I have received some accolades for how brave I am and how strong I am. First, let me say, Thank you for the kind words that have come my way. They really do help. And second I would like to share with you an experience that has helped to heal me emotionally, spiritually and even a bit physically.
As you know I said that I would be sharing what my religion has done to support me in this strange way of life I have found myself in. I am not physically able to go to church, so that has made it hard for me to get to know the other people who share my beliefs. I do not have the safety net here in Virginia that I once had in California. I mean when you see certain people at church every week and then work with them in a church job. (No one is paid in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.) You get to know who you trust and who you like. I haven't had that opportunity, but I do have very active Home/Visiting Teachers who I have grown to love because of their visits. (A Home Teacher is male. The Visiting Teacher is female. They are other members of the church who are assigned to go to your home and hopefully become your friend. They are the link to finding out your needs and the major way that the church takes care of its members.)
When my eye blew, my Mother told on me to our Home/Visiting teachers (Ours is a husband and wife team.) and hinted at given me a Priesthood blessing.
(The word Priesthood is used in all different faiths. The formal definition of Priesthood in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is: The Priesthood is the authority and power that God gives to man to act in all things for the salvation of man. I have always known the Priesthood to be the authority to act in God's behalf and one of the things we believe can be done with that power is the healing of the sick by the laying on of hands.)
I felt awful because I said no. It did not feel right to me and I did not know how to explain it. I still don't because it makes me sound I am being prideful and unfaithful. But here's the thing. Why get a blessing to heal the sick when I am chronically ill? Yes, I do believe in miracles. I do believe God can heal me, but he isn't the magical genie in a bottle that we treat Him like. To every season and right now, my season is to be sick. I did not see how a blessing that would not "cure" me would help, so I said no. Then, when I started having so many Doctors appointments my Dad said, "I think Becky should have a blessing." And again I felt like a complete Jerk saying no in response.
I started seeing a Doctor almost everyday for hours. I was so tired. Hefting my weight out of the car, walking down hallways, blood being drawn, test, after test, after test, started to wear me down to the nub. I didn't cry out "Why me? Lord." I find that to be a very stupid phrase. Why not you? What makes you so special? No. I wasn't shouting Why me? Instead I was saying something else in my prayers.
"I don't understand why the suffering."
That is what I have been asking since 2010 and my first eye bleed. Why am I suffering? What is the suffering for? What do I do with all of my suffering? And then came my breakdown with the nurse. I haven't ever experienced such a feeling of utter despair. I sat in that chair looking at my two option. Either Dr. Vogal was going to do the laser surgery and cause me a skull-splitting amount of pain or I was going to have to drive home, wait, drive back and then he would cause me a skull-splitting amount of pain and I snapped. The nice nurse asked me what was wrong, but there wasn't anyway that I could tell her about all the Doctor appointments or being blind and having everything slowly being taken away from me. I couldn't described the truth that I felt like I was going to die and why should Dr. Vogal even bother. All of it surged over me and all my calmness, practicality and reasoning left me. The suffering became too much.
Dr. Vogal was very compassionate and got me through the surgery. You can read about it here in My Recent Health Scare. Even my Mother saying, "Oh, Poor baby!" After I came out from the surgery helped to soothe me. She never says stuff like that to me. I went home and went to bed at 8pm, an unheard of time for me. I normally go to bed at 2am. I remember saying again before I fell asleep.
"I don't understand why the suffering."
Since I went to bed so early, it meant I woke up early. 6am to be exact and in the quiet of the dark morning with my eye irritated and feeling like it had something in it, I felt strongly that I needed to get a blessing. I follow my feelings and the decision was made to ask for help. After being up for about 5 hours, I fell asleep again and did not wake up until afternoon. I approached my Father, who is the priesthood holder in my house and said, "Are you feeling happy today because I need a blessing." He responded positively, but a blessing for the sick requires two priesthood holders and I told him that President James (He is called that because he is the President of our Branch which is equal to being a minister of the congregation.) had offered his services.
After some wrong phone numbers on my Dad's part, I pick up my cell phone and called his wife, who I have been teaching in quilt class and she is also my parents visiting teacher. She asked me how I was doing. She knew all about my eye surgery. I told her the truth. "Ah, not very well. I need your husband to come over and give me a blessing." When I called I thought he would still be at work, but instead she answers. "Do you want him to come now?" I stumbled for a moment because I was expecting them to come after dinner, but I thought Why not? and said "Sure, come now."
That should tell you A. How much we have come to trust them because we didn't worry about presenting the perfect picture to them. They were going to see us warts and all. an B. That I knew what was going to happen was too important to put off. I need to give the James' credit because they could have easily blown me off. He had spent a hard day at work. He wanted to eat dinner and relax, not go off and take care of another person's needs.
They arrived and I told them what was going on. It was the first time I had told anyone the whole story. We prepared for the blessing and their are two parts, the main reason why you need two people. The first part is a tiny drop of blessed oil specificly for the healing of the sick is placed on my head and that is when a special prayer is said by one of the presithood holders to "annoint the oil".
(James 5:14 Is any sick among you? let him call for the elders of the church; and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord:)
Then the second part is a freeform prayer known as the "sealing of the annointing". When not done for the sick, but more as a comfort, as in a Father's blessing that we did before the school year; I remember the family gathering around and my father giving us each a blessing one by one, the first part with the oil is left out. I believe with my whole heart that if I am in the right place and the speaker is in the right place that we can experience something beyond ourselves. We can touch a higher power. It is believed that the speaker is trying to translate those feelings from God into words that we can understand. That is one of the responsibilities of having the priesthood. I am one of those that have faith that the words spoken in the blessing are being said directly to me by a loving Heavenly Father who is trying to communicate to me through a world filled with a cacaphinay of noises.
What surprised me was my Dad. I thought he would do the second part because as the priesthood holder in my family he has first pick, but as I was sitting in the chair he asked, "You want President James to give the blessing?" I was a bit taken aback. I just assummed Dad would do it, but I stammered out a short. "Yeah, sure." Everything started. I was paying attention (blessings are not recorded), but everythings else blew away when President James said these words...
"You will understand why the suffering. You don't know how many of God's Angels have been supporting you."
He used the exact same words of my prayers! The EXACT same WORDS! That means something profound to me. That means to me that I am being listen to by a Higher Power. In that moment I felt all the cracks and breaks fill up with a kind of spiritual glue. I felt myself become whole like a ceramic plate that had been droped on the ground, but there were no cracks, I was made whole. Why?, you ask, because just like I got through the eye surgery because of Dr. Vogals compasion and concern for my well being, so too can I get through the suffering if God is aware of it and cares about me. I still don't know why the suffering. I may never know in this mortal life, but knowing that a being greater than me is aware of me out of billons of people on this Earth helps.
Now, I wrestled myself on whether I was going to write this experience down. So many of you reading this can write this off, but I felt it was too important in the eveloution of who I am to not include it as apart of my story I want to thank the James' for being willing to help me and to President James for choosing to be in the right frame of mind. It would not have been the same if he had been grumbling under his breath. Please if you are a member of The Church of Jesus Chirst of Latter-day Saints, please be a good Home and Visiting Teacher. Go see if you can make a new friend. Talk about the Gospel and how you integrate its teachings into your own life. Don't only pay lip service to it. I never believed I would find myself on the other side of the fence, but I have. I never believe that I would look forward to their visits, but now I do.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Am I that Cynical?
Okay, I have been trying to figure out how to write this next post for the past week. I have tried to introduce you into the way I think and act because of the experiences I have endured. I have just had an experience that will illustrate for you how I think during a conversation. The conversation is going to be in Bold print and then I will given you my point of view and what I am thinking after. I hate it when an interaction sticks in my craw because I feel I did it wrong, maybe by the end of this writing I will have some answers, but I doubt it.. So here it goes.
I went to see Dr. Vogal last week for my 2 week check up. This time my Mother was sick and she didn't want to go, but I convinced her it would be the last time for a while. It was a late appointment and we started off in plenty of time. We got stuck by a huge set of trucks painting the lines in the road. Here there is no alternate route. You can't get off the road and choose another way. We were stuck, but things started moving and Mom with her lead foot got us back on track until we hit another set of trucks. We were both angry and frustrated. I noticed we would be quite late for my appointment. We finally got to the office and I found myself to be one of the last patients, so his office was nearly empty. I was called by the nurse. She did the prep work and then I sat in the exam room waiting for Dr. Vogal.
The walls between exam rooms are quite thin and I have to admit that I was curious how Dr. Vogal treated his other patients. I happen to know that the patient next door was another Dr because I heard his name called before me. They had deep voices and they were speaking Dr. language to one another. I was kind of surprise at hoe much time Vogal was spending with him. He had me waiting for much longer than usual, but then he spent more time with me too, so I guess that is a perk of being last. When Vogal final came into the exam room he said.
"Rebecca Peck, the legend."- Vogal
I was taken aback when he said that to me. Me, a nickname that wasn't insulting. It isn't what I am used to. I didn't know how to take it. I should have been gracious, but I questioned him instead. By the way he had said the same flattering words right before the pain of the laser surgery, bu I figured he s saying it to calm me down. He wasn't really complimenting me.
"Is that what you really think about me?"- Me
That was part blurt and part wanting to know. I was surprised I felt that comfortable to ask him. Any other Dr. and I would have passed it off with a small smile of acknowledgment.
"Of course I mean that."- Vogal
I now know after thinking about the conversation for a while that I pushed a button. The problem is my terrible immaturity that bites me in the butt. I am in my 30's, but I have had almost no dealings with the male gender. I am stuck at fourteen when it comes to being appropriate with men and we all know how smart they are. I often wish I had a person to flick me on the nose when I say something stupid, maybe then I would learn.
"I bet you say that to all your patients."- Me
I had a good reason for saying this. I pushed Vogal's button again, but he doesn't know what I have gone through with Doctors. He has know idea my baggage, but you get to read it.
I had one other Doctor I liked before Vogal. It was my plastic surgeon Dr. C. He was in a fancy upscale office with snobby nurses & receptionists. I never believed I would get so sick after my surgery. Dr. C became my only lifeline after I lost my job, insurance and original Dr. I was seeing Dr. C every couple of weeks so he could drain the fluid from me out of a pocket in my stomach. I wasn't spending money on my visits because this was a complication of the surgery. I remembered all of our conversations. I knew about his son. I knew about his wife. I knew birthdays. I knew all of this because I listen and pay attention more than I speak. I thought the Dr. knew me and we were more than acquaintances, but I was so wrong. I arrived early to my appointment and had to wait longer. I saw Dr. C interacting with his other patients and it dawned on me. How the Doctor acts with me is how he acts with everyone. He knew me because of the chart he got from the nurse every visit. I knocked myself on the head. Of course that's the way he acts with everyone. That is how Dr. C has a successful practice in a highly competitive field.
Now. Whenever I have gone to Dr. Vogal office before this visit, people have been 3 deep in the waiting room. I know he is busy and his visits to me are quick and professional. I overheard the receptionist say, "We had 160 patients yesterday, 185 patients today and are expecting 225 tomorrow." Now that is an office with 10 Doctors in it, so why would Dr. Vogal remember me? He has such a high turn over. He has a nurse bringing him the chart with my name on it. I don't expect him to have any concern or liking of me past being my Doctor.
"Are you really that cynical?"- Vogal
Okay, that question threw me for a loop. I do not believe that I am cynical. That word is someone who is bitter and negative, both qualities that I have struggled to overcome. The word cynical felt very wrong to me. Unfortunately, I could not come up with the proper word in the short beat you are allowed in a conversation. I am so slow on the uptake! It drives me nuts, so I responded with...
"Half cynical and half joking."- Me
Two things you need to understand about me. These two things I have only recently discovered about myself.
1. I can not lie. It has taken me so long to realize that I am physically unable to lie. It is like being a live version of Pinocchio, except he lied and you saw the effect on him. I am unable to lie. It is a struggle for me to know what to say to the simple question, "How are you?" Most people say "Fine." But for me as I got sicker I would answer "Awful." It wasn't to get attention or to have people ask about my troubles. It was the simple truth. I've learned that a good portion of the people I am acquainted with don't want to know the truth and so that means I don't talk very much, unless I feel comfortable with the person I am in a conversation with. The thing is I will tell you anything if you ask me a question and that's how Dr. Vogal got me. He turned to me and asked a direct question. I was going to do my very best to answer him. I felt tentative about being this honest to Dr. Vogal, but I am well aware that I can't help it.
2. I am a realist. I am so grateful to have finally figure this one out. All through life people would say, " I'm an optimist. I see the glass as half full, while you are a pessimist. You see the glass half empty." My parents are that way, Dad can be a pessimist and Mom the optimist. The more I watch the interaction the more I did not feel like I belonged in either category. It wasn't until I heard a TV host talking and he called his guest an optimist. The guest turned it around and ask what he was and the host said, "I'm a realist, Man." What an A-Ha! explosion in my brain. I am a realist. I look at the tools, the time and the people and I formulate my game plan. I come off critical and bossy even though that is not my intention. I want others to be successful and I have the talent to see the upcoming pitfalls.
"Listen, I like you. If I didn't like you, trust me, you would know."- Vogal
I understand that Vogal likes me, but how does that change anything, Liking a person is actually quite traumatic for me because I have no idea what that means or what to do with the emotions. Liking someone denotes to me a certain responsibility, an acquaintance can be passed off. Dr. Vogal has become apart of my everyday life. I have been seeing him every 2 weeks and now that we are stretching to 2 months, I admit I am going to miss our witty back and forth.
"I know you like me. Its just that the Doctors before you have treated me like a little white lab rat. I have a hard time."- Me
He laughed at the lab rat comment and the lighter mood return. He told me my left eye was better. I didn't believe him, but he has instruments. I have noticed the blood has broken up. When I wake up in the morning, I like to look at the white wall and see how the blood has changed. There isn't anything else he can do for now. If I don't get better it will be surgery in the hospital and I do not want that.
So I have been chewing on this piece of cud conversation wondering if all my thinking equals any progress. I don't think so. If we were to have the conversation again. I would say the same thing. I really, really wish I was faster on the uptake. Does that come with experience?
I went to see Dr. Vogal last week for my 2 week check up. This time my Mother was sick and she didn't want to go, but I convinced her it would be the last time for a while. It was a late appointment and we started off in plenty of time. We got stuck by a huge set of trucks painting the lines in the road. Here there is no alternate route. You can't get off the road and choose another way. We were stuck, but things started moving and Mom with her lead foot got us back on track until we hit another set of trucks. We were both angry and frustrated. I noticed we would be quite late for my appointment. We finally got to the office and I found myself to be one of the last patients, so his office was nearly empty. I was called by the nurse. She did the prep work and then I sat in the exam room waiting for Dr. Vogal.
The walls between exam rooms are quite thin and I have to admit that I was curious how Dr. Vogal treated his other patients. I happen to know that the patient next door was another Dr because I heard his name called before me. They had deep voices and they were speaking Dr. language to one another. I was kind of surprise at hoe much time Vogal was spending with him. He had me waiting for much longer than usual, but then he spent more time with me too, so I guess that is a perk of being last. When Vogal final came into the exam room he said.
"Rebecca Peck, the legend."- Vogal
I was taken aback when he said that to me. Me, a nickname that wasn't insulting. It isn't what I am used to. I didn't know how to take it. I should have been gracious, but I questioned him instead. By the way he had said the same flattering words right before the pain of the laser surgery, bu I figured he s saying it to calm me down. He wasn't really complimenting me.
"Is that what you really think about me?"- Me
That was part blurt and part wanting to know. I was surprised I felt that comfortable to ask him. Any other Dr. and I would have passed it off with a small smile of acknowledgment.
"Of course I mean that."- Vogal
I now know after thinking about the conversation for a while that I pushed a button. The problem is my terrible immaturity that bites me in the butt. I am in my 30's, but I have had almost no dealings with the male gender. I am stuck at fourteen when it comes to being appropriate with men and we all know how smart they are. I often wish I had a person to flick me on the nose when I say something stupid, maybe then I would learn.
"I bet you say that to all your patients."- Me
I had a good reason for saying this. I pushed Vogal's button again, but he doesn't know what I have gone through with Doctors. He has know idea my baggage, but you get to read it.
I had one other Doctor I liked before Vogal. It was my plastic surgeon Dr. C. He was in a fancy upscale office with snobby nurses & receptionists. I never believed I would get so sick after my surgery. Dr. C became my only lifeline after I lost my job, insurance and original Dr. I was seeing Dr. C every couple of weeks so he could drain the fluid from me out of a pocket in my stomach. I wasn't spending money on my visits because this was a complication of the surgery. I remembered all of our conversations. I knew about his son. I knew about his wife. I knew birthdays. I knew all of this because I listen and pay attention more than I speak. I thought the Dr. knew me and we were more than acquaintances, but I was so wrong. I arrived early to my appointment and had to wait longer. I saw Dr. C interacting with his other patients and it dawned on me. How the Doctor acts with me is how he acts with everyone. He knew me because of the chart he got from the nurse every visit. I knocked myself on the head. Of course that's the way he acts with everyone. That is how Dr. C has a successful practice in a highly competitive field.
Now. Whenever I have gone to Dr. Vogal office before this visit, people have been 3 deep in the waiting room. I know he is busy and his visits to me are quick and professional. I overheard the receptionist say, "We had 160 patients yesterday, 185 patients today and are expecting 225 tomorrow." Now that is an office with 10 Doctors in it, so why would Dr. Vogal remember me? He has such a high turn over. He has a nurse bringing him the chart with my name on it. I don't expect him to have any concern or liking of me past being my Doctor.
"Are you really that cynical?"- Vogal
Okay, that question threw me for a loop. I do not believe that I am cynical. That word is someone who is bitter and negative, both qualities that I have struggled to overcome. The word cynical felt very wrong to me. Unfortunately, I could not come up with the proper word in the short beat you are allowed in a conversation. I am so slow on the uptake! It drives me nuts, so I responded with...
"Half cynical and half joking."- Me
Two things you need to understand about me. These two things I have only recently discovered about myself.
1. I can not lie. It has taken me so long to realize that I am physically unable to lie. It is like being a live version of Pinocchio, except he lied and you saw the effect on him. I am unable to lie. It is a struggle for me to know what to say to the simple question, "How are you?" Most people say "Fine." But for me as I got sicker I would answer "Awful." It wasn't to get attention or to have people ask about my troubles. It was the simple truth. I've learned that a good portion of the people I am acquainted with don't want to know the truth and so that means I don't talk very much, unless I feel comfortable with the person I am in a conversation with. The thing is I will tell you anything if you ask me a question and that's how Dr. Vogal got me. He turned to me and asked a direct question. I was going to do my very best to answer him. I felt tentative about being this honest to Dr. Vogal, but I am well aware that I can't help it.
2. I am a realist. I am so grateful to have finally figure this one out. All through life people would say, " I'm an optimist. I see the glass as half full, while you are a pessimist. You see the glass half empty." My parents are that way, Dad can be a pessimist and Mom the optimist. The more I watch the interaction the more I did not feel like I belonged in either category. It wasn't until I heard a TV host talking and he called his guest an optimist. The guest turned it around and ask what he was and the host said, "I'm a realist, Man." What an A-Ha! explosion in my brain. I am a realist. I look at the tools, the time and the people and I formulate my game plan. I come off critical and bossy even though that is not my intention. I want others to be successful and I have the talent to see the upcoming pitfalls.
"Listen, I like you. If I didn't like you, trust me, you would know."- Vogal
I understand that Vogal likes me, but how does that change anything, Liking a person is actually quite traumatic for me because I have no idea what that means or what to do with the emotions. Liking someone denotes to me a certain responsibility, an acquaintance can be passed off. Dr. Vogal has become apart of my everyday life. I have been seeing him every 2 weeks and now that we are stretching to 2 months, I admit I am going to miss our witty back and forth.
"I know you like me. Its just that the Doctors before you have treated me like a little white lab rat. I have a hard time."- Me
He laughed at the lab rat comment and the lighter mood return. He told me my left eye was better. I didn't believe him, but he has instruments. I have noticed the blood has broken up. When I wake up in the morning, I like to look at the white wall and see how the blood has changed. There isn't anything else he can do for now. If I don't get better it will be surgery in the hospital and I do not want that.
So I have been chewing on this piece of cud conversation wondering if all my thinking equals any progress. I don't think so. If we were to have the conversation again. I would say the same thing. I really, really wish I was faster on the uptake. Does that come with experience?
Thursday, September 5, 2013
My Recent Health Scare
I guess I am back from Death's door.
Maybe that is a bit over dramatic, but I haven't been able too write because of my health and that has really hurt me. I have come to rely on the cathartic effects of writing. I need to express myself and I am not able to do it vocally and have it sooth my soul. It just feels like complaining.. I find I have to mull over my ideas and emotions and I can't do that when speaking. The writings in this blog equal months, even years of thinking. I am fortunate to have found a way to get rid of my obsessing. If a thought is bothering me I have learned to write it down, that is how I get it out of me and it stops hurting. I work through my feelings and emerge from the other side a little bit wiser I hope. Well, I haven't been able to write because I had another eye bleed that is still blocking my vision. This eye bleed started a domino effect that then turned into an epic saga. I feel that my sickness is a private matter, but since others seem to want to know what is going on and who isn't curious about another's misery, I will recount the events of the past month. So, here we go.
I woke up Thursday afternoon ready to start helping a friend with her quilt when I noticed a smudge of dark red in my eye. I knew it was blood. I told my mother and she had me call Dr.Vogal, who of course wanted me to come in. I really did not want to because I have been suffering. Since the beginning of the New Year I have felt sicker and sicker. I kept thinking I would feel better, but now I was just unable to pull my bulk around I need a cane as a support because I feel like I am going to fall all the time.
It is an arduous drive to Lynchberg. They seem to forget all the time that it takes us an hour to an hour and fifteen minutes for the ride. There are very few freeways here. I am used to lanes of traffic and getting to go fast and straight, Not Here! We have to travel on a small two lane road where people are slowing down to turn off into their driveways! It is awful and it sucks if you get stuck behind a truck. We go through the middle of towns and the road twists and turns. I hate it so much because I have become very sensitive and end up car sick. The other problem is the lack of bathrooms. My mother and I have the places we can get gas and go to the bathroom memorized because there are long stretches of nothing....nothing but grass and homes, again I hate it. It is all what you are used to and all what you grow up with. I am sick and I do not have any tolerance for the beauty.
So I make it to Dr. Vogal's building, but I had a very hard time getting into his office because of the extra weight I was carrying. Dr. Vogal looks in my eye and said, "Yes, It is full of blood. Here is the problem. I think you maybe in congestive heart failure and the shot I need to give you in your eye is not good for that condition." He then went on to tell me I needed to see a Dr. right away because he couldn't help me until I was better. Well, when Dr. Vogal tells me I am in serious trouble I listen. I did not see what could be done, but I wasn't going to be stubborn.
I refused to go to the ER and try to explain my condition to another Dr. It is too hard to explain and I know I am very confusing, I realize this fact. My mother wanted me in the hospital and I was willing to go if my Dr. said that was needed. So I call the fancy Halifax Primary Care and leave a message with the nurse recounting my story and saying I need an emergency appointment wit Dr, Pambid. She calls me back and says he is filled the next couple of days and that I should go to the ER. I hung up and resolved to see the clinic Dr. He is my last choice because I have to pay cash for him, but I had seen him before when I did not have insurance, so he at least knew my situation. Out of the blue I thought I should make a formal appointment with Dr. Pambid to get him updated with my condition. I called thinking I would not get into see him for a month, but the appointment lady said he had an opening on Weds. I snatched it up. It was Monday, So here day by day is what happened over the next month.
Friday: Dr Vogal sees blood in my eye.
Weds: I see Dr. Pembid. He makes me get Blood tests. Wants me to see a Heart Dr. & Kidney Dr. Gives me a shot to make me get rid of the extra fluid. Wait over 3 hours at the office end up closing it down.
Friday: Go back for another shot to get rid of the fluid. Find I gaind 3 pounds IN TWO DAYS! All of it fluid. Go to the heart doctor. He sets me up for a chemical stress test which I said no too, but nobody listened to me. I already had a stress test and I couldn't lay down without choking, so I ended up canceling. I did the echocardiogram (ultrasound) of my heart. He took more blood.
Monday: Go back to Dr. Pembid, find I have gain another 4 pounds IN 2 DAYS! So 7 pounds of fluid in 4 days. I was so glad the Dr. saw that. It is impossible to gain 7 pounds in 4 days from eating. The body can not convert that fast. We sat together talking and by the end he said, "I don't know. I don't know what to do?" My answer, " I know. I don't know what to do either." How do you take that? How do you explain that to other people?
I found a pic of Dr. Vogal, so I thought I should find one of Dr. Pembid, but only found this blank spot. Dr. Pembid is an older gentleman of Asian decent. Who is trying his best with my care.
So, He told me to go see a kidney Dr. and I said I would. He then told me I may have to go on Dialysis to get the fluid off. The last Dr. who talked of me about Dialysis said that if I started going on a machine that I would become dependent on the machine and I really do not want to live that way. I watched my grandmother dealing with going to dialysis 3 days a week. I would stay over and a bus would come to pick up my grandmother and she would be gone for hours and come back angry and exhausted. It was the amount of time she spent doing the process that distressed me. She would be gone for over 4 hours every other day. She was dependent on a piece of mechanics and that was awful to me. She finally asked to stop Dialysis and died of kidney failure. I wasn't there for her death, but my mother was and I often think of dying the way my mother described. I have a chip on my shoulder about dialysis. But Dr. Pembid said he thought I could go off it and it became a new possibility to help get the fluid off. At the end of the appointment we decide to double my diuretic medication and since my echo cardiogram looked good hr thought I should get a chest X-ray to see if I was in Congestive Heart Failure for sure, since he thought I would have been better by then with the shots. So off to the hospital so they would have the X-ray in time to see if I could get the shot in my eye on Thursday.
Tuesday: Call from the nurse to say I was clear for the shot.
Thursday:Drove to Lynchberg to have Dr. Vogal stick a large needle into my left eye. The medicine shrinks the blood vessels to prevent them from bleeding. We then had to wait 2 weeks for the blood to clear up enough that he could see the back of my eye, so he could use the laser.
Thursday 2 weeks later: Mom and I set out on the drive with a few things working against me. I could not sleep at all the night before. I took a sleeping pill and everything. I felt like my brain refused to click off. I describe it like a car always in neutral. I may not be in drive. moving, but it never downshifted and turned off. When that happens my blood sugars go crazy because I don't know when to eat. So I felt crabby, sick to my stomach and I was traveling to have a man hurt me with a high power laser. Not a good start. I asked my Mom to stop for snacks and that helped me feel better. I was making a mental effort to be nice and talk about nice things when right in the middle of my sentence I saw a huge black worm block my vision and slowly dissipate. I sat in the front seat silently crying. It was too much for me to handle. We were half way to Dr. Vogal, no turning back and I knew the worm was another eye bleed. If there was too much blood then Dr. Vogal would not be able to do the surgery.
I was beyond exhausted when we finally made it too his office. I don't remembering being pushed so close to the end of my mental endurance. I have a very high threshold for pain, but I was so beyond my capacity that I went numb to survive. Thank goodness my mother was there to deal with the stupid people.
I get called back for the nurse to start the exam and to dilate my eye. I told her of the blood in my eye and she said she didn't know what to do. I guess those words were a trigger because I started to sob. I don't cry in public. I do not think it is proper and I can name maybe 3 times I have cry out loud since turning 16. This time, I could not control it. I felt the muscles in my mouth contracting giving my sobs away. The nurse was really sweet. She asked me what was wrong. I couldn't answer for a moment. She had no idea of what I had gone through to be there and now it was possible that Dr. Vogal couldn't do his work and I would still be blind, but on the flip side, if he did do the surgery he was going to cause me a great amount of pain. I didn't know what to hope for.
Here is a pic of Dr. Vogal. My torture! And he takes his job seriously.
She got D. Vogal in and he cleared me for surgery and I felt like crying again. I almost fell asleep waiting for my eye to dilate and stumbled into the back room with the laser when my name was called. I had been through it twice before, but it doesn't make it any easier. I kept stalling putting my head into the contraption and asked what exactly he was doing. Getting information out of Dr. Vogal is worse than the CIA trying to crack a Russian KGB spy. He said my body was making bad blood vessels in my eye that would then pop and bleed. He was attempting to destroy the bad vessels. I said, "I know what's coming." He answered, "I know and I hope you don't hate me because of the pain I will be causing you." I have never had a Dr. be concerned with the way I feel. Most of the time I feel as important as a little white lab rat. Someone to work there medical knowledge on, but not a person. I was very surprised to hear myself answer, "I like you. I just don't like what you have to do to me." I felt shy after I said I liked him, since that has been such an offending thing for me to vocalize to a male since childhood, but he seem to accept my honesty without a second thought and I placed my head into the steel trap.
One of the most awful experiences of my life. Each pinprick of light feels like red hot ice picks being jabbed into my brain. They force your eye open with a lens, strap your head in so you can't jerk back and have the nurse place all her body weight on your head for good measure. The pain would build and build. Worse there was one spot in the middle of my eye that felt like he was poking an open wound each time he hit it. I kept thinking it was almost over. I can endure because it is almost over, but it kept going and going. I finally asked him to stop, but it didn't help because it kept echoing inside my skull. I was surprised when he asked if I was going to have a psychological break, I guess since I had been crying with the nurse a short time earilier, he had a right to be worried, but I think his sincere expressed concern for me instead of the usual patronizing Dr.'s normally give me manged to really helped. I felt mentally fine. It helped because I knew he meant his concern. He had put his wallet where his mouth was and saved my sight before at his own cost.
It was finally over and I asked what would happen next. He said, "I don't know." I was getting used to that phrase. He did not know if the blood vessels would return or what would be the best next step. I left his office feeling like I had been punched multiple times in the eye. The pain echoed across my face and I felt an intense aching in my sinuses and cheekbones.
As far as I can tell my eye has not improve. The blood is still blocking my vision and now I am getting a throbbing pain in my right temple. I have another appointment with him this next Tuesday. I have to meet with the Kidney Dr. the 26th and then with Dr. Pembid the !st.
The diuretics have worked. I am not carrying around as much fluid. I think back in November I complained of suffering diarrhea and other maladies from my diuretic, so he lowered my dosages and the fluid slowly crept on. I really thought I would get better, but I didn't have enough medicine to get the fluid off, so I never felt better. With the extra I can now adjust the dosage for my needs, but I didn't know that was the problem.
I say to everyone what the Dr.'s keep saying to me. "I don't know."
Maybe that is a bit over dramatic, but I haven't been able too write because of my health and that has really hurt me. I have come to rely on the cathartic effects of writing. I need to express myself and I am not able to do it vocally and have it sooth my soul. It just feels like complaining.. I find I have to mull over my ideas and emotions and I can't do that when speaking. The writings in this blog equal months, even years of thinking. I am fortunate to have found a way to get rid of my obsessing. If a thought is bothering me I have learned to write it down, that is how I get it out of me and it stops hurting. I work through my feelings and emerge from the other side a little bit wiser I hope. Well, I haven't been able to write because I had another eye bleed that is still blocking my vision. This eye bleed started a domino effect that then turned into an epic saga. I feel that my sickness is a private matter, but since others seem to want to know what is going on and who isn't curious about another's misery, I will recount the events of the past month. So, here we go.
I woke up Thursday afternoon ready to start helping a friend with her quilt when I noticed a smudge of dark red in my eye. I knew it was blood. I told my mother and she had me call Dr.Vogal, who of course wanted me to come in. I really did not want to because I have been suffering. Since the beginning of the New Year I have felt sicker and sicker. I kept thinking I would feel better, but now I was just unable to pull my bulk around I need a cane as a support because I feel like I am going to fall all the time.
It is an arduous drive to Lynchberg. They seem to forget all the time that it takes us an hour to an hour and fifteen minutes for the ride. There are very few freeways here. I am used to lanes of traffic and getting to go fast and straight, Not Here! We have to travel on a small two lane road where people are slowing down to turn off into their driveways! It is awful and it sucks if you get stuck behind a truck. We go through the middle of towns and the road twists and turns. I hate it so much because I have become very sensitive and end up car sick. The other problem is the lack of bathrooms. My mother and I have the places we can get gas and go to the bathroom memorized because there are long stretches of nothing....nothing but grass and homes, again I hate it. It is all what you are used to and all what you grow up with. I am sick and I do not have any tolerance for the beauty.
So I make it to Dr. Vogal's building, but I had a very hard time getting into his office because of the extra weight I was carrying. Dr. Vogal looks in my eye and said, "Yes, It is full of blood. Here is the problem. I think you maybe in congestive heart failure and the shot I need to give you in your eye is not good for that condition." He then went on to tell me I needed to see a Dr. right away because he couldn't help me until I was better. Well, when Dr. Vogal tells me I am in serious trouble I listen. I did not see what could be done, but I wasn't going to be stubborn.
I refused to go to the ER and try to explain my condition to another Dr. It is too hard to explain and I know I am very confusing, I realize this fact. My mother wanted me in the hospital and I was willing to go if my Dr. said that was needed. So I call the fancy Halifax Primary Care and leave a message with the nurse recounting my story and saying I need an emergency appointment wit Dr, Pambid. She calls me back and says he is filled the next couple of days and that I should go to the ER. I hung up and resolved to see the clinic Dr. He is my last choice because I have to pay cash for him, but I had seen him before when I did not have insurance, so he at least knew my situation. Out of the blue I thought I should make a formal appointment with Dr. Pambid to get him updated with my condition. I called thinking I would not get into see him for a month, but the appointment lady said he had an opening on Weds. I snatched it up. It was Monday, So here day by day is what happened over the next month.
Friday: Dr Vogal sees blood in my eye.
Weds: I see Dr. Pembid. He makes me get Blood tests. Wants me to see a Heart Dr. & Kidney Dr. Gives me a shot to make me get rid of the extra fluid. Wait over 3 hours at the office end up closing it down.
Friday: Go back for another shot to get rid of the fluid. Find I gaind 3 pounds IN TWO DAYS! All of it fluid. Go to the heart doctor. He sets me up for a chemical stress test which I said no too, but nobody listened to me. I already had a stress test and I couldn't lay down without choking, so I ended up canceling. I did the echocardiogram (ultrasound) of my heart. He took more blood.
Monday: Go back to Dr. Pembid, find I have gain another 4 pounds IN 2 DAYS! So 7 pounds of fluid in 4 days. I was so glad the Dr. saw that. It is impossible to gain 7 pounds in 4 days from eating. The body can not convert that fast. We sat together talking and by the end he said, "I don't know. I don't know what to do?" My answer, " I know. I don't know what to do either." How do you take that? How do you explain that to other people?
I found a pic of Dr. Vogal, so I thought I should find one of Dr. Pembid, but only found this blank spot. Dr. Pembid is an older gentleman of Asian decent. Who is trying his best with my care.
So, He told me to go see a kidney Dr. and I said I would. He then told me I may have to go on Dialysis to get the fluid off. The last Dr. who talked of me about Dialysis said that if I started going on a machine that I would become dependent on the machine and I really do not want to live that way. I watched my grandmother dealing with going to dialysis 3 days a week. I would stay over and a bus would come to pick up my grandmother and she would be gone for hours and come back angry and exhausted. It was the amount of time she spent doing the process that distressed me. She would be gone for over 4 hours every other day. She was dependent on a piece of mechanics and that was awful to me. She finally asked to stop Dialysis and died of kidney failure. I wasn't there for her death, but my mother was and I often think of dying the way my mother described. I have a chip on my shoulder about dialysis. But Dr. Pembid said he thought I could go off it and it became a new possibility to help get the fluid off. At the end of the appointment we decide to double my diuretic medication and since my echo cardiogram looked good hr thought I should get a chest X-ray to see if I was in Congestive Heart Failure for sure, since he thought I would have been better by then with the shots. So off to the hospital so they would have the X-ray in time to see if I could get the shot in my eye on Thursday.Tuesday: Call from the nurse to say I was clear for the shot.
Thursday:Drove to Lynchberg to have Dr. Vogal stick a large needle into my left eye. The medicine shrinks the blood vessels to prevent them from bleeding. We then had to wait 2 weeks for the blood to clear up enough that he could see the back of my eye, so he could use the laser.
Thursday 2 weeks later: Mom and I set out on the drive with a few things working against me. I could not sleep at all the night before. I took a sleeping pill and everything. I felt like my brain refused to click off. I describe it like a car always in neutral. I may not be in drive. moving, but it never downshifted and turned off. When that happens my blood sugars go crazy because I don't know when to eat. So I felt crabby, sick to my stomach and I was traveling to have a man hurt me with a high power laser. Not a good start. I asked my Mom to stop for snacks and that helped me feel better. I was making a mental effort to be nice and talk about nice things when right in the middle of my sentence I saw a huge black worm block my vision and slowly dissipate. I sat in the front seat silently crying. It was too much for me to handle. We were half way to Dr. Vogal, no turning back and I knew the worm was another eye bleed. If there was too much blood then Dr. Vogal would not be able to do the surgery.
I was beyond exhausted when we finally made it too his office. I don't remembering being pushed so close to the end of my mental endurance. I have a very high threshold for pain, but I was so beyond my capacity that I went numb to survive. Thank goodness my mother was there to deal with the stupid people.
I get called back for the nurse to start the exam and to dilate my eye. I told her of the blood in my eye and she said she didn't know what to do. I guess those words were a trigger because I started to sob. I don't cry in public. I do not think it is proper and I can name maybe 3 times I have cry out loud since turning 16. This time, I could not control it. I felt the muscles in my mouth contracting giving my sobs away. The nurse was really sweet. She asked me what was wrong. I couldn't answer for a moment. She had no idea of what I had gone through to be there and now it was possible that Dr. Vogal couldn't do his work and I would still be blind, but on the flip side, if he did do the surgery he was going to cause me a great amount of pain. I didn't know what to hope for.
Here is a pic of Dr. Vogal. My torture! And he takes his job seriously.
She got D. Vogal in and he cleared me for surgery and I felt like crying again. I almost fell asleep waiting for my eye to dilate and stumbled into the back room with the laser when my name was called. I had been through it twice before, but it doesn't make it any easier. I kept stalling putting my head into the contraption and asked what exactly he was doing. Getting information out of Dr. Vogal is worse than the CIA trying to crack a Russian KGB spy. He said my body was making bad blood vessels in my eye that would then pop and bleed. He was attempting to destroy the bad vessels. I said, "I know what's coming." He answered, "I know and I hope you don't hate me because of the pain I will be causing you." I have never had a Dr. be concerned with the way I feel. Most of the time I feel as important as a little white lab rat. Someone to work there medical knowledge on, but not a person. I was very surprised to hear myself answer, "I like you. I just don't like what you have to do to me." I felt shy after I said I liked him, since that has been such an offending thing for me to vocalize to a male since childhood, but he seem to accept my honesty without a second thought and I placed my head into the steel trap.One of the most awful experiences of my life. Each pinprick of light feels like red hot ice picks being jabbed into my brain. They force your eye open with a lens, strap your head in so you can't jerk back and have the nurse place all her body weight on your head for good measure. The pain would build and build. Worse there was one spot in the middle of my eye that felt like he was poking an open wound each time he hit it. I kept thinking it was almost over. I can endure because it is almost over, but it kept going and going. I finally asked him to stop, but it didn't help because it kept echoing inside my skull. I was surprised when he asked if I was going to have a psychological break, I guess since I had been crying with the nurse a short time earilier, he had a right to be worried, but I think his sincere expressed concern for me instead of the usual patronizing Dr.'s normally give me manged to really helped. I felt mentally fine. It helped because I knew he meant his concern. He had put his wallet where his mouth was and saved my sight before at his own cost.
It was finally over and I asked what would happen next. He said, "I don't know." I was getting used to that phrase. He did not know if the blood vessels would return or what would be the best next step. I left his office feeling like I had been punched multiple times in the eye. The pain echoed across my face and I felt an intense aching in my sinuses and cheekbones.
As far as I can tell my eye has not improve. The blood is still blocking my vision and now I am getting a throbbing pain in my right temple. I have another appointment with him this next Tuesday. I have to meet with the Kidney Dr. the 26th and then with Dr. Pembid the !st.
The diuretics have worked. I am not carrying around as much fluid. I think back in November I complained of suffering diarrhea and other maladies from my diuretic, so he lowered my dosages and the fluid slowly crept on. I really thought I would get better, but I didn't have enough medicine to get the fluid off, so I never felt better. With the extra I can now adjust the dosage for my needs, but I didn't know that was the problem.
I say to everyone what the Dr.'s keep saying to me. "I don't know."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)