bible is a spiritual book, though I’d never read it before.
From them on my Bible studies began and after that led to do a Bible prophecy seminar which then led me to the Seventh-Day Adventist Church. I was now a born-again Christian and not only that I was a fundamentalist born-again Christian. My family was not pleased.
My family are Christians, but they’re more like Unitarians than Seventh - day Adventist. I had been brought up the Episcopal Church, though I don’t remember learning much about God there. Most of what I knew about God my mother had taught me. She taught me that God was both male and female or rather, that God was beyond gender. She taught me to be respectful off all religions and beliefs. Why, growing up we celebrated lots of cultural holidays because my mom wanted us (me and my sister, Natalie) to be culturally informed. We were always given freedom to choose our own paths, but I guess the whole Seventh - day Adventist thing wasn’t exactly what my family had had in mind.
As I progressed in my Christian walk I became more and more conservative. I don’t know why I went to such extremes, but at the time I felt I was doing it do give myself over to God and follow His Law completely and distance myself from worldly things. My Ouija Board, tarot cards and many other such things were given away. I made sure all fiction books (especially Harry Potter) were out of my sight. I wore dresses full time and sometimes even wore a head covering. My rock music was thrown out, I didn’t do anything on Saturdays but go to church, eat, go outside, study my Bible and pray. I took on my role as a mere woman who should always submit to man and cast off my worldly friends.
My life was completely different. Instead of glorying in the Earth I had to be careful to worship the Creator and not the creation. No books of fairy tales were to be seen by my eyes again and the only music that found my ears were hymns.
I struggled so much because I wanted my old life, but I knew it was bad and that hell would be my place if I should return to that old life. I did have wonderful times of communion with God and of being filled with his love, but the style of worship that was expected of me was hard. I wanted to burn incense and candles and have beautiful things on an altar. I wanted to sing songs that spoke to my heart. Somehow I had turned the understanding God of my youth, the God I talked to in the trees and the air and the skies, into a harsh judge. I needed to find my real God again.
When I was nineteen I started to fall away. I became so sick of everything. I just couldn’t do it anymore. Little by little, and full of fear that I would be “caught” I started wearing pants, listening to rock music and doing my hair. At some point I made a huge betrayal of God (in my mind) and set out some cakes in my backyard for the faeries, also saying a little prayer. To me, this was idol worship and a great sin, but it felt so right, so natural and so fulfilling.
I came back to my conservative form of Christianity a few times, but each time I fell away again and always a little further. The biggest rebellion of all was when I started reading Harry Potter again. But by that point I didn’t care if I went to hell or not. At least I was happy and that was all I cared about. I wanted to spend my life being happy and following my heart. And in my heart of hearts I knew the true God didn’t judge me but that I was where I was supposed to be. You can imagine that my Christian friends didn’t take this too well.
Now here I am, 21-years-old and I started looking for the fairies again a few weeks ago. In fact you couldn’t drag me off of my laptop for days. I soon found Wicca which was not at all what I had expected it to be. It wasn’t dark, it was all about oneness with the Earth! The beauty of doing something meaningful with your prayers (doing a spell or rite) spoke straight to my heart. I began contacting pagan groups in Lincoln to find out about classes and things like that. I wasn’t ready to be Wiccan yet or anything, but I was definitely ready to learn. I found some of the most amazing people in these groups and, though they’ve only known me a few weeks, it’s like I’m part of their family now.
I’m starting to feel at home with my spirituality again. The more I read about Wicca the more it speaks to me. So do I worship the devil now? God forbid! I worship the same God whom I have worshipped since my youth. I’m leaning more about His/Her character, too. Do I still believe in the state of the dead? Yes. What about the spirit guides? I’ve gotten to know them again and they are amazing. They need a blog post all their own. How about the Sabbath? I haven’t thought about the Sabbath in a long time. I do still believe it is a blessed day and perhaps I should treat it in a more spiritual matter. However, I will go out and buy lunch on the Sabbath. I just don’t understand anymore why that is such a big deal. Do I still go to church? No. Number one, my health doesn’t always allow me. Number two, even at the best of times I get nothing out of church and usually end up offended anyway. However, I may be attending a Bible study next month.
I want to state now that I do not regret my time as a conservative, Seventh-Day Adventist Christian. I had some truly spiritual times and I was sincere in all I did. When I truly connected with the God I believed in in my heart it was amazing. However, the time has come for me to follow what I believe and what makes me happy. I won’t put labels on myself just yet because my beliefs come from lots of religions, both Pagan and Christian. I figure, if I go to hell at least I lived my life the way I felt was right and I was happy. If something doesn’t feel right or doesn’t make me happy then I won’t do it.
Right now I’m exploring Wicca and Druidry most deeply, although I’m dipping my toes into Shamanism and Eastern religions (I do yoga, meditation and am in the process of getting my Reiki training and attunements).
A lot of my learning is done through book reading, watching stuff on YouTube and reading articles on the internet. Right now my favorite authors are Scott Cunningham, Diane Stein, Silver Ravenwolf and Raven Grimassi. If you want to find out more about what books I read, what websites I frequent and what videos I like, feel free to contact me.
Oh, and by the way, I finished the Harry Potter series but this time in a healthy state of mind. :)
May you all find your spirituality and peace. Blessed Be.
MySpace comment by Seth Duncan:
I don't know you much outside of Unionaires, but I applaud you for seeking the truth for yourself. In spiritual moments of truth the human soul is vulnerable, especially when it has gone through such dramatic polarizations as yours has. I can tell you're thirsty in many ways, and that you hope for your life to benefit this planet. Just keep trusting God to lead you to where your life will find real validation, and where your desire to do His will finds its most obvious outlet. Anytime you're following God, you're right where you need to be. Keep searching for Him, and conversing with Him. I will pray for you.
My reply:
Hi Seth,
I am happily surprised to see that you read and commented on my blog. Thank you! I've read many of your blogs and some of your brother's, too and have found them to be a refreshing reminder of our need for balance, but also the struggle we go through to keep that balance.
You're right, I am thirsty. I've always been thirsty. I'm like a spiritual sponge or something...my poor friends are probably exhausted by my crazy spiritual life.
I do trust God with my life. This is of the utmost importance to me, especially right now while I'm waiting to receive another liver transplant and my health is so bad. When you're so close to death and you spend what feels like half your time in the ER, you just have to trust God. I know He always works out all things for good.
Thank you so much for your prayers. I believe in the power of prayer and it means a lot to me when people pray for me.
MySpace comment from James:
This was a great blog! I enjoyed reading about your spiritual experiences and how you have gotten to where you are now...or back to where you started or somewhere in between, whichever fits best. Stories like this always get me thinking. I make no secret of disillusionment regarding the Seventh-day Adventist Church and Christianity as a whole. While I know that everyone does not feel the same as I do when it comes to religion/spiritual matters, I do believe that everyone can relate to a desire for internal peace. I don't think there is a correct answer to the Wicca or Christianity question you pose to yourself at the end of your blog. Which one brings you peace of mind? No matter what realm a person chooses to search, the ultimate objective is finding that Peace. I will not pretend to know any in-depth details about Wicca (it's pantheistic and generally peaceful), but I do have a good understanding of Christianity (especially SDA) and in my opinion it's six of one, half a dozen of the other. I don't mean that as an insult. They are all belief systems attempting to bring people the same thing; peace. Maybe the hippies of the 60s had it right the whole time...
I don't know if there is a God the way Adventists and other Christians believe or some other higher power out there, but I do know that we have life in the hear-and-now and that there is no guarantee or warranty on that life. Doing things that make us truly happy (and not masking some type of problem) is the best thing we can do for ourselves when it comes to that "spiritual world". Life can be taken away at any time, it is foolish to waste time battling over belief systems which are allegedly peaceful. Don't get me wrong I do believe that there are basic moral standards that we should live by and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't influenced by western-Christianity, but that does not make it solely "Christian" at the core as they have existed long before the 1st century CE.
It is my desire to live as freely in body, mind, and spirit as possible. Though I sometimes lose perspective, I find myself a happier person when I keep that spiritual freedom close to my heart.
Whoops, this got long! Didn't mean to blog hog!
My reply:
Blog hogging is totally allowed! I always hope that my blogs will make people think and I like to hear where their train of thought is. Also, I like it when people comment on certain points of the blog or ask questions because it gives me a chance to clarify. Sometimes it's hard for me to express myself in a way that others understand and I don't want people to be confused or get the wrong idea from something I said.
Do I totally 100% agree with everything Wicca teaches? Heck no! Just as I don't 100% agree with what SDAs or other Christians teach (although I can say the latter with more confidence because I spent years studying that religion and I've been studying Wicca for only a month or less now). Wiccans also have a lot of false concepts about Christians. You have no idea how much I have to read between the lines sometimes. But, I have to do that when Christians talk about Paganism, too, so...
I'm not interested in getting involved with a church or anything like that. I'm not studying Wicca to make new friends (though that's been a wonderful side-effect, lol!), to get involved with a coven or to perform cool rites. I'm studying Wicca to get closer to my spirituality. Yes, I go to events and meetings with my Pagan friends and I attend workshops but that's about it. I have chosen to be a solitary practitioner (if I were to place myself in the Wiccan category) because I know my spiritual path is my own and only I can walk it. Personally, I just do better by myself (something my church life just would not allow, as you know).
Also, "being Wicca" does not require that you forsake your previous religion. I see obvious examples of this in a pagan group I attend where we have a Jew, a Christian, some Wiccans and some people like me who are just a weird hybrid or lots of things.
But anyway, you're right. Peace is what we aspire to and the peace that my current spiritual path brings me is great (now if only the menopause would leave me alone...). There's no constant need to get down on your knees and beg for forgiveness, no need to watch your every step in case sin should be lurking. There is only following your heart and taking responsibility for your actions. Works for me, because I swear, if I ever have to go back to my old, "Dear-Lord-forgive-me-I-ate-cheese-and-watched-3-seconds-of-television" life I'll go nuts.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Holiday Health Update
Hi Everyone,
The past week or so has not been a good one for me health-wise. I overdid it over the weekend (even though my body was telling me to stay home and rest) and then on Monday I collapsed. Actually, I started collapsing Sunday night...The point is, I've spent the week basically not moving from my recliner. My pain hasn't been as bad as usual, but I've been so weak and tired. Sleeping is as hard as ever and the menopause isn't helping with anything. I've been doing a lot of Reiki on myself, which has helped magnificently. So has my work with crystals and gemstones. I've also been using my old methods or aromatherapy, herbal teas, herbal/aromatherapy baths and meditation as well. Sometimes all I have the energy to do is close my eyes and meditate and this gives me a chance to let my imagination soar and do things I can't do in real life!
However, migraines have been an almost daily occurrence. I probably have 1-2 days a week where I don't have a migraine. The rest of the time I'm relying on my Imatrex and natural remedies to get me through it.
The pain doctors are now having me take the 12-hour, slow-release narcotics and only allowing me to use the regular ones when I absolutely have to; and if I do, I have to log it. This has been okay since I've just been staying in, but I rely on those narcotics to allow me to do normal things, like going out with friends or cleaning the rat cages.
This weekend is a busy one for me, what with Yule, getting ready for Christmas, babysitting and an Omaha trip (for fun with friends, not to see doctors). And now I've come down with a lovely cold, so my disappointment that I may have to miss these things is mounting. So is my worry that I won't be able to meet expectations. Speaking of which, if you do not receive a Christmas card or gift from me or receive one late, I am very sorry. I've been trying my hardest, but there's only so much I can do and I've already run myself into the ground with overwork many times these past couple of months. My mom, also, has been working like a mad woman to make money and, in her spare time, to take care of me and my sister. So I apologize ahead of time for any lack of gifts or cards. I have not forgotten you!
Blessings to you all!
The past week or so has not been a good one for me health-wise. I overdid it over the weekend (even though my body was telling me to stay home and rest) and then on Monday I collapsed. Actually, I started collapsing Sunday night...The point is, I've spent the week basically not moving from my recliner. My pain hasn't been as bad as usual, but I've been so weak and tired. Sleeping is as hard as ever and the menopause isn't helping with anything. I've been doing a lot of Reiki on myself, which has helped magnificently. So has my work with crystals and gemstones. I've also been using my old methods or aromatherapy, herbal teas, herbal/aromatherapy baths and meditation as well. Sometimes all I have the energy to do is close my eyes and meditate and this gives me a chance to let my imagination soar and do things I can't do in real life!
However, migraines have been an almost daily occurrence. I probably have 1-2 days a week where I don't have a migraine. The rest of the time I'm relying on my Imatrex and natural remedies to get me through it.
The pain doctors are now having me take the 12-hour, slow-release narcotics and only allowing me to use the regular ones when I absolutely have to; and if I do, I have to log it. This has been okay since I've just been staying in, but I rely on those narcotics to allow me to do normal things, like going out with friends or cleaning the rat cages.
This weekend is a busy one for me, what with Yule, getting ready for Christmas, babysitting and an Omaha trip (for fun with friends, not to see doctors). And now I've come down with a lovely cold, so my disappointment that I may have to miss these things is mounting. So is my worry that I won't be able to meet expectations. Speaking of which, if you do not receive a Christmas card or gift from me or receive one late, I am very sorry. I've been trying my hardest, but there's only so much I can do and I've already run myself into the ground with overwork many times these past couple of months. My mom, also, has been working like a mad woman to make money and, in her spare time, to take care of me and my sister. So I apologize ahead of time for any lack of gifts or cards. I have not forgotten you!
Blessings to you all!
Sunday, November 30, 2008
A Brief Spiritual History
Before you read this blog, think on this: If you have nothing nice to say when commenting on it, don't say anything at all. Some of you will understand where I'm coming from and some of you will try to smash a Bible over my head. If you are intending on the latter please don't comment on this blog. Or better yet, don't read it. I will delete the comments I find offensive.
That said, I'm sorry this is long, but it's the best I could do for a "brief" history:
When I was fourteen I experienced a “spiritual awakening”. I can’t really explain what happened. All I know is that one day, as I was lost in thought, I suddenly realized what I wanted to do with my life. I knew that I wanted to be a writer, or some other kind of artist, but that seems so insignificant now. It was like the simple knowing of seeing a road ahead of me opened me up somehow to higher things. I saw the world in this new light and it was alive, beautiful and, well, spiritual. It was as if a veil lifted and I could see the spiritual world and the physical. My heart opened and overflowed.
I had always known, without a doubt, that there was a higher being, a Creator, someone who understood me and loved me. Being brought up a Christian (though a rather nontraditional one) I identified this being as God. I had often felt His presence strongly when I was in church, but not because I listened to the sermon. It was because I was still and listened to that Presence that I could not ignore. The goings-on of the church service meant nothing to me and I assumed they weren’t particularly thrilling to God either since He was obviously wrapped up in a conversation with me.
So when I had this “spiritual awakening” I felt again that Presence, only this time I wasn’t in a church. It was with me all the time. My eyes were opened to the natural world around me and I saw something more beautiful and more spiritual than any church building. I saw Nature. I talked to God through all things that grew, especially trees. I talked to God through the stars, the sun and the moon. However, when I say I “talked” to God I mean that I communed. My words were few, but the language of my heart I let flow towards this Great Spirit. I truly began to believe in magic.
My sister and our close friend became interested in the world of fairies and soon my spiritual tie to the Earth and the Divine took on a more solid outline. We walked any forest we could, calling out fairy chants and leaving gifts of flowers and sweet cakes and drinks, hoping for a glimpse of one of our winged friends. Through this we learned patience, concentration and quietness. We learned how to blend in with the Earth, to feel one with it. Though we knew it not, we had become advanced in meditation.
I also felt a oneness with the trees and felt sure that there were spirits or fairies of some kind who lived in and were the essence of trees. In my backyard there was a particularly handsome tree. I felt a strong connection with it and often spent time sitting underneath it or exploring it (or, at least, the parts I could reach). It wasn’t long after this that I began writing a story about a girl who could talk to plants and animals. This girl had a tree that she confided in named Mr. T. He was based on my favorite tree, which I then began calling by that name and even talking to. At night when I was lonely or couldn’t sleep, I would imagine that Mr. T left his tree and came to sit with me and talk with me.
Me, myy sister and friend soon found that others shared our love of the Fae, though perhaps in not such a childlike manner. We discovered the wonders of metaphysical shops and New Age music. This soon led me to the internet where I frequented such sites as http://www.newage.com.au. Here is where I, with my spiritual life thirsting, took the lead and started sprinting down the path of this spirituality that centered around nature and the Divine Spirit who made it and dwelt within it. I didn’t read much, though. I found most of the articles hard to read. I wasn’t familiar with any of the terminology or practices. I learned more just by being in nature and going where my heart lead.
This was around the year 2000 and reality shows about haunted houses and spirit mediums were at their height. My sister and our friend were, of course, big fans of these shows. We were soon using the Ouija board, holding séances and doing automatic writing, all of which truly delivered results (much to our pleasure). It wasn’t long before I decided I wanted to be a medium and help spirits on their way to heaven.
I knew that I was psychic. Granted, I’ve always been very sensitive and spiritual. I can often read people very well (though I don’t by any means use this as excuse to judge a person before getting to know them). However, something more started happening. When talking to Spirits I always heard them better than the others. I was very sensitive towards energies that objects held. For instance, we went to the history museum when I was 14 and I was bombarded with horrifying images of what every artifact has lived though. I was so spooked and overwhelmed by the intensity of events these objects had lived though (this was a World War II museum) that I had to leave and regain my energy and composure.
This same year my liver disease reoccurred in my new liver, which had been transplanted into me three years prior, when I was eleven. I was put on a high dose of steroids at this time and, let me tell you, steroids mess with my emotions. It’s like having horrible PMS, times ten. The steroids not only made me puffy (which is very hard on a girl in middle school who didn’t have many friends or a lot of self-confidence) but I would also start crying for no reason at all. Then I started just feeling numb. I began to hate myself so much that I would cut my arms.
When I was fifteen, almost sixteen, my mom sent me to a therapist she knew.
“You’ll like her, Becca. She’s into very spiritual things, just like you.”
I did like her. Not only was she spiritual, but she had some illnesses just like mine. I wasted no time in telling her that I was a psychic, I wanted to be a spirit medium and urged her to share with me what her spiritual experiences were. She asked if it would be okay if she used the Bible so we could read what it had to say on the matters at hand. I figured, why not? The Bible is a spiritual book, though I’d never read it before.
From them on my Bible studies began and after that led to do a Bible prophecy seminar which then led me to the Seventh-Day Adventist Church. I was now a born-again Christian and not only that I was a fundamentalist born-again Christian. My family was not pleased.
My family are Christians, but they’re more like Unitarians than Seventh - day Adventist. I had been brought up the Episcopal Church, though I don’t remember learning much about God there. Most of what I knew about God my mother had taught me. She taught me that God was both male and female or rather, that God was beyond gender. She taught me to be respectful off all religions and beliefs. Why, growing up we celebrated lots of cultural holidays because my mom wanted us (me and my sister, Natalie) to be culturally informed. We were always given freedom to choose our own paths, but I guess the whole Seventh - day Adventist thing wasn’t exactly what my family had had in mind.
As I progressed in my Christian walk I became more and more conservative. I don’t know why I went to such extremes, but at the time I felt I was doing it do give myself over to God and follow His Law completely and distance myself from worldly things. My Ouija Board, tarot cards and many other such things were given away. I kept all fiction books (especially Harry Potter) out of my sight. I wore dresses full time and sometimes even wore a head covering. My rock music was thrown out, I didn’t do anything on Saturdays but go to church, eat, go outside, study my Bible and pray. I took on my role as a mere woman who should always submit to man and cast off my worldly friends.
My life was completely different. Instead of glorying in the Earth I had to be careful to worship the Creator and not the creation. No books of fairy tales were to be seen by my eyes again and the only music that found my ears were hymns.
I struggled so much because I wanted my old life, but I knew it was bad and that hell would be my place if I should return to that old life. I did have wonderful times of communion with God and of being filled with his love, but the style of worship that was expected of me was hard. I wanted to burn incense and candles and have beautiful things on an altar. I wanted to sing songs that spoke to my heart. Somehow I had turned the understanding God of my youth, the God I talked to in the trees and the air and the skies, into a harsh judge. I needed to find my real God again.
When I was nineteen I started to fall away. I became so sick of everything. I just couldn’t do it anymore. Little by little, and full of fear that I would be “caught” I started wearing pants, listening to rock music and doing my hair. At some point I made a huge betrayal of God (in my mind) and set out some cakes in my backyard for the faeries, also saying a little prayer. To me, this was idol worship.
I came back to my conservative form of Christianity a few times, but each time I fell away again and always a little further. The biggest rebellion of all was when I started reading Harry Potter again. But by that point I didn’t care if I went to hell or not. At least I was happy and that was all I cared about. I wanted to spend my life being happy and following my heart. And in my heart of hearts I knew the true God didn’t judge me but that I was where I was supposed to be. You can imagine that my Christian friends didn’t take this too well.
Now here I am, 21-years-old and I started looking for the fairies again a few weeks ago. In fact you couldn’t drag me off of my laptop for days. I soon found Wicca which was not at all what I had expected it to be. It wasn’t dark, it was all about oneness with the Earth! The beauty of doing something meaningful with your prayers (doing a spell or rite) spoke straight to my heart. I began contacting pagan groups in Lincoln to find out about classes and things like that. I wasn’t ready to be Wiccan yet or anything, but I was definitely ready to learn. I found some of the most amazing people in these groups and, though they’ve only known me a few weeks, it’s like I’m part of their family now.
I’m starting to feel at home with my spirituality again. The more I read about Wicca the more it speaks to me. So do I worship the devil now? God forbid! I worship the same God whom I have worshipped since my youth. I’m leaning more about His/Her character, too. Do I still believe in the state of the dead? Yes. What about the spirit guides? I’ve gotten to know them again and they are amazing. They need a blog post all their own. How about the Sabbath? I haven’t thought about the Sabbath in a long time. I do still believe it is a blessed day and perhaps I should treat it in a more spiritual matter. However, I will go out and buy lunch on the Sabbath. I just don’t understand anymore why that is such a big deal. Do I still go to church? No. Number one, my health doesn’t always allow me. Number 2, even at the best of times I get nothing out of church and usually end up offended anyway. However, I may be attending a Bible study next month.
So which is it? Wicca or Christianity? The answer: I don’t know. I’m only walking the path and making the choices as I go.
That said, I'm sorry this is long, but it's the best I could do for a "brief" history:
When I was fourteen I experienced a “spiritual awakening”. I can’t really explain what happened. All I know is that one day, as I was lost in thought, I suddenly realized what I wanted to do with my life. I knew that I wanted to be a writer, or some other kind of artist, but that seems so insignificant now. It was like the simple knowing of seeing a road ahead of me opened me up somehow to higher things. I saw the world in this new light and it was alive, beautiful and, well, spiritual. It was as if a veil lifted and I could see the spiritual world and the physical. My heart opened and overflowed.
I had always known, without a doubt, that there was a higher being, a Creator, someone who understood me and loved me. Being brought up a Christian (though a rather nontraditional one) I identified this being as God. I had often felt His presence strongly when I was in church, but not because I listened to the sermon. It was because I was still and listened to that Presence that I could not ignore. The goings-on of the church service meant nothing to me and I assumed they weren’t particularly thrilling to God either since He was obviously wrapped up in a conversation with me.
So when I had this “spiritual awakening” I felt again that Presence, only this time I wasn’t in a church. It was with me all the time. My eyes were opened to the natural world around me and I saw something more beautiful and more spiritual than any church building. I saw Nature. I talked to God through all things that grew, especially trees. I talked to God through the stars, the sun and the moon. However, when I say I “talked” to God I mean that I communed. My words were few, but the language of my heart I let flow towards this Great Spirit. I truly began to believe in magic.
My sister and our close friend became interested in the world of fairies and soon my spiritual tie to the Earth and the Divine took on a more solid outline. We walked any forest we could, calling out fairy chants and leaving gifts of flowers and sweet cakes and drinks, hoping for a glimpse of one of our winged friends. Through this we learned patience, concentration and quietness. We learned how to blend in with the Earth, to feel one with it. Though we knew it not, we had become advanced in meditation.
I also felt a oneness with the trees and felt sure that there were spirits or fairies of some kind who lived in and were the essence of trees. In my backyard there was a particularly handsome tree. I felt a strong connection with it and often spent time sitting underneath it or exploring it (or, at least, the parts I could reach). It wasn’t long after this that I began writing a story about a girl who could talk to plants and animals. This girl had a tree that she confided in named Mr. T. He was based on my favorite tree, which I then began calling by that name and even talking to. At night when I was lonely or couldn’t sleep, I would imagine that Mr. T left his tree and came to sit with me and talk with me.
Me, myy sister and friend soon found that others shared our love of the Fae, though perhaps in not such a childlike manner. We discovered the wonders of metaphysical shops and New Age music. This soon led me to the internet where I frequented such sites as http://www.newage.com.au. Here is where I, with my spiritual life thirsting, took the lead and started sprinting down the path of this spirituality that centered around nature and the Divine Spirit who made it and dwelt within it. I didn’t read much, though. I found most of the articles hard to read. I wasn’t familiar with any of the terminology or practices. I learned more just by being in nature and going where my heart lead.
This was around the year 2000 and reality shows about haunted houses and spirit mediums were at their height. My sister and our friend were, of course, big fans of these shows. We were soon using the Ouija board, holding séances and doing automatic writing, all of which truly delivered results (much to our pleasure). It wasn’t long before I decided I wanted to be a medium and help spirits on their way to heaven.
I knew that I was psychic. Granted, I’ve always been very sensitive and spiritual. I can often read people very well (though I don’t by any means use this as excuse to judge a person before getting to know them). However, something more started happening. When talking to Spirits I always heard them better than the others. I was very sensitive towards energies that objects held. For instance, we went to the history museum when I was 14 and I was bombarded with horrifying images of what every artifact has lived though. I was so spooked and overwhelmed by the intensity of events these objects had lived though (this was a World War II museum) that I had to leave and regain my energy and composure.
This same year my liver disease reoccurred in my new liver, which had been transplanted into me three years prior, when I was eleven. I was put on a high dose of steroids at this time and, let me tell you, steroids mess with my emotions. It’s like having horrible PMS, times ten. The steroids not only made me puffy (which is very hard on a girl in middle school who didn’t have many friends or a lot of self-confidence) but I would also start crying for no reason at all. Then I started just feeling numb. I began to hate myself so much that I would cut my arms.
When I was fifteen, almost sixteen, my mom sent me to a therapist she knew.
“You’ll like her, Becca. She’s into very spiritual things, just like you.”
I did like her. Not only was she spiritual, but she had some illnesses just like mine. I wasted no time in telling her that I was a psychic, I wanted to be a spirit medium and urged her to share with me what her spiritual experiences were. She asked if it would be okay if she used the Bible so we could read what it had to say on the matters at hand. I figured, why not? The Bible is a spiritual book, though I’d never read it before.
From them on my Bible studies began and after that led to do a Bible prophecy seminar which then led me to the Seventh-Day Adventist Church. I was now a born-again Christian and not only that I was a fundamentalist born-again Christian. My family was not pleased.
My family are Christians, but they’re more like Unitarians than Seventh - day Adventist. I had been brought up the Episcopal Church, though I don’t remember learning much about God there. Most of what I knew about God my mother had taught me. She taught me that God was both male and female or rather, that God was beyond gender. She taught me to be respectful off all religions and beliefs. Why, growing up we celebrated lots of cultural holidays because my mom wanted us (me and my sister, Natalie) to be culturally informed. We were always given freedom to choose our own paths, but I guess the whole Seventh - day Adventist thing wasn’t exactly what my family had had in mind.
As I progressed in my Christian walk I became more and more conservative. I don’t know why I went to such extremes, but at the time I felt I was doing it do give myself over to God and follow His Law completely and distance myself from worldly things. My Ouija Board, tarot cards and many other such things were given away. I kept all fiction books (especially Harry Potter) out of my sight. I wore dresses full time and sometimes even wore a head covering. My rock music was thrown out, I didn’t do anything on Saturdays but go to church, eat, go outside, study my Bible and pray. I took on my role as a mere woman who should always submit to man and cast off my worldly friends.
My life was completely different. Instead of glorying in the Earth I had to be careful to worship the Creator and not the creation. No books of fairy tales were to be seen by my eyes again and the only music that found my ears were hymns.
I struggled so much because I wanted my old life, but I knew it was bad and that hell would be my place if I should return to that old life. I did have wonderful times of communion with God and of being filled with his love, but the style of worship that was expected of me was hard. I wanted to burn incense and candles and have beautiful things on an altar. I wanted to sing songs that spoke to my heart. Somehow I had turned the understanding God of my youth, the God I talked to in the trees and the air and the skies, into a harsh judge. I needed to find my real God again.
When I was nineteen I started to fall away. I became so sick of everything. I just couldn’t do it anymore. Little by little, and full of fear that I would be “caught” I started wearing pants, listening to rock music and doing my hair. At some point I made a huge betrayal of God (in my mind) and set out some cakes in my backyard for the faeries, also saying a little prayer. To me, this was idol worship.
I came back to my conservative form of Christianity a few times, but each time I fell away again and always a little further. The biggest rebellion of all was when I started reading Harry Potter again. But by that point I didn’t care if I went to hell or not. At least I was happy and that was all I cared about. I wanted to spend my life being happy and following my heart. And in my heart of hearts I knew the true God didn’t judge me but that I was where I was supposed to be. You can imagine that my Christian friends didn’t take this too well.
Now here I am, 21-years-old and I started looking for the fairies again a few weeks ago. In fact you couldn’t drag me off of my laptop for days. I soon found Wicca which was not at all what I had expected it to be. It wasn’t dark, it was all about oneness with the Earth! The beauty of doing something meaningful with your prayers (doing a spell or rite) spoke straight to my heart. I began contacting pagan groups in Lincoln to find out about classes and things like that. I wasn’t ready to be Wiccan yet or anything, but I was definitely ready to learn. I found some of the most amazing people in these groups and, though they’ve only known me a few weeks, it’s like I’m part of their family now.
I’m starting to feel at home with my spirituality again. The more I read about Wicca the more it speaks to me. So do I worship the devil now? God forbid! I worship the same God whom I have worshipped since my youth. I’m leaning more about His/Her character, too. Do I still believe in the state of the dead? Yes. What about the spirit guides? I’ve gotten to know them again and they are amazing. They need a blog post all their own. How about the Sabbath? I haven’t thought about the Sabbath in a long time. I do still believe it is a blessed day and perhaps I should treat it in a more spiritual matter. However, I will go out and buy lunch on the Sabbath. I just don’t understand anymore why that is such a big deal. Do I still go to church? No. Number one, my health doesn’t always allow me. Number 2, even at the best of times I get nothing out of church and usually end up offended anyway. However, I may be attending a Bible study next month.
So which is it? Wicca or Christianity? The answer: I don’t know. I’m only walking the path and making the choices as I go.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Health Update
Hi everyone,
I know it's been a VERY long time since I've written a health update. Again, not a lot has been going on. I've had some really good days and some really bad days. A few days ago I was in the ER for a pain episode. It started at 8 PM so I loaded up on the heavy drugs and prayed they'd kick in soon. Well, they didn't and it wasn't long before I was puking my guts out as well. I tried so hard to deal with things at home, but it got to the point where I was severely dehydrated, exhausted and still in pain after copious amounts of narcotics. We weren't getting anywhere and it hadn't been worth the hours of agony to try and do things at home so around midnight mom and I headed for the ER.
Then we had the normal problem of getting an IV in me, made so much worse by my dehydration. Some IV goddess eventually came in and made it look easy as pie. Still, one of the most painful IV experiences I've had. I'm sure there were some people down the hall scared out of their wits by my screaming. I got lots of morphine and nausea drugs, not to mention glorious IV fluids (thank you God for IV fluids!) I was feeling a little better. Well, I felt well enough to stand for an X-ray and memorize the Spanish word for pregnancy. I was not thrilled, however, to see my X-ray up on a screen where my chest was more visible than I would have liked it to be for the elderly male X-ray tech.
Anyway, it was weird because usually the pain drugs worked and this time they weren't. They even switched me to the super morphine stuff and even that didn't make a huge difference. The nausea med did help, however and I was finally able to drink some water. I was eventually sent home since my X-ray looked normal. At home I continued to medicate through the night and was still in a lot of pain. I was able to sleep, though and that was a huge plus.
I was still sleeping a lot and having extra pain through to Thanksgiving. However, on Friday I seemed to be doing better. I'm still not tip-top but I did manage to clean the rat cages myself and even do some Black Friday shopping, so I'm pretty proud of myself.
I know it's been a VERY long time since I've written a health update. Again, not a lot has been going on. I've had some really good days and some really bad days. A few days ago I was in the ER for a pain episode. It started at 8 PM so I loaded up on the heavy drugs and prayed they'd kick in soon. Well, they didn't and it wasn't long before I was puking my guts out as well. I tried so hard to deal with things at home, but it got to the point where I was severely dehydrated, exhausted and still in pain after copious amounts of narcotics. We weren't getting anywhere and it hadn't been worth the hours of agony to try and do things at home so around midnight mom and I headed for the ER.
Then we had the normal problem of getting an IV in me, made so much worse by my dehydration. Some IV goddess eventually came in and made it look easy as pie. Still, one of the most painful IV experiences I've had. I'm sure there were some people down the hall scared out of their wits by my screaming. I got lots of morphine and nausea drugs, not to mention glorious IV fluids (thank you God for IV fluids!) I was feeling a little better. Well, I felt well enough to stand for an X-ray and memorize the Spanish word for pregnancy. I was not thrilled, however, to see my X-ray up on a screen where my chest was more visible than I would have liked it to be for the elderly male X-ray tech.
Anyway, it was weird because usually the pain drugs worked and this time they weren't. They even switched me to the super morphine stuff and even that didn't make a huge difference. The nausea med did help, however and I was finally able to drink some water. I was eventually sent home since my X-ray looked normal. At home I continued to medicate through the night and was still in a lot of pain. I was able to sleep, though and that was a huge plus.
I was still sleeping a lot and having extra pain through to Thanksgiving. However, on Friday I seemed to be doing better. I'm still not tip-top but I did manage to clean the rat cages myself and even do some Black Friday shopping, so I'm pretty proud of myself.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Mr. T
**pictures from magazines were posted in my journal with captions**
The previous was posted on a night when my sleeping pill got the best of me. Nevertheless, I see the outline to a story.
The weather has been nice lately. Very nice. Today it is horribly windy, though. I can feel the great Nebraskan allergies flying up my nose. It has gotten so warm that new buds and leaves have formed on the branches. This is typical for a Nebraskan autumn, though.
The sun is starting to set and I have had my time with the trees. I’ve collected some leaves for pressing as well.
I have been thinking much on faerie lately and how much I love the trees. There are faerie men inside I like to think. Like guardian angels and we all have one. Mr. T was a tree at my old house and a good friend of mine. He was, of course, in my story which I never finished. I have fantasies of going to see him again.
The previous was posted on a night when my sleeping pill got the best of me. Nevertheless, I see the outline to a story.
The weather has been nice lately. Very nice. Today it is horribly windy, though. I can feel the great Nebraskan allergies flying up my nose. It has gotten so warm that new buds and leaves have formed on the branches. This is typical for a Nebraskan autumn, though.
The sun is starting to set and I have had my time with the trees. I’ve collected some leaves for pressing as well.
I have been thinking much on faerie lately and how much I love the trees. There are faerie men inside I like to think. Like guardian angels and we all have one. Mr. T was a tree at my old house and a good friend of mine. He was, of course, in my story which I never finished. I have fantasies of going to see him again.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Photos from Rayne's House
I stayed at Rayne's house for about three days and two nights because I had a couple appointments in Omaha.Click on the picture to see more pictures and videos from my visit. There isn't much and it isn't all that exciting, but I thought I'd put them up anyway.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Sleepy In the Doctor's Office
The quiet humming of this room makes the tranquil world seem unreal. The sickly tranquility of waiting in a doctor’s office. I want to leave because there is so much left to do, experience and share today. I wouldn’t mind a nap in the car, either.
After a quiet but busy stay at the Mazur family’s home I’ve accumulated many gifts of the crocheted variety and the pet variety. Coming home with us are the two hairless dumbo girls, Pumpkin and Bunny Foo Foo, and Mr. Darcy the beta fish.
I will miss being at Rayne’s house, but I’m excited to get home and incorporate all my new things into my life.
This is an awfully long wait to see the psychiatrist. They already had to postpone my appointment by an hour and here I am, still waiting. The doctor is twenty-five minutes late at this time. My eyes are closing.
I kept falling asleep, but the doctor finally came. Now I’m waiting for Ginny to come get me. There are dozens of ladybugs on the building. Strange.
After a quiet but busy stay at the Mazur family’s home I’ve accumulated many gifts of the crocheted variety and the pet variety. Coming home with us are the two hairless dumbo girls, Pumpkin and Bunny Foo Foo, and Mr. Darcy the beta fish.
I will miss being at Rayne’s house, but I’m excited to get home and incorporate all my new things into my life.
This is an awfully long wait to see the psychiatrist. They already had to postpone my appointment by an hour and here I am, still waiting. The doctor is twenty-five minutes late at this time. My eyes are closing.
I kept falling asleep, but the doctor finally came. Now I’m waiting for Ginny to come get me. There are dozens of ladybugs on the building. Strange.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
More ER Fun
Hello all,
Today started out okay. I thought myself well enough to brave our normal Sunday morning routine of going to Barnes and Noble. After awhile, though, I started to have pain which quickly turned into a horrible episode. We left right away and my sister dropped my mom and I off at the ER. I was spared a CT scan because I've had so many and the doctor didn't want to up my cancer risk by exposing me to more radiation. I got an X-ray instead and this time I was full of gas! Lovely. The doctor said my X-ray looked just like the ones they see for really colic-y babies. So, after two doses of morphine and a heafy dose of anti-nausea med I was ready to go home. I'm to take Gas-X and do the catnip tea thing.
And that was my day.
Becca
Today started out okay. I thought myself well enough to brave our normal Sunday morning routine of going to Barnes and Noble. After awhile, though, I started to have pain which quickly turned into a horrible episode. We left right away and my sister dropped my mom and I off at the ER. I was spared a CT scan because I've had so many and the doctor didn't want to up my cancer risk by exposing me to more radiation. I got an X-ray instead and this time I was full of gas! Lovely. The doctor said my X-ray looked just like the ones they see for really colic-y babies. So, after two doses of morphine and a heafy dose of anti-nausea med I was ready to go home. I'm to take Gas-X and do the catnip tea thing.
And that was my day.
Becca
Friday, October 17, 2008
Boring, Poetic, Rambling
Last night was horrid. I suppose I ate too much before bed. And then there’s the matter of my bowels being still clogged up. Anyway, I was in half wakefulness fighting awful nausea until forty-past-two in the morning when I declared it too much and woke my mother. God bless her, she went straight to the pharmacy to pick up my Zofran.
Unfortunately, the Zofran did little for me. I was also most annoyingly restless. After taking some pain medication and my anti-anxiety pill I paced from the front door to the breakfast nook. Soon I was able to truly relax in my recliner and get a few hours precious sleep before I had to wake and make myself ready to see the doctor.
Not long before falling asleep I felt the peculiar feeling of my blood vessels either narrowing or expanding. It does not hurt, it is just strange and almost seems to make one go limp for a time. The thing was explained almost immediately--it started to rain.
The weather is fairly good today: a slight autumn chill with sunshine.
I feel not able to write about the outings of my short day for I feel I must take a nap presently
I again, as yesterday, slept away the dinner hours. I did in fact sleep for almost five hours this time. And again I was disturbed by my mother who spent some length of time on my computer.
I was eventually forced to leave my recliner and ready myself for bed while mom tended to the rats. And so here I am now at the midnight hour. I’ve read through at least three prefaces and the first two chapters of Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte.
I did nothing today that I should have done except appear at the doctor’s and do one load of laundry.
Mom and I went to Barnes and Noble after my appointment. I had a bottle of cherry and pomegranate juice, most of my berry pastry and most of my half of a pesto, cheese and tomato sandwich (I removed all but one of the tomatoes).
Mom had to leave to meet Ginny at a doctor’s appointment so Gramma came and got me and we stopped at Ideal. She helped me select a strip steak and some veal cutlets. I am perhaps the most ignorant of all people on the subject of meat. I managed to cook my strip steak myself and to my satisfaction. Gramma has promised to teach me to prepare the cutlets tomorrow. I was also glad to treat myself my favorite kind of goat cheese and a loaf of beer wheat bread from the Grain Bin while we were at the store. Oh, and I mustn’t forget the clotted cream!
The doctor says I still have much stool in me, so my poor weight is even poorer than I thought. I now weigh around 116 pounds.
I hope that this night affords me more sleep and tomorrow more wakefulness. And now I lay my head once more to the pillow, weigh down my limbs with quilts and pray that God dusts my eyes with stars and crowns my head with moonbeams until such a time as I am rested and ready to walk forthwith again.
Unfortunately, the Zofran did little for me. I was also most annoyingly restless. After taking some pain medication and my anti-anxiety pill I paced from the front door to the breakfast nook. Soon I was able to truly relax in my recliner and get a few hours precious sleep before I had to wake and make myself ready to see the doctor.
Not long before falling asleep I felt the peculiar feeling of my blood vessels either narrowing or expanding. It does not hurt, it is just strange and almost seems to make one go limp for a time. The thing was explained almost immediately--it started to rain.
The weather is fairly good today: a slight autumn chill with sunshine.
I feel not able to write about the outings of my short day for I feel I must take a nap presently
I again, as yesterday, slept away the dinner hours. I did in fact sleep for almost five hours this time. And again I was disturbed by my mother who spent some length of time on my computer.
I was eventually forced to leave my recliner and ready myself for bed while mom tended to the rats. And so here I am now at the midnight hour. I’ve read through at least three prefaces and the first two chapters of Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte.
I did nothing today that I should have done except appear at the doctor’s and do one load of laundry.
Mom and I went to Barnes and Noble after my appointment. I had a bottle of cherry and pomegranate juice, most of my berry pastry and most of my half of a pesto, cheese and tomato sandwich (I removed all but one of the tomatoes).
Mom had to leave to meet Ginny at a doctor’s appointment so Gramma came and got me and we stopped at Ideal. She helped me select a strip steak and some veal cutlets. I am perhaps the most ignorant of all people on the subject of meat. I managed to cook my strip steak myself and to my satisfaction. Gramma has promised to teach me to prepare the cutlets tomorrow. I was also glad to treat myself my favorite kind of goat cheese and a loaf of beer wheat bread from the Grain Bin while we were at the store. Oh, and I mustn’t forget the clotted cream!
The doctor says I still have much stool in me, so my poor weight is even poorer than I thought. I now weigh around 116 pounds.
I hope that this night affords me more sleep and tomorrow more wakefulness. And now I lay my head once more to the pillow, weigh down my limbs with quilts and pray that God dusts my eyes with stars and crowns my head with moonbeams until such a time as I am rested and ready to walk forthwith again.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Health Updates
I've still been suffering from horrible pain, intestinal difficulties and throwing up. We called my doctor's office this morning and they advised us to go to the ER for more tests. So I suppose that is where we'll be going as soon as my mom gets home from work. I seem to just be getting worse with whatever is going on and I hope they can find a solution.
At the moment I'm not in so much pain, but that's due to two doses of narcotics, one of them being the super duper one. I'm going to put a few things in order here, drink a lot of water so my veins will stick out and then I'll be ready for whatever happens.
Many of have been asking about my readiness for a transplant.I am on the list and waiting. I'm not in good shape for a transplant, but I will of course be offered any organ that is right for me. It is up to the doctors to decide if I am able to endure the surgery and recovery at whatever time that organ should become available. Also, the transplant area of the hospital at UNMC works with people who need to be in the hospital up until transplant time by doing everything they can to get them in as good of shape as possible for transplant.
Unfortunately, my placement on the transplant list has nothing to do with how much pain I'm in or how many other troubles I'm having. It relies mostly of liver function numbers from blood tests. Mine usually aren't too bad, considering, so I have not been moved any higher.
I hope that answers some of your questions. I will try to keep you all as updated as possible but you can all feel free to call me, my mother or my sister for more current details on how I'm doing. I know some of you hear about me further down the grapevine in which case feel free to call your normal informer ;-)
<3 Becca
_____________________________
We did go to the ER (and I'm sorry I haven't gotten around to updating ya'll sooner) and a CT scan showed that I was full to bursting with stool. So I got a lovely hospital enema (they're crazy) and was sent on my way.
All the narcotics I've been having to take are making my constipated, thus the build up.
Even after being cleaned out I feel like crap and am still in the same amount of pain. I've been doing a lot of laxatives at home which, so far, haven't made much of a difference.
So that's where we are. We may be going to see my GI or regular family doctor for a follow-up exam.
Becca
At the moment I'm not in so much pain, but that's due to two doses of narcotics, one of them being the super duper one. I'm going to put a few things in order here, drink a lot of water so my veins will stick out and then I'll be ready for whatever happens.
Many of have been asking about my readiness for a transplant.I am on the list and waiting. I'm not in good shape for a transplant, but I will of course be offered any organ that is right for me. It is up to the doctors to decide if I am able to endure the surgery and recovery at whatever time that organ should become available. Also, the transplant area of the hospital at UNMC works with people who need to be in the hospital up until transplant time by doing everything they can to get them in as good of shape as possible for transplant.
Unfortunately, my placement on the transplant list has nothing to do with how much pain I'm in or how many other troubles I'm having. It relies mostly of liver function numbers from blood tests. Mine usually aren't too bad, considering, so I have not been moved any higher.
I hope that answers some of your questions. I will try to keep you all as updated as possible but you can all feel free to call me, my mother or my sister for more current details on how I'm doing. I know some of you hear about me further down the grapevine in which case feel free to call your normal informer ;-)
<3 Becca
_____________________________
We did go to the ER (and I'm sorry I haven't gotten around to updating ya'll sooner) and a CT scan showed that I was full to bursting with stool. So I got a lovely hospital enema (they're crazy) and was sent on my way.
All the narcotics I've been having to take are making my constipated, thus the build up.
Even after being cleaned out I feel like crap and am still in the same amount of pain. I've been doing a lot of laxatives at home which, so far, haven't made much of a difference.
So that's where we are. We may be going to see my GI or regular family doctor for a follow-up exam.
Becca
Saturday, October 11, 2008
A Health and Rat Update
Hi all,
We've had a serious sickness of some sort come into our home and take the lives of four of our rats and make the rest of them very sick. It's been a very exhausting time trying to save the remaining rats and grieving over those who are gone. Daisy, Francis, Bindi and Oreo have passed on. On Thursday I pretty much collapsed from everything that had gone on and I haven't been back to normal yet. In fact, I've been getting worse.
Last night was a close call, but I managed to get through without an ER visit.
Fast forward to earlier in the week. I did go to the pain clinic and I got two nerve blocks for the pain in my pelvic/groin area. Two shots of lidocaine and steroids were given. The lidocaine was heavenly, but once it wore off I was back to where I started and haven't felt any improvement since. I got back in about a week for more shots.
Becca
The Departed:
Daisy
Francis
Bindi
Oreo (on the right)
We've had a serious sickness of some sort come into our home and take the lives of four of our rats and make the rest of them very sick. It's been a very exhausting time trying to save the remaining rats and grieving over those who are gone. Daisy, Francis, Bindi and Oreo have passed on. On Thursday I pretty much collapsed from everything that had gone on and I haven't been back to normal yet. In fact, I've been getting worse.
Last night was a close call, but I managed to get through without an ER visit.
Fast forward to earlier in the week. I did go to the pain clinic and I got two nerve blocks for the pain in my pelvic/groin area. Two shots of lidocaine and steroids were given. The lidocaine was heavenly, but once it wore off I was back to where I started and haven't felt any improvement since. I got back in about a week for more shots.
Becca
The Departed:
Daisy
Francis
Bindi
Oreo (on the right)
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Pain, ER, You Know The Drill
Latest health update email:
Friday morning: I have a bad pain episode and after lots of narcotics I'm able to at least lie down and be peaceful.
Saturday morning: Still having lots of pain, even with all the drugs.
Saturday evening: It's getting ridiculous and I'm about to snap from the ongoing pain so we go to the ER. Oh, yeah, and I have a migraine. Two x-rays and a CT scan later all that's been discovered is that my appendix is enlarged. We're told to watch closely for appendicitis and are sent home at 2 AM. The ER drugs were great, but I needed them every hour or so to stay on top of the pain. During the rest of the night at home I am constantly woken by more pain and spend a lot of time in the bathroom taking care of some serious constipation.
Sunday: Still in pain, though a tiny bit better.
Also, during this same weekend, three of our rats passed away: Francis, Bindi and Oreo. You three will be sorely missed!
On the bright side of things, my friend Amanda came over and cleaned all my rat cages and brought new hammocks, toys and boxes for all! Also, we got some beautiful mums that smell divine and mom got me my very first African Violet! I'm very excited about this.
Becca
Friday morning: I have a bad pain episode and after lots of narcotics I'm able to at least lie down and be peaceful.
Saturday morning: Still having lots of pain, even with all the drugs.
Saturday evening: It's getting ridiculous and I'm about to snap from the ongoing pain so we go to the ER. Oh, yeah, and I have a migraine. Two x-rays and a CT scan later all that's been discovered is that my appendix is enlarged. We're told to watch closely for appendicitis and are sent home at 2 AM. The ER drugs were great, but I needed them every hour or so to stay on top of the pain. During the rest of the night at home I am constantly woken by more pain and spend a lot of time in the bathroom taking care of some serious constipation.
Sunday: Still in pain, though a tiny bit better.
Also, during this same weekend, three of our rats passed away: Francis, Bindi and Oreo. You three will be sorely missed!
On the bright side of things, my friend Amanda came over and cleaned all my rat cages and brought new hammocks, toys and boxes for all! Also, we got some beautiful mums that smell divine and mom got me my very first African Violet! I'm very excited about this.
Becca
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Finally...A Health Update
Hello all,
I'm sorry I haven't sent out a health update in so long. My excuses are the same as always.
Since I left UNMC I've still been in lots of pain and having plenty of problems along those lines. And even with my determination to gain weight I have somehow lost 6 pounds. I hate how skinny and sickly I look and there is plenty of wardrobe frustration as all of my clothes are now huge on me.
My primary care physician has given me a prescription for a slow release narcotic that I would just take twice a day. That way I can stay on top of my pain better. Nights and mornings are the hardest times for me and often that is when all of my pain meds have worn off.
My GI doctor found anal fissures, which is just grand. We're going for a cream to treat them instead of surgery since I'm not doing too well with surgeries at present.
I'll be starting to get the Depolupron shots in about a week to make my body think I have menopause. Hopefully that will help with some of my lower abdominal pain. Also, she's referred me to a pain clinic, so we'll see how that goes.
All in all, I'm haivng a hard, painful time right now, but I have been able to be more active, which is nice.
Becca
I'm sorry I haven't sent out a health update in so long. My excuses are the same as always.
Since I left UNMC I've still been in lots of pain and having plenty of problems along those lines. And even with my determination to gain weight I have somehow lost 6 pounds. I hate how skinny and sickly I look and there is plenty of wardrobe frustration as all of my clothes are now huge on me.
My primary care physician has given me a prescription for a slow release narcotic that I would just take twice a day. That way I can stay on top of my pain better. Nights and mornings are the hardest times for me and often that is when all of my pain meds have worn off.
My GI doctor found anal fissures, which is just grand. We're going for a cream to treat them instead of surgery since I'm not doing too well with surgeries at present.
I'll be starting to get the Depolupron shots in about a week to make my body think I have menopause. Hopefully that will help with some of my lower abdominal pain. Also, she's referred me to a pain clinic, so we'll see how that goes.
All in all, I'm haivng a hard, painful time right now, but I have been able to be more active, which is nice.
Becca
Monday, September 29, 2008
Percival
Yes, I have a new rat. His name is Percival, he’s 4.5 weeks old and a beautiful specimen of a black hooded. His stripe evenly extends halfway down his tail. One half pink and one half black. And then his goolies…well…one is black and one is pink. But don’t tell him I told you that. He’s a sensitive little guy.
He is very sweet and affectionate, but also full of baby curiosity. He is such a happy-go-lucky guy and he makes me smile all the time.
Staci brought over two of my boys, Arnold and Walt, to come be Percival’s friends and they’ve been getting along great.
But Becca, you may be thinking, why this new rat when you can hardly care for the rats you have?
I like to think of myself as a seasoned rat owner (I’ve had rats non stop for 11 year) with good advice for all. The problem is, sometimes I don’t take my own advice. And sometimes I’m tired and out of it from my health problems and someone leaves me alone in PetCo.
Before I go any further I ask that no one preach to me. I know I know I know and I feel very guilty about my PetCo purchase already.
I asked to see Percival because the side of his face looked swollen and he was squinting his eye. It all looked very strange to me so I bought him and brought him home, getting down to research. I didn’t fine much to explain his Quasimoto face, so I took him into the vet. She thought that he probably got his eye scratched or hurt in someway and the rest was swelling. So now we’re treating the eye with a special cream and he is getting Baytril for his frequent sneezing.
I’m happy to have him here, though. He’s such a little joy. And I am just as happy to have two of my boys back with me. Arnold in particular has grown to be quite a porker. Do you know who else is happy that Percival is here? Amanda’s Apiro (Pirri). We can’t decide if she wants to mother him or eat him. Amanda is betting that she wants him with pesto sauce. On the other hand, Pirri was much comforted after poor Tula’s passing by my old rat Francis. They seemed to understand each other. Can you say play dates?
I haven’t got any pics of Percival yet (he’s fast!) but I have taken a video. I’ll get it uploaded soon and post it here so you can all see his cuteness.
He is very sweet and affectionate, but also full of baby curiosity. He is such a happy-go-lucky guy and he makes me smile all the time.
Staci brought over two of my boys, Arnold and Walt, to come be Percival’s friends and they’ve been getting along great.
But Becca, you may be thinking, why this new rat when you can hardly care for the rats you have?
I like to think of myself as a seasoned rat owner (I’ve had rats non stop for 11 year) with good advice for all. The problem is, sometimes I don’t take my own advice. And sometimes I’m tired and out of it from my health problems and someone leaves me alone in PetCo.
Before I go any further I ask that no one preach to me. I know I know I know and I feel very guilty about my PetCo purchase already.
I asked to see Percival because the side of his face looked swollen and he was squinting his eye. It all looked very strange to me so I bought him and brought him home, getting down to research. I didn’t fine much to explain his Quasimoto face, so I took him into the vet. She thought that he probably got his eye scratched or hurt in someway and the rest was swelling. So now we’re treating the eye with a special cream and he is getting Baytril for his frequent sneezing.
I’m happy to have him here, though. He’s such a little joy. And I am just as happy to have two of my boys back with me. Arnold in particular has grown to be quite a porker. Do you know who else is happy that Percival is here? Amanda’s Apiro (Pirri). We can’t decide if she wants to mother him or eat him. Amanda is betting that she wants him with pesto sauce. On the other hand, Pirri was much comforted after poor Tula’s passing by my old rat Francis. They seemed to understand each other. Can you say play dates?
I haven’t got any pics of Percival yet (he’s fast!) but I have taken a video. I’ll get it uploaded soon and post it here so you can all see his cuteness.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Sick and Busy
I've been wanting to write a blog for quite a few days now but have been sick and otherwise preoccupied with the things that demanded my immediate attention (rats, tidying, doctors appointments).
I've been in quite a bit of pain and even caught a small cold, so I often find myself in bed watching a movie and knitting. I've tried going down on the pain medication, but evnetually my pains become so bad that I give in. Still, once I've gotten my pain medication going I've been doing my best to keep active. I've also been having a lot of migraines lately; about 3 or 4 a week. Usually I have a migraine every other week or less, so this is perplexing. Allergies could be to blame, I suppose. So could my liver.
Last Thursday was a very happy day because our neighbor, Kathy Aiken, took my mom and I to the zoo. Kathy wheeled me around in a chair (I was quite exhausted from a grocery shopping trip that had occured shortly beforehand) and I demanded to see the whole zoo. I cannot even descibe my happiness because I had been wanting to go to the zoo all spring and summer and had not had anyone to take me. Sadly, the petting area was closed so I didn't get to pet any birds, ferrets, rats, or reptiles. Also, the gift shop had closed by the time we left. Oh, and the train had broken down. So mom has promised me we'll go back.
Our rat Francis has become very sickly and has also developed a cancerous tumor. As long as she'd happy and not in too much discomfort we will keep her here, but it may not me long until we have to get her put to sleep. Francis is getting spoiled rotten until then. Today we are taking her over to tea at my Gramma's so she can run around, snuggle with people and eat tea time snacks.
I've been in quite a bit of pain and even caught a small cold, so I often find myself in bed watching a movie and knitting. I've tried going down on the pain medication, but evnetually my pains become so bad that I give in. Still, once I've gotten my pain medication going I've been doing my best to keep active. I've also been having a lot of migraines lately; about 3 or 4 a week. Usually I have a migraine every other week or less, so this is perplexing. Allergies could be to blame, I suppose. So could my liver.
Last Thursday was a very happy day because our neighbor, Kathy Aiken, took my mom and I to the zoo. Kathy wheeled me around in a chair (I was quite exhausted from a grocery shopping trip that had occured shortly beforehand) and I demanded to see the whole zoo. I cannot even descibe my happiness because I had been wanting to go to the zoo all spring and summer and had not had anyone to take me. Sadly, the petting area was closed so I didn't get to pet any birds, ferrets, rats, or reptiles. Also, the gift shop had closed by the time we left. Oh, and the train had broken down. So mom has promised me we'll go back.
Our rat Francis has become very sickly and has also developed a cancerous tumor. As long as she'd happy and not in too much discomfort we will keep her here, but it may not me long until we have to get her put to sleep. Francis is getting spoiled rotten until then. Today we are taking her over to tea at my Gramma's so she can run around, snuggle with people and eat tea time snacks.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
This Is A Long One
I suppose I should start off this blog with a short update on my well being. With the exception of Monday morning, I have been doing remarkably well outside of the hospital. I am certainly in a lot of pain, even more so than usual, but I am determined to get some exercise both to ready myself for the transplant and to help my osteoporosis. This has kept me distracted from the pain and, although it means an extra dose of narcotics midday, I am happy for the accomplishment and sense of living it gives me.
Today I was very sore and tired, but I forced myself to do a few things. I must admit that when my Gramma called and asked if she could accompany me on a walk around the block I almost turned her down saying I needed to rest more today. However, my curiosity in the neighborhood gardens and the beautiful weather got the best of me and I accepted. You see, yesterday evening I was walking around our yard looking for some lingering flowers of summer. I found some, but I was still rather depressed by the lack of variety. I took a few clippings here and there, even a bit of my mother's blooming lavender (ssssh, don't tell) and made myself a rather pathetic little vase. I've been inside so much that I feel I've missed most of the beauties of summer.
My how I was satisfied today! Between our house and my Gramma's live our good family friends the Aikens (their daughter Becky and I were best friends in school). I was walking past their house on my way to Gramma's and saw Kathy stepping out the door. I invited her on our short walk and while she got her shoes I was able to admire her own little plants in the front yard. Then my Gramma had even more beauties, including a butterfly bush filled with butterflies. On our walk we even encountered a tree which had one branch that had turned to a fiery red. Many of the leaves had dropped on the ground and I picked a favorite to press between the pages of a book.
Now I will share a video I took of Annabel:
On to other things. There is much more to tell about my hospital stay in Omaha than my test results and how mean the doctors are to me (don't you notice that when a person is overweight their doctor treats the situation delicately but when they're underweight they feel they can lecture and bully them endlessly?). I don't know if I'll be able to tell it all, but I'll try and pull out some highlights from my memory and write them down. Let see...
My absolute favorite places to go were these: the chapel and the garden. I'd say I liked the chapel more than the garden, though, because the garden had a pond devoid of fish. If you're going to have a pond you need to have fish. It should be the law. Every time I looked in that pond I felt disappointed. The hospital has a great many beautiful gardens and the garden I frequented was on a rooftop, which tended to be chilly, but sunny.
The chapel was difficult the first time I visited. I went in through the side door which was very heavy and had a large piece of woodwork in the ground separating it from the hallway. This was very difficult to get an IV pole over, especially when you're trying to hold open a very heavy door. I later saw that the front doors to the chapel were automatic...
It's a very small chapel, but beautiful. That first time I was there the candle was lit to let us know the Eucharist was present. Unfortunately, it was locked up somewhere otherwise I would have had tasties. I did, however, find the holy water right away and anointed myself the best way I knew how: I painted a cross on my forehead. Next I found a plastic rosary in a sweet little bowl. It said the rosary was for chapel use only. It's too bad. Aren't Catholics always giving out plastic rosaries? I would have loved to have had it. Then I found a bunch of literature that bored me so I looked at the prayer list instead. I saw my name on there and remarked about it to my mother who said something to the effect of, "Yeah, duh, that's because I put it there." So I put down Rayne's name. Then I sat down to rest for awhile and read out loud from Revelation about the beasts because it made mom and I think of Velvet, my cat. Before we left I played "This little piggy" with the toes of a statue of Jesus healing the paralytic let down through the roof.
The second time I went was with my dad who is actually Catholic. I again anointed myself with the holy water and he informed me I was doing it all wrong. Then I remembered that making the cross on your forehead was what you did with the ashes on ash Wednesday. Oops. And someone had taken the rosary! How dare they!
I had two roommates while I was in the hospital. Constance came in at 3 AM my first night there. She was 89 years old and suffering from a bowel obstruction. I was kept awake while they asked her all their questions to admit her. The poor woman could barely think through the morphine but was still in so much pain I wanted to shout at them to get her something. Of course they couldn't until the doctor ordered it. I myself had had to wait three hours for pain medication when I'd gotten to the hospital. Thankfully, an hour or so later, they delivered the goods.
Constance was a sweet old lady, though I often felt frustrated listening to her conversations. She didn't understand things very quickly and had trouble hearing. Still, for an 89-year-old she did remarkably well. I painted her a picture of an orange day lily, but it got lost (so did some of my other paintings. Perhaps there was a botanical watercolor thief on the loose...). Her granddaughter and her daughter, Lily would would come to visit. Lily was just learning to talk and I would often lure her over to my side of the room with my abundance of balloons, stuffed animals and books. This gave Constance time to talk with her granddaughter for which she was very grateful for and thanked me for many times.
One time the phone rang in our room and I picked it up. It was Constance's granddaughter. The ring had woken Constance from her sleep and she picked up the phone when I told her her granddaughter was on the line. She had the hardest time getting her head on straight to talk because she had been sleeping so deeply and having morphine dreams. When she hung up she started telling me about it through the curtain the separated our beds.
"I can understand that," I said, "When I'm on all these drugs I often dream that I've done something and wake up thinking I've already done it. Or vice versa. It makes things so confusing."
"Yes!" she agreed.
When she talked to her doctor later she put her foot down on the morphine issue. She didn't like feeling confused and wanted a different drug. They were able to switch things around for her so she wouldn't have to have to much morphine and I heard her telling her granddaughter later, "I talked to Becca about it and she gave me the courage to bring it up with the doctor."
After I'd been in the hospital for about 5 days Constance was transferred to another ward. She wasn't a transplant patient and had only been placed in the transplant wing because of overflow. The change was very upsetting for her, but she was firm with the nurses and said, "I have to say goodbye to my roommate first." Little, tiny Constance with half her teeth missing and wearing her old floral dressing gown peeked around the corner of the curtain and said her goodbye.
Thirty minutes later I had a new roommate. Alicia was her name. She was soft spoken, in her 50s and accompanied by her mother and sister. She had just had abdominal surgery or some sort. Alicia was another nice, quiet roommate. We didn't talk often, though I think she talked more to my mom. I think we could have had some nice conversations if we both hadn't been feeling so crappy. Maybe I could have gotten to know her better if I had been there longer, but two days or so after Alicia became my roommate, I was discharged from the hospital. I didn't say goodbye-she was sleeping.
I'd better leave it at that for now. This is one long blog entry already.
Today I was very sore and tired, but I forced myself to do a few things. I must admit that when my Gramma called and asked if she could accompany me on a walk around the block I almost turned her down saying I needed to rest more today. However, my curiosity in the neighborhood gardens and the beautiful weather got the best of me and I accepted. You see, yesterday evening I was walking around our yard looking for some lingering flowers of summer. I found some, but I was still rather depressed by the lack of variety. I took a few clippings here and there, even a bit of my mother's blooming lavender (ssssh, don't tell) and made myself a rather pathetic little vase. I've been inside so much that I feel I've missed most of the beauties of summer.
My how I was satisfied today! Between our house and my Gramma's live our good family friends the Aikens (their daughter Becky and I were best friends in school). I was walking past their house on my way to Gramma's and saw Kathy stepping out the door. I invited her on our short walk and while she got her shoes I was able to admire her own little plants in the front yard. Then my Gramma had even more beauties, including a butterfly bush filled with butterflies. On our walk we even encountered a tree which had one branch that had turned to a fiery red. Many of the leaves had dropped on the ground and I picked a favorite to press between the pages of a book.
Now I will share a video I took of Annabel:
On to other things. There is much more to tell about my hospital stay in Omaha than my test results and how mean the doctors are to me (don't you notice that when a person is overweight their doctor treats the situation delicately but when they're underweight they feel they can lecture and bully them endlessly?). I don't know if I'll be able to tell it all, but I'll try and pull out some highlights from my memory and write them down. Let see...
My absolute favorite places to go were these: the chapel and the garden. I'd say I liked the chapel more than the garden, though, because the garden had a pond devoid of fish. If you're going to have a pond you need to have fish. It should be the law. Every time I looked in that pond I felt disappointed. The hospital has a great many beautiful gardens and the garden I frequented was on a rooftop, which tended to be chilly, but sunny.
The chapel was difficult the first time I visited. I went in through the side door which was very heavy and had a large piece of woodwork in the ground separating it from the hallway. This was very difficult to get an IV pole over, especially when you're trying to hold open a very heavy door. I later saw that the front doors to the chapel were automatic...
It's a very small chapel, but beautiful. That first time I was there the candle was lit to let us know the Eucharist was present. Unfortunately, it was locked up somewhere otherwise I would have had tasties. I did, however, find the holy water right away and anointed myself the best way I knew how: I painted a cross on my forehead. Next I found a plastic rosary in a sweet little bowl. It said the rosary was for chapel use only. It's too bad. Aren't Catholics always giving out plastic rosaries? I would have loved to have had it. Then I found a bunch of literature that bored me so I looked at the prayer list instead. I saw my name on there and remarked about it to my mother who said something to the effect of, "Yeah, duh, that's because I put it there." So I put down Rayne's name. Then I sat down to rest for awhile and read out loud from Revelation about the beasts because it made mom and I think of Velvet, my cat. Before we left I played "This little piggy" with the toes of a statue of Jesus healing the paralytic let down through the roof.
The second time I went was with my dad who is actually Catholic. I again anointed myself with the holy water and he informed me I was doing it all wrong. Then I remembered that making the cross on your forehead was what you did with the ashes on ash Wednesday. Oops. And someone had taken the rosary! How dare they!
I had two roommates while I was in the hospital. Constance came in at 3 AM my first night there. She was 89 years old and suffering from a bowel obstruction. I was kept awake while they asked her all their questions to admit her. The poor woman could barely think through the morphine but was still in so much pain I wanted to shout at them to get her something. Of course they couldn't until the doctor ordered it. I myself had had to wait three hours for pain medication when I'd gotten to the hospital. Thankfully, an hour or so later, they delivered the goods.
Constance was a sweet old lady, though I often felt frustrated listening to her conversations. She didn't understand things very quickly and had trouble hearing. Still, for an 89-year-old she did remarkably well. I painted her a picture of an orange day lily, but it got lost (so did some of my other paintings. Perhaps there was a botanical watercolor thief on the loose...). Her granddaughter and her daughter, Lily would would come to visit. Lily was just learning to talk and I would often lure her over to my side of the room with my abundance of balloons, stuffed animals and books. This gave Constance time to talk with her granddaughter for which she was very grateful for and thanked me for many times.
One time the phone rang in our room and I picked it up. It was Constance's granddaughter. The ring had woken Constance from her sleep and she picked up the phone when I told her her granddaughter was on the line. She had the hardest time getting her head on straight to talk because she had been sleeping so deeply and having morphine dreams. When she hung up she started telling me about it through the curtain the separated our beds.
"I can understand that," I said, "When I'm on all these drugs I often dream that I've done something and wake up thinking I've already done it. Or vice versa. It makes things so confusing."
"Yes!" she agreed.
When she talked to her doctor later she put her foot down on the morphine issue. She didn't like feeling confused and wanted a different drug. They were able to switch things around for her so she wouldn't have to have to much morphine and I heard her telling her granddaughter later, "I talked to Becca about it and she gave me the courage to bring it up with the doctor."
After I'd been in the hospital for about 5 days Constance was transferred to another ward. She wasn't a transplant patient and had only been placed in the transplant wing because of overflow. The change was very upsetting for her, but she was firm with the nurses and said, "I have to say goodbye to my roommate first." Little, tiny Constance with half her teeth missing and wearing her old floral dressing gown peeked around the corner of the curtain and said her goodbye.
Thirty minutes later I had a new roommate. Alicia was her name. She was soft spoken, in her 50s and accompanied by her mother and sister. She had just had abdominal surgery or some sort. Alicia was another nice, quiet roommate. We didn't talk often, though I think she talked more to my mom. I think we could have had some nice conversations if we both hadn't been feeling so crappy. Maybe I could have gotten to know her better if I had been there longer, but two days or so after Alicia became my roommate, I was discharged from the hospital. I didn't say goodbye-she was sleeping.
I'd better leave it at that for now. This is one long blog entry already.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
I'm Home!
I'm home!!
My drain was hardly draining and I wasn't having anymore fevers. So the drain was pulled (that hurt) and I was given express instructions to gain weight, keep a food diary for a future appointment with the nutritioinists, do some physical therapy and try to wean myself off the narcotics as much as possible.
I had a happy reunion with the animals and now am enjoying my own pain medication, my own bed and recliner, and my large variety of books and magazines.
Becca
A glimpse into the rat reunion (from my post on the Capital City Rat Rescue forum):
Oh goodness, ya'll--You know my new rat Annabel? Well she's always been so hyper and is a little skittish. I figured she was in the baby stage where humans are ignored and toys and wheels are paid attention to. I didn't think she'd really bonded with any of us yet. I guess I thought wrong because I came home today and she was SO happy to see me! I took her out and she sat still in my hands while she bruxed and purred like a crazy girl! I was so happy and touched that she actually had missed me as much as I had missed her.
Daisy was really cute, too. She LOVES being petted and she I stood at the open door of the FN and she would put her front paws on my chest and sort of lean agaist me while I petted her.
I think the Bindi babies were really relieved to see me, too (which makes sense, since they don't like any other humans).
My drain was hardly draining and I wasn't having anymore fevers. So the drain was pulled (that hurt) and I was given express instructions to gain weight, keep a food diary for a future appointment with the nutritioinists, do some physical therapy and try to wean myself off the narcotics as much as possible.
I had a happy reunion with the animals and now am enjoying my own pain medication, my own bed and recliner, and my large variety of books and magazines.
Becca
A glimpse into the rat reunion (from my post on the Capital City Rat Rescue forum):
Oh goodness, ya'll--You know my new rat Annabel? Well she's always been so hyper and is a little skittish. I figured she was in the baby stage where humans are ignored and toys and wheels are paid attention to. I didn't think she'd really bonded with any of us yet. I guess I thought wrong because I came home today and she was SO happy to see me! I took her out and she sat still in my hands while she bruxed and purred like a crazy girl! I was so happy and touched that she actually had missed me as much as I had missed her.
Daisy was really cute, too. She LOVES being petted and she I stood at the open door of the FN and she would put her front paws on my chest and sort of lean agaist me while I petted her.
I think the Bindi babies were really relieved to see me, too (which makes sense, since they don't like any other humans).
I'm Still Here
Hi All,
I'm sorry I haven't gotten around to writing a new update. I just haven't been feeling up to it. I'm sorry also that I can't respond to all your emails. I love getting them, though!
I had a hard night again Friday night. My IV infiltrated and i had to get a new one,which turned into a very traumatic experience. On top of that it was evening and my liver really hurt. So my sobbing from the IV trauma made my liver hurt all the more and made me cry even more...it was just an awful night. Eventually I got some more pain meds and fell into an exhausted sleep. The bright side: I didn't have a fever.
Yesterday I wore myself out trying to wash myself and getting the exercise I was supposed to get. My dad was in town so he came to visit. I ate too much food and got a stomach ache in the evening, but the liver pain wasn't as bad.
I slept pretty well (or as well as you can in a hospital) last night but of course that meant I didn't wake up to take any pain meds. The morning has been very slow and painful. I still have to rely on my itsy dose of morphine and a pain patch in addition to my regular narcotic. I hope this doesn't mean they'll keep me longer...(I can't leave the hospital on the morphine, which is stupid because I'll just go home and take my own).
Since it's the weekend things are pretty slow. I'll talk to a liver transplant nurse coordinator today and that'll be it until tomorrow. Dad and Ginny are going to come visit me. I hear tell they have The Office Season 4 on DVD.
Becca
I'm sorry I haven't gotten around to writing a new update. I just haven't been feeling up to it. I'm sorry also that I can't respond to all your emails. I love getting them, though!
I had a hard night again Friday night. My IV infiltrated and i had to get a new one,which turned into a very traumatic experience. On top of that it was evening and my liver really hurt. So my sobbing from the IV trauma made my liver hurt all the more and made me cry even more...it was just an awful night. Eventually I got some more pain meds and fell into an exhausted sleep. The bright side: I didn't have a fever.
Yesterday I wore myself out trying to wash myself and getting the exercise I was supposed to get. My dad was in town so he came to visit. I ate too much food and got a stomach ache in the evening, but the liver pain wasn't as bad.
I slept pretty well (or as well as you can in a hospital) last night but of course that meant I didn't wake up to take any pain meds. The morning has been very slow and painful. I still have to rely on my itsy dose of morphine and a pain patch in addition to my regular narcotic. I hope this doesn't mean they'll keep me longer...(I can't leave the hospital on the morphine, which is stupid because I'll just go home and take my own).
Since it's the weekend things are pretty slow. I'll talk to a liver transplant nurse coordinator today and that'll be it until tomorrow. Dad and Ginny are going to come visit me. I hear tell they have The Office Season 4 on DVD.
Becca
Friday, September 12, 2008
Keeping THEM Happy
So the liver people aren't exactly thrilled with me. I've lost 11% of my body weight in two months, my bone disease is getting worse so I need to start doing more exercises and popping the world's supply in Calcium and vitamin D pills. I also need to stop taking so much pain medication. They're giving me those pain patches instead. Apparently I'm not exactly in fit enough shape for a transplant. When I get home I'm supposed to start drinking up to 5 cans of Boost a day. 5! I usually have 1, maybe 2.
The liver pain and fevers are going to be monitored over the weekend and I can get this drain pulled once it's draining next to nothing (which is what I think it's doing now, but I guess I'm not the expert). So it looks like I'm here for the weekend at least.
Today I get to see physical therapy. Wooo.
Becca
The liver pain and fevers are going to be monitored over the weekend and I can get this drain pulled once it's draining next to nothing (which is what I think it's doing now, but I guess I'm not the expert). So it looks like I'm here for the weekend at least.
Today I get to see physical therapy. Wooo.
Becca
Where am I again?
I'm feeling very light-headed and out of it, so I'm going to make this quick:
It was yet another crazy night last night. I had another slight fever, but worst of all my liver was hurting me really badly and I wasn't getting the pain med that I needed. However, they gave me some IV lorezepam that put me to sleep pretty well. I continued to have the pain, I just never woke up enough to request more meds.
Today I still hurt and I feel all light headed and drowsy, kind of drugged though I haven't had anything more than normal. We're still waiting to talk to people in radiology about how the procedure went. Athough we have heard the brief notes they left for other doctors about the procedure.
I've been bleeding from weird places like my nose and gums. There's some weird stuff going on, that's for sure.
Sorry that this email is so weird and disjointed.
Becca
It was yet another crazy night last night. I had another slight fever, but worst of all my liver was hurting me really badly and I wasn't getting the pain med that I needed. However, they gave me some IV lorezepam that put me to sleep pretty well. I continued to have the pain, I just never woke up enough to request more meds.
Today I still hurt and I feel all light headed and drowsy, kind of drugged though I haven't had anything more than normal. We're still waiting to talk to people in radiology about how the procedure went. Athough we have heard the brief notes they left for other doctors about the procedure.
I've been bleeding from weird places like my nose and gums. There's some weird stuff going on, that's for sure.
Sorry that this email is so weird and disjointed.
Becca
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Thursday Night Fever
Hi all-
It was another crazy night last night. I survived my painful ultrasounds. I got another fever (which has finally at around 11:30 AM, gone down). I had blood and urine cultures done because of the fever (apparently I got blood cultures done the night before as well, I just didn't really remember because of all the pain). It seemed that for something or other I was woken up every hour or half hour. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep. Then, around 9:00 AM, when things had finally calmed down a bit, I got a migraine (probably from the rain). Fortunately, I was able to get my Imatrex right away and get some sleep.
I saw someone from gynecology today and they said that it looked like this abscess didn't have anything to do with my reproductive organs, so there really wasn't any reason for their department to be involved anymore.
The nurse coordinator from the liver transplant people came and saw me as well. She said that it will take a day to two to find out exactly what was in the abscess, but most of what they drained was blood. It appeared to be a hematoma that developed after my surgeries in July. However, since this abscess doesn't seem to have infection and I'm on two antibiotics and still running fevers then there's still a problem we need to fix. I should be getting these fevers and I have to stay here until they can figure out what the fevers are from and solve the problem. My mom told the nurse coordinator that they had better get a move on because my cat was pining away. Mom says Velvet came to her bed last night (which she NEVER does) and wrapped her arms around mom. Poor Velvet, this has been such a hard summer for her.
I'll have more info once I see more of the doctors, so I'll keep ya'll posted.
Becca
It was another crazy night last night. I survived my painful ultrasounds. I got another fever (which has finally at around 11:30 AM, gone down). I had blood and urine cultures done because of the fever (apparently I got blood cultures done the night before as well, I just didn't really remember because of all the pain). It seemed that for something or other I was woken up every hour or half hour. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep. Then, around 9:00 AM, when things had finally calmed down a bit, I got a migraine (probably from the rain). Fortunately, I was able to get my Imatrex right away and get some sleep.
I saw someone from gynecology today and they said that it looked like this abscess didn't have anything to do with my reproductive organs, so there really wasn't any reason for their department to be involved anymore.
The nurse coordinator from the liver transplant people came and saw me as well. She said that it will take a day to two to find out exactly what was in the abscess, but most of what they drained was blood. It appeared to be a hematoma that developed after my surgeries in July. However, since this abscess doesn't seem to have infection and I'm on two antibiotics and still running fevers then there's still a problem we need to fix. I should be getting these fevers and I have to stay here until they can figure out what the fevers are from and solve the problem. My mom told the nurse coordinator that they had better get a move on because my cat was pining away. Mom says Velvet came to her bed last night (which she NEVER does) and wrapped her arms around mom. Poor Velvet, this has been such a hard summer for her.
I'll have more info once I see more of the doctors, so I'll keep ya'll posted.
Becca
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Over and Done With
Dear Friends,
Boy has it been a roller coaster the past 20 hours or so. Last night I drank my contrast all over again like good girl, but right before I started I got horrible chills. And hour later I was burning up and in a cold sweat. My temperature had reached over 101 degrees. Just in case you didn't already know, the immune suppressing drugs I take make me not register fevers on a thermometer, so when it the thermometer registers a fever we're in trouble. Obviously, this infection inside this abscess was getting to me.
I woke up early in the morning with the migraine from hell. I couldn't stop throwing up, either. The nurses on the floor were having trouble getting my Imatrex for me, so I suffered for hours. The fever was still raging, too. When I got down to interventional radiology for my procedure (barfing all the way, I might add) the anesthesiologist said they wouldn't be able to do the procedure with me this sick. I could choke on my vomit, for one thing. So, they were able to assert their authority and at the last minute go me some Imatrex (which, thank you God, managed not to throw up). The anesthesiologist (a very, very sweet lady) also have me some pretty heavy narcotics and more Zofran, which took the edge off the pain and kept me from vomiting.
When I woke up my migraine was gone (woo hoo!) and the only pain I had to complain about was a dull throbbing on the right side of my rear. And apparently the procedure had lasted around 4 hours. For what reason I don't know, but I hear Rayne had a conniption and called my mom.
An external drain had been put in to drain the abscess. Now my chart says that the drain is in my lower back, but it lies because that thing is right in my, ahem, "sitting muscle". This is not cool. But, I'll do what it takes to end this abscess' reign of terror.
So here I am, feeling great because my migraine is gone and I've returned from my vacation in Barfopolis. Yeah, the drain hurts, but that will wear off soon. It's nothing compared to this morning's migraine. Nothing like the pain of a near aneurysm to put things in perspective, right? Right now I am actually waiting to go get some ultrasounds done. One of them is going to be painful, but I was promised morphine. And again, the perspective granted me by this morning's pain is doing me good.
Who knows what tomorrow will bring. Maybe I'll get to go home. I have no idea, but I'll be sure to keep you all updated.
Becca
Boy has it been a roller coaster the past 20 hours or so. Last night I drank my contrast all over again like good girl, but right before I started I got horrible chills. And hour later I was burning up and in a cold sweat. My temperature had reached over 101 degrees. Just in case you didn't already know, the immune suppressing drugs I take make me not register fevers on a thermometer, so when it the thermometer registers a fever we're in trouble. Obviously, this infection inside this abscess was getting to me.
I woke up early in the morning with the migraine from hell. I couldn't stop throwing up, either. The nurses on the floor were having trouble getting my Imatrex for me, so I suffered for hours. The fever was still raging, too. When I got down to interventional radiology for my procedure (barfing all the way, I might add) the anesthesiologist said they wouldn't be able to do the procedure with me this sick. I could choke on my vomit, for one thing. So, they were able to assert their authority and at the last minute go me some Imatrex (which, thank you God, managed not to throw up). The anesthesiologist (a very, very sweet lady) also have me some pretty heavy narcotics and more Zofran, which took the edge off the pain and kept me from vomiting.
When I woke up my migraine was gone (woo hoo!) and the only pain I had to complain about was a dull throbbing on the right side of my rear. And apparently the procedure had lasted around 4 hours. For what reason I don't know, but I hear Rayne had a conniption and called my mom.
An external drain had been put in to drain the abscess. Now my chart says that the drain is in my lower back, but it lies because that thing is right in my, ahem, "sitting muscle". This is not cool. But, I'll do what it takes to end this abscess' reign of terror.
So here I am, feeling great because my migraine is gone and I've returned from my vacation in Barfopolis. Yeah, the drain hurts, but that will wear off soon. It's nothing compared to this morning's migraine. Nothing like the pain of a near aneurysm to put things in perspective, right? Right now I am actually waiting to go get some ultrasounds done. One of them is going to be painful, but I was promised morphine. And again, the perspective granted me by this morning's pain is doing me good.
Who knows what tomorrow will bring. Maybe I'll get to go home. I have no idea, but I'll be sure to keep you all updated.
Becca
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
I Hate Doctors
Well, the doctors messed up my anesthesia needs again. We told them over and over and over yesterday that I would need general anesthesia because sedation didn't work. So..they scheduled me to have sedation. Now I have to wait until tomorrow when they can get anesthesia involoved and drink the contrast all over again. I'm very, very frustrated about this.
Anyway, looks like it's gonna be another boring day here.
Becca
Anyway, looks like it's gonna be another boring day here.
Becca
Monday, September 8, 2008
Health Update, Again
Dear Everybody,
It's been a boring few days. I've seen my liver team and various individual members of it, about 4 different gynecologists (I'll just say that yesterday morning was a very painful on, despite all the morphine), and other various people, like students for example.I've had to do a lot of fasting for tests that never happened, which is frustrating. I've had to do a lot of waiting around, too. I don't feel all that sick right now so I wish I could just be at home with my rats. I've been trying to keep myself occupied with watercoloring, reading and surfing the net.
Now, something is finally happening. The interventional radiologists have taken a look at my CT scans and determined that they could try draining this thing with a needle instead of surgery. So tomorrow morning I go get a CT and then get this thing taken care of, if all goes well. I have to be under general anesthesia since sedatives don't do the trick for me. But it sounds like if these radiologists are successful I'll get to skip the risks and long recovery of surgery, which is just fine with me, thank you very much.
Thank you all for your kind words and emails!
Becca
It's been a boring few days. I've seen my liver team and various individual members of it, about 4 different gynecologists (I'll just say that yesterday morning was a very painful on, despite all the morphine), and other various people, like students for example.I've had to do a lot of fasting for tests that never happened, which is frustrating. I've had to do a lot of waiting around, too. I don't feel all that sick right now so I wish I could just be at home with my rats. I've been trying to keep myself occupied with watercoloring, reading and surfing the net.
Now, something is finally happening. The interventional radiologists have taken a look at my CT scans and determined that they could try draining this thing with a needle instead of surgery. So tomorrow morning I go get a CT and then get this thing taken care of, if all goes well. I have to be under general anesthesia since sedatives don't do the trick for me. But it sounds like if these radiologists are successful I'll get to skip the risks and long recovery of surgery, which is just fine with me, thank you very much.
Thank you all for your kind words and emails!
Becca
Saturday, September 6, 2008
A Health Update
Hi all,
Went to the ER this morning because of a pain episode. I got a CT scan and it showed that my abscess had grown considerably. Now I'm here in the transplant wing of the hospital in Omaha waiting to get surgery to remove said abscess. It'll probaby all go down on Monday.
I won't be able to participate in Fun Monday :( So if you're here looking for that, I'm sorry.
Went to the ER this morning because of a pain episode. I got a CT scan and it showed that my abscess had grown considerably. Now I'm here in the transplant wing of the hospital in Omaha waiting to get surgery to remove said abscess. It'll probaby all go down on Monday.
I won't be able to participate in Fun Monday :( So if you're here looking for that, I'm sorry.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Victoria Magazine
I've always loved Victoria Magazine. I'm not sure when I read my first issue but I'm guessing it was around three years ago. My Gramma had been going through some things in the house and found a small stack of old issues dating back as far as 1988. I was dismayed when I heard the magazine had stopped being published around 2001 or so. I searched online but it seemed that, besides some overpriced back issues, the magazine had all but disappeared.
That was when our neighbor from across the street (who joins us at for afternoon tea quite often) started bringing over years and years worth of Victoria magazines she no longer wanted. I took them all home where I got a start on them but was soon distracted by other things and forgot about them. My mother however, who spends her free time journaling and looking at decorating magazines, picked up where I left off. After she was done the magazines somehow found their way into the black hole that is the space underneath our living room coffee table.
Recently my mom, in an attempt to clean the living room a bit, rediscovered the Victoria magazines and started going through them again, dogearing pages to her hearts content. It wasn't long before I picked up an issue and was pleasantly reminded of the blessing I'd left behind. I grabbed a few issues and disappreared to my room to read. Sometimes I was in too much pain to read all of the articles, but the beautiful pictures that mixed the 90s grainy camera with Victorian homes, wares, and clothing were enough.
The articles rekindled my desire for creative endeavors that translated into small but meaningful acts of love. I started watercoloring again. I watercolored thank you cards that I wrote out and sent instead of emailed. I watercolored small pictures and presented them to my mom when I was up one night because of pain. "These are things that remind me of you," I said, wishing I could capture more of her like her hands, so beautiful to me because of how they have reached out to care and to love. Or her smell, baby powder and lavender and that mysterious scent that a child will always recognize as their parents'. And what is it she puts in my tea that makes it so much sweeter?
Anyway, back on topic. About 6 months or so ago Victoria magazine came back in all its glory. Today, my Mom bought me the autumn issue to look at and I must say I'm quite pleased. Some thing have changed; there is extended content online, for example. But overall, the feeling and principles of the magazine remain the same.
Probably not many 21-year-old young women read Victoria, but I'm the girl who started attending english afternoon tea (a tradition passed on to our family by a British neighbor. We now live in her old house) from the day I was brought home from the hospital. I developed a taste for scones, clotted cream and cucumber sandwiches. Anytime a tea house sprang up in our area we were sure to frequent it on special occasions.
I grew up reading books like The Edwardian Lady, Brambly Hedge, Beatrix Potter, The Secret Garden, etc. All of our dishes were collectables featuring the artwork of the first three authors I mentioned. I decided at the age of 9 or 10 that I wanted to be an interior decorator. My mom has always decorated our house with a garden theme and, again, many of our decorations were collectables from those three authors. One of my favorite things was my Benjamin Bunny music box.
My Grandfather was a poet and playwright. Ever seen the play of the Wind and the Willows? My Grandfather, Joeseph Baldwin wrote that. My Grandma on my father's side paints a lot of botanicals, her forte being watercolor. My mother, too, does artwork that could pass for British garden themes any day. Flora and fauna were a subject of education as well, my mothing bringing up my sister and I to appreciate all things that grow. If we visited another city there was not one garden we left unvisited.
So, you see, I grew up with an appreciation for the kind of things in this magazine. It is a breath of fresh air to me. I think you'll like it as well. Instead of fashion spreads full of the latest off the runways you'll fashion studies on things like linen or antique wedding dresses. Instead of recipes for macaroni and cheese and chocolate cake you'll find recipes for lavender jelly, scones and strawberry tarts. Instead of tips on how to get rid of that pesky flab you'll find poems, remembrances and reflections on such subjects as gardening and kindred spirits. Instead of an interview with the celebrity of the moment you'll find articles dedicated to such women as Tasha Tudor or the wife of Thomas Edison. Instead of decorating ideas on how to make polka dots work for your living room, you'll visit some of the most beautiful Victorian homes in the country.
I think you all get the idea!
EDIT
And because Rayne asked for it:
Baldwin Family Cucumber Sandwiches
1 package small dark brown (I think they're rye) bread slices (you can usually find these near the deli, they're about 2 in x 2 in)
1 cucumber
1 container cream cheese
Fresh dill
Cut cucumber into desired size slices. Chop dill so that most of the leaves seperate from the stems. Spread bread slices with cream cheese and top with on slice cucumber and a sprinkling of chopped dill.
For a different variation try substituting the cucumber with tomatoes and sprinkling with salt and/or black pepper. Or even try sugar to give the sandwich more of a sweet taste (this is how I like them)!
A Tribute to the PICC Line
My PICC line is gone now, but I wanted to share some photos of it. I just think PICC lines are so cool. I mean anytime I get to pass on needle sticks for a month is fine with me. Although, they poked me probably around 10 times to get the darn PICC in, so maybe I got my share anyway...
This here is my arm (duh) and all the glorious tubing that I had to hook myself up to. To the right is the cute little bag of antibiotics and the thing by my hand is the pump.
Here's a blurry photo of the PICC line. I didn't show the part that actually goes into my arm because I figure most people are squemish about that kind of thing.
Here is another blurry photo, this one of my special purse that housed the antibiotic bag and the pump. It had handy compartments for everything and it zipped right up. It looked so normal that I don't think people in public could even tell I was hooked up to something unless they looked closely.
Well, it's back to being poked multiple times for IVs...hopefully I won't have to do that for another couple weeks. That's if I can stay out of the emergency room. I've had some close calls this past week.
This here is my arm (duh) and all the glorious tubing that I had to hook myself up to. To the right is the cute little bag of antibiotics and the thing by my hand is the pump.
Here's a blurry photo of the PICC line. I didn't show the part that actually goes into my arm because I figure most people are squemish about that kind of thing.
Here is another blurry photo, this one of my special purse that housed the antibiotic bag and the pump. It had handy compartments for everything and it zipped right up. It looked so normal that I don't think people in public could even tell I was hooked up to something unless they looked closely.Kind Words
As ya'll know, I'm active in rat rescue and with Capital City Rat Rescue and its supporters. There is a CCRR forum to discuss all things rat that I like to post and and share on. I was posting a health update for those concerned and one of the ladies posted a very nice comment. She's a new rat owner who does a wonderful job with her rats and is a funny, great person to boot. This was the comment she left:
I know you don't know me, but I read your blog a lot and you are always in my prayers. If you would feel comfortable forwarding them me, I would love to read your health updates. I think you are very, very brave and very much a believer in life. I admire your courage and most definitely your sense of humor. For someone who I consider to be very young, you are remarkably wise and have a way of dealing with reality that most adult people of any age lack. I find you very refreshing: you see the world for what it is but you always find a way to step into the light it offers. You remind me of how much of a gift life truly is.
I'm also in Lincoln, so if you ever need to talk to someone I'd be glad to listen. If there is ever anything you need help with let me know.
Kathy
I'm not sharing this to try and advertise how great I am, but because it touched me so much. It's important to me that I continue to be optimistic and to be a light to others no matter what dark clouds are surrounding my life. It's wonderful to hear that someone actually thinks that all that is true about me. It makes me feel like I've accomplished something. When people tell me things like this it makes me feel better about all the risks of my exsistance; I could die at any time but it's okay because I inspired and encouraged someone.
I know you don't know me, but I read your blog a lot and you are always in my prayers. If you would feel comfortable forwarding them me, I would love to read your health updates. I think you are very, very brave and very much a believer in life. I admire your courage and most definitely your sense of humor. For someone who I consider to be very young, you are remarkably wise and have a way of dealing with reality that most adult people of any age lack. I find you very refreshing: you see the world for what it is but you always find a way to step into the light it offers. You remind me of how much of a gift life truly is.
I'm also in Lincoln, so if you ever need to talk to someone I'd be glad to listen. If there is ever anything you need help with let me know.
Kathy
I'm not sharing this to try and advertise how great I am, but because it touched me so much. It's important to me that I continue to be optimistic and to be a light to others no matter what dark clouds are surrounding my life. It's wonderful to hear that someone actually thinks that all that is true about me. It makes me feel like I've accomplished something. When people tell me things like this it makes me feel better about all the risks of my exsistance; I could die at any time but it's okay because I inspired and encouraged someone.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
It's Doctor Appointment Day
Here is the health update I sent out:
Hello all,
Well, I had all my doctor appointments today so I'll give you the update.
First, I had a CT scan. After that was done Mom and I ate a little breakfast in the cafeteria (I had to be fasting for the scan) before heading up to see Dr. Rademacher, my infectious disease doctor. He informed us that the abscess had hardly shrunk at all, which was disappointing since I'd just endured one month of constant antibiotics through my PICC line. His suggestion was to try stopping the antibiotics and waiting a couple weeks before doing another CT scan. Granted, if I got sick from the infection in the abscess, we'd move the CT scan up to a closer date. He said if the abscess didn't grow at all during that time then we could probably just leave it alone. If it got bigger or I got sick we'd have to probably do the surgery to remove it. In case you've forgotten this surgery would have to happen in Omaha under the watchful eyes of my liver doctors and I would have to have plenty of clotting factors ahead of time since my blood doesn't clot very well right now because of my liver disease. We went with Dr. Rademacher's decision and made an appointment for two weeks in the future.
I've been having more pain in my lower abdomen and more cramping in my stomach (bad enough that it reaches to my back). This is the pain that, if it gets bad enough, sends me to the ER. These are what I call my "episodes". Originally this pain was diagnosed as being from the ovarian cysts and the endometriosis. My episodes post-surgery for the cysts aren't as bad, but I've still had a couple that have sent me to the ER. The CT scan today showed I have more cysts on my ovaries, though they aren't infected. Perhaps this is the cause of some of my pain? We'll talk to my gynecologist on the 8th about the new cysts (which may be harmless and just there because of ovulation) and about maybe finally starting the shots that will shut down my ovaries (the drug fools my body into thinking it has menopause!).
Next I saw my primary care physician, Dr. Pierce, about the horrible restless leg syndrome I've been experiencing. It's gotten very severe and something more drastic needed to be done. Dr. Pierce gave me a sample of a drug called Requip that is made specifically for restless leg. I take it once a day. Since I'm on so many medications, it's hard to tell when there will be an interaction so basically we have our fingers crossed here that I won't have a reaction to this drug. I'll try it for 2 weeks (stopping if I notice any bad reactions) and then see Dr. Pierce again to tell him how it went and procure a prescription if it seems to be working.
I'll let you all know how things go. Hopefully we're on the road to some more information here!
Thank you all for your prayers, thoughts and kind emails. They make me so happy. I'm lucky to be surrounded by so many wonderful people.
Love,
Becca
P.S. Since I'm no longer recieving the IV antibiotics my PICC line was pulled today. Bye bye PICC line! I'll miss the convienence of not having lots of pokes, but I won't miss carrying around a pump all the time, having the tubing catch on things and having to keep the line dry while bathing.
Hello all,
Well, I had all my doctor appointments today so I'll give you the update.
First, I had a CT scan. After that was done Mom and I ate a little breakfast in the cafeteria (I had to be fasting for the scan) before heading up to see Dr. Rademacher, my infectious disease doctor. He informed us that the abscess had hardly shrunk at all, which was disappointing since I'd just endured one month of constant antibiotics through my PICC line. His suggestion was to try stopping the antibiotics and waiting a couple weeks before doing another CT scan. Granted, if I got sick from the infection in the abscess, we'd move the CT scan up to a closer date. He said if the abscess didn't grow at all during that time then we could probably just leave it alone. If it got bigger or I got sick we'd have to probably do the surgery to remove it. In case you've forgotten this surgery would have to happen in Omaha under the watchful eyes of my liver doctors and I would have to have plenty of clotting factors ahead of time since my blood doesn't clot very well right now because of my liver disease. We went with Dr. Rademacher's decision and made an appointment for two weeks in the future.
I've been having more pain in my lower abdomen and more cramping in my stomach (bad enough that it reaches to my back). This is the pain that, if it gets bad enough, sends me to the ER. These are what I call my "episodes". Originally this pain was diagnosed as being from the ovarian cysts and the endometriosis. My episodes post-surgery for the cysts aren't as bad, but I've still had a couple that have sent me to the ER. The CT scan today showed I have more cysts on my ovaries, though they aren't infected. Perhaps this is the cause of some of my pain? We'll talk to my gynecologist on the 8th about the new cysts (which may be harmless and just there because of ovulation) and about maybe finally starting the shots that will shut down my ovaries (the drug fools my body into thinking it has menopause!).
Next I saw my primary care physician, Dr. Pierce, about the horrible restless leg syndrome I've been experiencing. It's gotten very severe and something more drastic needed to be done. Dr. Pierce gave me a sample of a drug called Requip that is made specifically for restless leg. I take it once a day. Since I'm on so many medications, it's hard to tell when there will be an interaction so basically we have our fingers crossed here that I won't have a reaction to this drug. I'll try it for 2 weeks (stopping if I notice any bad reactions) and then see Dr. Pierce again to tell him how it went and procure a prescription if it seems to be working.
I'll let you all know how things go. Hopefully we're on the road to some more information here!
Thank you all for your prayers, thoughts and kind emails. They make me so happy. I'm lucky to be surrounded by so many wonderful people.
Love,
Becca
P.S. Since I'm no longer recieving the IV antibiotics my PICC line was pulled today. Bye bye PICC line! I'll miss the convienence of not having lots of pokes, but I won't miss carrying around a pump all the time, having the tubing catch on things and having to keep the line dry while bathing.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Liver Transplant Anecdotes, Part 2
Remember this post? Well, this is me, finally picking it up again.
And do you know what? I totally left out the best 1st transplant anecdote. Here it is:
We went to radiology a lot, as you can imagine. There was a desk there where a nurse/secretary worked checking people in, dispensing contrast, etc. During all the waits she and my mom had gotten to know each other a little.
Sometime after my first transplant she apparently had a very revealing conversation with my mother. I didn't find out about it until later. First of all, you have to know that one, my first liver was only half a liver and two, you are never told who the donor is unless that person's family chooses to come forward. You can however, send them a thank you card through a social worker or someone like that.
At this time this woman confided in my mom telling her that I had half of her ex-husband's liver! How weird is that? This woman had watched over me in radiology I don't know how many times. She was always especially kind to me. I wonder how it felt to watch her ex-husband's liver being destroyed by a disease and causing an 8-year-old girl endless pain...
As for the second transplant:
We were living in Lincoln by this time. My parents had just seperated, I was eleven years old, in the 6th grade and we (my mom, sister and I) were living at my grandmother's.
On the morning of St. Patrick's Day, March 17th, 1999, I woke up with a start at 6:30 AM. Something told me that there had been a change. Something had happened. It was then that I heard my mom speaking on the telephone just up the stairs from where I was sleeping in the basement. No one else was awake and the only reason I could think for her to be on the phone without me hearing it ring was that she had made the phone call. And if she was making them phone call then...
I walked slowly up the stairs and listened to the conversation, but I knew before I even heard my mom's words that a liver had been found for me. My mom hung up the phone and I crouched at the top of the stairs.
"Mom?" I whispered, getting her attention. "The liver is here isn't it?"
She smiled a worried, but happy smile and said, "Yes. Get dressed and get your bag." (Just like if you're pregnant, you have to keep a bag of clothing and other essentials ready while you're on the list so that you can grab it and go. I had worked hard to keep my backpack stocked with art supplies and books.)
We woke up my sister and Gramma and drove out to the airport to Duncan Aviation. There my mom and I boarded a pretty white jet that had red and blue stripes. The inside of the jet was like a small car. There was a seat for the pilot, a passenger seat beside him, and two regular airplane seats in back. Behind the seats was a little stash of chips and sodas which I was told to help myself to. I declined, saying I couldn't eat since I was about to go into surgery. I was too filled with nervous excitement to eat anyway, though I eyed the Cheetos with a bit of longing. I tried to play cards to distract myself, but mostly I looked out the window. We couldn't really talk since the jet was so loud. We had to wear ear plugs.
We arrived in Minnesota an hour later. I don't remember going to the hospital, but I do remember being there and my dad showing up with the same anxious look on his face as my mom. I knew what to expect this time around and was literally bouncing up and down with excitement. I'm pretty sure I had a goofy grin on my face the whole time. I was just so glad to get this new liver. I also wanted to be strong for my parents.
I remember being wheeled into the OR, seeing the Coleman cooler and watching a nurse sort mounds and mounds of clamps and other metal instruments.
"This is like a kitchen!" I remarked. "It looks like that person is sorting the utensils." I wanted to stay awake and watch more of the hustle and bustle going on around me, but all too soon the anesthesia was given to me and I was out.
I woke up probably eight to ten hours later. I couldn't talk for a day or two since I had to stay on a ventilator. I tried to impress everyone by writing my notes of request in cursive or drawing small doodles. The recovery went great and within a week I was back home in Lincoln. What a difference from the first transplant!
This liver was a whole liver and from someone much younger than me. I seem to remember someone slipping me information that my liver had belonged to a four-year-old girl who'd died in a car crash, but I don't know for sure. I do know that this liver served me well up until last about a year ago. Sure, there were the occasional glitches, but that's bound to happen. For the first three years with my new liver I was PSC-free (PSC is my liver disease)! Unfortunately, it penetrated this liver and now, eight and half years later, the disease has taken control. Still, most organ transplants are supposed to last 10-15 years, so I'm proud of this liver for all that it's done for me. He's been strong.
Who knows what this next transplant experience will be like? All I know for sure is when I get that page on my beeper I am going to be one happy camper.
The gift of life is a fabulous one. I would be dead two times over if it weren't for organ donation. The miracle of giving life to one person through another's death is a gift from God. I will never take for granted the gifts that have been allowed me in my two livers. Every day that I'm alive is a miracle because of them. Please, please, if you are not already an organ donor, become one. What reason do you have not to? I and countless others are living proof that your decision to be an organ donor will save lives. And please, please, don't treat your organs badly. Live healthfully because in doing so you are preserving your life and, when it ends, you could be passing that health and vitality down to someone else. Who knows how many more people could have been saved if a person hadn't destroyed their organs with alcohol, drugs, or poor diet?
Even though they probably will never read this, I want to thank the families who made the decisions for their loved one's organs to be donated and gave me life. No amount of thanks can ever cover the gratitude I feel, but I still want to say thank you and God bless you! :)
And do you know what? I totally left out the best 1st transplant anecdote. Here it is:
We went to radiology a lot, as you can imagine. There was a desk there where a nurse/secretary worked checking people in, dispensing contrast, etc. During all the waits she and my mom had gotten to know each other a little.
Sometime after my first transplant she apparently had a very revealing conversation with my mother. I didn't find out about it until later. First of all, you have to know that one, my first liver was only half a liver and two, you are never told who the donor is unless that person's family chooses to come forward. You can however, send them a thank you card through a social worker or someone like that.
At this time this woman confided in my mom telling her that I had half of her ex-husband's liver! How weird is that? This woman had watched over me in radiology I don't know how many times. She was always especially kind to me. I wonder how it felt to watch her ex-husband's liver being destroyed by a disease and causing an 8-year-old girl endless pain...
As for the second transplant:
We were living in Lincoln by this time. My parents had just seperated, I was eleven years old, in the 6th grade and we (my mom, sister and I) were living at my grandmother's.
On the morning of St. Patrick's Day, March 17th, 1999, I woke up with a start at 6:30 AM. Something told me that there had been a change. Something had happened. It was then that I heard my mom speaking on the telephone just up the stairs from where I was sleeping in the basement. No one else was awake and the only reason I could think for her to be on the phone without me hearing it ring was that she had made the phone call. And if she was making them phone call then...
I walked slowly up the stairs and listened to the conversation, but I knew before I even heard my mom's words that a liver had been found for me. My mom hung up the phone and I crouched at the top of the stairs.
"Mom?" I whispered, getting her attention. "The liver is here isn't it?"
She smiled a worried, but happy smile and said, "Yes. Get dressed and get your bag." (Just like if you're pregnant, you have to keep a bag of clothing and other essentials ready while you're on the list so that you can grab it and go. I had worked hard to keep my backpack stocked with art supplies and books.)
We woke up my sister and Gramma and drove out to the airport to Duncan Aviation. There my mom and I boarded a pretty white jet that had red and blue stripes. The inside of the jet was like a small car. There was a seat for the pilot, a passenger seat beside him, and two regular airplane seats in back. Behind the seats was a little stash of chips and sodas which I was told to help myself to. I declined, saying I couldn't eat since I was about to go into surgery. I was too filled with nervous excitement to eat anyway, though I eyed the Cheetos with a bit of longing. I tried to play cards to distract myself, but mostly I looked out the window. We couldn't really talk since the jet was so loud. We had to wear ear plugs.
We arrived in Minnesota an hour later. I don't remember going to the hospital, but I do remember being there and my dad showing up with the same anxious look on his face as my mom. I knew what to expect this time around and was literally bouncing up and down with excitement. I'm pretty sure I had a goofy grin on my face the whole time. I was just so glad to get this new liver. I also wanted to be strong for my parents.
I remember being wheeled into the OR, seeing the Coleman cooler and watching a nurse sort mounds and mounds of clamps and other metal instruments.
"This is like a kitchen!" I remarked. "It looks like that person is sorting the utensils." I wanted to stay awake and watch more of the hustle and bustle going on around me, but all too soon the anesthesia was given to me and I was out.
I woke up probably eight to ten hours later. I couldn't talk for a day or two since I had to stay on a ventilator. I tried to impress everyone by writing my notes of request in cursive or drawing small doodles. The recovery went great and within a week I was back home in Lincoln. What a difference from the first transplant!
This liver was a whole liver and from someone much younger than me. I seem to remember someone slipping me information that my liver had belonged to a four-year-old girl who'd died in a car crash, but I don't know for sure. I do know that this liver served me well up until last about a year ago. Sure, there were the occasional glitches, but that's bound to happen. For the first three years with my new liver I was PSC-free (PSC is my liver disease)! Unfortunately, it penetrated this liver and now, eight and half years later, the disease has taken control. Still, most organ transplants are supposed to last 10-15 years, so I'm proud of this liver for all that it's done for me. He's been strong.
Who knows what this next transplant experience will be like? All I know for sure is when I get that page on my beeper I am going to be one happy camper.
The gift of life is a fabulous one. I would be dead two times over if it weren't for organ donation. The miracle of giving life to one person through another's death is a gift from God. I will never take for granted the gifts that have been allowed me in my two livers. Every day that I'm alive is a miracle because of them. Please, please, if you are not already an organ donor, become one. What reason do you have not to? I and countless others are living proof that your decision to be an organ donor will save lives. And please, please, don't treat your organs badly. Live healthfully because in doing so you are preserving your life and, when it ends, you could be passing that health and vitality down to someone else. Who knows how many more people could have been saved if a person hadn't destroyed their organs with alcohol, drugs, or poor diet?
Even though they probably will never read this, I want to thank the families who made the decisions for their loved one's organs to be donated and gave me life. No amount of thanks can ever cover the gratitude I feel, but I still want to say thank you and God bless you! :)
Friday, August 29, 2008
For Your Entertainment: Some Drugged Becca
Hi all. So it's 1:57 AM, my Ambien is kicking in sooner than expected so, if I can manage to keep a semi-level head here, you may be entertained rather than scared out of your boots. It was about 1:20 when I noticed I was getting hyper. I wanted to be out of the bed, doing something. I just couldn't relax. So, I took a Lorezepam and, for good meansure, an Ambien. I was exhausted, but reading a book like Breaking Dawn before bed isn't a good way to soothe your way on to slumber. Shoulda stuck with L.M. Bostons books, like I'd planned...
Anywho, here I am and tomorrow I want my bed moved so I can move my reliner into a position that points out the windows. Nature, peoples, nature! We need the trees and the skyline! Else Becca will ball up in the recliner and get all wrinkly and no one will ever be able to distinguish between her and the much-loved, many-times-read paperbacks with which she surrounds herself. Maybe then some abstract artist with oil paints will come and and paint a demented picture of the scene and then all the world will regret placing Becca's recliner away from the window.
I was thinking I'd move the bed to burn off the 1 AM energy, but seeing as how I'm klutsier than a bull in a china shop when I'm on Ambien, I thought better of it. My vision goes all blurry.
I'm halfway through Breaking Dawn. I couldn't stop myself, of course. I'm a little dissapointed so far, but at the same time, at the edge of my seat and I can't stop reading. I finally put my bookmark down halfway through where we first see the half vampire baby! Grrr! Scary!
Okay, okay, here's my short story for the night:
Ullyses reluctantly followed his brother through the stone passages of the castle, festooned though they were for the festival.
"You're going to love this Ullyses. Wonder entertainment. Very thoughtprovoking as well."
I nodded my head more as a sign for him to keep walking than for him to continue on about the merits of whatever talent he was taking me to see next. We walked swiftly, never fearing a false step. Our feet could have been two inches off the ground.
"Here is is," Erik pronoucned, excited. Opening the wooden door they saw a women curtsy to them before lifting up her skirts and sitting down with a sigh on the chamber pot.
"Really, Erik," I said, "a urination? I had my fill of those when I was in Italy."
"But Ullyses, I thought you liked them!" by brother called after me. But to no avail, I was already half way down the flight of stairs.
This website is fun. You can make pretty color combinations. http://kuler.adobe.com/
Off you go then little dears and bunnies and birds! Shoo! Go read another blog!
Anywho, here I am and tomorrow I want my bed moved so I can move my reliner into a position that points out the windows. Nature, peoples, nature! We need the trees and the skyline! Else Becca will ball up in the recliner and get all wrinkly and no one will ever be able to distinguish between her and the much-loved, many-times-read paperbacks with which she surrounds herself. Maybe then some abstract artist with oil paints will come and and paint a demented picture of the scene and then all the world will regret placing Becca's recliner away from the window.
I was thinking I'd move the bed to burn off the 1 AM energy, but seeing as how I'm klutsier than a bull in a china shop when I'm on Ambien, I thought better of it. My vision goes all blurry.
I'm halfway through Breaking Dawn. I couldn't stop myself, of course. I'm a little dissapointed so far, but at the same time, at the edge of my seat and I can't stop reading. I finally put my bookmark down halfway through where we first see the half vampire baby! Grrr! Scary!
Okay, okay, here's my short story for the night:
Ullyses reluctantly followed his brother through the stone passages of the castle, festooned though they were for the festival.
"You're going to love this Ullyses. Wonder entertainment. Very thoughtprovoking as well."
I nodded my head more as a sign for him to keep walking than for him to continue on about the merits of whatever talent he was taking me to see next. We walked swiftly, never fearing a false step. Our feet could have been two inches off the ground.
"Here is is," Erik pronoucned, excited. Opening the wooden door they saw a women curtsy to them before lifting up her skirts and sitting down with a sigh on the chamber pot.
"Really, Erik," I said, "a urination? I had my fill of those when I was in Italy."
"But Ullyses, I thought you liked them!" by brother called after me. But to no avail, I was already half way down the flight of stairs.
This website is fun. You can make pretty color combinations. http://kuler.adobe.com/
Off you go then little dears and bunnies and birds! Shoo! Go read another blog!
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