tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6222823686073026052024-03-13T21:56:29.596-07:00little {mrs.} sunshineglad you're here!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.comBlogger975125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-4241867312856570212015-05-13T06:54:00.003-07:002015-05-13T07:26:00.624-07:00Drawing & the Mama GutHELLO!<br />
<br />
It's been months.<br />
<br />
I have more free time, thanks to Young Living... you'd think I'd be a responsible blog author and write often.<br />
<br />
It's on my list of "things to resolve."<br />
<br />
So you know how when you're a parent, your child's pain is your pain? Your child's victories are your victories? And so on?<br />
<br />
My two older kids are getting to that age where I've had to reign in the mama bear, cage her and calm down. Example: At a five year old's soccer game, don't make comments about "the kid who isn't running as fast as the others." Because that kid is mine. And caging the mama bear is difficult. I picture myself with a finger in the offenders face, going off about how these are KIDS. And who gives a flying whatever who wins? Or who can run the fastest, etc. They're FIVE. Thankfully for all involved, I've withheld my inner Saturday soccer dialog.<br />
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One of the largest parenting obstacles I've yet to accomplish (gracefully) is evolving WITH my kids. Because as soon as I get comfortable with one stage, they're moving on to a completely different one. Like, Maeve- what in the world? Weren't we happy when you were four, and ice cream fixed everything? And you didn't know what hurt feelings were? Or the evilness that we call math? <br />
<br />
Kids grow. And things that once made their world complete, don't hold a spot in their new phase of life.<br />
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As parents, it's comfortable- feels WONDERFUL- to keep your kids close, protected. Using your body as a literal human shield from what can happen "out there."<br />
<br />
But because we want the best for our kids, we peal that layer of connection off and as gently as possible, toss them into the water. <i>Swim kids, swim! Don't sink! </i><br />
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This year has been full of swimming lessons. Henry is in school full time, at what I think, is the best school in St. Johns county. He has teachers that love him; that accept him for who he is. They understand he's sensitive, and he scares easily. They know he loves pirates, tree houses, and couldn't care less about "staying in the lines." When he brings his art work home it's usually a "mess" of black crayon; although he can explain exactly what's going on in the picture. <br />
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Unfortunately his VPK program is just that- VPK. It ends there. Meaning, Henry needs to readjust to another school. <i>Sigh There goes another layer of protection. </i><br />
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We have been incredibly blessed with our business adventure- or whatever you want to call Young Living; like VERY blessed. And the opportunity came up to send our kids to a private Latin school, that is truly wonderful. It's small, everyone is on a first name basis (or because we're in the south a "Miss Suzie" name basis) -side note it really doesn't matter how old you are- everyone is "Miss" or "Mister." I sort of love it.<br />
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A few weeks ago Ryan and I toured the school; it felt like my favorite "Hello" sweatshirt. Worn in, familiar, perfectly fitting. We left feeling a few things: 1- "This is like a dream school- how have we been given the opportunity to actually DO this?" 2- Peaceful. Our kids would be loved; a name, not a number. 3- have you seen the episode of "Full House" where Uncle Jessie & Aunt Becky take the twins to be evaluated at that high end preschool? We felt like that too.<br />
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Visions of plaid uniforms, knee socks, and my kids practicing Latin danced in my head.<br />
<br />
Maeve went in for her evaluation first. And as per usual, Maeve, our perfectionist, did her thing and is ready for second grade, testing much higher in several areas. Maeve- check. Set, boom. <br />
<br />
Henry's turn was a little different.<br />
<br />
They're different kids; duh.<br />
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Henry is a creature of habit. He loves routine. He is nervous, shy, and unsure of anything new. He won't watch "Monsters Inc" because he doesn't like to see the kids crying. In one word, this kid is sensitive. I knew the day would be a challenge for him because he doesn't adapt as easily as Maeve. He had NO interest in meeting a new teacher, or new kids. He wanted Miss Kim and Patric. He wanted the halls of Memorial Lutheran. And he gripped my hand as I dragged him into his new school for the evaluation.<br />
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There are few things worse than pealing your child off you, and leaving. Your entire mommy/daddy instinct is saying "GET THAT CHILD! Scoop him up, and rock him!" But instead, you get in your car, mind racing through all of the scenarios that could happen; "Is he going to cry? Is he going to talk? Will I get a call saying he's in the corner of the room having a melt down?" <br />
<br />
I didn't get a call. (Thank God) And when I picked him up he was shooting baskets (well, throwing the ball in the general direction of the hoop). He looked happy. He looked like one of them. <i>Exhale the breath I'd been holding in all day.</i><br />
<br />
<i> </i>According to Henry, the day went great. He made me a mothers day present and "circled all the right things." He met friends, but didn't know their names, and he wants to play basketball again. SUCCESS!<br />
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Yesterday I got a call, asking to come into the new school, so we could talk about Henry. I know he has handwriting issues and focusing "problems" (although what 5 year old doesn't?). But I wasn't prepared for what I was told.<br />
<br />
Henry didn't pass his kindergarten entry exam. As we went through his test, I saw words circled and spelled backwards. For example, he was supposed to circle the matching word for SOAP- he circled PAOS. My heart sunk. <br />
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As we flipped to the last page of the test, it was a blank, white page- the directions were to draw yourself. Henry had drawn a head, two eyes and limbs. No mouth, no hair, no clothes, basically no detail.<br />
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The principal explained to me that when a child is ready for kindergarten, their pictures are much more detailed. And that Henry's picture (obviously) lacked that.<br />
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I nodded, took notes, and talked about our options. Repeating VPK, pushing him ahead and struggling, not knowing if he's ready or not; the familiar feeling of shedding that layer of protection started to crack and all I wanted to do, was find Henry and tell him how amazing he is. No matter what- repeating VPK or whatever- it doesn't matter. He's mine, and he's the best.<br />
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As soon as I left the meeting, I called Ryan. He had the same reaction- how? Henry is going to be SIX. A six year old in VPK??? My heart ached for him and my mind raced through the years; he'll be the 17 year old freshman in high school...omg.<br />
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I came home, feeling like we had failed him. And it had to be MY fault, because mothers are martyrs by nature. I happen to be an exceptional one (and that's not a good thing). I had it in my head that something I had done during my pregnancy- like eating hot dogs, or taking too hot of a bath had caused this earth shattering catastrophe. (I hope you're getting my sarcasm here).<br />
<br />
Earth shattering catastrophe- my child having to repeat VPK. I'm also very dramatic.<br />
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I let my mind spend the day in that useless, black hole of doubts and what ifs.<br />
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And then I got a phone call from Miss Linda. The only time Miss Linda calls is when Henry is sick- but she was quick to say, "Everything is fine with Henry."<br />
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Miss Linda is the principal of Henry's VPK program. He adores her. <br />
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I'll probably mess this conversation all up, but here's what the call was about:<br />
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Miss Linda: "Ashley, I just wanted to see if I could get your permission on something."<br />
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Me: "Oh, yeah- what is it?"<br />
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Miss Linda: "Well we were talking about our favorite bible stories yesterday and Henry told me his was when Jesus died on the cross."<br />
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(I'm thinking in my head.... omg my kid is obsessed with death or something).<br />
<br />
Miss Linda went onto say that he drew her a picture, and it was so touching, she wanted to share it on facebook.<br />
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My mouth DROPPED. This was the same day I was told Henry lacked the "detailed" drawing gene or whatever it is.<br />
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I'm a complete mom-mess, so I had tears and the whole bit. But listening to Miss Linda explain Henry's picture and his story, was exactly what I needed at that precise moment.<br />
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As soon as the picture was posted on facebook, I screen shot it, and stared at it.<br />
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It was full of detail. Full of HENRY. Full of love.<br />
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My heart shed a few layers of the thick protection it had grown since hearing Henry hadn't passed his Kindergarten test.<br />
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This boy, MY boy, is Henry Ryan McKenney.<br />
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He is smart, and loving. He's sensitive and a bit obsessive. He's beautiful and clearly has Jesus in his heart.<br />
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What possibly more could I ask for?<br />
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The veil of disappointment lifted and it was completely clear; Henry's ready for kindergarten. He may not fit the typical mold, but he's ready in his own way. And I know this. Because I have a mama gut instinct.<br />
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He's going to be reevaluated over the summer, and strangely, I'm not nervous at all. Regardless of the outcome, I know who he is. And he's brilliant. One of a kind. He's my boy. If the state of Florida says he's not ready for Kindergarten, so what? He's still Henry. And Henry is full of love, and sweetness, and most importantly the Lord.<br />
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My mama gut is working, and that's a good thing. For some reason it had abandoned me yesterday; I doubted myself, and Henry. <br />
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Parenting is like a constant hands on experiment. You don't get a reprieve. You don't get do- overs. You just have to believe; have faith in yourself and your kid. Taking leaps, trusting others with your second heartbeats- trusting they'll hold their hearts like you do, seeing them for the amazing miracles they are.<br />
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No matter what the world says, maintain that iron gut. We we're given it for a reason.<br />
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And to Henry-<br />
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As your mama, I will always, ALWAYS believe in you. You and your sisters are the reason my heart beats. Doubt won't be a word in this family. You are one of a kind. You're going to walk your own path. And it will be a great one. You are ours. And I couldn't feel more blessed to call you mine. You brilliant, loving boy.... you are our joy.<br />
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Love, mama<br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-17934079103675003022015-01-03T13:08:00.001-08:002015-01-03T13:08:45.703-08:002014/2015I can't say 2014 was the hardest year of my life... that title still belongs to the year 2007 (Maeve's year). <br />
<br />
I am in such a strange place- physically and emotionally. It's just weird.<br />
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There are days where I feel fine, and I drive; grab the kids smoothies on the way to dance. Pick up groceries and cook a normal dinner. We sit around the table and talk about the day. Laughing. Realness. <br />
<br />And then there are days I don't see daylight. I'm in my bed, under the covers. Rummaging through my brain, trying to find out why this is happening to me. Didn't I already pay my price? Didn't I already lose it when I had the "great depression" of 2007 after Maeve was born? That wasn't enough? Because in hindsight, its still not anything glorious or heroic. It's plain ugly. It's medicine and horrible thoughts and dark clouds. <br />
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I had an appointment with my therapist the other day. He's great- let's me talk and talk and talk, slips in a few helpful tips and always assures me that "THIS IS OKAY." I need that voice- someone to constantly tell me, "You are okay. This is okay. It will all be okay." At my appointment, I reflected back on the year;<br />
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February- it was such an ordinary Sunday. I remember it was Sunday because the kids had school the next day and when I had realized I hadn't peed that entire day, I shook with some panic. Immediately went into the bathroom, and tried to go to the bathroom. And that's when I realized, I had to go- but I couldn't. I couldn't go pee. I called my mom and dad, and with my history of kidney and bladder issues, they said I better go into the ER, because not peeing for a day can't be good. I can't really remember that trip to the ER very well. They have all blended into one now, with a few significant ones poking out here and there. I think they put in a foley catheter. And told me to follow up with my urologist. <br />
<br />I couldn't get into the urologist for a few days, and I remember lying in my bed, listening to life outside the door, my foley bag hanging at the end of the bed, thinking "OH MY GOD. CAN IT GET WORSE THAN THIS?" I didn't want my kids to see the "pee bag." So I had Ryan keep them out; they came in at random times to say goodnight, or to give me pictures. And then they'd slip back out the door, my room dark again, and their life, their beautiful, loud, colorful life would go on. I'd cry but, at that point I had hope. I had a urologist appointment and he was going to fix this.<br />
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The day of my urology appointment could be marked as one of the worst days of my life- for several reasons. The first being, my urologist at Mayo came without a heart. He might have had a beating organ, supplying blood to other organs, but there was nothing else in there. Without an ounce of sympathy, he said I needed to learn how to self catheterize and make an appointment with neurology because this is MS. I cried so hard I couldn't drive home from Jacksonville. The nurses had to put me in a room they weren't using so I could try and get myself together. <br />
<br />
I never saw that doctor again. Though I did write a lengthy letter to Mayo, explaining they had a POS working for them. I still haven't heard back.<br />
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Somehow I got home and had arms to collapse into. And thus began my year. My year of collapsing. My year of pain, doctors, embarrassment, confessing, embracing.... I could go on for a long time.<br />
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I switched urologists and found that my new urologist didn't have much of a bedside manner either. Maybe my expectations are too high? But can you at least look me in the eye when you say, "This is classic MS, you're going to have to get used to cathing yourself."<br />
<br />
A super sweet nurse showed me the ropes on cathing. And as humiliating and embarrassing as it was, she had an angel heart, and made me feel like I was normal. This was normal. This was okay. I'll forever be grateful for her.<br />
<br />
With the cathing situation under control, it was time to check out my head. <br />
<br />
I found my neurologist via the phone book. Dicey, for sure. But I lucked out. I won't say his name (I still see him) but he's been one of the most compassionate people I've met on this journey.<br />
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Immediately he ordered an MRI of my neck and spine. All was clear. I remember texting "my group" (family, close friends)- IT'S ALL CLEAR!!! I DON'T HAVE MS!!!!!!!!!!!!" <br />
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I met back up with my neurologist who said it was a great sign that my scans were clear. There was still no set reason for the bladder issues, but he gave it a name; "A neurogenic bladder" and I feel really fancy when I tell it to ER doctors and nurses. It's WAY better than "I can't pee."<br />
<br />
Self cathing is so strange. First let me tell you, it's not nearly as bad as you probably think it is. Second, you could do it if you had to. Third, it's an awesome way to introduce bacteria into your bladder. Fourth, if you suffer from infections of the bladder and kidneys, cathing is like blazing a trail for bacteria. I found this out quickly.<br />
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And let me also add, it doesn't matter HOW sterile and clean you are, if you cath, you are introducing bacteria into your bladder. THE END. <br />
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By June-ish, I had lost count on how many times I had been taken to the ER with a kidney or bladder infection. I was/am officially a frequent flyer at the ER. Thankfully, when I go into the ER, I'm usually sick enough that I don't care. But in my quiet, at home moments, I definitely think about what has become of me- the sickness- the pain- I can't count the number of doctors I've seen, the number of IV's placed in my arms, the nurses who've cried and prayed with me. It's a blur of hospital madness.<br />
<br />
In June, I was sick- like SICK, with a kidney infection. I knew it. My back ached, and I was running a fever. The pain was nauseating. But it was Maeve's last performance in her mermaid ballet show. I spend the majority of the show sleeping on a couch in the back dressing room. When it was Maeve's turn to dance I'd sit in the dark wings, watching my girl shine. There was a sense of accomplishment when that recital was over. Because I had been there- I had watched every performance. I had packed snacks, done make up, killed the ballerina bun and took stains out of tights. I was a good mom that weekend. And the moment that last recital was done I waved my white flag. <br />
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Someone (I can't even remember?!) took me into the ER and that marked my first hospital stay. I had a bacterial infection in my kidneys. I couldn't walk into the ER- Ryan (I'm assuming, haha) wheeled me in. My blood pressure was low, labs were off and my most vivid memory of that day was my doctor pulling up a chair and telling me I was going to be admitted to the ICU. I was drugged up. I didn't care. But I knew the ICU was for really sick people. <br />
<br />
I spent five days in the ICU- my kids weren't allowed to visit. And I had more antibiotics than I think I've had in entire life. Bag after bag was hung. Drip, drip, drip, into my arm... some of the antibiotics made me vomit. Others made me itch. But the nurses were quick with the dilauded and zofran, keeping me out of it, allowing me to hold it together. My mom cried. My dad wanted to transfer me to Jacksonville. I felt like a child; my parents talking in low voices with the doctors. Me, lying there, knowing no matter what, I'd be safe as long as my parents were with me. <br />
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I ended up leaving that hospital stay without ever being transferred. I was wheeled out, put in the car like a lump of baggage. We filled my 20 prescriptions at Walgreens, and while we waited for them to be ready, I ate some kind of chocolate thing from Carrabbas. It tasted amazing. Maybe it was because I hadn't eaten in a few days. But I think mostly, it was me, letting go. It felt so easy. It felt like my cozy bed, in my favorite pajamas. Surrendering to whatever this was, and not shutting off my brain to feelings. Because feelings hurt too much those days. <br />
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Depression. Have you had it? If you have, there's no need to read my poor explanation of it. You feel it. You know, that no explanation will ever do that awful word justice.<br />
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If you haven't suffered from depression, I'll try and make it simple. Everything you thought you loved, and lived for, is questioned. Your very being- what makes you, you, is gone. Vanished- and I haven't a clue where to find it. Sunny days mean nothing. Kindness makes you cry, because you don't deserve it. And your kids... your kids break you. With a single word, they can shatter you into pieces. A quiet, "I miss you, mom" can burn for days. Weeks. During the summer of 2014, I was convinced I was made of ashes. Just burned up words, under my skin. <br />
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Depression is not weakness. Depression is the hardest thing I've dealt with thus far in life, and if I were weak, if depression was about weakness, I wouldn't be here. Therefore, I can say with confidence, if you are struggling with depression, you are the opposite of weak. You are strong and stubborn. Holding onto slivers of a fraying life, believing with all you have that it will get better. And that takes immense strength.<br />
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I was hospitalized three more times that summer. Twice for kidney stuff and once for gallbladder removal surgery. I ended the summer optimistic; my sister Meghan was getting married and I couldn't imagine things getting much worse. I had paid my dues, right? I deserved a reprieve. A ray of warm sun, just for me. <br />
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I can't remember the date, or even the "whereabouts"- September, I'm guessing.... but as soon as one medical hurdle was jumped (self cathing/kidney/bladder/gallbladder issues) another hurdle would pop up. This one, in the form of vision loss (optical neuritis) and migraines. <br />
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These episodes (which are now occurring about 2x a month) are so debilitating and painful I become disoriented and desperate. I need the ER ASAP- I need morphine. I need steroids to get my vision back. I've been given medication to take at home when these strike, but so far, I haven't been able to stay out of the hospital. These headache/vision things are unlike anything I've ever experienced. Not only is the pain- indescribable- but combining that with the loss of vision is pure torture. The fear and anxiety is all consuming. And it becomes a race to the ER- a race to get an IV, to get something pumping through me that will restore some sense of security. Maybe someday I'll be able to ride these out at home. But at this moment, the panic, the pain, its too much. I don't know HOW to handle it. I've talked with my neurologist and ophthalmologist, both who've told me its okay to stay at home and treat with the meds they've given me. But each time it creeps up, all I want, all I can focus on is "NO PAIN, NO PAIN, NO PAIN." And off to the ER we go. <br />
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Hands down, the worst part of this year, my sickness- MS- or whatever it is, is knowing my kids are watching. They know I'm sick. They know most of the time, mama will not go outside and play because its "one of those days." They know if I'm not in their room to read a story and kiss them goodnight, that they have to bring their story to me, in my bed. It's not even a question. It's just the way it is. They know if I'm not at the dinner table, it's a bad day for me. And when I AM at the dinner table, they go on and on about how they love our big family and "it's the funnest when mom makes dessert." This year- I can't even remember when- (probably around my gallbladder surgery, which rendered me absolutely useless)... we were packing up to take a walk on the beach. Henry asked, "Mom are you coming?" And I said, "Yep!" Like, yeah, obviously- I always go to the beach. And Henry started jumping up and down, "YES! MOM IS COMING! MOM IS COMING!" I cried the entire way to the beach that day.<br />
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I am failing these kids. These beautiful babies with the biggest imaginations and hearts, the energy and perseverance to move mountains, are failed daily, by me. It's haunting. At the same time, (as Ryan and I talk about this ALLLLLLLLLLLLL the time), we're not sure what else we can do at this point. When its a good day, we milk it for all its worth. I'm trying to build memories that are strong enough, so happy and sprinkle filled that when I am absent, perhaps those memories will fill in the gaps. Alas, I'm not stupid; nothing will ever be big enough to fill in the gap of me. We all know that. And we skate around it, trying to stay optimistic, hopeful. <br />
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There are days the optimism works, and I really truly feel like there will be better days. That this is a crazy hard season in my life; I'm swimming with sharks with bloody limbs. I'm leaving an easy trail behind me- but I'm still ahead, and as long as I continue to swim, I'll get there. I'll make it to my destination. Blood will be lost, no doubt I'll be exhausted, but I'll come out with stories to tell and be a better mom for it. The mom who out swam the sharks.<br />
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And then there are days where optimism is nowhere to be found. It's gone. And those are the really, really hard days.<br />
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What I'm attempting to do is separate these two extremes; separate them completely. And take each one for what it is. A good day, is a good day, life goes on. A bad day, is a bad day, life goes on.<br />
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Something you may or may not know about me is I'm a creature of habit. I love stability. I love knowing what to be prepared for; what's lying ahead. So this whirlwind of a year has been painfully harsh, blunt. Unforgiving. Days pass, things happen, and I'm tossed around like a rag doll. Will I be in the hospital tomorrow? I'm not planning on it. But nothing is a given.<br />
<br />
The thing is, this is your life too. This is life. This has been my life for, forever! But I'm just now realizing it. We all hear those sayings, "Life is unpredictable.... We never know what tomorrow will bring." And on, and on. Today, I LIVE by those sayings. It's my sanity. To know that I'm not living an unplanned, chaotic life, separate from the rest of the world... I'm just accepting it now; learning to ride the wave. <br />
<br />
With every hospital stay, I tend to read scripture (thank you iphone APPS!:) like there's no tomorrow (no pun intended). Two of my favorite verses that I meditate on are "Be still and know that I am God" Psalm 46:10 (that's tattooed on my wrist).... and "I loved you at your darkest." Romans 5:8<br />
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Romans 5:8 may sound like an odd verse to meditate on but let me tell you why this is a verse that is constantly on my heart. When you're hooked up to bags of antibiotics and have a catheter hanging at the end of your bed, your hair hasn't been washed in a week and you're bloated from the steroids, it's pretty easy to feel low. Unwanted. A burden. Ryan will come to visit me and I'll straight up ask him, "Why do you do this? Why don't you just walk away? Look at me." And I'm not talking just physically- I'm speaking deep, down- I am a mess... who would love this? Well, first of all, God. God loves me. He loves me at my darkest. (see? Beautiful verse, right?) And second, He gave me someone that also loves me at my darkest. A whole group of people actually. Ryan, and my beautiful family.<br />
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I place so much worth on what I do or how much I do; and none of that matters- not to my family, not to Ryan, not to my kids and certainly not to Jesus. I am loved because I am His. As ugly as this can get; I am loved so deeply. <br />
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I say with hesitancy that today I am okay. (because normally when I say "today's a good day!" I end up in the hospital)... but generally speaking, today, yesterday, these days, have been okay. <br />
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2015: OH the hopes and dreams I have for you, 2015!!!! <br />
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Actually, a lot of priorities have changed from last year to this year. And things that once were so important, are just sort of "there." Not like they're not important anymore, but they're not going to make or break me. I want this year to be a year of healing. <br />
<br />
I understand that medically, there isn't even an official diagnosis- so healing may not come from doctors or medicine, and I could end up with more migraines, bladder issues and Lord knows what else,- but I'm speaking of healing in terms of the mind; being in a better place. A different place- where my self worth isn't constantly on the chopping block. I'm getting there. I really am. I'm not THERE... but I have confidence if I continue to remain in His word, tally up my good days, watch my kids and engage with them, laugh, accept my husband's love, even when I feel like I don't deserve it because "THIS"- my sickness, my rollercoaster ride- is too much, my mind will have no other place to go than up. <br />
<br />
Okay- so major props to whoever read all of this.<br />
<br />
I guess you could call that my "story" of 2014. Like anyone else, I have resolutions that I'm super excited about- I have reflections that I'm thankful for, and I'd love to share them with you- list style though... because all that above sucked the brains out of me...<br />
<u><br /></u>
<u>Thankful Reflections Of 2014</u><br />
<ul>
<li>kind doctors</li>
<li>nurses- even the grumpy ones...;)</li>
<li>my family- mom, dad, sisters and brothers- you guys have held my family and I up this year.</li>
<li>Ryan- there's too much... I'll continue to show and tell you, each day.</li>
<li>YOUNG LIVING- I try not to let my mind wander where we'd be if we didn't have YL.</li>
<li>Ningxia Red for giving me energy & deep relief for those migraines, holding me over until we reach the hospital :)</li>
<li>4 kids that call me mom even when I feel like I don't deserve that title</li>
<li>friends- the real ones who love you no matter what. Who don't judge friendship on how long its been since we've last talked... or other silly 1st grade behaviors that I can't even try to get into right now.</li>
<li>morning coffee with Ryan</li>
<li>the hugs and kisses from my departing littles :) -There's nothing like a "BYE MOM! LOVE YA!" from your big boy kindergartner.</li>
<li>Henry's school; the people we've met- the way they treat my little man. What a blessing.</li>
<li>my dogs.....I know, I know. But sometimes, when its a "bad day" and Ryan's out with the kids, they're my saving grace.</li>
<li>all of the awesome Bible apps I've found on my phone; many of which got me through some long hospital nights</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>my kids' health. THANK GOD, THANK YOU LORD, for their health.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<u>Resolutions for 2015</u><u> </u><br />
<ul>
<li>be thankful every morning my feet hit the floor</li>
<li>get lost in my kids; stare in wonder as Henry explains his lego pirate ship. Relish in every cuddle from Rosie, as those are becoming less and less. Laugh at Stella, worry about the mess and chaos later. Study Maeve; my baby who is becoming a girl with more feelings and emotions than I can grasp!</li>
<li>Grow as a YL leader, by watching the amazing examples the Lord has put in my life. Lindsay, Monique, Nicole- I just love you guys; your smarts & and your selflessness is crazy impressive.</li>
<li>Okay so this one is WAY out there, but it's been a pipe dream for awhile, and now with the freedom that YL has given us, I MIGHT be able to pull it off; Anchored Hope - a line of tee shirts (baby to adult), based on things my kids say. I have designed a few already and they're STINKING ADORABLE (I think so :) I have no idea what this will be- an etsy store? A few sales here and there? Or something just for my kids? Really no clue- but designing has been amazing, and it turns out my kids are pretty witty. :) Anchored Hope= Hebrews 6:19- look it up :)</li>
<li>finding a HOME church. As in, not attending as a guest- but as a member. This is so important to me.</li>
<li>Giving back. We sponsor a child through Compassion International, but we've been talking/looking into other ways to give back- specifically, locally. Coincidentally, there's a HUGE chapter of kids here- YOUNG LIFE- (not young living :) and I'm hoping to get connected with them :)</li>
<li>No resolution list would be complete without SOMETHING about dieting. I don't want to call it dieting though.... Just eating pure and whole foods. That should be something so natural...</li>
<li>being a better housekeeper- I'm awful with chores. Always have been- ask my mom. But I'm a grown adult and I've gotta step it up in that area!</li>
<li>write...write...write...write</li>
<li>travel</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>keepin on with that mind training ;) -okay a hospital stay? Not fun. Also not end of the world. Get up, get going.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Okay- so I THINK that's it for now.<br />
<br />
Wowza. That's a whole lot... thank you for reading- thank you for NOT judging (if you are judging, kindly take yourself somewhere else, your glass house won't hold up well here. :)<br />
<br />
And HAPPY, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!<br />
<br />
Love & blessings to YOU!!!<br />
<br />
xoxo-<br />
Ash <br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-67188133886363192772014-11-15T07:59:00.002-08:002014-11-15T07:59:25.466-08:00Ahem, Ahem.... Listen UpHey friends- yo-<br />
<br />
Please read this and take it, remember it when reading future posts, or hey- don't read my blog at all! :D <br />
<br />
It's totally your choice.<br />
<br />
I am a few things: Sarcastic, creative (debatable- but my mind is on 24/7 so I'm going to call it creative mode), and I have the ability to laugh at myself. This all amounts to what I write about, how I write, etc.<br />
<br />When I say something like, "Taylor Swift and I are going for coffee later on"- that's not true. That's me <strike>STALKING </strike>WRITING with flare. <br />
<br />
I think we'd all be a bit better if we didn't take ourselves so seriously. Lighten up, eh?<br />
<br />
PS- I AM a Christian. And I DO occasionally swear. I am a son (daughter) of a son, of a son, of a sailor, after all.... <br />
<br />
I think that's it....<br />
<br />
MUST get dolled up. I'm off for a coffee date with Taylor Swift- wish me luck- she's so close to casting me as a back up singer. <br />
<br />
Thanks!<br />
xoxo- AshAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-7425578949019449012014-11-13T15:04:00.003-08:002014-12-03T13:36:13.566-08:00Liver Biopsy StuffBecause you need to know.<br />
<br />
What its REALLY like to have a nine inch, hollowed out needle pierced through your back and into your liver... #heaven. <br />
<br />
I'm still high on drugs from the procedure obviously.<br />
<br />
Actually- let me tell you, I had it in my head to be death. Like I was going to die. Wrote my kids notes, said my "love yous," looked at old photos, the works. I was going to die during my liver biopsy.<br />
<br />
Over 24 hours since the procedure and I'm still kickin. YESSSSSSSSS.<br />
<br />
So Ryan dropped me off super early for the procedure and I had to do all this junk beforehand to prove my blood could clot. <br />
<br />
The procedure was supposed to be ultrasound guided, and at 8:30 AM. So when it was 9:30, and I was still in the holding room, trying to understand how they were going to do this whole thing while I was in a CT machine.... um, one could say I was nervous.<br />
<br />
The doctor had looked at my previous images and thought it'd be better in a CT scanner. Ugh. I was not prepared for a CT guided liver biopsy. It was supposed to be at 8:30, I was supposed to be in a nice twilight sleep, in a dark room with an ultrasound. Plans were changing. And I am not a plan changer.<br />
<br />
I started to panic and my heart rate went up which happens every.single.time. But it made my vitals go nuts which delayed the actual event even longer. I was telling the nurse, "This is all because I'm consciously aware that I'm going to die. If you knock me out, my vitals will go back to normal- bet you anything."<br />
<br />
She asked, "Are you THAT afraid of having this done?"<br />
<br />
And I wanted to say, "Are you THAT serious?" I mean giant needle. Ribs. Liver. No.<br />
<br />
But she talked me down a little bit and was able to get me to at least stop crying long enough to sign my life away 3000 times.<br />
<br />
And then she swung my door open and said, "SHOWTIME!" And I was confused again- are we going to get some ice cream? Or am I going to get my liver pierced?<br />
<br />
They wheeled me into the CT room which had transformed into an operating room- basically, just lots of people and blue sterile stuff, which I was good with.<br />
<br />
And now I'll tell you the most uncomfortable part of this entire thing: getting into the right position. Holy. <br />
<br />
I ended up with wedges and pillows all over the place and my right butt cheek high in the air, with my left shoulder blade on the table. I had an IV, o2 stat thingy and a blood cuff monitor- they had me lift my arms up over my head. I mean, seriously?<br />
<br />
Once I was in position, the kindest, best doctor (aside from Dr. Bigelow) popped his face into my peripheral. "Hey young lady! I have a daughter your age and I can't imagine her being here. She'd be terrified. So that means I've gotta be extra good with you." <br />
<br />
Immediately I breathed. And cried (of course). Because compassion and empathy doesn't come cheap or easily these days. Trust me- I know this.<br />
<br />
Okay now I'm going to narrate my twilight sleep (as I remember it):<br />
Me: You have to give me something soon. Like can you put me to sleep? I'm going to lose it any second.<br />
Doctor: No, I want to talk to you. We're going to keep you up. So where are you from Ashley?<br />
Me: Here. I mean St. Augustine. <br />
Doctor: No way! Nobody is from St. Augustine. That's for tourists only. <br />
Me: OW. Ow. I feel that. Yeah I feel that. Okay give me something please. <br />
Doctor: You're doing so good. And I really want to know about how you came from St. Augustine but lived in Michigan. I was reading your records.<br />
Me: (((literally no idea..... just minutes of blabber- twilight sleep had kicked in))) .....kids and I ate bacon yesterday and I used to drink tequila but not enough to hurt my liver. I love plaid and I'm excited for fall, and I do oils. Yeah, DO oils. I DO OILS!! For my job. But I'm a mom too and I have four kids and we ate bacon the other day.<br />
<br />
(And then a giant pinch and sound to accompany it)<br />
<br />
Me: FU*&!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What was that?<br />
Doctor: That was me getting the biopsy. You okay?<br />
Me: MMhmm. I have four kids and drink tequila only when I go out which is like once a year. HOLY (expletives) this hurts. It's in my back. Whatever you're doing is in my back. IN MY BACK.<br />
<br />
Doctor: You're bleeding, that's what you're feeling- the pressure from the blood.<br />
Me: OH DEAR GOD. OH DEAR GOD. Can you give me something? I need something. <br />
Doctor: So how are those kids?<br />Me: There are four of them.... and God... this is really bad. But I have four kids.<br />
Doctor: The doctor over there tells me he needs more so this next pinch is because of him not me.<br />
<br />
(Another giant pinch/clamping sound)<br />
<br />
Me: OH MY GODDDDDDDDD. I feel this. I feel it. I feel it all. <br />
<br />Doctor: You should only be feeling pressure, right?<br />
Me: Yeah pressure. Lots of pressure. But I don't like it. Can you give me something?<br />
Doctor: I'm sealing it up with some clotting gel.<br />
Me: Am I bleeding bad?<br />Doctor: I'm making extra sure you're not. That's what this gel is for.<br />
Me: Is it toxic? I'm trying to detox. Can you give me something?<br />
<br />Doctor: Your body will absorb it.<br />
Me: Okay. Because I have four kids. They should've passed that pot law. Because they keep giving me medicine that could be fixed with just one hit, ya know?<br />
<br />
Doctor: OKAY Ashley, you are DONE. <br />
<br />
-and I honestly can't remember anything else....<br />
<br />
UNTIL- my nurse came in and said, "ASHLEY, its time to move!"<br />
<br />
(I am so lazy... especially when you load me up with narcotics).<br />
<br />
I told her I would. She came back and I hadn't moved and she said, "I'm going to have to help dress you now, is that okay?"<br />
<br />
I promised her I'd move again. <br />
<br />
I didn't move an inch.<br />
<br />
But Ryan was back by then and he promised to get me going.<br />
<br />
And then I sat staring into oblivion until I woke up this morning. <br />
<br />
Seriously- the trippiest day of my life.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Questions I want to strive to answer with this post: <br />
-Was it really THAT bad?- no<br />
-Did it hurt? - yes, there were times. But nothing worse than shots.<br />
-How was twilight sleep?- very good.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Thank you guys for all the thoughts and prayers :)<br />
<br />
We should know something about the mass by tomorrow.<br />
<br />
I'll keep you updated. <br />
<br />
Love to you all!<br />
xoxoAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-70084909707204838422014-11-10T08:20:00.000-08:002014-11-10T08:20:00.664-08:00The post that probably shouldn't be posted (side note- I think I have like 5 of these same titled posts)WORD VOMIT.<br />
<br />
Happens every time. I swear.<br />
<br />
But yesterday I was on the verge of losing it. Losing it, like walking out the front door, driving "somewhere" (probably like, Starbucks??) and then just cry in my car for an hour. Obviously at some point in my breakdown I'd text Ryan and tell him "I'm just at starbucks... want me to pick up TP on the way home?"<br />
<br />
My life. <br />
<br />
Here's what I wrote in my journal yesterday (in the midst of said breakdown, because I couldn't leave my house- logistical reasons like kids and stuff)<br />
<br />
"There's no purpose in working harder. There's no point in trying to be better. Get better or do better. I am always the one who will be 3 steps behind. It's nothing new. I'm the one who effs everything up. I destroy possibilities."<br />
<br />
(HELLO) #selfloathing<br />
<br />
I'm not sure where the stuff came from about how I eff everything up... that just spilled out onto the pages; truth, I feel for sure, but not the catalyst to anything that happened yesterday.<br />
<br />
Yesterday I was trying to work while Ryan was at the movies with the older kids. The two youngers were napping (they napped for like 30 minutes...omg) and I just got super frustrated. Like, shut the computer, stalked off to my room, scribbled in my journal and then watched youtube videos of Adam Duritz interviews. The thought that popped into my head, exploded and then bled on everything was this: "What's the point in doing this work today, Ashley? You're going back to the hospital on Wednesday..." The bleeding continued, "What's the point of trying to be a better mom? You're always going to be sick or in the hospital. Why are you dieting and trying to be active? You'll always be overweight and gross, because you'll always be sick and in the hospital."<br />
<br />
Basically everything led back to me being sick. The excuse that trumps all excuses. "I'm sick." And I've been given that excuse for so long, I don't know what to do with myself.<br />
<br />
I'm lost; I don't cook dinners anymore, because "I'm sick" and Ryan took that on. I don't do things at the kids' schools because "I'm sick" and I can't be relied on. I don't go to the gym anymore because "I'm sick" and what's the purpose in going to the gym one day, and then being hospitalized for a week? I mean, the list goes ON AND ON.<br />
<br />
Excuses suck. They're like useless skin tags. Annoying, unnecessary, sometimes confined to just a single area, but often picked open, and bleeding, destroying anything in its path. <br />
<br />
I don't have any good resolutions about getting rid of excuses. At the moment, I'm tired, it's raining and grey outside, my bed sounds like heaven. Should I abandon ship here (at Paneras) and head home? I mean, Wednesday I'll be in the hospital so what good is it for me to work like a dog on stuff that probably wont be touched again for weeks?<br />
<br />
And every few minutes I have to backtrack; stop the bleeding- I am here. I am well today. I am listening to one direction and kicking butt on some work stuff. Stay. Stay. Be still.<br />
<br />
Breathe :)<br />
<br />
I start to feel confident. I have words written, a cup of coffee, a scarf and glasses, because its fall and I'm smart. And then the kid next to me points at my glittery toms and says "MOM! I WANT THOSE DOROTHY SHOES!" dammit.<br />
<br />
Again, stay. Stay. Be still.<br />
<br />
I honestly feel like this is a deep rooted problem that MOST of us have, if put in the correct situation. So I'm not super embarrassed to spill my beans. <br />
<br />
Reflecting back on yesterdays scribblings... (seriously I'll have to post a picture- I felt like a musician writing important lyrics), I realize that I have LONG been an excuse giver. Unfortunately, its just now that I'm seeing the red.<br />
<br />
To a point, we're all excuse givers. But let me just tell you a few stories.... so you know that I'm a chronic excuse giver;<br />
<br />
This one time (at band camp...no) my bestest came on spring break with my family and I. We thought we were hot sh!t of course. I think we had cornrows, and those butterfly clips. I mean, supah fly. We also had this CD, full of burned songs we had illegally downloaded.. and these songs weren't Jesus songs. They were like, um, the complete opposite. We listened to that CD over and over. There was a song, it was the first on the illegal CD, and I literally refuse to write the name on this blog.... a few of you know what song that was... Anyways, my dad found it, listened to it, cracked it (the CD) into a million pieces and dropped the dreaded line, "I'm disappointed in you." To make a really long, embarrassing story short, at the age of fifteen I had to squirm in a chair, making excuse after excuse as to why that CD was in my possession, why I would ever listen to something like that, etc. (picture sex ed with your parents, diagrams and rap music that YOU don't even understand). It was awful. And I mastered the excuse. And I think I won; I blamed it on this kid at school- "I didn't even know what was ON the CD dad! This kid just gave it to me and I don't know what any of that means! We were listening to it as a joke!" yaddayaddayadda <br />
<br />
So, see? In a way we're ALL excuse makers (I want ONE of you to tell me you didn't make an excuse in high school when you got in trouble with your parents...) <br />
<br />
It just so happens I make a LOT of excuses. Like lately, my entire existence has been a giant excuse.<br />
<br />
And that needs to stop.<br />
<br />
I suppose if I need to get a grasp on reality every few minutes with the mantra (you are here. you are not in the hospital. you are working. you look like you're 20-not 40- you can totally pull off glittery toms and pink hair) I can survive this season of my life.<br />
<br />
But I'm not going to lie; its hard. Very hard.<br />
<br />
Anyways.<br />
<br />
Like I said, this post probably shoudl've never seen light. Because its embarrassing, and now you all know that I am a chronic excuse maker. And that's no good.<br />
<br />
But today, at this moment. I'm owning it. I'm owning everything. I'm owning this work that needs to be done. I'm acknowledging the hospital stay that awaits me. I'm going to grocery shop today, and make my family dinner because I can. When I'm done "working" I'm going to pick Henry up from school, and carry him out. <br />
<br />
Because today, I can.<br />
<br />
Excuse makers unite: Enough is enough. <br />
<br />
Let's do this.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-8325105361302554612014-11-05T16:54:00.004-08:002014-11-05T16:54:52.236-08:00points to hit on 11/??/14<ul>
<li>at least I know the month and the year, right? ^^^</li>
<li>what happened yesterday: I woke up with no vision in my right eye and an awful headache. As soon as my neurologist opened (8:30) I was there. Like, waiting at his door (so stalkerkish). The nurse sat me down in a back room and I cried and cried because I thought for sure my eye was coming out and my head was just.... are there words for debilitating migraines? If there are, swing some my way because I have no idea how to describe them. Anyways he gave me a medication to try-can't remember the name- I tried it. It zonked me out. I woke up sometime after my kids were home (obviously Ryan was running the house yesterday) and was super disoriented. I was thinking it was morning and the kids were at school, blah blah blah.. Long story short, it was like 3 PM and the kids were home, and I was incredibly confused. I walked out to see what was going on and realized the vision in my RIGHT eye (it's always been my left) was weird- hazy- a little "buzzy" if that makes sense? And within MINUTES, it went out. Everyone always asks "whats went out mean?" Went out to me is where I have to put my hand over whatever eye it is because I can't see. There's light- not complete darkness- but no shapes- no space orientation whatsoever- just yellowish colors. Also no peripheral vision. It's very freaky. Since this has happened before, I didn't immediately jump up and yell "ER!" We called my neurologist (whom I had seen that morning) and he said if my headache was too severe to treat at home and my pulses were higher than 90, I needed to go into the ER. Both were true. Around 4:30 Ryan dropped me off at the ER (with every.single.kid.in.tow). I felt like the worst mother. "Bye kids! Going to my second home! Have fun with daddy tonight! Oh and Ryan? Pick me up around 7!" I mean this has just gotten BEYOND ridiculous. I fixed an ice bag/pouch over my right eye and was feeling around with one hand trying to make it to the window of the ER. Someone had mercy on me and gave me a wheelchair. No clue how much time passed, but soon enough I suppose I was in a room. I was on my side, pressing the ice pack into my eye. A nurse came in first to ask some questions... and then HE came in. I know his name because I've filed a complaint, but I won't use it on here. He'll just be referred to as the a-hole. Because.... I hit rock bottom last night people. Rock. Bottom. So there I am, no vision in my right eye, already crying because I was upset about where I was. I wanted to be home with my family. My head was pounding/exploding.... and then the ahole walked in. I couldn't see very well (obviously) but he was short. And had his arms folded across his chest. He leaned against the wall and without any kind of introduction (or even an, "are you Ashley)? started peppering questions at me. In my right state of non-exploding mind, with two good eyes I might have handled the whole thing differently. But last night, all bets were off. I could keep up with his smart ass and he continued asking "Why are you here though? You want me to give you pain medicine?" I thought I had answered that question 3000 times. "DOCTOR. I LOST MY VISION THIS MORNING AND SAW MY NEUROLOGIST. I JUST TALKED WITH HIM. HE SAID IF MY PULSES WERE OVER 90 AND MY HEAD WAS TOO MUCH TO TAKE AT HOME TO COME IN. DO YOU WANT ME TO LEAVE?" And the ahole without blinking shrugged his shoulders and said "No, you're welcome to be here. We're open 24/7 for people like you. You can come whenever you want." </li>
</ul>
-que MAJOR waterworks. To the point of where he left the room... Oh wait- I called him an ass hole first. And then he left the room. It went something like this:<br />
Him: "So you want strong pain medicine?"<br />
Me: "NO. I have pain medicine at HOME. I can walk out right now and go pop some pills. That's the problem. The problem is I can't see and my heart rate is high. I feel like I'm having a freaking stroke. Can you check my eye and tell me I'm not having an ocular stroke?"<br />
Him: "So let me understand this. This isn't the first time this has happened?"<br />
Me: "No."<br />
Him: "And you saw your neurologist today and he said you're fine?"<br />
Me: "He said I was fine this morning to go home and take a medication. When I called him back he said if I felt I needed to go into the ER, then that's what I should do."<br />
Him: "But you said you've lost your vision like this before. And you're being worked up for MS."<br />
Me: "Yes."<br />
Him: "So, what exactly do you want me to do? You know its not a stroke. You know you have MS. This isn't an emergency."<br />
Me: "I WANT MY DAD TO COME AND GET ME BECAUSE YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE AND GET ME THE LADY THAT HANDLES COMPLAINTS BECAUSE I'M NOT TALKING WITH YOU ANYMORE!" <br />
Him: "Okay"<br />
<br />
And just like that he left the room. Not an "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry that MS comment might have been a bit offensive. I'm sorry, I see you're scared, let me just look into your eye to make sure there's nothing going on back there. Nothing.<br />
<br />
I got on the phone with my dad ( because dads fix everything) and he said he was on his way.<br />
<br />
Then the patient coordinator (???Not sure of her title) came in and asked what the problem was. She took it very seriously. I filled out a form to the best of my ability, although I couldn't see much so in the end she gave me the email I'd need to send a formal complaint. She also gave me the option to switch doctors- which I said HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLYES. So she sent a nurse in to start all of that.<br />
<br />
And then the ER blew up. And I got lost in the shuffle- and that's okay- I realize there are people there with heart attacks, REAL strokes, etc and Ashley McKenney is not first on the list. So when ahole walked back in the room an hour later, I wasn't super surprised I had slipped through the cracks. BUT- my dad was there. And I felt like this "doctor" could do or say anything... I had Goliath behind me :)<br />
<br />
So as ahole ran down the list of things with my dad, I started to say something- I can't remember what it was- something like "I told you..." And then my dad cut me off. <br />
<br />"Sweetie? I'm going to talk for you now. (instant flashback to like 2nd grade).... but as I laid on the bed bawling, in pain, I surrendered. And my dad rubbed my head and said, "Listen. I see you're wearing a wedding ring. You have a wife, I'm assuming? Maybe kids? Would you want your loved ones treated like this? Are you giving her the kind of care you'd give your wife? This girl, my daughter, (and here I am crying even harder now), has been through hell in the past 8 months. She's learned to catheterize herself. She's had painful tests, numerous hospital stays. She's passed over 15 kidney stones just this summer. She is exhausted. We're all exhausted. And all I want from you is to treat her like you'd treat your wife or daughter. So give me that, doctor."<br />
<br />
Ahole took a minute and sighed, then said, "I'd start her on steroids for her vision loss. And monitor her overnight."<br />
<br />
Okay- we were getting somewhere. <br />
<br />
They started an IV and I just couldn't stop the tears. My dad asked if I wanted a colder wash cloth to put on my eye- I said yes. As soon as I took the wash cloth down from my eye I noticed blood. "Dad?? Is my eye bleeding?"<br />
<br />He came over and looked in, and said, "Yeah. I'll grab the doctor."<br />
<br />
Nothing panics my dad. Nothing. It was incredibly odd to see him out the door in a flash and back in with the doctor, flipping on lights to look into my eye.<br />
<br />
Sure enough it was bleeding. Ahole said it was coming from the bottom lid because I had scratched at it too much. Again, my dad said "I'd like her to see an ophthalmologist. Or get some kind of imaging so we know something isn't happening with her retina."<br />
<br />
Ahole decided to put his two cents in, "You know, this is classic MS. CLASSIC MS"<br />
<br />
I continued to cry (if you've ever wondered how many tears you have... its a lot)<br />
<br />
My dad told him that nothing has been ruled in or out yet and if need be, he'd drive me up to Jacksonville to get the proper imaging. And then "miraculously" there was an ophthalmologist on call! Imagine that.<br />
<br />
I was admitted, and was seen by the kindest, most gentle ophthalmologist on the planet. He understood the pain of shining lights into the "bad eye" and he took so much time with me, patient to get everything he needed. Indeed, my retina was swollen and inflamed which he said PROBABLY produced the bleeding. BUT there was nothing anatomically wrong with my eye- meaning the eye itself was healthy, Retina attached, no disease, etc. Just swollen and inflamed which can be signs of MS OR a very sever ocular migraine. Can I tell you how confusing this medical stuff is?!?! <br />
<br />
Anyways, I was given sweet, sweet pain relief all night but an angel of a nurse. My mom and and sister came and sat with me until I fell asleep.<br />
<br />
This morning, Ryan was there and we ate breakfast together. We saw the same gentle, sweet, ophthalmologist again and this time he had great news for us: The retina was fine- super healthy and he was pretty confident with ruling the entire thing as super bad migraine episode. He gave us the all clear to go.<br />
<br />
But as we all know too very well now, being released from the hospital requires 30 signatures. Ryan left to pick the kids up from school and get dinner stuff. And I had yet to see "THEE doctor"- the floor- doc who has control over who leaves and stays. Around 2 or something she came in and said I could leave (HALLELUJAH!) and she'd get my discharge papers going. And then my phone rang- the hospital phone. It was Dr. Soto (the floor doctor). She had just reviewed my blood work and noticed my liver panel was incredibly off. <br />
<br />
I told her "Yeah, I've got a really large legion on my right lobe. I'm actually getting it biopsied this Friday at Baptist." She wanted to draw more blood to make sure certain enzymes were at least stable and not on the rise. Someone came and poked me again... gathered my blood, and I texted Ryan saying "don't get your hopes too high. Blood work came back bad."<br />
<br />
Around four she called back and said as long as I was going in for this liver issue on Friday, as in two days, she'd be okay with letting me go. I promised I'd keep the appointment (should've kept it like a month ago...whoops). I'm also banned from a giant list of medications- and you'd be SHOCKED at what can be sold over the counter, that can potentially cause this kind of liver damage. It's terrifying and so sad. I've literally been led like a blind sheep. Listen people: Acetaminophen? It's not just a fluff warning they put on packaging. It's real. And it's caused damage to my liver. I know this because I used to take tylenol like candy. Any ache or pain or hangnail, 2 tylenol! Can't sleep? 2 tylenol PM's! I mean, I lived like this for YEARS.<br />
<br />
And I'm paying the price now with four little sets of eyes watching me. It's sickening.<br />
<br />
So yes... this Friday I go BACK in the hospital. I'm terrified. My liver hurts. It HURTS. That can't be good, right?!?! Like you know under your ribs? The entire area is tender and throbs. So even if this is nothing to be concerned about, it's causing pain, which is going to have to be addressed eventually. I mean.... I feel like I am stuck on the most disgusting merry-go-round. And I CANNOT GET OFF. <br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>that was a huge bullet mark ^^^</li>
<li>In a couple of weeks, after the liver mess, no matter what the doctors come back and say about it, Ryan and I have made it a mission to take the kids SOMEWHERE- for a few days. They deserve it. Ryan deserves it. Sometimes I feel like this sick rag doll that gets pulled around. limbs constantly falling off, having to be sewn back together. Just a complete mess. A job. And not a fun one. I am a job- that's the best description. haha! And everyone- including myself- needs a break. So, we're going somewhere. I don't know where. But it will be a place to laugh, smile, run, drink sprite and chocolate milk, eat dessert late at night in hotel rooms, rent kid movies and lots of king sized bed cuddling with our babies. </li>
<li>Stella just walked in our room, turned the bathroom light on, peed on the floor, shut the light off and said "I'm so sorry mom." And then retreated to her room. Like that really just happened.</li>
<li>I am now logging off to clean up our bathroom. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
Thank you friends and family for prayers and thoughts. Thank you YL girls for my beautiful flowers that made me ugly cry. <br />
<br />
xoxo, Ash<br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-39137699834081616092014-11-03T05:37:00.001-08:002014-11-03T05:37:36.539-08:00The McKenney's 2014 Holiday ETSY Guide :)My status from last night (because I'm too dang tired to re-type it)<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"Don't mind me while I shout from my soapbox for a hot sec: okay so
christmas is coming, yeah? I so, so, so urge you to try and shop local,
or on etsy, or through friends who sell products. Let me use myself as
an example. When you become an oil client of mine, that's a grocery bill
paid. When you put an oil order in, that's a baseball bat for Henry.
When you support locals and working mamas with etsy businesses, oil
businesses, jamberry, etc. your money is going directly to<span class="text_exposed_show"> a family. Think about that before forking over 300 bucks at Walmart .
I'm planing on getting all of my kids stocking stuff from etsy- wooden
cameras, play food, dolls, teethers (Rosie), animal masks for Stella,
jewelry for Maeve, wooden pirate stuff for henry; the list goes on and
on. If you're interested in specific shops I'm buying from I'd be more
than happy to share! . Let's support each other this season and keep our money local. . -off soapbox-"</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="text_exposed_show">Trust me, I get it; I know kids want electronics and plastic crap, but (shhh) I let my parents and grandma get that stuff. :) </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="text_exposed_show">I prefer to give my kids handmade, one of a kind items. Some are huge hits, some aren't. But something that I think we can all take away from holiday shopping is this; let's stop throwing money at big companies for that piece of plastic crap that will break in two days, and start investing in our friends, family and neighbors. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="text_exposed_show">Etsy and Instagram are HUGE havens for homemade gifts. I bought quite a bit last year off of Etsy, and I plan to do even more this year.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="text_exposed_show">I had a lot of people asking "What are your favorite Etsy shops?" And as I started to list them on facebook, it occurred to me, there are just TOO many. Ask my husband.... we have packages delivered here every day. </span><b><span class="text_exposed_show"> </span></b><span class="text_exposed_show">I have discovered an incredible amount of talented people who pour their heart and soul into their work. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="text_exposed_show">It gives me goosebumps to think of hands being used, instead of machines. One of my favorite artists, Jack Johnson sings a song about this whole thing. A lyric goes, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: center;">
"Future complications<br />
In the strings between the cans<br />
But no prints can come from fingers<br />
If machines become our hands</div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: center;">
And then our feet become the wheels<br />
And then the wheels become the cars<br />
And then the rigs begin to drill<br />
Until the drilling goes too far"</div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: center;">
(The Horizon has Been Defeated)</div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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Anyways, I thought I'd put together a little shopping catalog/guide for anyone who wants to participate in buying locally, paying a little extra for fingerprints. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
Here's my shopping list:</div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<b><u>KID SHOPS (toys, teethers, rattles)</u></b></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<b><u> </u></b><a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/199227138/jasmine-inspired-leather-moccasins?ref=sr_gallery_1&ga_search_query=princess+jasmine+moccasins&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery">Wild Darling Shop </a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/56677411/native-american-indian-doll-linen-plush?ref=br_feed_38&br_feed_tlp=kids-category">Leilalou</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/184512976/buy-3-get-one-free-veggie-rattle?ref=sr_gallery_2&ga_search_query=veggie+rattles&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery">BeKindEcoToys</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/107384081/toy-grasshopper-pull-toy-handcrafted?ref=br_feed_4&br_feed_tlp=kids-category">McCoy Toys</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/199604048/the-owls-family-nesting-dolls-5-12?ref=br_feed_24&br_feed_tlp=kids-category">Bottled Art Shop</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/198878730/screen-printed-owl-cushion-or-doll?ref=sr_gallery_6&ga_search_query=print+screen+doll&ga_search_type=handmade&ga_view_type=gallery">Moon Glow Art</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/206502004/kids-play-teepee-tent-in-ecru-taupe?ref=br_feed_46&br_feed_tlp=kids-category">PlayTipi</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/127220959/mickey-crayons-recycled-mickey-mouse?ref=shop_home_active_9">Mini Monet Crayons</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/130840880/wooden-play-food-6-deviled-eggs?ref=sr_gallery_8&ga_search_query=wooden+food&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery">BYOImagination</a> </div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/114092902/geek-wood-teether-baby-toys-natural?ref=sr_gallery_13&ga_search_query=teethers&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery">3 Princess Store</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/185157424/princess-peg-people-hand-painted-wooden?ref=sr_gallery_8&ga_search_query=peg+people&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery">RylieRene</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/189313572/large-blue-wooden-toy-whale-puzzle?ref=sr_gallery_23&ga_search_query=ocean+puzzles&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery">Berkshire Bowls</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/127315813/taggie-very-hungry-caterpillar-fabric?ref=sr_gallery_3&ga_search_query=the+hungry+caterpillar&ga_ref=auto1&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery">Homemade By Littleme</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/184943632/the-very-hungry-caterpillar-by-eric?ref=sr_gallery_5&ga_search_query=the+hungry+caterpillar+toy&ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=handmade&ga_view_type=gallery">Beyond The Bookshelf</a> </div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/188717479/very-hungry-caterpillar-lacing-game?ref=sr_gallery_16&ga_search_query=the+hungry+caterpillar+toy&ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=handmade&ga_view_type=gallery">CraftEdaze</a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<u><b>KID CLOTHING</b></u></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<u><b><a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/199690581/little-wanderer-shirt-toddler-t-shirt?ref=sr_gallery_24&ga_search_query=screen+printed+baby+tee&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery">SandiLake</a> </b></u> </div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/193319947/baby-coral-floral-leggings-baby-clothing?ref=shop_home_active_21">Blush By Taylor</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/197648869/photographer-baby-gift-custom-name?ref=shop_home_active_10">Zoe Madison Kids</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/182553465/gnome-baby-one-piece-bodysuit-infant?ref=shop_home_active_8">MoxieMadness</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/177495582/m-i-r-a-c-l-e-b-a-b-y-t-e-e-neon-pink?ref=pr_shop">Tink & Key</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/LittleBirdBlueCo?ref=l2-shopheader-name">Little Bird Blue</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/192576682/organic-baby-blanket-in-strawberry-print?ref=shop_home_active_24">Lola & Stella</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/198787006/baby-leggings-boy-leggings-girl-legging?ref=sr_gallery_3&ga_search_query=baby+leggings&ga_page=4&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery">Sweetest Thing Legging</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/170676813/organic-onesie-hand-screen-printed?ref=related-3">Oh Little Rabbit</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/151448212/gnome-and-mushrooms-organic-cotton-shirt?ref=sr_gallery_2&ga_search_query=mushroom+shirt&ga_search_type=handmade&ga_view_type=gallery">Lymeyts</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/182483811/new-chunky-bubblegum-bead-necklace?ref=sr_gallery_27&ga_search_query=toddler+jewelry&ga_page=2&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery">Bubble Gum Princess</a> </div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<u><b>BIG PEOPLE STUFF (for sisters, moms, dads, etc)</b></u></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<u><b><a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/163051813/wild-things-coffee-mug?ref=sr_gallery_37&ga_search_query=coffee+mug&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery">2nd Stop</a> </b></u></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<u><b> </b></u><a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/LiveWanderLove">LiveWanderLove</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/109020904/personalized-necklace-mothers-necklace?ref=sr_gallery_39&ga_search_query=hand+stamped+jewelry&ga_page=2&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery">The Silver Wren</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/StellaSaysSmile">Oh LOOK! It's "Stella Says Smile!" (how did that get there?)</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/162254104/little-swallows-birds-inknart-temporary?ref=sr_gallery_4&ga_search_query=temporary+tattoo&ga_ref=auto1&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery">InknArt</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/157792393/bucket-list-journal-with-maps-as-a?ref=sr_gallery_3&ga_search_query=journals&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery">Blue Toad</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/169145736/wood-iphone-5s-case-wood-iphone-5-case?ref=sr_gallery_26&ga_search_query=iphone5+case&ga_ref=auto4&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery">Vivid By CH</a></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
These are the stores I've ordered from within the past year or so and I can tell you, they're all so wonderful.</div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
Step outside the Walmart aisle and see how you can support a family AND get something great for yourself. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
Treasure those fingerprints.</div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse" style="text-align: left;">
xoxo Ash</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-59513827048742495842014-10-21T17:26:00.002-07:002014-10-21T18:02:06.045-07:00Lazy Pretzels, Other Catastrophies I Like to Entertain & Ramblings about My FaithI feel sometimes like a slave to this blog; not that I dislike writing on it. It's the fact that its morphed into something so far from what it was originally intended to be: A diary of my kids' lives. It's twisted into "Ashley's problems" and "pray for this" or "pray for that." It's getting old for me... I want to talk about what my kids are doing; I want to tell you about the insane, unbelievable things Stella does. I want to have a neat little blog post, tied up in strings (like they used to be) showing, "Oh look! We went berry picking! And here are our beautiful pictures!" The truth is, it hasn't been like that in a long, long time.<br />
<br />
And thus, I feel a slave; its like the blog that won't die.<br />
<br />
Maybe when this stuff passes I'll start clean.<br />
<br />
For now, it's your random post, full of ramblings and nonsensical run-on sentences... a girl pining and whining her way through life.<br />
<br />
I get way too many messages saying the same things, "Ashley, you are strong! You're a source of strength for so many!, etc." Wrong. WRONG WRONG WRONG.<br />
<br />
I am weak. I have nothing left; what you see floating around town is a body. The brain, the heart and soul are elsewhere. In "lala-land" or something. Always thinking and churning over the "what if's." Always beating myself down for not being the best mom or the most amazing cook or wife.<br />
<br />
I often look at my days like a giant "to do" list. Was I a fun mom today? Did I tell my kids I loved them enough? Did I tell Ryan I loved him? Did I tell him thank you? Did I cook dinner? Did I pick up enough? Did I spend enough time with the kids? Did I? Did I? Did I?<br />
<br />
The answer is no- I fail on all of that. Everyday. Especially days of late. I've had to step way, way out of my comfort zone and allow others to bridge some hefty gaps. Gaps that were once my territory; I'm leaving them open for others to fill. Some are simple, but incredibly (OH MY GOSH INCREDIBLY) helpful, like making dinner or a gift card for dinner... You guys... YOU GUYS. You have no idea. Just none. We'd be on our 30th day of Chick-fil-a if it were not for y'all. So THANK YOU- beyond WORDS! Thank you.<br />
<br />
Other gaps are harder to watch; like when my friend had to take Henry's first day of school pictures. I cried the entire day, which led to a crazy migraine.... yeah that was tough.<br />
<br />
But to know I have friends and family that are ready to jump in and pick us up, plug a hole in our deflating balloon; that's priceless and I seriously cannot thank you enough. I've never felt more loved.<br />
<br />
This blog post has been a thorn in my side for awhile. I was planning on writing some sort of whiny post (typical) around the beginning of September. And then sh!t hit the fan.<br />
<br />
Our babysitter arrived like normal, to watch the kids. I had had an appointment the previous day; a gallbladder scan (a Hyda scan?) and wasn't thinking much of it... other than I had a pain in my right side and was interested in hearing if it was my gallbladder or not. After leaving the house I pulled into Panera's with this laptop (that I'm typing on now :) and got a call- it was my GI doc up in Jacksonville. My gallbladder wasn't functioning- like at all- in fact it was beginning to disintegrate. They asked if I could come up pronto to be admitted and get it taken out. Thankfully, our sitter and my family worked together to make all of that happen and I drove to Baptist Memorial on a Thursday, for what was supposed to be an easy gallbladder surgery.<br />
<br />
HA.<br />
<br />
I was admitted and my surgeon wanted to run a CT scan before surgery. I was doped up, and couldn't have cared less. One CT scan later, I was taken down for surgery. Literally, as I was getting off the elevator (or being wheeled in the stretcher) a surgical tech came out to meet my nurse and said, "Is this McKenney? She's not having surgery . I don't know the details but its canceled for right now." And that's when the hospital stay turned into a nightmare.<br />
<br />
I was brought back up to my room, where I sat with (sister) Emily. We ping ponged ideas back and forth, wondering what would halt surgery... around 8pm they brought me down for two MRI's that I swear was the equivalency of being in a pit of snakes. #IhateMRIs I still didn't have a CLUE what they were looking for but the MRI tech was awesome... and I asked a sneaky question, "So, what are you looking for with this scan?" And he answered, "Primarily the liver." <br />
<br />
I pondered that. The liver. Hmm... But then also knew the gallbladder lied inside the liver, so I guess it wasn't too crazy? Anyways, we got through the MRI (barely) and I was taken back up to my room.<br />
<br />
Around nine PM, the lights shot on in my room and a team of doctors swarmed my bed. I honestly can't remember how it was said- what all was said, I really cant. But it was basically "We didn't do the surgery today because you have a lot of issues. We found free fluid in your abdomen, a large cyst on your ovary and a mass on your liver. Now we know your gallbladder isn't working, so it certainly could be a reason for your symptoms and pain, but you need to know that we could take the gallbladder out and nothing could change. Meaning, you'll continue to have pain, because you have several other conditions going on."<br />
<br />
I said to go ahead with the surgery- to knock that off the list. The doctors agreed, saying it would be nice to have the gallbladder off the table; not a viable source of the symptoms.<br />
<br />
The next morning I went in bright and early for surgery. Because I'm Ashley, there were complications getting to it and I had some anesthesia issues as well... which prompted an automatic night stay. And honestly, I was in SO much pain, that was fine with me.<br />
<br />
I have five incisions. One in my belly button, the other four up top. And for the first day, I asked for morphine whenever I could get it. It hurt THAT bad.<br />
<br />
Normally when I am in the hospital I keep a stiff upper lip; refusing meds because, who knows. They'll ask me to rate my pain and I always answer with a 2 or 3. An hour later they'll find a stone ripping down my ureter. The nurses fawn all over me, "We have grown men come in here saying they are dying! And this is what, your 15th stone?" Stupid pride.<br />
<br />
Okay- back to Baptist; While in the hospital they found a new reason to keep me (it seemed this way).... each day. Something was ALWAYS wrong with my labs or scans, etc. It was just a really hard, not fun, tear and anxiety filled week.<br />
<br />
The stiff upper lip completely quivered and I surrendered to whatever they would give me. I was sick, in a ton of pain and my chest was filled with panic. <br />
<br />
Also, did you know getting released from a hospital is kind of like being released from jail? Like you are THEIRS. They OWN you. I had to get permission from ALL of my doctors that I could be discharged. And at this point in my stay I had a floor doctor, a GI doc, a surgeon and a neurologist. And there was so much miscommunication; one doctor would say "she's good to go!" The other would say, "I need more labs. Or let's repeat this scan." It went around and around like that until finally- FINALLY- one of my doctors rallied all the signatures needed, and I was out. <br />
<br />
At home I took up residence in bed. Typical. And that's when the meals started arriving. And its here that I lack the words to properly thank you all. But I'll try.<br />
<br />
Ryan was brushing kids' hair, teeth, filling back packs, tying shoes, etc. And YOU saved him from a necessary, but everyday hassle; making dinner. I know I keep going on about it, but really- the outpouring was just insane. I cried every time I read a card, or ate a meal that someone had taken the time to cook and deliver. Just thank you... over and over and over again.<br />
<br />
Somewhere around day 3 of being discharged from the hospital, Ryan started talking about resigning from his job. I think I cried for about two days straight. I envisioned the power being turned off, standing in line for WIC, having to move the kids again, etc. (my psychiatrist says I like to make catastrophic events in my head- wha?? He so cray cray.)<br />
<br />
So yep. That's a huge announcement. The change that trumps all changes. Ryan resigned. He's done at Embry Riddle. He's home taking care of his forlorn wife. If you could only imagine the guilt... it's all consuming. We keep joking about "for better or for worse..." But we have four kids... we can't play around here. There are bills to be paid, an incredible amount of logistics to get through (like finding GOOD, new insurance...gahhhh)... and most of all, leaning SO heavily on the Lord. We're living on hope and faith right now. And so far so good. Why am I surprised? Does the Lord ever fail? This may not have looked like the life I thought I'd be living this year, but it's exactly what He has written. I don't know the why or what or when.. but He does.<br />
<br />
I am officially 1 month out since my botched gallbladder surgery... (well not botched I guess; they did get the thing.... after 6 incisions). My insides still ache and the fatigue is overwhelming. All the time. I feel like I'm standing in the middle of the road, cars flying by on both sides of me; life happening everywhere- and then there's me. Stagnant. It's all too fast right now,- the world that is. I can't keep up with it and its making me feel like the biggest failure.<br />
<br />
Because I lock up my confidence and self worth in silly things like, making the perfect pinterest cupcakes or having the best dressed kids, the moment something slips (ie- we bring a bag of PRETZELS for snack- and they're in a bag, like we picked them up on the way to school, which we most certainly did). I could just see the other mothers eying my bag of lazy pretzels.<br />
<br />
I need to get over<b><i> lazy pretzels.</i></b><br />
<br />
Anyways, a bit ago I got some sobering news. The liver mass has grown 1.2 cm since my last scan- that's a whopping total of 9.2cm of SOMETHING that's squashing and taking over the right side of my liver. And yeah, it hurts. I think the pain is simply because of the size; its protruding out- my belly is SO bloated; I mean that sucker's gotta be pushing on stuff right? UGH. Disgusting. I met with my internalist to figure out what to do/where to go next. Last week I had a colonoscopy (terrific times) and I've scheduled my liver biopsy twice. And have cancelled it twice.<br />
<br />
Yeah. That's about where I'm at right now.<br />
<br />
We did get some incredible news from my neurologist- my spinal fluid is perfect; He felt confident in ruling out MS. And it snapped me back into reality. Just hearing that, "We can rule out MS or anything else that's a serious neurological issue."<br />
<br />
I fell back into <i>me.</i><br />
<br />
I thought the transition from "sick Ashley" to "normal Ashley" would be earth shattering; I basically had a zillion pieces to pick up.<br />
<br />
It was anything but earth shattering.<br />
<br />
Wait- I take that back... it was earth shattering, but in an amazing way. <br />
<br />
I came home, cried with my mom, praised God about the incredible news of no MS and decided in that moment I was me again.<br />
<br />
I could think about going to Disney World and walking around with the kids. I wanted to go grocery shopping! I could get out of bed in the morning, excited for the day. It had been a long time since I had felt any kind of pure, sugar, maple syrupy happiness. And I let myself sit in that moment for awhile, day dreaming of life withOUT MS.<br />
<br />
It was a really, really good day.<br />
<br />
This post gets a few awards tonight; I'll start out with "most whiny" and follow up with "longest post ever."<br />
<br />
Okay- so today- here, and now. I am due for a liver biopsy that I can't seem to keep on my calender. I don't want to do it. I don't want to ever go back to Baptist. I don't want medicine. I don't want pain. I don't want to know what this is, growing inside me. In the same breath, I can say I need to know what is growing inside of me.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow's goal is pretty simple: Reschedule liver biopsy for the 3rd time.<br />
<br />
Following through is where I'll need some encouragement. :)<br />
<br />
I'll try my best to keep you updated.<br />
<br />
On a totally NOT medical note, seasons are changing, transitioning to a cooler, colorful time. I call this weather my "second skin" weather. You can walk outside and I swear, the weather matches your body temperature (obviously it doesn't.. but it feels that way). It's just sweet goodness.<br />
<br />
We have four pumpkins on our stoop. Two giant spiders (real ones), weaving webs around our porch. Sidewalk chalk drawings have taken over our back patio porch and there's a constant smell of leaves and coffee in our house. I love it.<br />
<br />
Something I've been struggling like, horribly with, is faith. Or trust-(lack of) whatever you want to call it, when I decide that the world is ending and my heart is going to fail and my kids are going to find me passed out on the bathroom floor. What does tomorrow hold? I wish I knew. But we're not meant to know. I have faith in my God. He's done amazing things in these past few weeks (years,- my entire life).... <br />
<br />
That's super easy to type out and its simple. It makes me feel like a good person. The truth is, practicing this kind of faith and trust in Him is hard. HARD. The day of my neurology appointment (pre-appointment) I sobbed, listened to a few of my favorite worship songs, got on my knees and cried (literally) to the Lord. He delivered. No MS. <br />
<br />
You'd think my faith would be sky rocketing high, right?<br />
<br />
Wrong.<br />
<br />
Now my mind is triggered on the liver thing. Christians, how do you give it ALL up to Him? And why is it so hard for me? <br />
<br />
A friend of mine (she'll remain anonymous :) prayed with me a couple of weeks ago. Through tears, she asked me, "Ashley, if the Lord takes one of your kids, are you going to deny Him? Will you not worship Him?"<br />
<br />
Automatically, like my soul was being held in His hands, I said "Of course not! I will forever worship my God."<br />
<br />
I've been thinking a lot about that conversation. There are three thousand things that could potentially go wrong at any given second and trust me, I can come up with some good ones (one of my current fears is being swallowed in a sink hole...yeah) anyways, if any one of those three thousand things were to happen, would I abandon my God? Never. And I guess that's the moral of this HUGE, long, rambling post.<br />
<br />
No matter what happens, sink holes, my kid being bullied, liver cancer, WHATEVER- my God is HERE. He is ALWAYS present. And I will always bow to Him. He is ALWAYS good. Even in the midst of super scary times. He is the One I can cling to, and I know I will never be failed by Him.<br />
<br />
I'm focusing on this; remembering His love for me. His love for my kids. My heart is His, and He's in mine. And that's what's going to help me walk out the front door tomorrow.<br />
<br />
Alright- I think this is over.<br />
<br />
Goodnight, God bless. Be thankful for health! Live life beautifully- fearlessly.<br />
<br />
(but still watch out for sink holes- those things are real).<br />
<br />
:) xoxo- AshAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-67497898231751475632014-07-14T18:58:00.001-07:002014-07-14T18:58:29.536-07:00all I can manage for tonight<ul>
<li>I cancelled my much anticipated silver in six retreat. The one I worked all year for. The one that has been inching closer and closer on my calender. The one that's marked off in yellow and blue polka dots in my planner as my "SILVER RETREAT!" It stings, it hurts, its real. And honestly, I don't want to talk about it. A few days ago I was shuffling through the house. My 89 year old grandma who helps with Maeve and Henry was there; she had taken them on a walk while the little ones napped, so I could nap. (LOVE YOU GRAMS). As I slunk out of my bedroom my grandma caught sight of me and said "Oh Ashley, you have your trip coming up! What are you going to do? You can't go alone and travel like this." And I had been thinking that for awhile; ever since the MS thing. I had kept it a secret thought in my head like, "I'm going to admit when I come back from the silver retreat that I almost didn't go- but I'm so glad I trusted in God and went for it!" Hahaha. And then she said those words and I was forced to say something back. And it sounded like, "Yeah, I know, grandma." I cancelled my travel plans before Ryan got home to stop me. </li>
<li>I want the leg puffers/pumpers they give you in the hospital to prevent blood clots. I want them BAD. Someone tell me where I can get them!?!?</li>
<li>This "thing" whatever it is.... whether its MS or bad kidneys, or just my flippin lot in life. It's too much to carry on a daily basis. I thought about this in depth tonight. How many times have I gotten on here to declare victory over some thing I can't even grab a hold of? "I am going to stay strong and eat healthy.... blah blah blah." It's enough to make me vomit. The truth? It's too much. IT'S TOO FREAKING MUCH. I can't carry this. I can't carry it for a day... two days, three days. It's too heavy. There are too many blows and knock downs. It's hard to admit that I'm not "okay." That things aren't hunky dory! :D (my mom always uses that phrase...) But they're not. They're just not. Some days- some moments I'm given that sweet swish of the life that was mine a year ago. A night at the park; a visit with a friend. Those things are so obsolete right now. When something "big" (like a park night, or a walk, or whatever...) I feel so good. Warm and normal. And I start coming up with a grocery list. I get half way through before I remember "I need to cath myself." And then the entire sunshiney day dream comes crashing down. THIS is reality. THIS is what's happening right now and there's nothing- no magic pill- or oil- that's going to change this. It's a domino effect; and I know this. One step is going to lead to another step, that will lead to another, etc. I'll take a few steps back; that's for sure. But its also to be expected. Anyways, what I'm saying is I don't have anything together. I'm winging it every day, all day. But I have the hope of the Lord; and I've said this a million times to Ryan and my friends- I seriously don't know what someone would do without that knot to grab onto. Obviously I know people do it daily; lose a loved one, diagnosed with cancer, etc. and they don't know the Lord. But with my hope and faith in Jesus, its like this giant cushion. I know the entire world can come crashing down.... just give me Jesus. </li>
</ul>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-85879419857115055102014-07-08T06:07:00.003-07:002014-07-08T06:07:23.622-07:00the whole hossy thing.My eyes feel like they're glued Literally, every time I blink, there's a good chance they'll stay shut. Maybe this is how celebs feel when they get "hospitalized" for exhaustion. Because if that were an option right now I might consider it just for a night...<br />
<br />
Wednesday night I was having flank pain and blood in my catheters. That's normally a sure sign of infection. <br />
<br />
I called my primary and he arranged an ultrasound; unfortunately the only place that was open was the ER- but it was fine; they were expecting me and I was in and out pretty quick.<br />
<br />
<br />
The ultrasound tech checked for blockage and back up. I had neither. Just two, itty bitty stones (less than 4mm -again if you've passed a stone, less than 4mm doesn't feel too "itty bitty.") that were passing; thus the reason for pain and bleeding.<br />
<br />
Was sent home Wednesday night with a foley bag (when I get stones, its easier to put a bag on and literally drink myself silly (with water of course lol!) and let the urine collect in a bag, versus me catheterizing myself every five minutes and funneling it through a sifter, etc. Just a huge pain. So I agreed on the bag, and left the ER determined to flush these stones out.<br />
<br />
<br />
Thursday I woke up with my bag and spend the day drinking water, flushing my kidneys. But Thursday night I was feeling pretty bad. I think I emailed a few nursing friends, soliciting free advice, because that's how I do.<br />
<br />
In the end, (early Friday morning) I was beyond sick. Like felt as though I could die. For real. I was one of those dorks that had to be wheeled into the ER by her husband- I couldn't even stand.<br />
<br />
They gave me that magic dilauded, which knocked the pain out immediately. I fell asleep and woke up a couple of hours later, realizing I was in a huge trauma room- like the kinds you see on TV. And I had doctors and nurses surrounding me. Somewhere during my nap my blood pressure had dropped to 67/43 and my heart rate was in the high 100's. I had a temperature and was totally out of it. Which was probably a good thing; because had I been with it, I would have been scared out of my mind.<br />
<br />
I had a doctor (not a nurse- but doctor) above me squeezing fluids into me and a nurse taking my vitals. I was like a blob. Couldn't even try and move. I suppose things stabilized (though my BP never got over 100) and the next thing I knew I was in the ICU. How. DID. THIS. HAPPEN?!?! <br />
<br />
As they gave me more fluids, meds, etc. I became more "with" it and was able to remember what had happened. I mean, most of it. There were a lot of empty pieces but I knew I was really sick and I was on the ICU floor. I knew my vitals weren't good and that I was being admitted. <br />
<br />
The first doctor I talked to thought I had some horrible disease; like TB or something. (pros and cons of having a private room- you're alone and its private, but that usually means you're pretty sick) For the first 24 hours I had over 7 antibiotics; apparently I was close to becoming septic; they couldn't' identify the exact bacteria or virus I had. So they were using wide spectrum antibiotics. This sucked for a million reasons. Each med gave me some new reaction; I itched, I puked, I felt heavy in my chest; it was AWFUL.<br />
<br />
After 48 hours my culture finally grew something; enterococcus faecalis. A serious bacterium, linked to a whole host of scary problems, often associated with use of catheters. <br />
<br />
Once they identified it, they put me on three antibiotics to kill the sucka. Yesterday I couldn't take the hospital for another second and braved the question, "Can I go home?" One doctor (infectious disease doc) said "NO." My other two doctors (my floor doc and my urologist) said "yes." So my dad and I ran with those "yesses" and some how I got myself out of there. I've questioned it a few times; did I leave too early? Should I have stayed to be monitored longer? My vitals had improved- totally normal- except for right before we left. My BP was 134/90 and my heart rate was 55. Like complete opposite of when I came in.<br />
<br />
Anxiety is playing a good part in all of this; telling me "GO BACK! Run back to the doctors!" And then theres another part of me hat's saying "Stay with your kids. You need to be with your kids."<br />
<br />
All in all its bee a trying 5 days. My grandma is here to help me today, and I appreciate her help SO much. But all I really want is Ryan.<br />
<br />
We'll get through this; I'm determined. My love for the kids is so great- that I have a will to get 100% better and become that energetic, fun mom they so deserve. <br />
<br />
Right now... I'm just tired. Anxious. Full of fear and thoughts. <br />
<br />
PS- nursing friends feel free to PM me a message about why my BP and heart rate were so funky before I left! <br />
<br />
I'm also a human slug. No really; like can barely get around. I am crazy tired. CRAZY TIRED. I'm assuming this is just from everything that's happened?<br />
<br />
I miss my old doctor (Dr. Bigelow) so badly. I need someone o tell me "You are not going to quit breathing. You are not going to die from this. You just need to take your medicine ad rest." <br />
<br />
gahhhhhhhhhhhhh<br />
<br />
what a few days, huh?<br />
<br />
Seriously though; if you have any kind words of encouragement about me being "okay"- like "hey Ashley I dealt with this same thing last year and I am totally fine now! Took my meds and all is well!" I'd LOVE to hear it! :D<br />
<br />
thanks for all the prayers and love!<br />
<br />
xoxo<br />
Ash<br /><br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-31545453604537288102014-07-01T14:26:00.001-07:002014-07-01T14:26:15.495-07:00Paleo, Juicing, Watermelon Island & Wha????Alrighty... if you follow me on IG, you've seen a bunch of food pics. I'm on one of those life highs right now. I have a lot of hope. And that's such a precious thing. Just a couple of weeks ago, I was hopeLESS. Filled with nothing but a lot of fear and anxiety, guilt and pity.<br />
<br />
One can only muddle around for so long I guess. Because randomly I decided I was done with feeding into whatever this (this being MS, or just a neurogenic bladder or WHATEVER) is. <br />
<br />
I felt like crap. <br />
<br />
Since my first foley leg bag was placed in February I've gained 14 lbs. Yep. That's disgusting.<br />
<br />
I had cried almost every day, for a good percentage of the days. I pulled myself out of my sisters wedding, cancelled anything I could, stayed in my room while babysitters (Tiffany, my mom and sisters, Ryan's parents) watched the kids. I mean it was a dark. Dark, dark, dark. I will give myself credit though; its hard to be happy with a catheter in. So in a way, I feel like I DID have the right to be upset and grieve for the loss of my bladder function... but I let it get away from me.<br />
<br />
14 lbs later, here I sit. No better, just worse for putting crap into my body and depending on the hundreds of pills that were pushed at me.<br />
<br />
Soooooo... the come to Jesus moment- last week- sometime, it happened and thank GOD it did. <br />
<br />
I have a good friend, Joy, who's been talking about the paleo diet with me. Honestly (no offense here Joy!) but during those dark days I wanted to throw my phone out the window. I didn't want to hear about diets or anything. I wanted to dwell in pity city (best phrase ever used Misty...;)<br />
<br />
But after seeing the light, I was intrigued about the paleo diet amongst other things. <br />
<br />
The first thing I did was meet with my neurologist and my PCP. I told them both I was done with this journey. No spinal tap, no more pain meds... I'm just done. They're awesome docs and I think it was the answer they wanted to hear. They both agreed and said right now the only issue I should be focusing on is my bladder.... and guess what? Right now, I have that under control because I know how to self cath. I am like a self cathing- NINJA. So, BOOM.<br />
<br />
The next step was figuring out how to get back on the healthy train. I missed my oils so badly. Missed my ritual of lining them up every morning, filling my capsules and feeling them nourish my cells. That was the first thing I did; chucked out some pill for " UTI maintenance" and made a capsule of oregano, juniper and fennel- all wonderful oils to cleanse the kidneys. Step one, DONE. I think I already felt better.<br />
<br />
The next morning, I did my old oil thing- I think there are 13 or so I take? Anyways- lined them all up, filled my 2 capsules, chugged my bottle of water and cooked steel cut oats. I hadn't eaten steel cut oats in forever. That's my go-to breakfast. It fills me up, gives me energy and makes me feel like I'm ready. I had been skipping breakfast during the "dark days"- opting to sleep instead.<br />
<br />
Then I think I texted Joy and asked her what I need to buy for the paleo diet. She sent me tons of great info and I went on a shopping spree.<br />
<br />
And then she told me my oats were a no-no. <br />
<br />
So I reconsidered.... am I really paleo??? Could I really do that? Hmm...<br />
<br />
Then I went a few days eating only fruits and veggies; felt fine- nothing wrong with that. And I found a TON of amazing recipes- I mean you can basically make anything from fruits and veggies. Brownies, even FLAN. (which I made Saturday night.. mmmm:). <br />
<br />Then I decided to hardcore detox the crap out of my body and went on "watermelon island" for a day. It was interesting- felt good (ate only watermelon & water for a day). Felt full, etc. <br />
<br />
Today, I hesitate to put myself into any category. So how about this: I am CLEAN eating.<br />
<br />
I am eating fruits and veggies like there's no tomorrow. I'm starting out the day with a giant slab of watermelon and mango. If I still feel hungry I make a bowl of steel cut oats. <br />
<br />
For lunch I've been juicing.<br />
<br />
For snacks, its been piles of veggies, blue corn chips and hummus. Well, today it was bananas with sunflower butter and cacao powder. OMG. <br />
<br />
What I'm trying to get at is.... I'm not putting myself into any ONE category. I'm just being healthy. I'm making healthful choices. I am FUELING my body instead of sabotaging it. I'm choosing to give it things to work with; whole, unprocessed foods. <br />
<br />
So that's the "diet" or whatever I'm on. I juice, I eat a ton of watermelon (like literally one a day maybe???), ... I DO drink coffee (that's a paleo no-no) and I have my oats. <br />
<br />
All in all, I feel pretty darn good. For the first time in WEEKS, I was able to go to Paneras on Monday and work on the computer- I stayed focus; no tears, no wandering thoughts, no "woe is me" crap. Just worked. And then cathed myself and then worked again. Then went grocery shopping and came home to my kids. <br />
<br />
This is life. It's different than the one I had prior to the neurological issues, but I'm folding, molding myself with it. Fitting into the grooves and creases without kicking and screaming. Accepting what is, and getting up every morning. <br />
<br />
I am good enough. I am good enough to have cute clothes and look pretty.<br />
<br />
I am good enough to be a mother to my kids.<br />
<br />
I am good enough to be a wife to the most amazing husband ever.<br />
<br />
I am good enough to be in my sisters wedding (though I won't throw her all off and re-insert myself- haha- no worries Meghan!)<br />
<br />
I am good enough to sit down with anyone and feel just as "normal" as them. Yeah I cath myself. Yep, I might have MS. You bet these things scare me and you're right; they're tiring and wearing. But they're not me.<br />
<br />
<i><b>Me</b></i> is good enough.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I am doing an official diet/detox thingy in August. I was going to start it today but figured I should probably do it myself for a few weeks before directing other people.. haha :D<br />
<br />
So August, at some point, I'll have a private event on facebook; I don't know the details or how long it will last.. but I hope you'll join me!<br />
<br />
The only requirements are an open mind to try new things, a few oils (peppermint, lemon, frank, ginger, fennel, slique, clove... ) um more than a few oils. But I can work with ya. Just shoot me a message and we'll get things figured out.<br />
<br />
;) Thanks for sticking with me... through the good, the bad, the ugly, and back to the good.<br />
<br />
Life is nuts sometimes, right? <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-57796437832551057272014-06-28T14:50:00.001-07:002014-06-28T14:50:35.195-07:00Demystifying the Detox!So remember my come to Jesus moment last week? I blogged about it <a href="http://ashleymckenney.blogspot.com/2014/06/standing-up-and-putting-on-gloves.html">here- (standing up.......etc)</a>.<br />
<br />
I've been restless with sleep, trying to think of some way to make this journey easier, more impacting for others, and transparently beautiful for me. <br />
<br />
I <i>THINK </i>I've come to a solution. <br />
<br />
Starting July 1st, I will have a private facebook "event" going 30 days of clean eating & oiling. I'll be posting my daily meals and juices (juice detox for the first 3 days... yep I love y'all so much I'm going to do it again!) I'll be posting oil concoctions and protocols that I use to help with losing weight, getting healthy, and back on track. We'll share daily prayers and thoughts as we go through this, and obviously a lot of encouragement.<br />
<br />
Here's the deal; obviously there will be some who want to do this, but do not have their kit. <br />
<br />
This is what I want you to do- get with me (PM me on facebook, email me, etc.) and somehow, someway, everyone in that class will have a kit in hand and ready to go! I have extra oils I can send you, lemon drop love bags, pocket references and account credits. The time to jump on the oil choo choo has come!<br />
<br /><br />
Those of you with kits, wanting to juice and oil detox, comment on this post on facebook and I'll make sure you're in the event. Those of you without kits, PM me, and we'll talk about how to change that :) <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
July 1st or bust!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-57386225864218275772014-06-25T17:20:00.001-07:002014-06-25T17:33:28.945-07:00standing up and putting on the gloves.Confessions:<br />
<br />
Back in January I went to my first appointment up at the Mayo clinic. At that time, I was having issues with kidney stones and bladder infections. I was desperate for relief; anyone who's passed a kidney stone knows they're worse than child birth. For me, they make me sick; fever, vomiting, lethargic and then of course the pain. And I'm knocked down for DAYS with these things. DAYS. Some stones pass quickly; overnight or in a single day. But 99% of the stones I've passed (and I've passed close to 30 since Stella was born- yeah).... take days to pass. I end up in the ER, or doctors office, bawling my eyes out, praying the docs will have mercy on me and just BLAST my stones instead of saying "Oh its small enough to pass, here's some dilauded and up your fluids!" This has been my life for almost three years. I thought it was bad. Didn't think I could be hit much harder. And then came the Mayo clinic... and everything has spiraled down hill since.<br />
<br />
My doctors at Mayo immediately took me off my oil regimen. They "didn't know" (their words) about the oils and therefore couldn't say anything about them. They DID want full control over my diet, medication, etc. so they could manage my stones. HAH.<br />
<br />
The day I quit taking my oils (I'm talking internally- my regimen of lemon, peppermint, thieves, ginger, cinnamon, endoflex, fennel, frank, digize, and oregano) all hell broke loose. Literally. My body went nuts. I replaced my oils with the medications the doctors pushed at me and I told myself, "this is because I want to get rid of my kidney stones. The doctors are helping me."<br />
<br />
I am by no means saying the docs had ill intentions- oh wait- Dr. Mengle from urology at Mayo- he had ill intentions- but everyone else; I think they really wanted the best for me. Here's the thing. Doctors don't know everything.<br />
<br />
I have NEVER, EVER been sicker in my life than I am today. Since cutting out my oil regimen I have A.) been to the ER 8 times (each time given IV antibiotics for bad infections) & have had two foley leg bags placed. B.) have been told I would forever be catheterizing myself because I have a neurogenic bladder- and was taught to self cath. I now have boxes of catheters in my bathroom. C). MS. Those awful two letters.<br />
<br />
As fear, anger and every emotion in between rained down on me, I threw my hands up. I gave up. What's the point of eating right, exercising, taking care of my body when it was just falling apart anyways? Screw. THIS.<br />
<br />
People messaged me over and over; "Take this, eat that, do this, do that!" And all I wanted to do was be angry and quit. And yell. And eat. And throw my medications against the wall and whine to my doctors and my husband. It's been a dark few months here. I can't lie.<br />
<br />
I had continued to use the oils for aromatherapy (diffusing) and topically (bug bites and rashes, anxiety and sleep). But I had stuffed the empty capsules away, completely replacing them with pill bottles, because "doctors know best." I upped my prozac (psychiatrists suggestion after seeing how distraught and BLAH I've become these past few months) and started taking klonopin on a regular basis. The docs gave me a running script of demerol and lortab for the stone pain and sleeping pills because of my anxiety and depression over "MS." I have been loaded for months.<br />
<br />
Today for some reason; honestly- nothing out of the blue happened- nothing remarkable... I just clicked out of it. And I'm done. <i>I'm standing up, getting out of bed and putting on my boxing gloves.</i> And its starting with the detox of meds and the intake of my oils.<br />
<br />
No worries; allllll detoxing is happening with my doctors watching my every move. My amazing PCP calls daily to ask how I'm doing... today I told him, "I don't want to take anything anymore. I want to look into natural routes." And he said "awesome." (Dr. Barringer- for local peeps- he's amazing).<br />
<br />
So today I climbed through boxes in the garage, and unpacked my arsenal of capsules, droppers, and carrier oils and got to work.<br />
<br />
I threw out all the crap in my pantry; aside from some s'mores stuff for the kids :).<br />
<br />
I said out loud to myself, "This is MY body. MY BODY. And I want it back."<br />
<br />
Friends; I will still be on many of the meds that my body has grown dependent on for the past few months. It's not an overnight fix. None of this is. But its a start. And I have a goal. I have a will; a strong one- and it's finally shown up to fight.<br />
<br />
<i>THANK YOU JESUS!</i><br />
<br />
I will continue to update my journey... the phasing out of medication and inclusion of oils. Not the specialists idea of what I should do, but to hell with that. TO HELL. I am done.<br />
<i> </i><br />
Anyways, I'll be documenting my internal oil usage on here to hold myself accountable and to show you that I'm not just talking the talk, but truly, walking the walk.<br />
<br />
Prayers would be so greatly appreciated.<br />
<br />
Prayers have BEEN appreciated. Someone, somewhere said a prayer to snap me out of it... and today, that happened.<br />
<br />
Thank you friends.<br />
<br />
Thank you LORD! <br />
<br />
<br />
Here I go!<br />
<br />
Oils used today:<br />
(1 drop each for immune support & liver function)- oregano, thieves, fennel<br />
<br />
(1 drop each for tummy/digestive issues)- digize, ginger, cinnamon<br />
<br />
(1 drop each for energy/brain power/functioning lol)- lemon, lavender, peppermint, slique, frank and a shot of Nxinga red.<br />
<br />
(1 drop each for kidney function)- juniper, lemon, chamomile<br />
<br />
<br />
And THAT folks... is how I'm doin' this. My body loves me already! :D<br />
<br />
(seriously- I feel better- more upbeat, more energy, happier than I have in months).<br />
<br />
God bless this new journey and these oils. <br />
<br />
XOXO-<br />
Ash ;)<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-4664022324356864122014-06-17T19:38:00.003-07:002014-06-17T19:38:57.393-07:00I (HAD) a Dream! (and a giant pile of mashed up thoughts)I had my horrid MRI's on Friday. One of my neck and one of my back. I knew they were two different body parts; had no clue they were two different scans. One hour of of awfulness. But whatever. It's done, for now, thank God.<br />
<br />
That same day, we moved from our little condo that's been home since the day we rolled into the sunshine state, and into a house in the south side of town. <br />
<br />
We had angels here- everywhere- because seriously, I have no idea how we all survived that day. <br />
<br />
My parents took the kids, Ryan and his parents moved everything, and cleaned like mad people until midnight. I did what I could (which wasn't a whole lot. And honestly, most of my weakness was mental; not physical).<br />
<br />
The day before we moved (Thursday), I visited my psychiatrist. Y'all know I have one, right? I do. He's great. He keeps it real. And I can flood his office with the biggest piles of stress and tears and not have to worry about picking anything up. He absorbs it, takes it in and lets me just be. I normally see him on six week intervals to do a "med check"- basically an in and out appointment about how I'm doing on my meds. Seeing as how I've been on prozac for 6 years, almost every med check is the same: "Yes, I take my medication as prescribed. Yes it is working. Yes I am taking care of myself." I have anxiety and depression, and yeah the questions and being on meds are a bit embarrassing, but I'm owning it. If you're judging me right now that's on you.<br />
<br />
Anyways, I dumped out the words "multiple sclerosis." He picked them up. I left feeling hopeful, relieved, vindicated in a way. Most of my cry sesh was about how weak I feel as a person; specifically as a mom. How I'm not worthy of being a mom because I can't physically keep up with my kids half the time and the other half of the time my mind is racing with catastrophic thoughts. (example: Stella has a wound on her chin from mothers day; it's still red and raw... I've now convinced myself she has some kind of rare blood clotting disease. It's my psychiatrist and my husband who talk me down from these places.) To sum it up, it was an ugly, good cry and I needed it so badly. I needed to hear from someone OUTSIDE my circle to say "THIS is okay. YOU are okay. YOU are allowed to be mad. YOU are allowed to be upset and scared, anxious and angry. And ALL of what you're feeling is valid." <br />
<br />
Honestly by Friday (MRI time) I was full of that peace again... my merciful God, prayers & the good people surrounding me are what's holding everything together. <br />
<br />
Over the weekend I felt crappy (eh, what's new?) But we did normal "stuff." We went to a concert and I screamed and clapped, sang and laughed. The normalcy was so, so sweet.<br />
<br />
Sunday, Ryan's parents left and for one reason or another I had a mini breakdown. My sister was here and we had started talking about those two stupid letters again. <i><b>MS</b></i>. I realized some of my troops were leaving and I was scared. I need all the peeps I can get! Especially the ones who love my kids and I, and would literally do just about anything for us. It was a sad day to see them go. My kids cried, I cried... tear city. <br />
<br />
Monday, I was feeling really good. Like, really, really good. I ran errands with the kids all morning, dealt with my insane two year and unpacked, cleaned, etc. Maeve has ballet camp this week so it's been a blessing to have her out of the house and doing something she loves. (Not that Maeve's the hard one... now if I could get STELLA into some kind of class, we'd be cookin' with peanut oil :) The kids and I took advantage of our sweet backyard slab of concrete. <i>Hellooooo chalk & bubbles! </i> Around 2, I declared nap time on the entire house. I sang that song from the Disney channel, "It's nap time now, its time to rest now, you'll feel a lot better once you close your eyes now... " The kids hate it. HAHA. Because if Mickey and Minnie are telling you its nap time, my gosh, its nap time. They obliged and fell asleep; I had two options- sleep or sleep. <br />
<br />
I chose sleep. (tip: When allowed, ALWAYS choose sleep during nap) Rosie slept beside me and I sunk into bed, feeling seriously great. I had had a productive morning; I DROVE to target, and spent some good quality time with my kids. Seems simple, like, "duh Ashley, I do that stuff every day."- but its more than I've done in a long time.<br />
<br />
Part two of this crazy story: <u>THE NAP</u> <br />
<br />
During my Monday afternoon nap, I had a dream and I won't ever forget it. It's one of those that when I woke up, I immediately reached for my journal and jotted every word down. I didn't want to forget a single detail. So without further ado, here is <i>the dream. ;)- straight out of my journal, word for word- like, literally looking at my journal and typing- forgive me if its awful.</i><br />
<br />
<b><i>"It started out in the mall and I think it was Westwood. I had on roller skates. Every time I stood up, I'd fall. I couldn't get my skates going. Someone offered to help me to my car, and I finally got there. Remember feeling so relieved. Then I had to take family pictures of someone. (don't remember the family? Someone from Michigan I think.) I got out of my car, and had the skates on again. Fell down immediately. It took forever to get to the front step. When I got there, I was crazy tired and confused and embarrassed about falling down. Remember thinking there's no way I'm going to get through this photo session. A lady answered the door and I pulled it all together. But I kept asking to use the bathroom because I didn't want her to know I was falling or tired. (or something??!) Every time I went into the bathroom I fell down again. And I wanted to call Ryan to tell him to come get me. There was no way I could take pictures. Eventually lady left and then I was on a gravel road with grandma. It was impossible to stand up and skate at all. There were rocks and potholes. Grandma was leaping from rock to rock (HAH!) and telling me I needed to come with her. Every time I stood up my skates caught on a pothole or rock and I'd fall back down. Remember watching her literally leaping over these giant potholes. Next thing I remember clearly, is being in high school- at Western. I skated into a class and fell on my butt as soon as I got through the door. I have no idea who the people were but I know I didn't like them. They laughed and I kept trying to convince them I did this on purpose- the skating and falling. They didn't believe me and made fun of me. I didn't want to fall again so I crawled out of the class room and sat down. Now I'm in front of the gym- where I used to have gymnastics practice in high school. I had my legs straight out in front of me, skates were on. Legs felt heavy. Ang came up to me and I was so thankful to see her. I asked her if she could help me find my dad. She was busy and she said she had to study, but she thought she could get back in time. So she heaved me up. I was way too heavy for her to carry. We both fell down over and over. We were trying to get to the parking lot (apparently my dad was there?). She couldn't carry me, just had me lean on her. I remember saying to her, "You're like a mule!" She promised me she'd get me out there and to my dad. Told me to be patient. After what felt like a million falls she had me out the door. We were outside and looking for my dad. I kept saying how sorry I was. How heavy I was. She didn't care. She just kept dragging me. Finally we saw my dad. I was watching myself now from somewhere- (no clue)- but I passed out in my dad's arms. He completely picked me up and he said something like "I've got you and we're going to the hospital. You're fine now." And from this distant place where I was watching myself, I remember feeling completely relieved. I had made it I guess? And then I woke up.</i></b>"<br />
<br />
I woke up (real life talking now, no more journal ;) and felt around for my phone. There was a message from Ryan, "Did you hear anything from your doctor yet?" I scanned through my missed calls and voice mails. There was indeed one from my neuro. Having just dreamed that very poignant, crazy dream, I started to feel panicky- like "HOLY MOLY. The Lord just gave me that dream to use as a guiding point for whatever is about to happen."<br />
<br />
I called my neuro and they transferred me to the nurse. She's incredibly sweet. My next neurology appointment was set up for July 3rd. So when she asked me if I could come in tomorrow (Tuesday- today) I literally sunk. My shoulders, neck, head, everything sunk. I asked her what it was and she said the doc would talk with me tomorrow but, and I quote, "Do not lose sleep over it." <br />
<br />
HA! To say Monday night was hard, is an understatement. I didn't sleep- like at all. I stayed up, thinking of that weird dream, wondering if it was foreshadowing what was about to go down. I watched infomercials until my brain mushed itself into some state of half sleep.<br />
<br />
This morning Ryan stayed home from work (he's about 3 days in the negative with work....) this is stressing me out huuuuuuuuge. I mean if it weren't for young living..... I can't- no won't- even go there. Let's just say it'd be really, really bad. <br />
<br />
My appointment was at 11 and I sat in Dr. Wei's office ready for anything. Really. I was prepared for the "C" word, ALS, MS, whatever. I just knew something was coming. <br />
<br />
He came in and said he had good and bad news. (blah.... that's the worst saying ever)<br />
<br />
The good news: My scans weren't bad at all! A little bit of white spots in my cervical spine area but still not enough to say "THIS IS MS." He used the word, "unremarkable" which I guess is pretty good in med term. :) The bad news: It wasn't enough to rule IN or rule OUT MS. <br />
<br />
I had decisions to make.<br />
<br />
Dr. Wei wanted to give me two options. A- lumbar puncture and nerve testing on my hips and butt. Or, B- leave the way I came in.<br />
<br />
I chose B. Immediately. And as soon as I did, he said "Ahhhh good choice. As your doctor I want to give you all of your options but you are a smart girl. Good choice. At this point if it's MS, it's MS. If it's not, its not. But nerve testing and lumbar puncture are both invasive and I would treat you the same, regardless of the results. You have an acute bladder and kidney issue. Is it caused by MS? We don't know. But focus on fixing this. We'll deal with the rest as it comes." <br />
<br />
I think I felt 500 pounds lifted off. I didn't walk out the door, I flew. No, it wasn't exactly what I wanted to hear (I wanted to hear, "NO MS! You're perfect!") but it was enough.<br />
<br />
My next appointment was with my urologist. This is where things kind of took a downward turn; the line snagged a bit here. I have another bad infection. They can't do the urodynamics which will apparently tell us a lot about my bladder until I'm infection free for at least two weeks. And honestly? I have no idea when that will ever happen. They put me on a strong antibiotic which I'm not too pleased about. I'm completely torn when it comes to antibiotics and my infections. I told my doctor I didn't want to be on antibiotics; that my body was becoming immune to them. He agreed that this wasn't ideal; that over my life I've been on far, far too many antibiotics. At the same time, if I'm not on antibiotics (with this particular infection, which apparently is "really nasty"-his words...) I could become septic in a day. So what does one do? Take the antibiotics of course. And around and around we go. It's the most sickening carousel. I want off... like yesterday.<br />
<br />
<i>Antibiotics-infection-antibiotics-infection-antibiotics-infection. </i><br />
<br />
If my left kidney isn't feeling tons better by tomorrow, I'll need an ultrasound to rule out hydronephrosis. Pray the antibiotics kick in. <br />
<br />An ultrasound is nothing. I know that. But I am losing strength. My fight is pretty weak right now. When you're told the same thing over and over again, it's hard to have faith and hope. I told my doctor I'd start the antibiotics (and I did) and I smiled like a puppet, saying "next week we should have this cleared up and we'll be able to do the urodynamics." On the inside, it's more like this: <i>Screw this. Screw that. I don't believe you. This will never end. I am a lost cause, a lame horse. I'm tired. I'm over all of this. I don't care about antibiotics or urodynamics. I don't ever want to step foot in here again. I don't ever want to hear the word KIDNEY OR BLADDER again. I want my life back. I want to be a good mother. I want to pee on my own. I want to be consistent and dependable; not bailing every day because my bladder is on fire. </i><br />
<br />
Of course none of that was said. And as of now, I'm popping pills like a good patient (all in the name of not becoming septic, which I suppose is an important thing ;) Hey- I am ALL for natural healing, oils, acupuncture, etc. and I continue to use all of those as aids in this journey. But I also know to keep it real- this mama cannot risk becoming sicker. I've hurt my kids enough. My family has had just about all they can take. As much as meds suck, I need them right now. And that's that. <br />
<br />
Future plans are urodynamics (HA! I'll believe it when I get them done...), another cystoscopy and a lithotripsy to break up the lovely 9mm stone I've got hanging out in my left kidney. <br />
<br />
In NON kidney/bladder news, my family is awesome. Like, you should be jealous because they are<i> that </i>awesome. We got fishing poles for fathers day and as a family, we're going to learn how to fish these here waters. :) We're all excited to start that quest!<br />
<br />
My trip to Spokane is coming up (end of July)... it looms over me daily, that I could be sick and something freak could happen and I might not make it to the trip that I've worked so hard for. But I'm trying like mad to remain positive with that whole situation.<br />
<br />
VBS is next week (YAY YAY YAY). <br />
<br />
I love our new home and neighborhood. Both feel like comfy sleeping bags :) We fit perfectly.<br />
<br />
Lastly, (and I want to phrase this nicely- wish I could say it in person, because things come across differently online)... but anyways, I've been swamped with messages about "healing herbs..... healing diets.... healing this, healing that, etc. I know, I <i>KNOW </i>each and every one of these messages is out of love. And that makes my heart swell :D But at the same time, the overdose of information is causing my brain to feel like its on some awful carnival ride. I can't put it all together right now. As much as I want to read and talk about all of these solutions, I just can't at the moment. I'm overwhelmed. Right now, I'm focusing on working with my doctors, my family and ultimately the great physician above. I truly am interested in what everyone has sent my way. At the same time, I can't process it all.<br />
<br />
The prayers though? Oh my gosh. The thoughts and prayers. Never more have I felt the holy spirit. I know He's here, working in me, fighting for me, and working in people around me. It's incredible; and makes me think of this poem. I'm sure you've heard it, but its one of my favorites. So read it :) Then kiss your babies & loved ones, thank them for all they do. And go give yourself a bubble bath or a piece of chocolate. Because you rock too. :)<br />
<br />
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xoxo, Ash<br />
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<i> </i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-15723594758447649722014-06-11T19:15:00.002-07:002014-06-11T19:15:32.411-07:00Stripping the Fences & a Shot of GingerFirst: Wow- thank you so much for the giant facebook hug today. Your prayers mean everything. Ryan had texts and calls as well; I didn't mean to cause such a stir! But I suppose the picture I posted warranted worry... at the same time, please don't waste anymore worry on me. <br />
<br />
Second, a recap:<br />
<br />
I had been posting throughout the week about today's neuro appointment. Actually I think I've been posting about it since it was scheduled a few weeks ago. <br />
<br />
I've been diligently keeping my "MS Diary." Ryan and I have had a thousand conversations about all of the "what if's" that today could hold.<br />
<br />
Last night I was a wreck. I couldn't be around my kids. As I waited for Ryan to get home, I bounced Rosie on my hip; wanting to get my hands off her; leave and run- without the sensation of actually leaving. Does that even make sense? Ha. My brain is fried.<br />
<br />
I went and got a pedicure and a smoothie. I grocery shopped. I sat in my driveway. I did anything I could to not get home until my kids were in bed.<br />
<br />
This morning I woke up with peace. I really did. And I don't know why I find it so odd; I worship the Prince of Peace. <br />
<br />
I got super lost trying to find the office but my heart remained steady, my head focused. Today was a day for answers. It was time to rip the band aid off and see the wound.<br />
<br />
I love my neurologist. I just met him today; but he's a kind soul. He's compassionate and his bedside manor is like a cup of hot coffee; super warm and inviting.<br />
<br />
We started with talking; he took notes, told me "I am so sorry" when I relayed the catheter stories. How simple those words- but to hear them from a doctor, <i>my doctor</i>, meant a ton. <i> He cares about me. He wants to fix this. He's empathetic. </i><br />
<br />
After talking about my life over the past 3 years (this is going back from my first kidney and bladder issue- right after Stella was born), he did an exam. I failed two parts of it. The peripheral vision part and the toe test. I had no clue what either was, but my report literally says "suspicious toes." (HA!) After getting home I looked up what toes had to do with MS and found some good info <a href="http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/003294.htm">here</a> (the Babinski reflex).<br />
<br />
Then he pulled up my brain scan (the MRI I had done a few weeks ago.. the one I had gotten a "clear" on). He walked me through it; showing me the different parts of the brain and then he stopped right in the center. He leaned closer to his computer and zoomed in. And I kind of just knew then.<br />
<br />
I think I asked, "Is something wrong?" And he said there were a few suspicious spots and pointed them out to me. <br />
<br />
I didn't cry. I didn't hyperventilate like I did at the Mayo clinic when they told me I would have to learn to catheterize myself. <br />
<br />
I asked, "What does that mean?" And he explained with the neurogenic bladder, the "suspicious" spots and toes and my vision loss he was going to call this MS. I watched him type each letter into the computer.<br />
<br />
M-U-L-T-I-P-L-E S-C-L-E-R-O-S-I-S. There it was. No longer whispered, or suggested, but there, bold and recorded. It's presence was heavy, like each letter was a hit.<br />
<br />
Here's where things get tricky. I asked him, "So, I have MS?" And he said, "that's how I am going to treat you. Do you have MS? It's looking like that. But your tests on Friday could blow us all out of the water and prove everything wrong. I am going to write Multiple Sclerosis as your diagnosis but before you leave I want you to know, this is not you. This is the start of an investigation and I'm rooting for you."<br />
<br />
Checking out, I handed my papers over to the scheduling lady who ran through the tests I'd be getting, my next appointment, etc. Her eyes were so sad and I think she said "I'm sorry 3000 times." I know she meant well; her heart was sweet. But eventually I said, "I'm okay! I know, it sucks. But I think I'll be okay." <br />
<br />
And then I walked out, paper in hand. Diagnosis: Multiple Sclerosis. Those black printed letters, stamped on my white discharge papers. All day I've felt like I needed to hold it. Physically hold the paper. Weird, I know. <br />
<br />
My first stop was the parking lot and a twenty minute crying session, all the while holding that paper. I'm an instagramaholic; so as soon as I took a picture of the paper- this sacred paper- I was flooded with your words. I couldn't keep up with the comments and messages. <i>Prayers. Love. Hope. Strength. Mom. Jesus. Our God. </i>Those were the words that in between sobs, went straight to my heart and have stayed there and <i>WILL </i>stay there...<br />
<br />Jesus is <i>so</i> alive and His mercies were flowing this morning. Your prayers, He heard them and I was given grace and strength. Enough to call Ryan without crying and to drive to my parents house without having a panic attack. It wasn't until I saw my mom and dad, handed over <i>the paper</i> that I allowed myself to dig into the hurt. I had my parents with me; we cried and I <i>stripped the fences.</i> I let it all come out; every ugly thought, feeling- it was poured out onto their kitchen floor. <br />
<br />
You see, I've <i>stripped the fences</i> before. Almost seven years ago my dad physically picked me off the floor to bring me into the emergency room because I was so stricken with panic and depression I literally couldn't move. Almost seven years ago, I had to break. I had to say words that made me feel ugly and worthless. I had to admit thoughts that haunted every cell in my body. Seven years ago my husband, mom and dad surrounded me in the ER and made a pact that we would get through this. I called bull on them. Never in a million years, did I think I could or would get through that. For a year Ryan drove me to the anxiety clinic at the University of Michigan every Monday and Wednesday night. While I went to group therapy, talked with my psychiatrist and learned coping skills, he sat in the car eating Subway with our sleeping newborn tucked into the back seat. Seven years ago I was broken. My white fences were stripped and I was vulnerable; terrified. <br />
<br />As I leaned on my mom this morning, I told her over and over, "I'm too tired. I'm just too tired to do this. I don't even care. I don't want to do this." <br />
<br />
"Ashley, you have to care. You have four kids at home. You care." And then I said something snarky like, "Just let me cry and be mad mom!" (my poor mother). She went out to the patio and cried alone.<br />
<br />
Their house is quiet now, as we've all grown and left it. It makes for a really nice place to get your head together. This morning it was like five different boxes of puzzles were dumped into my brain; each needing to be sorted and pieced appropriately. I'm thankful for the silence and time at my parents. <br />
<br />
I thought back to the birth of Maeve; my dive into depression. My first experience with admitting <i>I am less than.</i> I thought back to when I accepted that; that I, Ashley McKenney, have anxiety and depression and I have weaknesses. Huge ones. Ugly, gaping ones that like to taint my view on how I <i>think </i>my life should look. My fences aren't white. They never were. And that's okay. <br />
<br />
<i>Let me say it again: that's OKAY.</i><br />
<br />
My mom came back in and declared war on MS. I agreed. <br />
<i> </i><br />
This is ugly. This hurts. This is hard and I am tired. And I don't want to see my life through the haze of MS. <br />
<br />
But that's life. It's my life. And it's worth everything I have to bare it all, come clean, and allow healing. <br />
<br />
My dad, mom and I hovered around the computer looking up everything about MS. Diets, doctors, treatments, etc. We came across the benefit of ginger. <a href="http://www.healthline.com/health/multiple-sclerosis/going-herbal-vitamins-and-supplements-for-multiple-sclerosis#7">HERE</a> <br />
<br />
One of the scariest thoughts of MS are the medications. I don't want to ever take a single one... I've looked them up; they sound awful and I'm not sure how its legal to put that chemical crap in your body.<br />
<br />
After a few minutes my mom said "OFF to Smoothie Fresh! We're doing shots of ginger today!" <br />
<br />
We toasted to imperfections and the kill off of pharmaceuticals. <br />
<br />
The ginger burned, all the way down. It was hot and I felt it hit my stomach like fire. But I <i>felt </i>it and that in itself gave me something to work with.<br />
<br />
I drove home feeling relieved. It was out. The words "multiple sclerosis" had been printed and I'm still standing. I'm still feeling. I'm here.<br />
<br />
At home, I sat in my bathroom for a good thirty minutes, crying along with the sound of the shower. There's no getting around that this is depressing; that I'm scared, upset. That's part of this thing. Allowing yourself to feel that way, accepting what is (or isn't) and moving on. <br />
<br />
Today I sit here in a familiar spot, rotting boards, paint flicking off my "perfect" fence. This time around I have four kids who love and want me, need me. If that's not motivation I'm not sure what is. I also have the brightest hope; I've been here before. I've been at the end of my rope, on the floor, and broken. And I've gotten back up.<br />
<br />
I'll get back up from this. <br />
<br />
Right now I'm thankful that its almost time for bed. I'm tired. <br />
<br />
I'm thankful for a husband who doesn't care about having ugly fences.<br />
<br />
I'm thankful for parents whose arms will always be home to me.<br />
<br />
I'm thankful for those four sets of eyes that <i>can and do</i> bring me to my knees.<br />
<br />
I'm thankful for your thoughts and prayers.<br />
<br />
Ultimately, I'm thankful to have my God that sent His son to die, so that I can live, love, feel love, accept it and have hope. <br />
<br />
<br />
In the days to come I have a cervical and thoracic MRI along with another MRI of my brain (this time with contrast). A spinal tap comes after those. (MRI is on Friday). We're moving into our new house this weekend. I'm going to a Counting Crows concert on Saturday. Rosie's snuggled up to my hip. My other three loves are having a "movie party" with their grandparents. I'm looking through texts from today and came across a simple one from my husband, "I love you. Forever, in everything." My bed is warm. My left foot is numb but my heart is pounding with a vengeance; each swish and pump, "<i>hope, love, faith, hope, love, faith."</i><br />
<br />
What more could I ask for? God is good. Praise be to Him for hope and strength. <br />
<i> </i><br />
<i>xoxo- Ash ;)</i><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-42265940627185888332014-06-07T20:06:00.002-07:002014-06-07T20:10:29.699-07:00funny things.I believe it was right before Christmas; a good friend flew down here to visit.<br />
<br />
She's the bravest person I know.<br />
<br />
I think about her every day and pray for strength like hers. <br />
<br />
She fought breast cancer (and is still fighting it) while pregnant. And gave birth to a beautiful, baby girl. I mean, that's like super human strength.<br />
<br />
Anyways, one morning while she was visiting, we went to the farmers market. We mulled around, ate like pigs and laughed at ridiculous people. (because lets face it, people can be ridiculous).<br />
<br />
We walked down to the beach, and I asked if she wanted me to take a few pics of her in front of the ocean. She mumbled something about looking terrible, and I said "Yeah... you're like the most amazing person I know- you deserve your picture in front of the ocean. And you do NOT look terrible." (or something like that).<br />
<br />
And then we stood for awhile just watching the waves. I'm taken in every time I visit the ocean. The vastness; the sheer power it contains blows my mind. I love standing where the ocean meets the shore; that place where the waves pull and suck back what belongs to the sea. It's grounding and I've had many a deep thought while digging my toes into the sand, trying to maintain my position, the ocean tugging at me heels.<br />
<br />
I noticed she was crying. At first I wanted to just grab and hug her; like somehow my grounding, my footing, my "all togetherness" would steady her.<br />
<br />
I didn't. <br />
<br />
I asked what was wrong. And she said something that will forever stay with me. "I can do this. I can have cancer. I can go through the pain. I know I'm going to heaven. I'm not scared. But my kids can't do this. And my husband can't. They didn't sign up for this. They can't handle this." <br />
<br />
At the time, I thought "RIDICULOUSNESS!" <br />
<br />
"Your family loves you more than anything! And its an honor to stand by your side while you go through this. Yeah its hard for them to see you hurting, but there is no other place they'd rather be. Trust me." <br />
<br />
And our conversation ended. <br />
<br />
But it's always stuck with me; the selflessness she displayed. In the midst of her battle, not a single worry about herself... just for her family. That's true beauty. I knew she was beautiful inside and out already, but that just reaffirmed it. <br />
<br />
It was so easy for me to say those words to her: "Your family loves you! There's no place they'd rather be, than right by your side!"<br />
<br />
Fast forward to now: Sunday night in the ER, as my husband was nodding off in the chair across from my bed, I was getting text updates on how the kids were. "Stella isn't sleeping, is that okay?" <i>Yes... she won't sleep until 10 PM. She's our night owl. </i> "Henry is asking for gatorade- okay or no?" <i>No.. he knows only water at bed time. </i><br />
<br />
I whispered to Ryan, "Hey, come here. I have to tell you something."<br />
<br />
He was groggy; it was late and our ER visits have become too frequent. <br />
<br />
I waited for him to get close enough to fall into him. For my face to be completely buried in his shirt. And then I just cried. "I'm like a lame horse. I'm no good for anyone. I can't take care of my kids and I'm ruining your life. I mean, we've been in the ER TWO times this week?!?! We're 30 years old! This is NOT how we should be spending our time! Seriously. I am like the lame horse who broke its leg in a race... its like I need to be put out of my misery... it's not fair for you guys."<br />
<br />
He said something like "that's the most awful thing I've ever heard..." blah blah blah. I was too absorbed in my emotions- he could have said anything and I'd still just want to cry and be angry.<br />
<br />
This week has been a really difficult week for me. In all honesty, its probably been one of the hardest since I had Maeve. I'm struggling. My parents, and my amazing sitter have stepped up and taken on what I can't; my kids. <br />
<br />
This is both absurd, and mind blowing to me. My kids. They're my life. They're the reason I move and breathe and work and dream. They're my universe. And I can't take care of them. I can't open a pack of fruit snacks for Stella or tie Maeve's shoes because of my stupid left hand. I am so tired- and I'm not just talking "Hey I'm a mom of 4 and tired!" I'm talking, "Put me in a room, leave me to sleep for four days and I might be able to lift my head up and give you an answer about what to watch on the television." I mean- my brain- its gone. I'm beyond exhausted. To see my mom come in our home, and dress my kids, pack them up and take them for the day is killing me. It's the most gut wrenching stab; my one duty here, to take care of these amazing kids and I've flunked.<br />
<br />
Thursday morning I was explaining to Maeve that she was going to nana's again. She (and the other kids) are totally fine with this; they LOVE my parents house. But as I was telling her, I started to cry. I grabbed her close and said "Mommy is trying so hard to be better. I am trying so, so hard baby. You know that, right??" And of course, she's crying now because she's almost seven, and knows what's going on. She nodded, her lip quivering. And I felt like I needed to overcompensate for the pain I just caused her so I rambled on which probably just caused more upset. But I'm clueless with this. I am absolutely lost. <br />
<br />
When my sister came to pick the kids up, I was in the kitchen, a crying mess. They want me out of the house; they want me to go out and do things. But I have no footing. I've lost my grip on everything I thought I knew and I'm free falling.<br />
<br />
I have all the faith in the world that I'll be okay. That eventually, we'll all be okay. But right now I'm blindfolded, poking around in the dark. <br />
<br />
After the kids left Thursday, I ugly cried (a good ol' ugly cry is always nice) and that's when I remembered my conversation on the beach back in December. The words I told my friend, and how I looked at her, thinking she was out of her mind if she thought for a second this was burdening her family and friends. My words came full circle.<br />
<br />
God works in funny ways like that.<br />
<br />
That conversation I had on the beach in December, the one where I was the comforter, speaking the truth had reversed, and come back to embrace me.<br />
<br />
I realized those words applied perfectly.<br />
<br />
No, my family didn't sign on for this. My kids shouldn't have to see me struggle with using the bathroom or buttoning their dresses, but this is life. It's not a life I ever expected to be living; but I am certainly living it. <i>We are living it. </i><br />
<br />
This week I started an "MS" diary, documenting episodes or symptoms. Here's what happened:<br />
<ul>
<li>left leg went out (like someone had kicked me in the back of the knee)</li>
<li>major bladder issues (what's new?)</li>
<li>left hand has no strength</li>
<li>couldn't drive 3 days this week due to eyesight </li>
<li>spasms (PAINFUL) in my left flank/back area and left leg</li>
</ul>
<br />
All of this crap happened. It's happening. And guess what? Nobody loves me less.<br />
<br />
The beautiful, resounding truth in all of this is the love that brought us all together. The love that created our family and fills this house... it doesn't just fall away when something life altering happens. It's too strong; and if anything, I believe it strengthens us, reinforcing weakened walls, holding up broken pieces, shedding light in darkened places.<br />
<br />
So... yeah, this week sucked. It was tough and there were a lot of tears.<br />
<br />
But it was through those tears, through the weakness that I learned one of the most important lessons in my life thus far; God's love is powerful, and when His love is entwined in our relationships, our footing will never fail. It wont quit or give up. It wont grow tired or old. <br />
<br />
I am human. I am going through a trial. I am also a Christian, and because of that, I have hope and a promise.<br />
<br />
Love and life.<br />
<br />
Thank you for the prayers- the lack of sympathy (PLEASE PLEASE keep it that way!!!!!!! I cannot stand it when people are "sorry" for the sick girl). and the love- that sweet, slow and easy love that continues to fill my heart.<br />
<br />
Let's have a better week, and love more. :D<br />
<br />
xoxo<br />
<br />
<br />
For people interested in what's going on medically:<br />
-neuro appointment June 11th<br />
-urodynamics (my dad asked, "Is that like push ups for your bladder?" ) had to be cancelled because of the bad infection I have right now... as soon as the infection is cleared up, urodynamics are back on! HAHA :)<br />
-cystoscopy tentatively scheduled for end of June<br />
-BEGGING nephrology to blast my stones (7 total at the moment) so I don't have to pass them... but so far, its a no go. "Yes I understand they're small enough to pass... but I'd rather not, thank you very much."<br />
<br />
<i> </i> <br />
OH- and important NON-medical things:<br />
-we're moving into a house! YAY!!! Just a rental... but praise GOD- we will have a yard! :D<br />
-Ryan booked a dream vacay- we joked forever about "when I hit platinum" we'll go and stay like royalty at the Grand Floridian... ummm.. he booked it. We're going. Mind. Blown.<br />
-My sister is getting married in 2 months- I'm the photographer for it. I was going to be in it... but I was so scared I'd have a leg bag (foley cath) and be in this short little dress... so I'm giving them my gift of photography :) Another one of those tough life things... but its for the best.<br />
-#lemondroppers are taking over... just sayin. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-58333843217681127102014-06-05T05:18:00.003-07:002014-06-05T05:18:34.871-07:00accepting what is and just being real.<div style="text-align: center;">
<a class="alt-link" href="http://thevoiceforlove.com/voice-of-god.html">God</a> grant me the serenity <br />
to accept the things I cannot change; <br />
courage to change the things I can;<br />
and wisdom to know the difference. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Living one day at a time; <br />
Enjoying one moment at a time; <br />
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; <br />
Taking, as He did, this sinful world<br />
as it is, not as I would have it; <br />
Trusting that He will make all things right<br />
if I surrender to His Will;<br />
That I may be reasonably happy in this life <br />
and supremely happy with Him<br />
Forever in the next.<br />
Amen.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
That prayer basically sums up everything. Whoever wrote it deserves some kind of major award. They've captured the voices of millions.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I can barely type. That's the truth. My fingers ache and my left wrist spasms every few minutes. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I catheterize myself daily; as I've lost most sensation to use the bathroom.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'm struggling with depression.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I have fatigue like I can barely describe. It's debilitating. It's knocking me out. I have never experienced anything like it.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My left side spasms (specifically my back) and becomes painful at 2 AM, which has sent me to the ER about 6 times since January. Each time, I thought surely, this is a kidney stone or something to do with my kidney. I think I'm just coming to terms with the fact that this entire time- every ache- every bladder issue- everything- has been MS. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I've lost a lot of fight. I'm tired of chasing doctors and answers.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Yesterday my urologist called (my specialist- who is supposed to be on MY team.. MY side) and said my urine specimen had been contaminated and therefore I needed to go to the ER to have everything worked up again. All afternoon yesterday, it was a battle back and forth- "But can I just make an appointment and come in? I can't afford to go to the ER one more time!" </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
"We're sorry- no appointments." </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Right. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So my options were this: Wait until next week to see my urologist, risking that the infection spread into my kidneys and do God knows what else kind of damage. Or going into the ER for the 2nd time this week. I chose the ER. Stupid, stupid me.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The infection has been managed. I had IV antibiotics. I also had a doctor come in and talk to me about how he won't prescribe me narcotics anymore because of my history. Ha. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Ryan was there and all I could do was look at him and cry. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I know ER docs aren't "my" doctors, but the shame... oh my GOD the shame. After he left the room, I lost it.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
"Ryan I have full bottles of that stupid crap at home- that's the ER's answer to everything- and I don't take them because they make me itch and unable to drive. And they seriously think I'm coming in here to get drugs???? I cath myself everyday, have blood in my urine, back/kidney spasms and my urologist TELLS me to come into the ER and I get a lecture about narcotic use? Narcotics that I'm not even using???" I was furious.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The nurse handed me my discharge papers with a "non narcotic" something... and I ripped them up and threw them away in the trash outside the ER. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Ryan texted me this morning to see how things were..</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
In all honesty? I'm ticked. I'm mad that this is happening. I'm mad that I have specialists who are supposed to be putting this puzzle together that refer me to the ER because they can't fit me into their schedule. I'm mad because I am dead tired and I don't have a definitive reason why. I'm mad because my kids want me to play and I can't get off the couch. I'm mad because I'm thirty years old and my body hurts and spasms, and I can't pee on my own. I'm embarrassed because I have to call my mother daily to ask her to help me drive, or get the kids. I'm upset because I can't get my hands to work, to buckle my kids shoes. I'm scared because my entire left leg went out on me a couple of weeks ago while trying to get Stella into her car seat. I'm annoyed and terrified that my left eye goes in and out; static and black. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'm scared. I'm angry.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
That's how I feel.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
That's what me, "being real" is right now.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Will I get through this? Yeah.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But today, I'm mad. And just let me be mad.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
No messages of pity or "you can do it," blah, blah, blah. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I just wanted to update with what's been going on. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The serenity prayer is on repeat in my head. I do feel blessed. I do know that ultimately all this will pass and I'll come to terms with it. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But right now, let me hurt, grieve with what I've lost and be mad.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-280706799330692582014-05-21T11:26:00.002-07:002014-05-21T11:26:45.657-07:00Concert-going When You're "Old."<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixpTWaFB99x2j5kXPl0hGgVKLEbZ0ayTeMB2MXw6vaxhov3sh1wC65T2PGqTfJrJt3i2ypKeLgw0DPOkKBh8RIJxdsMGJmXDyRPqrRkf1cq4b56Ots4Z3GjtzDOv0FK5HitSxhyphenhyphen5ArF969/s1600/211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixpTWaFB99x2j5kXPl0hGgVKLEbZ0ayTeMB2MXw6vaxhov3sh1wC65T2PGqTfJrJt3i2ypKeLgw0DPOkKBh8RIJxdsMGJmXDyRPqrRkf1cq4b56Ots4Z3GjtzDOv0FK5HitSxhyphenhyphen5ArF969/s1600/211.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Morning After....as a mom."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
So it's been awhile since Ryan and I had been in the "mosh pit" of a concert. And no, we're not really "OLD"... but we're<i> older. </i> Here's what I learned last night: You must be inebriated to fully enjoy yourself in the pit... otherwise you'll be faced with the following problems:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>smells... the end.</li>
<li>touching. Everyone. GAHHHH.</li>
<li>drunkards with those glassy eyes talking to you during your favorite song....</li>
<li>heavy make out sessions that should be taken to the bedroom (or ANYWHERE aside from a pit with hundreds of people crammed in).</li>
<li>smells....(I know, its already listed, but I had to jot that one down again.)</li>
<li>Trying to take pictures and having those silly drunk kids photo bombing them all... it's not funny dudes!</li>
<li>the need to pee. Forget it. You move, you lose your spot. For once in my life I wish I had had a leg bag on.</li>
<li> "fangirling" with all the other 21 year olds... hahahahaha! I can't keep up. I just can't.</li>
<li>Your husband using your head to rest his arm/beer on.</li>
<li>Smells.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
No really, we had a great time. But I feel it today and I had ONE BEER. This got me thinking; back in the ol' days, why didn't any of the above bother me? I mean I remember times helping strangers off the floor who were covered in puke and not smelling or caring about anything... whaaa???? The answer is obviously alcohol. And tolerance (my lack of, these days). At one point during the show a (super) obnoxious drunk girl asked/ (shouted at) me with slurred, stinky breath "WHAT ARE YOU DOING AFTER THIS????" My answer- "Home!" HAHAHA :)<br />
<br />
It's days like this, when I really give praise to God for being alive. How I survived my early 20's? I'm not sure... well, God's grace. But wow.<br />
<br />
I<i> did </i>have fun acting like a 20 year old for a night.... well, a really boring one I guess since I only had 1 beer and then got annoyed with everyone around me. It wasn't until I started leaking breast milk that I really felt it, though. <br />
<br />
Can I do it again anytime soon? I don't think so. We're going to Counting Crows in June (ultimate...ULTIMATE fave band ever) and I made sure to get "sitting down" seats- close to the stage- but sitting down) hahaha! <br />
<br />
Getting old kind of is for the birds. And growing old gracefully is really hard. I've mentioned before I'm at a midlife crisis (age 30?) no.... I don't think so ;) But being TOTALLY honest here, it's sad watching your body start to fail. MS diagnosis or not (I'm saying- none of this is MS related...)- I challenge any mom out there to go hold your own with today's youth! It ain't easy! I've had four kids. My stomach will never be flat. Ever. Ever, like ever ever. I have crowsfeet from my days in the sun... the tiredness of raising four kids is always in my eyes (and under them). Everything is heading south (ladies you know what I'm talking about). One glass of wine (or draft beer) and I'm good (better than good)... smoke makes me nauseated. Party pooper. <br />
<br />
As I was dressing last night, I was tucking, pinching, pulling things in and on me, thinking I totally looked the part (what that part was? A picture I had found on pinterest of someone at Coachella- BAHAHA)... just to arrive to find 500 little 20 year olds with washboard abs, long, flowy hair, legs like flower stems and flawless faces. The fact is, those days are done. And I know that. I do. But I can't be the only one a teensy bit sad about saying goodbye to their youth... right? Anyone? (echoooo)<br />
<br />
On the flip side, I refuse to <i>NOT</i> embrace aging. I will not be one of those moms with half my butt hanging out, drunk, dancing recklessly with my daughters friends (think that mom in "Mean Girls"). Nor will botox be in my future. <br />
<br />
So I shall find the middle ground. I will make peace with the wrinkles and sag. Say hello (or goodbye) to my memory...(I SWEAR.... I am becoming my mother! I don't even call my kids by their names because I can't remember them half the time! "Henry? Maeve? Oh- I mean Stella!") I will rock my thriving thirties look...(whatever that is) enough to make me feel young at heart, old enough to make me not look or act like a fool. <br />
<br />
(this all coming from the girl who posted like 4 selfies last night on IG)...<br />
<br />
Sigh...#AGEON! :D<br />
<br />
<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFf212RFAOzkTxA4JN-ZnjJDk9_zRioK4tfB_5gLcnUXdEViYjFfgiPBBKLCZwizux70fqFA0RBQZ9N8e77SqlnLlkdb0jo8d6QmIHmGybHWbsNjASIGZgyaHbDYk_20g1NuYuTzsw9vFE/s1600/191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFf212RFAOzkTxA4JN-ZnjJDk9_zRioK4tfB_5gLcnUXdEViYjFfgiPBBKLCZwizux70fqFA0RBQZ9N8e77SqlnLlkdb0jo8d6QmIHmGybHWbsNjASIGZgyaHbDYk_20g1NuYuTzsw9vFE/s1600/191.JPG" height="400" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Ryan! Take a picture of me in front of this sign so everyone knows we saw Jack Johnson and ALO! Because they don't know from the 3000 IG pics I just posted!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyx9bFTJqZhHjWqL-yJ7kTG7K_l_lp2o8Nem6I5IkBfsKgnssAY20H-XtMI9eN8veAqKHCZwSrWACedab3QlT9VVS61Cp2oiodU63Y5gZL4L9dK9B2IzRMav-ZgmldkF2eEP_24aY7TKFa/s1600/195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyx9bFTJqZhHjWqL-yJ7kTG7K_l_lp2o8Nem6I5IkBfsKgnssAY20H-XtMI9eN8veAqKHCZwSrWACedab3QlT9VVS61Cp2oiodU63Y5gZL4L9dK9B2IzRMav-ZgmldkF2eEP_24aY7TKFa/s1600/195.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At some point, the fancy shoes came off and I gave up... just gave it up.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglZxs4la38IFrc0PMClKShIY9IU_7NvWeXY4ujDFYuk50dX2xHuJmTx2SnfZTzTUjwb056iQ2pDhJb1zRrapstz1nTZo73QOKz9rVEYZkWU_qya5z4jzNfNZTkf63GQiScA0C-6AMDj0It/s1600/196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglZxs4la38IFrc0PMClKShIY9IU_7NvWeXY4ujDFYuk50dX2xHuJmTx2SnfZTzTUjwb056iQ2pDhJb1zRrapstz1nTZo73QOKz9rVEYZkWU_qya5z4jzNfNZTkf63GQiScA0C-6AMDj0It/s1600/196.JPG" height="356" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jack Johnson... (he really is pretty awesome!)</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQBeqZz9D6usZENbmHLgrE6H02xdAA75ZrWoDVJxzJ8wNxIgEeMWt6xDRKoTBg5XfLxeVCubOvscxuriOM1zJ1gjUCyMMw0insltFrbU86YHNvf5P-MSqtFapFg8LVH7hBpuRBzqh3vot3/s1600/198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQBeqZz9D6usZENbmHLgrE6H02xdAA75ZrWoDVJxzJ8wNxIgEeMWt6xDRKoTBg5XfLxeVCubOvscxuriOM1zJ1gjUCyMMw0insltFrbU86YHNvf5P-MSqtFapFg8LVH7hBpuRBzqh3vot3/s1600/198.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SELFIE #3 (or somewhere around there)</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSwPZT0-J3Q7ZkwUVNwHdoXN1A7uNVAkn_WDai5zYx0Z7OKtJ-w6iPQfaGt4dAnGqyVz2ixgexGtx0K-nCrwY_eY9J5T6IxSw4DuRCW3_JBuAw_Dne6cUQP9KriPmFPHQem7nsPREYXmkJ/s1600/201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSwPZT0-J3Q7ZkwUVNwHdoXN1A7uNVAkn_WDai5zYx0Z7OKtJ-w6iPQfaGt4dAnGqyVz2ixgexGtx0K-nCrwY_eY9J5T6IxSw4DuRCW3_JBuAw_Dne6cUQP9KriPmFPHQem7nsPREYXmkJ/s1600/201.JPG" height="358" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ALO </td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1H_W3DFeFd7QixhtQCLdnyq15yGscXhJOjLuDUnSuEpW5CWn0XipmCu84dqmjf4Vzvuapc1CdD-Xq0ckVIHiq7EKaiWi1qCqkP2Uc5ClOP4aesv8qi5gpLTGPK6s-g69vZGigfmkwU9LG/s1600/086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1H_W3DFeFd7QixhtQCLdnyq15yGscXhJOjLuDUnSuEpW5CWn0XipmCu84dqmjf4Vzvuapc1CdD-Xq0ckVIHiq7EKaiWi1qCqkP2Uc5ClOP4aesv8qi5gpLTGPK6s-g69vZGigfmkwU9LG/s1600/086.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ryan literally using my head to balance himself while trying to see more of the stage. Wha???</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-13598415398508192292014-05-17T08:46:00.002-07:002014-05-17T08:46:26.226-07:00MS (or not) Updates.So..... last Friday I had my MRI. <br />
<br />
It was God-awful. Like I knew it wasn't going to be fun or anything, but I mean it was REALLY not fun. Putting your head in a cage and being strapped down for 45 minutes with constant banging and rattling is incredibly unpleasant. It makes me sad to think kids have to do that... I hope they sedate them?<br />
<br />
Anyways very quickly after the MRI I got a phone call from my doc saying "it was clear!" HALLELUJAH! It was a celebratory weekend because I didn't know any better. <i> We</i> didn't know any better. <br />
<br />
Monday morning I woke up with a fever and severe bladder pain. I mean... severe. I had to call my mom and ask her to take me to the doctor. I was in "retention mode" again. (retaining urine). I couldn't sit up, so I laid on the table and my mom just stood over me and cried, petting my hair. I was vomiting and every time I'd start to heave she'd get all freaked out. I think I told her a thousand times to leave the room. She'd leave for a minute and come back in. I was getting so annoyed. And then I reminded myself how hard it must be to see your child in pain. No matter the age; or that the child has 4 children of her own and a husband. It just sucks. I cried with her. <br />
<br />
The doctor came in and immediately cathed me; ready for this? They got over a 860 ml of urine out of me. Where it all was? I have no idea. It had built up for two days. The nurse and doctor both said, "I have no idea how you walked in here." After I had been drained, I felt better. Still crappy... but better. My mom asked, "So I thought her MRI was normal? Why is this still happening?" <br />
<br />
It turns out one MRI means nothing. I felt a drop in my gut.<br />
<br />
Apparently you can go years and years without lesions on your MRI and STILL have MS symptoms, such as urinary retention.... So the next step is meeting with neuro and getting an MRI with contrast. Ugh.<br />
<br />
Thursday, during the kids nap time, my vision went out in my left eye. Again. It's always my left eye. It was white static; kind of like lightening. I knew I'd need to tell the doctors, but strangely enough, I wasn't all panicky. I just closed both eyes and waited it out. Thankfully the kids were sleeping and I was able to lie down. Tears squeezed out both eyes, as I waited for the "static" to subside, but as I've been reminded several times over the past few weeks, its good to cry.<br />
<br />
Yesterday (Friday) we saw the urologist (the good one- who I love.. not "Dr. Mengle" from the Mayo Clinic) and he kind of gave it to us (Ryan was there) straight. He said something along the lines of "Honestly, at your age, with this kind of retention, and your vision issue, MS is what's on my radar." For one I didn't cry. Ha! But Ryan did... and it felt really funny to tell him it was okay. So much strangeness going on these days!<br />
<br />
In the car, I asked him why he was so upset... (dumb question... I mean, its upsetting to be told your wife more than likely has the beginning stages of MS). And he said, "Ash it's a degenerative disease. This is going to get worse." I know that. I knew that the whole time. But the numbness that's taking over my thumbs (oh yeah, did I mention that pleasant new one? My left thumb is numb...) must be spreading. Because while I'm upset, scared, angry, etc. I'm also tired. My head hurts from the exhaustion of thinking and crying and grieving. And I don't even have a real diagnosis yet. Ha! I'm just so tired...<i>worn.</i><br />
<br />
I feel so weak. Unworthy of my kids love; as STUPID and self loathing as that sounds... its how I feel and I have the right to write it because its my blog. They're too good for this craptastic of a situation. And that's a fact.<br />
<br />
So that's where we're at today. <br />
<br />
Next week I go through some super pleasant urodynamic stuff... the following week is all neuro. <br />
<br />
When all is said and done, if I'm still retaining urine this badly by the end of June, I might have a device put in that stimulates my bladder to empty itself. <br />
<br />
My MIND.IS.SPINNING. How did this happen so fast?<br />
<br />
I have no idea.<br />
<br />
My brother called to tell me his good friend has MS and although he's in a wheelchair, he functions really well. I can't get that thought out of my head.<br />
<br />
<i>Wheelchair?? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Yet as the left side of my body (it seems as though its my left side) continues to do wacko things, I can't push that thought completely aside. It's hitting too close to home right now.<br />
<br />
Anyways, I really, REALLY appreciated your kind messages- one of my favorites started, "I am sending you prayers- NOT pity." <br />
<br />
I'm hesitant to blog at all about this because I don't want anything to change; I don't want it to be "oh that poor girl who can't pee." It's still me. I'm still here. I have enough pitiful thoughts for myself; please don't have any for me. Seriously. That's what I can't deal with; my mom and dad- their looks, their calls. The hurt it's causing them. And Ryan.<br />
<br />
That's my weekly update :)<br />
<br />
Tomorrow I want to blog about my beautiful children; maybe we'll go to the beach. A beach day seems much needed right now :)<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-59380654962272151832014-05-14T20:59:00.003-07:002014-05-14T21:27:41.240-07:00the ugly insides, scary words, a lot of faith and a song (graphic- don't read if you're not into hearing about pee & body parts)Am I okay?<br />
<br />
I think so.<br />
<br />
I get up in the mornings. I scramble around the kitchen, reheating my coffee 20 times, scooping baby food into Rosie's mouth, reassuring Maeve the tooth fairy will always come (EVEN if she swallows her tooth again).<br />
<br />
It's all so normal.<br />
<br />
On the outside, Ashley is functioning. I wash my hair, put clothes on, love my kids and respond to oil messages.<br />
<br />
On the inside I'm scared; shaken to my core.<br />
<br />
The story goes back to August. <a href="http://ashleymckenney.blogspot.com/2013/08/bullets.html">It's told HERE. A quick brush over bullet point; hardly causing a ruckus.</a><br />
<br />
I lost my vision in the shower. It was terrifying. I was told it was a migraine and the pill poppers were eager to put me on a slew of crap. I never took any of it.<br />
<br />
Six weeks ago I felt like I needed to pee. Normal enough. Happens about 4000 times a day. But I sat down, and couldn't go. It was strange... very, very strange.<br />
<br />
This went on for a week until my urine flow completely stopped. And when I say stopped, I mean NOT A DROP. My bladder felt like it was on fire and I have enough common sense to know that one must pee at least more than once every two days.... so I went to the emergency room. After some scans and such, they said I was retaining urine. No biggie; let's place this foley cath in and get you into a urologist.<br />
<br />
At that point things were okay. Well as okay as they can be when you have a bag of your own pee taped to your leg.<br />
<br />
But this was a solution to the acute problem. And in a week I'd be seeing the geniuses at the Mayo clinic who would fix it all, take the bag off and get me back to "normal."<br />
<br />
The night before my appointment I hit this crazy huge milestone with Young Living. PLATINUM. I was berserk. "RYAN! This is it babe! WE DID IT! ONE more step and we're set for life!" (or some crazy ramblings like that). More or less, I was on a high. It felt incredible.<br />
<br />
Driving to Mayo the next morning, I listened to all of my cheery songs (ya know, like "Selfies"), tipped the Starbucks lady and rolled down the window, just to feel the breeze on the palm of my hand. Platinum baby. Private schools. A new house. Maybe we can lease a convertible for date nights? The possibilities seemed endless. My life seemed endless; invincible.<br />
<br />
I checked in at the front desk, my head still in the clouds... tapping away at my phone, finalizing end of the month oil stuff.<br />
<br />
"Ashley McKenney!" a nurse called from hallway.<br />
<br />
I hopped up and followed. This was my 2nd trip to Mayo so I knew the drill. I'd be put in a room where I'd be asked no less than one million questions by a nurse. After she was satisfied with my answers, the doctor would come in and we'd get down to the nitty gritty.<br />
<br />
"Nope, I don't use tobacco."<br />
<br />
"I have a great home life."<br />
<br />
"Four pregnancies, four live children." (that one always gets me... how blessed am I?)<br />
<br />
The nurse left and <i>Dr. Anonymous</i> walked in.<br />
<br />
He shook hands with me and started to go over my history. I caught the drift real quick that he wasn't here to talk or learn anything about me; he wanted facts. Fine. I get it; he's a busy guy. He doesn't have time to hear about how I think my pregnancies have added to my kidney stone production, etc. He wanted dates, times, amounts, pain scales, etc.<br />
<br />
After that less than thrilling meeting he ushered me to a room to be examined. It was listed on my Mayo schedule that I was having a pelvic exam so I knew what I was in for. At the same time, having bladder issues, it's like second nature to drop my pants (don't take that for what it sounds like). <br />
<br />
After situating myself on the table, feet in stir ups, drape in place I think I sent out a few funny tweets about how much I LOVE pelvic exams... something dumb to kill time, I guess. <br />
<br />
He came in and donned a blue, plastic apron- similar to what a butcher wears. I'm used to midwives... who don't care about ya know... that stuff. So it was a bit awkward as his vinyl apron squeaked with each of his movements.<br />
<br />
The first thing he did was called a "French" test. He stuck some instrument in me and said in the creepiest voice ever, "Just making sure God didn't make you too tight." I cringed. My skin crawled and my stomach lurched. I wanted out.<br />
<br />
He finished the exam, told me to dress, and he'd come back to talk with me.<br />
<br />
I'm fairly sure my cheeks were still beet red when he came back in. The "French test" had really embarassed me.<br />
<br />
In less than two minutes (TOPS), he told me A.) I was in urinary retention mode. B.) I should seriously consider sterilization ("you have four kids! I don't think God is going to hold it against you if you take some permanent action") C.) Any further testing would be a waste of our time and money (both his and mine). and D.) He'd be sending in a nurse to show me how to self catheterize myself.<br />
<br />
I have no idea what hit first; which statement; which blow... but something, or all of it, made me start crying hysterically. He opened the door and yelled for a nurse, "I need someone to come and talk with her about self catheterization!"<br />
<br />
And with that, he was gone.<br />
<br />
A nurse (a glorious, saint of a nurse) came in and calmed me down. She translated in a kind, humane way, what <strike>Dr. Mengle</strike> Dr. Anonymous had just piled on me. She sat with me. She explained this wasn't the end. And gave me her honest opinion, "Honey? Get a second opinion. You're 29 years old. You don't need to be doing this unless its absolutely necessary." <br />
<br />
I nodded until my head was about to come off, I swear.<br />
<br />
And I can't recall the rest of the visit; it was tear, fear and pain filled. I remember her showing me different catheters, each one causing its own track of pain. I remember the embarrassment. The shame of having to call my husband and tell him his 29 year old wife was in reality a 90 year old woman. Most of all, I just remember so many tears.<br />
<br />
That weekend I didn't get out of bed. Not once. I didn't eat, I didn't drink, I didn't look at my kids, and I didn't communicate with my husband. He'd come in and beg me to cath myself... I rolled over in bed, defiant, absolutely not. Sunday it had been two days since I had urinated. (TWO DAYS) and Ryan, with tears filling his own eyes now, carried me into the ER. They placed a foley catheter in. I got another lovely leg bag, and was sent home to see the urologist again.<br />
<br />
<i>NEVER </i>I thought. <i>NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS AM I GOING BACK TO THAT DOCTOR.</i><br />
<br />
And then my mom got involved. <br />
<br />
"Ash, something isn't right. You're too young to have bladder problems like this. Please go see your regular doctor... let him put it all together." <br />
<i> </i><br />
Last Monday I saw my primary care physician. After relaying the story to him he said, and I quote, "This is bull shit. Absolute bull shit. He wants you to cath yourself, but is not going to investigate WHY you can't urinate? Bull SHIT." Immediately he wrote up a referral to another urologist, put me on some antibiotics (I had another UTI), gave me some lidocane (SP?) to help with the cath pain and said "Ash, we're going to figure this out. Do you understand? It's stopping now. You're going to feel better. We're on this."<br />
<br />
I think I breathed for the first time in a week. And then he came back in, "Ash? We're going to do some tests. The loss of vision you experienced, combined with your bladder problems has me concerned with multiple sclerosis. Cue the fountain of never ending tears.<br />
<br />
Thank GOD, my primary care physician has a soul and stayed with me, talking me through all of the testing, and the reality of living with MS.<br />
<br />
The question loomed over me... <i>MS???? </i><br />
<br />
When I called Ryan and told him, he cried. I lamented; obviously he was upset because he loves me... but I couldn't help but think "He didn't sign up for this. He didn't ask for a wife with an uncontrollable bladder and vision loss..." I later got a text saying he's never seen me more beautiful or strong." He's amazing.<br />
<br />
Last Thursday I went to another urologist, who once again had some choice words for the doctor at Mayo. It felt incredible to be validated. <i>"So I'm not crazy? It's not crazy for me to be upset about having to cath myself??" </i><br />
<br />
He explained with absolute certainty that he'd get to the bottom of this. That he would NOT send me home with the order to cath myself, without investigating WHY I need to cath myself. I think the heavens opened up and some hallelujahs were sung.<br />
<i> </i><br />
Again, all I could do was cry.<i></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Friday was my MRI. I was a wreck. <i>MS. MS. MS.</i><br />
<br />
The doctor called almost immediately after my MRI was done- it was clear.... I let out my breath. But- and (GOSH I HATE "BUTS") an MRI isn't 100%- actually it isn't even close to ruling out MS... and the fact that I have my braces (metal mouth...) worried him that it might have thrown the magnets off.<br />
<br />
I see a neurologist in 2 weeks for a complete work up.<br />
<br />
Today my hands went numb while I was driving. I called my doctor; Again, he said it was consistent with a MS flare up. <br />
<br />
Again I cried.<br />
<br />
I'm a shell of myself. My body looks normal.<br />
<br />
My insides are disgusting.<br />
<br />
I can't look at my kids the same way.<br />
<br />
I can't watch them play, interact or enjoy life without sabotaging my thoughts.<br />
<br />
I got a stitch fix box in the mail; I sent it back without even looking in it. Cute clothes? Not worth it. People with MS don't wear cute stuff. They wear sweat pants to cover their foley bag.<br />
<br />
Maeve tells the younger kids "Guys be good! Mom is sick and she can't handle us right now." Obviously she's overheard adult conversations and this kills me.<br />
<br />
In all my years of being a kid I remember my mom being sick once. She had skin cancer; melanoma. And I was terrified. I knew what the word "cancer" meant and equated that with immediate death. She got a chunk of skin taken out of her back, stayed in bed for a week and was back at it, taking us to zoos, museums, and Chuckie Cheese in no time. <br />
<br />
The thought sunk into me, "I'm going to be that mom... that sick mom. My kids are going to grow up and say things like, 'My mom can't come to ballet because she has MS.' Or as they're talking with their therapists, 'All I can remember about my childhood is my mom being sick all the time..." <br />
<br />
This kills me.<br />
<br />
They don't deserve this. Ryan doesn't deserve this. My parents don't deserve this.<br />
<br />
And guess what??? I don't even have a confirmation that it IS MS! HA! This is just my twisted mind, finding its way to cause panic and upset... it's doing a damn good job.<br />
<br />
Today I made an appearance (rare these days- I've taken to my bed almost all day, with my sisters, mom and a babysitter taking care of my kids)... I ran into a friend. She knew as soon as she saw my face, something wasn't right. "Without prying, I just want you to know I pray for you all the time." <br />
<br />
"I know... thanks." And then we hugged, and I felt some of the tightness I had built up, release. <br />
<br />
On our way home I blasted "Worn" (by tenth avenue north) OVER AND OVER AND OVER again. I asked Maeve, "Are you tired of this song?"<br />
<br />
"No. It's a good song. And it makes you feel better so I like it."<br />
<br />
<br />
Tonight, as I've been doing for the past month, I got the kids situated at the table for dinner and excused myself to the shower.<br />
<br />
Broken cries, prayers, and hollow, gut wrenching feelings poured out along with the flow of water.<br />
<br />
So where does this end? I don't know.<br />
<br />
I have another urology appointment on Friday where we'll be scheduling some surgeries to figure out what exactly is causing the urinary retention. I meet with my neurologist in two weeks who will make some sort of better/significant diagnosis (or maybe LACK OF?)... in the mean time, I'm not just leaning, but full on PLANKING on faith.<br />
<br />
Flat out- PLANK STYLE- me on faith. That's how it looks.<br />
<br />
I read somewhere (and I can't remember for the life of me where... that's another thing- my mind is muddled... and obviously I attribute it to whatever condition this is... when in reality, it could totally be that I'm a mom of 4... totally enough to muddle a mind) that trials bring your heart closer to God. <br />
<br />
Let me tell you; that's true friends.<br />
<br />
Two weeks ago, I "had it all." I had hit platinum. I actually sang to myself that STUPID song, "Instead of counting dollars, we'll be counting stars." The next morning, it shattered. Platinum, young living, it meant nothing.<br />
<br />
When I say I'm okay; I honest to God mean it. I am OKAY. I AM OKAY. Am I scared? Yes. Am I overwhelmed? Yes. Am I angry and frustrated? Yes. But I have a God that can take on all of that and a million more ailments. As my friend tonight asked, "Is our God not big enough for this?" <br />
<br />
Oh heck yeah. My God is big enough for this. <br />
<br />
So believe me when I say, I'm okay. I'm okay because I have a God that is holding all of it. And I have faith; at times its small, when I'm angry, yelling "WHY!?" and other times, it swells, and I feel the full grace and mercy of Him. <br />
<br />
Thanks for reading this. Prayers would be awesome; but there are people hurting so, so, SO much more than me... and many of those people don't have faith; they don't know God. I cannot imagine doing this without Him. I can't bring myself to think about it; all of my empty sobs, broken cries- they're heard, and they're filled- ONLY by Him. <br />
<br />
And the song? Yeah... the song. "Worn"- I've been listening to it for forever.... but right now, in this season of my life, it is my heart's cry. The words have never felt truer; the lyric, "My prayers are wearing thin even before the day begins..." has never burned more deeply. <br />
<br />
So.... listen to the song. Say a prayer for those who don't know Jesus. And give thanks; because He is here- in ALL things. He is right here and He won't let go; even when we're kicking and screaming. He loves us too much.<br />
<br />
I'll keep you all updated on what's going on... Friday is a big day for my bladder (wahoo!) and I should know more about the MS thing in 2 weeks.<br />
<br />
okay, enough enough... go watch this video!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zulKcYItKIA">VIDEO HERE</a> <br />
<br />
<br />
PS- I didn't proof read any of this. It was through tears and written at midnight.... I apologize if its scattered and you can't make sense of it. Although it's fitting, as that's what my life feels like right now. <br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-77859994585087247592014-05-07T08:38:00.001-07:002014-05-07T08:38:33.611-07:00the TWO WEEK post...TWO weeks people; that's how long its taken me to come up with a few words that explain what this year has been like. And reading back over this, I am convinced I can never do it justice; its too big, too life changing for any words that I know.<br />
<br />
I guess I'll just tell it like its; the story from the first drop.<br />
<br />
Last May I saw a post about how some weird oils were helping a friends kids sleep better. Instantly I thought, "GIVE ME THAT." I inquired, and she was kind enough to send down two samples; lavender and peace and calming. I sniffed the peace and calming and thought "okay this is not for me."<br />
<br />
The first night the two tiny drams sat there, untouched. I didn't like the smell and we aren't "those" hippie kind of people. We go to doctors and use medicine and believe in Jesus... not weird voodoo oils.<br />
<br />
The next night, after reflecting on how poorly our previous night had gone, I thought, "Why not? What can it hurt?" I rubbed the oils onto all the "sleep" spots (feet, wrists, back of neck), Ryan laughed at me, I told him to shove it... because, "what if these oils actually worked? And the kids<i> SLEPT?"</i><br />
<br />
He shrugged it off like, "whatever." And to be honest, I did too- until the next morning. I remember it like it was yesterday. Ryan had already left for work and I was getting coffee, making myself into a human while the kids ran around like maniacs. I sent him a text: "THE CRAZY OILS WORKED. THEY SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT!" And since then, I've become an addict. Like put me on the show "Intervention".. but don't, because I don't want an oil intervention...ever ;)<br />
<br />
The next day I got a message from (at that time) an acquaintance Her name was Nicole. I had never spoken to her in person; we just had mutual friends. She was telling me about these SAME exact oils that I had just used. I had no idea; there was an entire KIT- more than just sleeping oils. And more than just oils; this was a business. I've been very open on this blog with Ryan and I's financial crash and burn; losing our house, applying for WIC... I mean that's where we were last May. <br />
<br />
Anyways, she told me about this team, <i>The Lemon Droppers </i>and asked if she could call me.<br />
<br />
I stepped onto the back porch (silence- AHHH!) and she filled me in on what this oil thing was. Who the lemon droppers were, what the oils can do and how I could make money with this. As she was going with this, I was thinking "YES! Totally!" And then she dropped the price bomb: $150.00 for a kit. I told her I'd think about it. She said something like, "Yeah I know... hello credit card!" And I thought to myself, <i>"We don't even have THAT."</i><br />
<br />
Money was literally so tight that we were cashing in change to pay for 5 bucks in gas; so approaching Ryan about buying $150.00 worth of oils was a little scary. I kept using the little samples and praying over a decision. We didn't have the money. I didn't know how in the heck to sell anything. I didn't know what "LEMON DROPPING" (haha) was all about, and I didn't know the first thing about Young Living. And then I posted a picture on Instagram; it was a picture of those two little drams and I made a comment like "Thank you oils for helping my kids sleep through the night!" And within minutes I had messages flooding my inbox.<br />
<br />
<i>"What are these oils?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Where do you get them?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Can I get some?"</i><br />
<br />
WOAH. WOAH. WOAH! I wrote Nicole back, not knowing a lick about what I was doing; but just said "I think people want to buy oils from me.... how do I do that?" And my head was literally spinning at the thought of earning some commission... like a whole 50 bucks or something!<i> </i>Remember, I'm a stay at home mom... I don't work. I was so excited thinking I could make a little bit of money...<br />
<i><br /></i>
I went to Ryan and told him what I had gathered- which at that point was this: 1 kit sale= 54.00... I have 2 people asking to buy a kit which would equal 108.00. The price of the membership kit was 150.00. So was it worth a 42.00 investment?<br />
<br />
Ryan said "go for it." <br />
<br />
I did.<br />
<br />
<br />
I signed up under Nicole and logged into my Young Living virtual office. I had NO CLUE- not a single clue- what I was doing.<br />
<br />
That first month, May, I signed up two people... and Nicole placed a few people in my downline. Here's a picture of what it looked like (16 members):<br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd2QntDHVrKZHUWRkxMc7r9j3ey_qBxc8biNp4-3WEA4eZBJv2ZTUhnM5D3vlKS-5-aJUX-OEBKm9oJ9qWT0PVM-EiW2QkD_tuZD5-NUUZHW7nx8XBnGoxxSaKFpX-ac7vFWWz9MPfuKw5/s1600/232.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd2QntDHVrKZHUWRkxMc7r9j3ey_qBxc8biNp4-3WEA4eZBJv2ZTUhnM5D3vlKS-5-aJUX-OEBKm9oJ9qWT0PVM-EiW2QkD_tuZD5-NUUZHW7nx8XBnGoxxSaKFpX-ac7vFWWz9MPfuKw5/s1600/232.PNG" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
June 20th (checks are cut on the 20th) I received my first check.<br />
<br />
Getting that first check did a few things; first, it paid off my kit that we had charged to a credit card that had about zero room on it... secondly, it gave me some confidence. Third? It gave me motivation. I wanted this. I wanted to contribute to my family. I wanted to share these oils.<br />
<br />
June I dipped my toes in; testing out the selling waters. I hated selling. I still do. But the thing is, I never really had to sell anything. I would post pictures and people would ask... and then they'd buy an oil or a kit. It was nuts! And it kept happening over and over again. By the end of June my downline looked like this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcUNewpe22fcVhYtoH1vzIorFwlALZUmAYSqVK31ZWQ7_BJmKa7z9Q8MhRvnRq08s832sfyCL8yHo2XN2546WrEQ4zL67NX2xNMqd39nEhXzEVQhQGzp_8M3WqIbVdeExkFlYTlHp-OnEP/s1600/233.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcUNewpe22fcVhYtoH1vzIorFwlALZUmAYSqVK31ZWQ7_BJmKa7z9Q8MhRvnRq08s832sfyCL8yHo2XN2546WrEQ4zL67NX2xNMqd39nEhXzEVQhQGzp_8M3WqIbVdeExkFlYTlHp-OnEP/s1600/233.PNG" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
July, Ryan was in Michigan and I was here in Florida. Commissions had been posted and I remember my heart being in my throat reading the number on that check. I texted it to Ryan- he wrote back saying how proud of me he was; how this money was what was keeping our heads above water. It drove me to get more.... to work harder. To <i>HUSTLE. ;) </i>By the end of July I had 74 members and my downline looked like this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMXuK2ec57ElSh7U5SGqrhy9F16Qhjz9oGpEDj5dO0VFcKAQDjbrxoqaYpYuDm9OwS0yczJW5w9io86Z0I9BNCHp974_tXmx50M-FhyXizdXCwDmyC3eows_9cEZDJkWH4evInBlib1S4-/s1600/234.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMXuK2ec57ElSh7U5SGqrhy9F16Qhjz9oGpEDj5dO0VFcKAQDjbrxoqaYpYuDm9OwS0yczJW5w9io86Z0I9BNCHp974_tXmx50M-FhyXizdXCwDmyC3eows_9cEZDJkWH4evInBlib1S4-/s1600/234.PNG" /></a></div>
<br />
In August I had silver in my eyes. For those not in the oil world, its a rank... a big one. And its hard to get. But once you get it, your checks are pretty much guaranteed to be um, big. I have thousands of conversations on facebook with Nicole about how badly I wanted, needed silver. How I would stop at nothing to get it. That SILVER would be mine and this would be my job. We day dreamed; she was way ahead of me, having started earlier so hearing her numbers and what was happening with her downline inspired me. I remember saying "<i>Can you imagine making like, 1000 bucks a month for doing this?" </i><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_-bcbJGaA3DwEBdogO9ZNCknJUClMkKZErfbL0BHflyJORKoS8wwFk44c7opU2HpJS7pppCymN1c-1hw8ZxEEsGugiO2fs5-SRWFF8D8lLVUVpDUKI1P2OvB03ihGv5eZb0UgbQ1lYin5/s1600/235.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_-bcbJGaA3DwEBdogO9ZNCknJUClMkKZErfbL0BHflyJORKoS8wwFk44c7opU2HpJS7pppCymN1c-1hw8ZxEEsGugiO2fs5-SRWFF8D8lLVUVpDUKI1P2OvB03ihGv5eZb0UgbQ1lYin5/s1600/235.PNG" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
In September I did it. I hit silver. And the combination of a really nice check plus the validation that this indeed was working; I was working, made me crazy proud. That was the first time I cried; handing over a check to Ryan that was big enough <i> </i>to do <i>something </i>with. It was a moment I won't forget. I think we both had a mutual understanding there was more...much more to be done with this business.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtamYVX9boPo3hwQuT-OQm9LocHiJdKWbENIZU4s0shbsfcXaAfDl_K5zAYzGVorh3EaVX-6UykvbGkSh2RMd7WUcSaNa4sLicXAO2TVTOakeWs5TjiawbDXBnKPlt0eHzE-lktv8g_Bu/s1600/236.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtamYVX9boPo3hwQuT-OQm9LocHiJdKWbENIZU4s0shbsfcXaAfDl_K5zAYzGVorh3EaVX-6UykvbGkSh2RMd7WUcSaNa4sLicXAO2TVTOakeWs5TjiawbDXBnKPlt0eHzE-lktv8g_Bu/s1600/236.PNG" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
In October, Rose was born and I did absolutely nothing with the oils. Plain and simple... I was absorbed with Rosie, as it should've been. And this is a picture of my downline- without touching the computer it grew by 20 some members.... it was snowballing and it was just the start:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPatlwZnVBlDVN7rfkvD0PmmVsi5RZavXT6GXizvch7B_4uNh6QnoxWhyF3QxPNNjCm71N0ZxGBXWLzF_8lCatsckIZ7zG3-DnPgzBm01iHyD6G8B7kNbDs___95OwmXMsUnXQziuVKwwf/s1600/237.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPatlwZnVBlDVN7rfkvD0PmmVsi5RZavXT6GXizvch7B_4uNh6QnoxWhyF3QxPNNjCm71N0ZxGBXWLzF_8lCatsckIZ7zG3-DnPgzBm01iHyD6G8B7kNbDs___95OwmXMsUnXQziuVKwwf/s1600/237.PNG" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
In November, I had gold (another rank) nipping at my heels. Nicole had just hit gold and when she told me her paycheck amount I had to pick my jaw up off the floor. <i>"My turn now!" </i>I thought. Going for the gold! November was when I really turned to God and said "This is it, right? THIS is it." And I threw myself completely, totally, 100 percent into it. Here's what's happened since:<br />
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<br />
<br />
Today is May 6th- almost a year to the date I started this journey. Last I checked, I had 1433 people in my downline (it changes by the minute now).<br />
<i> </i><br />
I was going to drop numbers and show my paychecks... but decided against it. If you're interested in seeing their progression, message me and I'd be more than happy to show you.<br />
<i></i><br />
But trust me when I say we have been blessed.<br />
<br />
There are a few reasons why I chose to be part of the Lemon Dropper team; the marketing material (its gorgeous), the support network (its huge) and the leaders (amazing Christian women with a desire first and foremost to serve their Lord, and next, their family). And God has certainly been a strong presence on and in this team, that's for sure!<br />
<br />
Along with surpassing my husband's salary (um, yeah... chief accountant at embry riddle!) and getting loads and loads of free oils, I've also won two trips; a trip to the lavender fields in Utah and a trip to Ecuador. SERIOUSLY? Seriously.<br />
<br />
When I think about where I could potentially be a year from now, my mind can't even grasp it. It's too huge.... like, this is not my life- it can't be. This doesn't happen to people like me.<br />
<br />
But it did.<br />
<br />
Thankful isn't big enough a word to describe how I feel when looking back over this year. This has been a God led journey; because nothing, nobody could do this except for Him.<br />
<br />
So.... happy one year to me. Happy one year to me taking the plunge; deciding I wanted better for my family. For deciding I wanted a healthier lifestyle for my kids; more free time with my husband. Happy one year to me for having trust, and faith in God in creating a business. Holy cow... a business. A huge one. In one year. <br />
<br />
Insane. Thank you to everyone who's been part of the journey... I'm speechless.. which is odd but appropriate. I want to end this post with a verse that's written in my work note pad/journal thing ;)<br />
<i><b> </b></i><br />
<i><b>Colossians 3:23</b>
Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.</i><br />
<br />
Amazing things happen when you let go, trust that God-instinct/tug and follow it with all your heart. <br />
<br />
I'm ready for what my 2nd year with Young Living holds; and just as I started out my first year, with faith, hope and trust in Him, I'm starting this year the same. Every day, its His. I'm just along for the crazy-awesome ride.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-24348923923317047802014-05-05T05:55:00.002-07:002014-05-05T05:58:50.125-07:00To My Cousin<br />
Miss Mads...<br />
<br />
I cannot believe you are getting married this weekend!!<br />
<br />
Bear with me while I get all nostalgic... but I totally remember playing doctor, and hair stylist in your basement by the glow of that giant (awesome!) fish tank. I remember putting you to bed and then playing Nintendo while waiting for your parents to get home. I remember all of those Ladwig gatherings, and always being thrilled when your family showed up... you were a "cool cousin" and therefore you earned a spot in the basement of whatever house we were taking over for the night. <br />
<br />
Life was so sure back then. I miss it sometimes. <br />
<br />
I remember being SO excited when you started taking ballet with my mom. And I've watched you in every recital since then (I think!). You went from this cute kid to this beautiful dancer with some crazy talent.<br />
<br />
I've seen you turn from just my "little cuz" into one of the most kindest, sweet souled girls I've ever known. <br />
<br />
You're genuine and your heart is bigger than the cavity that holds it. Don't ever lose that compassion. The world needs more of that; more Maddie's. <br />
<br />
I was so excited to meet Tyler last year at Disney World; and even more thrilled that he's a fabulous guy that totally passed the "LADWIG" test ;) You guys are going to be AWESOME together.<br />
<br />
I'm slightly depressed because I can't be there this weekend to see you walk down the aisle. I can't imagine it, because to me you're still my little cousin. And it feels like I've watched you do everything. At that same time, I know you're grown and more than ready for this and I have butterflies thinking of all the greatness your future holds. I cannot wait to see you grow, bloom and blossom in this new phase of your life. You've rocked everything else; I'm prepared to be blown away by your grace, entering into this new chapter in life. <br />
<br />
I am <i>so</i> proud of you. I am honored to call you my cousin and can't wait to bawl my eyes out while looking at all of your gorgeous pictures that come out of this weekend. (side note- wasn't I JUST taking your senior pictures???) Which leads me to this last embarrassing/sappy note from your old, shriveled up cousin...<br />
<br />
Time. It goes so fast. A blink, and its gone. Savor every moment of your wedding day; take in everything. Catch the twinkle in your mom's eyes, the pride (and perhaps loads of tears) on your dads face. Remember the love you feel walking towards Tyler. Capture it; save it for those hard days. Embrace your friends and family that have come to celebrate with you and feed off their love; for you are <i>SO, so</i> loved. <br />
<br />
You shine bright Mads; I can feel it 2000 miles away. <br />
<br />
Love ya girl,<br />
Your (way old) babysitter/cousin/friend/admirer-<br />
Ash xoxo <br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-72239750852312495762014-05-04T07:05:00.002-07:002014-05-04T07:05:41.867-07:00Sunday ThoughtsI am the most restless person <i>ever.</i><br />
<br />
I have a list of goals and "to-do's" that would make a motivational speaker cringe; and its their JOB to get you motivated, doing stuff. It's great to have goals- its actually wonderful. But what's better is following through.<br />
<br />
I do this awful thing where I just keep compiling; dumping into the bucket list instead of crossing things off. This leads to me feeling unaccomplished and swamped. <br />
<br />
On a completely different note: <br />
<br />
This morning we were getting ready for church; typical rushing around at its finest. And Henry comes walking out of the bathroom with scissors.... and no hair.<br />
<br />
Like NO HAIR. <br />
<br />
Ryan had to take him outside and buzz it to the scalp. I'm horrified. It's stupid hair. But good grief kid! Henry's wandering around the house looking for his hair, wondering why he can't have it back. We're reassuring him he's the same boy, still just as handsome, and obviously still a pirate regardless of his hair (or lack of hair). <br />
<br />
If I can suck up the guts, I'll post a picture... right now he looks like a Holocaust survivor and I don't think I want to remember this, ever. <br />
<br />
Anyways, Sunday thoughts. <br />
<br />
The end.<br />
<br />
Have a RESTFUL, scissor free day. :)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-40566078152789407992014-05-03T08:56:00.000-07:002014-05-03T09:27:54.001-07:00About ThursdayIt would be appropriate to start with the happenings of Wednesday night:<br />
<br />
Y'all know I started this business adventure last year called Young Living.... this past Wednesday night, April 30th, I hit a huge milestone. I mean I'm pretty sure I floated to sleep that night. It was pure bliss; I knew what it meant for my family and our future... just indescribable. I used to play the lottery all the time; dreaming of being that one person who'd win big and be set. It's crazy because in one year I've gone from desperately seeking stability (financially) to desperately seeking a financial adviser to help us with our win-fall. Or whatever you want to call it. ANYWAYS- yes, I went to bed Wednesday on cloud 9, with dreams so big and scary, I actually smiled to myself with the challenge.<br />
<br />
Thursday I had an appointment up with the Mayo Clinic. That morning I was still riding giddy; my mom arrived at my house to watch the kids and I headed up to Jacksonville. It's no secret I've been having a LOT of kidney and bladder issues. I mean, its something I've dealt with forever....I'm talking like age 4. I have always had a urologist; I'm an open book when it comes to all my "voiding" issues. (awesome ha!) Anyways I was thinking on this particular visit we'd be talking about the calcification they had found in my ureter.... I was totally prepared to make a surgery date and even looking forward to it! Getting rid of said calcification would help with the issues...<br />
<br />
After meeting with the doctors (one who is a saint, one who is....not), I was left sitting, undressed in the whitest of rooms, lights blaring. I had a sheet on and as the nurse moved my chair up she said "Okay the doctor (the not saint one) is going to come in and talk with you." So there I sat, half naked, as the doc walked in and without even making eye contact with me, he proceeded to tell me the solution to my problem (or one of the solutions) is to make sure my bladder is completely emptied- every time. Yes, this makes sense; old urine sitting around is going to grow crap, causing infections. I followed him on it. And then he just spurts out, "So we're going to set you up with a home care nurse and get you cathing yourself. Sound like a plan?"<br />
<br />
Uhhhh. WHAT?!<br />
<br />
I was literally speechless. He took that opportunity to fill in the silence with "Oh and we're also going to be setting you up with our Obstetrician to talk about sterilization. Look, you've been blessed with four children. Your kidney and bladder can't take another pregnancy. You know what I mean?" <br />
<br />
I can't even remember the minutes or seconds I guess that ticked by... just shock. Shock that he could say something like that with no emotion; like he was ordering a cheeseburger. <br />
<br />
And this is where I become embarrassed. Was I told I had some incurable disease? No. Was I told I had cancer? No. So why, OH WHY, did I break out in an uncontrollable, ugly sob? So ugly, the doctor excused himself and instructed the nurse to "talk with her."<br />
<br />
I just sat there, thinking of how awful catheters are (and if you've ever had one you know- <i>YOU KNOW) </i>and how I'm 29 years old and I have four kids and I have no desire in the world to know or learn how to cath myself. The nurse was sweet; she put me in my place by telling me kids cath themselves. Again, guilt (I KNOW this situation could be so much worse). Still I couldn't stop the tears. It was a major lifestyle change and there was nothing I could do to stop it or slow it down. It was just happening. I'd start to get a grip on the cath thing, and then that awful word "sterilization" kept popping up.<br />
<br />
<i>How has this happened so fast? What has just happened? What is happening? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
My mind was pure chaos.<br />
<br />
The home care nurse who was just about the sweetest lady I've ever met came in with bags of scary looking things. Long red tubes.... mirrors..... wipes.....pads.....lubricant......GAH. I freaked out again and told her I didn't want to know how to do this. I wanted a second opinion. She was so very kind; and sat with me for probably an hour, taking it all at my speed, reassuring me, never judging the tears that fell, just wiping them. The first time I successfully cathed myself she said "You did it honey! That's all there is to it, you can do it!" And for a minute I thought "Okay... I can fit this into my life. Somehow... I mean I can barely manage to grab 20 seconds to pee by myself without a kid coming in and asking for something, but yeah I'll do this."<br />
<br />
After she was sure I had gotten the hang of it, she walked me out to the front of the office, hugged me and said "You will be fine. This will become normal. I promise." And the tears flowed again.<br />
<br />
I got in the car and called Ryan; I could barely get the words out. It's such a disgusting thing; <i>living with a catheter???</i> I felt awful that he'd have to see the medical crap scattered around our bathroom; that he'd have to look at a bio-hazard bin filled with used caths. And being fully transparent here; I thought <i>how in the world would he ever, EVER find me attractive again? </i>And then there was also the topic of being "sterile." Yes, we've been blessed with four beautiful, healthy children. I should be fine with this; but let me tell you- its like a ton of bricks being told "you can't have another baby." And I wasn't sure how to even say it to Ryan, EVEN though I knew we were both "set" with four... its just the permanency of it. I couldn't swallow it.<br />
<br />
I think that's about as personal (and that's pretty personal- sorry for all the gnarly details) I'll get with that.<br />
<br />
By the time I had gotten home I had called my mom and told her everything and she was crying which just made everything worse. I walked through the door and my sister was there, cleaning my house, picking up the slack that I just couldn't that day. And my mom just hugged me. We cried and she told me not to do anything crazy like "go get your uterus taken out" (lol) without getting a second opinion (and yes, we're just in the beginning stages of all of this and there are many doctors/opinions,etc. I honestly have no idea what is actually going to happen). BUT, I can tell you the catheters are very real. They're here. Fedex delivered a discrete package (overnight- for free because it was my first order- hiphip hooray! -that was all sarcasm) that includes everything I need to be a 90 year old woman at home.<br />
<br />
Again, without getting into details, a cath is as awful as it sounds. I'll just leave it at that. I'm thankful for my nursing friends on facebook who've helped me out (you don't even want to know the questions I've had to ask them). I'm thankful for my family who knows this lifestyle change is not only physically painful but emotionally tough to grasp; they're praying and helping in every way they know how. I am so blessed.<br />
<br />
So the way I go to the bathroom has been forever changed. Is it really that big of a deal? No. It's been painful, embarrassing and a lot of crazy emotions, but I'll be okay. And I like to think that someday my bladder will learn to empty on its own and I won't have to do this. At the same time, I am a huge pessimist and I don't want to get my hopes up. SO.... for now, I am learning how to embrace this new lifestyle. I'm learning how to go out for dinner or to the store... and then having to use the bathroom. haha! It's almost ridiculous sounding!<br />
<br />
Anyways, I can think of about 100 things off hand that could be way worse than this. And I kid you not; the moment I left Mayo and drove home this line from a song was in my head, and has been in my head, on repeat over and over again: "What if a thousand sleepless nights is what it takes to know You're near? And what if trials in this life are Your mercies in disguise?" It's been the strangest thing; I'll be sitting there on the brink of tears, so frustrated because I can't get the cath to work (or something to that effect) and that line will pop up in my head- just out of nowhere (well I know its not out of nowhere... I know exactly Who its from ;) <br />
<br />
So that's my story. That's what's going on. It's not the end of the world nor is it a fantastic way of life. But its my life and it shall go on. Thanks for all your thoughts. And when I say "I'm fine" please believe me- I really, truly am. I am fine. I have days that break me (and I actually think its a good thing to be broken, humbled- Thursday was a broken day for me) and I have other days like today, that I'm getting the hang of things; seeing what this new life will look like. Is it pleasant? No. But I can do it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Happy weekend to you all xoxo<br />
ashAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-622282368607302605.post-55645177170606949752014-04-29T06:04:00.000-07:002014-04-29T06:04:39.391-07:00week in review<ul>
<li>I've been on this article submission binge... writing like a crazy fool and submitting to magazines, sites, etc. Can I tell you how hard the waiting game is? Especially when you write a post that you want to share so badly? </li>
<li>Let me also tell you how awesome it is to have your words be read by hundreds of people, shared and reflected on by moms from all over; reading comments like "That's me." Or "She took the words right out of my mouth." Awesome. And that's why I am hellbent on getting my story out there.</li>
<li>Rosie had her 7 month appointment on Friday. She's a peanut. Nobody really has any answers and I kind of want to just say, "Um, isn't there any chance she's just really, really small???" Like what if she didn't have any condition at all; what if she's just genetically written to be little? I mean girlfriend is healthy! She eats like a normal baby, she rolls, she coos, laughs, smiles, etc. She's a little behind on sitting and some other strength/core things.. but she's 11 pounds. I mean- she is wearing NEWBORN diapers and clothing. </li>
<li>Frozen has taken over our lives. The end.</li>
<li>My one year anniversary is coming up with Young Living. I am trying to formulate the thoughts and words to describe this past year. Right now all I've got is "WOW."</li>
<li>Speaking of YL, with our income being um.... way more flexible at this point, we've been able to put our money where we want to put it. That sounds weird; let me explain: So pre-Young Living, it was literally pillaging and plundering.... well, not really- we didn't steal. But we borrowed from our parents, grandparents, friends and the state (WIC)... we got things as cheaply as possible and cut out anything extra. We're not going all cray cray with money these days, but we are able to spend it where we want. And that's huge for me. I've been buying all the kids' clothes from etsy- fellow mamas who are making it work, one sale at a time. Even toys and shoes; basically anything I can buy local or handmade, I do. And it feels amazing. I'm going to link a bunch of my fave shops that we've bought from recently... check them out- when you buy something, you're paying for a kids ballet lesson, or rent... doesn't that feel good? <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/TinkandKey">Tink & Key</a>, <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/SimplyStitchedbySara?ref=l2-shopheader-name">Simply Stitched by Sara</a>, <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/LittleFootBoutique">Little Foot Boutique </a>,<a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/twigcreative?ref=l2-shopheader-name">Twig Creative</a>, <a href="http://www.featherandfilly.com/">Feather & Filly</a>, <a href="http://hellomerch.com/collections/helloapparel">Hello Apparel</a>, <a href="http://www.shop.finelittleday.com/">Fine Little Day</a>, <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/SheIsClothing?ref=search_shop_redirect">She Is Clothing,</a> <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/MisfitMenagerie?ref=ss_profile">Misfit Menagerie</a>, <a href="http://www.shopmagpluspie.com/">Mag+Pie</a>, and <a href="http://www.kenziejaws.com/">KenzieJaws</a> Check them out- support your fellow mamas! :D</li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
<br />
I think that's all for today..... have a great TUESDAY! :D<br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05807184971810306141noreply@blogger.com0