Surgery Completed...

I'm home recovery from Thursday's brain surgery.

Ouch.

There's good news, bad news, and scary news.

I'll start with the good news. They only had to replace the part of my shunt that's in my brain... so they had to go through my skull into the center of my brain, plus some surgery on the outside of my skull, but they did NOT have to open my abdomen this time! I know this sounds crazy, but seriously, last time, the tummy part was far worse than the brain part. The very first thing I did when I woke up in the PACU was tighten my stomach muscles to see if they hurt. When they didn't, I couldn't stop thanking Jesus!

The bad news is, I am in a LOT of pain and couldn't stay in the hospital long enough. As you may know, here in D.C. we got a lot of snow this weekend. My Neurosurgeon said that if I didn't leave Friday night, I'd be there at least a week. So he wrote me extra pain medication scripts & sent me on my way. I was stable and had been breathing on my own for about 24 hours (only needed the ventilator for a few hours this time!) so the only reason they wanted to keep me was pain control... so we just decided I'd tough it out. I'm used to pain anyway.

The SCARY news is, once they were in my brain they found a collapsed brain ventricle. I'm not sure the specifics - I was pretty out of it when they explained it to me - but I know that sometimes they find it during autopsies rather than before. This MIGHT explain why I ended up back in the hospital in such unbearable pain last Tuesday. Anyway, it's fixed now, they'll just have to keep an eye on me. My CT scans on Friday looked good.

There's a lot more to share, but I'm having a hard time typing so I'll save it for later. I've been able to type short little comments here & there, but wanted to wait until I could give a real update to do anything on my blog. I'll post the whole story as soon as I'm able.

Please pray for pain control & that I do NOT get an infection! Last time my head had two small incisions... this time, I have a FIVE INCH incision with 14 STAPLES!!! Half my head is shaved, right in time for Christmas & having tons of pictures taken... lovely timing. :-P Needless to say, the incisions hurts... but it's also over a large part of my head, so there's a high risk of infection. If that happens, it could go to the shunt, and I'll need emergency surgery within 24 hours or I could go into a coma or even die. My Neurosurgeon said it best: "It probably would be a little worse for you, but believe me, if it gets infected, it won't be any fun for either of us for a long time."

Emergency Brain Surgery today...

Technically it's Thursday... technically, I'm having emergency brain surgery today.

You know what is REALLY weird???

Writing out my Advance Directive.

My wishes for treatment - or lack thereof - should I go into a coma or vegetative state.

I'm 23... it was a lot to think about.

But I added a section to the form. Guess what it was?!

I said that my Mom has the power to override ALL of my written directions... because we believe in Jesus. If she prays, and feels God leading her a particular way, I want her to have the authority to go against what I wrote down. I spelled it out, in black & white, so that there's room for God in that operating room, in that hospital.

So I'm feeling pretty good about that.

Please pray for me. Even in the best-case scenario, I'm in for a rough recovery. And last time I got brain damage. Plus I'm going downhill very quickly, so this will be much more complicated than last time.

I'll update as soon as I can.

Emergency Brain Surgery!!!!!!

Scheduled to have emergency brain surgery on Thursday morning.

My shunt is COMPLETELY blocked.

This is a very serious situation.

Please, please pray for this situation. For my health, for the doctors to have wisdom, for my insurance to cover without a problem, for my Pre-Op tests & appointment to go well and all the results to be received by the Neurosurgeon & hospital on time, and for peace of mind for my family & friends.

Emotionally, mentally, and spiritually, I'm doing just fine with this situation. I'm just mostly concerned about the technicalities, the arrangements & insurance & my parents' schedules and missing work, things like that. I'm mostly concerned for their peace of mind, as mine is good.

If you have a blog, would you PLEASE consider passing this prayer request along? Even if you don't, would you PLEASE be praying for me? It would mean more to me than you can imagine.

I'll likely be in the hospital for a couple of days. Once I'm home, I'll update when I'm able... last time (exactly 12 months ago) I had complications, so although I hope to update over the weekend about how it went, it could be longer if I have complications again.

Hopefully I'll talk to you guys soon... please keep all of these things I've requested prayers for lifted up in prayer.

Thanks so much! :-)

Through A Child's Eyes

Anyone old enough to remember back several years knows where they were on September 11, 2001. My memories of that day, when I was 15, are certainly still crystal-clear.

But although we could go on for hours about what we remember, how we felt, and what we think should be done, how can you sum something so huge up in just one simple statement?

Well, I can't do it, but a 3-year-old could.

A year after 9/11, my high school - which was across the street from the Fairfax County Search & Rescue training center - had a ceremony on the first anniversary. Of all the places in the country that the Fairfax rescuers were invited, they came to our school that morning. So the whole school all wore American colors, we talked about it all day, went to the ceremony, you could tell it wasn't just a regular school day.

That year, one of my classes was a Childhood Development class. For that class, you spent the hour in the nursery where the children of the teachers were cared for during the day. And I was working with a little 3-year-old boy, who started talking and in the end gave me the answer to the question EVERYONE was asking: WHY did 9/11 have to happen?

"So whatcha doing over there?"

"Oh, just talking to Jesus."

"Really? Want to tell me what you're talking about?"

"We're talking about the year ago."

"You mean what happened a year ago?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. You alright?"

::Nods head::

I began to turn away. Then, out of the blue:

"I know why they put the planes in the buildings."

I froze. Slowly I turned my head back to him... I wanted to keep moving away, but to be honest, I wanted to hear ANY explanation that could answer that "why?" question, even if it came from a toddler.

"And why is that, sweetie?"

"Because some men don't love Jesus."

This kid, who wasn't even in pre-school yet, gave me the answer I'd been searching for the entire year, the answer to the question EVERYONE has asked at some point. And although he had no understanding of the reasons the terrorists hijacked those planes, even though he had no way of knowing it truly WAS because they didn't love Jesus, he got it right.

A toddler answered the question that had driven me crazy for an entire year.

In the Bible, Jesus talks about the faith of children. We are reminded to have that kind of faith. I'll be the first to admit that on 9/11, my faith was damaged to some extent. I couldn't understand WHY He would allow so much suffering. But God used this little kid to remind me that when a person doesn't love Jesus, they will not ACT like they love Jesus. And as Jesus is good, anything opposite to Him is bad. So when you have Muslim terrorists - who don't love Jesus by definition of being Muslim - of course they won't do what you want them to.

(And NO, I do NOT think ALL Muslims are terrorists. Some of my closest friends are Muslims, and they were just as hurt by 9/11 as I was. Bad people come from all faiths, even Christianity - or what they claim is Christianity. So before you go off on me about religious profiling, keep that in mind, you'll be preaching to the choir.)

I remember that day so well. Eventually the entire high school - about 100 students - was moved into one room, where we had a TV on. I was on the floor, leaning against a wall, sobbing. My Mom was working next to the Pentagon. I assumed that for a plane to have exploded, nearby buildings would've been damaged, and didn't know if it had hit any buildings on the way down. Also, the local media reported car bombs ALL OVER D.C. so we thought half our city was up in smoke!

Every 5 minutes or so, the intercom came on, and a list of names was read off. Those students were to go to the office because someone was there to pick them up. I was praying - BEGGING God - for my & my sister's names to be read every time I heard the click come on. In the meantime, I walked down to the middle school 2 floors below, walked into my sister's classroom, and pulled her out of class. I am THE most submissive person EVER... never got a detention, never punished in any way at school, the ideal student as far as behavior. But I TOTALLY ignored people telling me to stop that day. The world was ending, screw rules was my way of thinking! I took my little sister upstairs to the high school floor, and eventually she went back downstairs once we were fairly sure that we'd be safe in the building.

Eventually, I couldn't handle being near that TV any longer. Again ignoring the teachers' instructions, I walked out of the room and sat in the hallway. They couldn't force me to watch that anymore when it could be reports about the deaths of my parents! So I sat in that hallway, cried, and BEGGED the Lord for my parents to come for us.

Finally, just before lunchtime, my name was on that list. I ran into the classroom I'd stormed out of, grabbed my backpack, and FLEW down the stairs, probably taking about 5 at a time. On the way down, I prayed that it would be my Mom there to get us, because she was the one in the most danger. And when I opened that door and saw her, I lost it.

I mean, sobbing so hard I couldn't breathe.

She works for Arlington County law enforcement, and contrary to popular belief, the Pentagon is in Arlington, Virginia - NOT D.C. - so I knew she'd be involved in the efforts at the Pentagon. Because she had two children, she was allowed the rest of that day off, because they knew they'd need her for awhile. For the next week, we saw her VERY rarely, only at night if we could stay awake long enough for her to get home. Even though ALL schools were closed the following day, she had to go help.

The ONE - the ONLY - good thing I remember is that all the donations people were giving ended up at our house! :-) People gave so much that there was TOO much. So all those amazing restaurants that donated food, meals were sent home with the people like my Mom. Which, technically, WAS helping in the effort because like in my Mom's case, she had a family to feed but couldn't because she was at the Pentagon Command Center... so they let her bring food to us after everyone there had their meals. We got food for a few weeks... it was very yummy. :-)

Anyway, just wanted to share this and remind people that things aren't ALWAYS as complicated as they seem, as we make them out to be. We make things far too confusing. Next time you don't understand, ask a kid. Or try to think like one. Things may make a lot more sense.

My Final Prayer

As I pulled the warm blanket over my head, I could still hear the faint humming of the infusion pump. I was starting to shake because someone thought putting chilled fluids into my IV would be good. Silently I was praying - begging - for God to take the pain away. To just make it stop.

When you're surrounded by doctors and every medication under the sun, yet still have no signs of improvement, you learn Who is in control very quickly.

For the first time, my little sister was on the stretcher next to mine. She gets migraines, although not nearly to the extent, severity, or frequency that I do and she doesn't have the additional problems I have with my brain, pseudo tumor, shunt, and heart disease. All I could think about was her. She's 20, but she'll always be "my little sister." I kept asking them to help her. What I felt was shoved inside.

Finally she was released, but I was going downhill fast so they kept me awhile longer. Once she was gone, I could stop holding everything inside and it all hit me at once. I started crying from the pain - sobbing, actually - and couldn't stop. This was my SECOND round of treatment that day... the day before Thanksgiving. I prayed that I wouldn't need emergency brain surgery the night before Thanksgiving, and God answered "yes." Thankfully.

As I was laying there, with an IV in my arm & wrist, the infusion pump humming, shaking on a stretcher and hitting against the railing as I shivered from the cold fluids coursing through my body, I realized yet again that God ALONE is in control. Doctors, medications, the most advanced medical treatment in the world couldn't make me feel better. I was in so much pain that I wanted to die and asked to be sedated when it became clear that the pain meds weren't going to do much... and they actually agreed.

Sometimes I wonder why God saved me through everything I've experienced, only to allow me to face the possibility of death at 23. Heck, I survived 11 years of abuse, kidnapping & being held for a month in Mexico, a suicide attempt, years of the most extreme self-injury the therapists had seen, and now I WANT TO LIVE.

I WANT TO LIVE... for the first time in my life, I'm desperate for every breath I take. And thankful that the Lord allows me to take them. I've always known that there MUST be a reason God got me through all I've been through. If He had no plan for my life, He wouldn't have kept me breathing despite all the odds stacked against me.

I'd always assumed that His saving me meant I'd live long enough to do something big with my life through Him. But then I realized something:

HIS WAYS ARE NOT MINE.

Although I do not necessarily "expect" to die, I know it's possible. When you're told machines had to breathe for you and you face multiple brain surgeries for the rest of your life, when you are told at 23 to write out if you want a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate order) and what measures - if any - you want taken to prolong your life if things don't go according to plan.

Do you have ANY idea what it's like to hand your parents a piece of paper asking them NOT to go to extreme measures to keep your heart beating if your soul is already with Jesus? What it's like to take a deep breath, close your eyes, and know what when you open them you may be looking Jesus in the face?

I do. Welcome to my life.

So in order to know without a doubt that I've covered all the bases, I've written out my life's story. My testimony, if you will, of God's grace, goodness, love, forgiveness, mercy, and strength. Something that will sum up my life so that the world doesn't forget I existed and that my life was God's will. I'm leaving it with someone I trust deeply... just in case.

I have just one prayer... if I were to take my last breath, this would be the prayer I'd want to be saying. It's actually a song... but the words are a prayer from my heart.

This is a song by Shane & Shane. It's their words... my heart's prayer... the only words I know of to sum up the deepest desire of my heart.

You are all,
big and small
beautiful
And wonderful to trust in grace through faith
But I'm asking to taste

For dark is light to you
Depths are height to you
Far is near,
but Lord I need to hear from you

Be near, oh God, Be near, oh God of us
Your nearness is to us our good
Be near, oh God, Be near, oh God of us
Your nearness is to us our good
Our good

Your fullness is mine
Revelation divine
But oh to taste,
to know much more than a page
To feel your embrace...

For dark is light to you
Depths are height to you
Far is near
but Lord, I need to hear from you

Be near oh God Be near oh God of us
You're nearness is to us our good
Be near oh God Be near oh God of us
You're nearness is to us our good

Be near oh God Be near oh God of us
You're nearness is to us our good
Be near oh God Be near oh God of us
You're nearness is to us our good
My good

BE NEAR, O GOD.

I used to fear death... not so much the actual dying, but rather not being able to live. But recently it finally "clicked" in this head of mine: DEATH IS LIFE.

For the Christian, dying isn't the end, it's the beginning. It is LIFE. When you're faced with the possibility of not making it to 24, knowing that - without a doubt, knowing it with all your heart - gives you not only peace, but also sanity.

And to be honest, I'm cool with whatever God wants - even if it means living with Him rather than here. Do I want to die? No, I'd like to live here awhile longer because in the grand scheme of things, on the scale of eternity, this is a blink of an eye and I've got forever to be in Heaven. But I've FINALLY LEARNED that it doesn't matter where I am, I'll still live. And maybe God's plan never was for me to spend decades in Social Work, working with kids who have survived earthly hell like I did. Maybe His plan for me is simply to live, and to have enough warning of leaving for Home that I shout from the rooftops all that He is and has done.

And if that's the entire reason I was ever born, why He kept me alive to 23, I am beyond satisfied.

In the worlds of another Shane & Shane song:

Holy design
this place in time
that I might seek and find my God
my God

Lord I want to yearn for You
I want to burn with passion
over You and only You
Lord I want to yearn

Your joy is mine
yet why am I fine
with all my singing and bringing grain
in light of Him

oh You give life and breath
through Him You give all things
in Him we live and move
that's why I sing

Lord I want to yearn for You
I want to burn with passion
over You and only You
Lord I want to yearn

***
I now yearn for my Lord in a way I never knew I could. I guess that's why I'm okay with what is happening. I'm His, not my own... my life is His... my future is His... and I am beyond okay with that. In fact, I wouldn't change it for anything - not riches, not healing, not escaping pain, NOTHING. What is greater than the Lord? NOTHING!

Think about the words of one more Shane & Shane song (I really do listen to other groups, honest I do, but their lyrics just fit what's going on with me right now!) and try to really contemplate their meaning.

I've tried more of me
and I've come up dry
trading You for things
things that go away
my happiness is found in less
of me and more of You
my happiness is found in less
of me and more of You

I have found the answer is
to love You and be loved by You alone
You crucify me and the world to me
and I will only boast in You

I'm so satisfied
at the thought of You
growing up in me
covering everything
my happiness is found in less
of me and more of You
my happiness is found in less
of me and more of You

***

Love life while you can. More importantly, love the One who gives you every breath you take. If you doubt Him, just ask me to tell you how I know He is real - there is no earthly way I'd be alive without His direct intervention. Even doctors will tell you that.

"He is exalted, forever exalted, and I will praise His name! For He is the Lord, forever His truth shall reign; Heaven and Earth rejoice in His holy name! He is exalted, the King is exalted on high."

Another song... fitting words... meditate on them.

I pray that if Jesus takes me Home anytime soon, I will be remembered for being His. My accomplishments and efforts and passions mean nothing apart from Him. With whatever time I have left, I want to serve Him with everything in me. Nothing else truly matters. I'll right what wrongs I can, and rest in knowing that He is in control.

And I pray that you will do the same.

The Wicked Witch is Dead

If anyone deserved the death penalty, it was him.

Seven years ago, my area was terrorized by a sniper - the Beltway Sniper - and tonight, my state executed him.

Now, I'm not a huge fan of the death penalty. But in this case... well... let's just say that if I could've been there myself, I would have been.

People who aren't from here have NO IDEA what this was like. Remember, just 13 months previously we were hit on 9/11, then with Anthrax. We had police permanently assigned to our small private school, and weren't allowed outside.

Getting gas was a life-threatening chore.

I remember the moment when I realized something was very wrong. One evening right after this started, we were walking into a store. A man was leaving the same store, and scared me very badly. He poked his head out the door, looked for the white truck we were all looking for (it seemed like every other car was a white truck!), and RAN. This guy - full grown man - ran like a little girl, dove under his car, and unlocked it by reaching up with his arm, then crawled in from the ground.

That's when I knew something was wrong... terribly, terribly wrong.

And then it happened: Home Depot.

A shopping center I visited several times a week was hit. An FBI analyst was dead. This was the ONLY case I didn't hear about through teachers or the media... nope, for this one, it was the helicopters.

This place was 1 MILE from my house. Immediately, choppers were put up and every major road was shut down. When I heard the choppers and sirens, I knew.

Turned on the news, and there it was.

The next day, I went to the scene. There were media trucks from all over the country, reporters speaking foreign languages, and the parking lot I'd skipped through the week before had blood on it.

I knelt down by the blood... and I prayed.

That was probably shown in the media, I heard cameras clicking, but I was interviewed later that night when we went back to the shopping center to grab dinner at the drive-thru (so we wouldn't have to get out & risk being shot). This ABC reporter followed us with his camera & sound guy and I remember feeling like we were in some sort of nightmare that wouldn't end.

First I was interviewed over 9/11, then this... what next?

Tonight we tuned in, awaiting the announcement that the man who did this to an already-grieving community was dead. I'll admit, I did pray for him & his family, but I also said, "The wicked witch is dead" when they finally said he had been executed.

He's gone... this chapter is closed... he'll never hurt us again.

The wicked witch is dead.

I'm Dying.

At 23 years old, I should be thinking about starting a career and really beginning my life.

Instead, I'm wondering the best way to enjoy it before it ends.

And as horrible as this sounds, I'm not entirely sure it's a bad thing that there's not much else anyone can do.

If you knew that for the rest of your life you'd be facing regular brain surgeries - which also included an abdominal surgery each time - how hard would you want to fight to survive?

If for every medication you took you knew that you were destroying your body, would you take them? The bottles of meds cover my entire bedside table, and if I don't take them, I'm in so much pain that I have to be hospitalized... where they can give me even MORE meds to destroy my body simply to allow me to be in a little less pain so I can bear to take the next breath.

Next month I have another appointment at Johns Hopkins with a specialist... someone who I saw last year but was told I had to have the first brain surgery before he could help me.

I used to believe I'd get better... but now... I know better. How do you balance KNOWING that God could heal you in an instant with knowing that He likely will not? How do you keep from being angry at Him because you KNOW that He could end all of this but for some reason unknown to you He chooses not to?

I know that His plan is best. In my head, that is certain. In my heart... not so much.

There MUST be a reason I'm still alive. There's so much I have yet to write on this blog about - times when humanly speaking I should've died but survived. For example, I survived the following:

- 11 years of abuse
- being kidnapped & held in Mexico for a month
- an alcoholic stepfather
- 2 major car accidents
- major depression, which led to
- years of self-injury including cuts all over my body & frequent overdoses
- a brain surgery 9 months ago that I simply didn't wake up from for far too long
- a suicide attempt when a med adjustment pushed me into psychosis; even the DOCTORS called it a miracle that my heart kept beating.

I know without a shadow of a doubt that it is the LORD who kept me alive. I know that, it isn't a question, not up for debate. Humanly & medically speaking, I should've been dead before I graduated high school.

And yet... here I am.

As horrible as this sounds, I'm not sure anymore that I'm grateful.

I should be... I know that. And sometimes I am... when I see a nice sunset, hold a new niece/nephew for the first time, take a trip with my Mom, help my little sister with something... at those times, I am truly, truly grateful.

But those times are so few & far between.

Most of the time, I'm in so much pain that even the doctors say there is no stronger pain medication to be given. Even Johns Hopkins can't help me. And soon I'll be off my parents' insurance, meaning we'll foot the bills for my meds, my specialists, my frequent CT scans, my spinal taps, and my brain/abdominal surgeries that total over $100,000 EACH. I'll be honest: I've thought about killing myself more than once simply to spare them that expense. (No, I am not suicidal. And if for some reason I became suicidal, I have a therapist & a psychiatrist to help me. I'm proud to say I'm slowly overcoming that part of my life.)

I remember when I finally woke up from my surgery. I had tubes and wires all over, plus oxygen trying to keep my sats up. The nurse assigned to just me & the guy next to me seemed relieved that I was awake... as we were in the recovery unit with no windows, I had no idea how long it was since I went in at 7am. I had no idea that it was already DARK out, that they'd been trying for HOURS to wake me up and I simply wouldn't. After they extubated me (took me off a machine that breathed for me) my throat was too raw to ask many questions, but I could tell by that nurse's face that SOMETHING was wrong. They finally let my parents back to see me... and as soon as I saw my Mom's face, I knew. I knew something had gone wrong, that there was something I didn't know. She told me that the surgery went fine & everything was in place... but she didn't tell me that I wouldn't wake up.

In the following days, it became clear that I had brain damage. My short-term memory was completely shot, and even some of my long-term memory was affected. My ability to read & write was damaged, and if there was too much noise around me, I couldn't think or speak - I'd just yell "Be quiet!" and hyperventilate. Although it's been a slow process, I'm slowly getting all of that back. But the neurosurgeon doesn't know if I'll EVER be 100% again.

If anyone knows the value of life, it is me. If anyone knows to enjoy that sunset and that laugh and that life, it is me.

But sometimes I can't help but want to stop fighting... to say enough is enough and refuse medical treatment, allow myself to die.

In reality, it could all be over in weeks WITHOUT my harming myself - simply by refusing treatment, it could end. I'm fighting because my family needs me to. Nearly 21 months ago, I lost my best friend and realized that I can't fight for anyone but my family because no matter what anybody says or promises, you never know when they'll change. So I cling to knowing that my parents need me... especially my Mom. But sometimes I just get so freakin tired.

Tired of the meds... the scans... the tests... the IVs... the surgeries... knowing that it will NOT cure me, just prolong my life.

I want to want that. I do, I really do. But honestly, sometimes I don't.

Would you pray for me?

Right now I get to go lay down... take medication that is destroying my body simply to get a repreive from the pain... and pray. I cry myself to sleep, asking - begging - God to make it better. I try to believe that tomorrow will be better, but I know better by now.

There's gotta be a reason God has kept me alive this long... a reason I finally woke up after that surgery... that I've survived so very much in my 23 years of life. I just wish I knew what it was.

So much, so little.

So much to say, so little ability to say it.

This weekend is our family reunion, and I plan to attempt to go. Not only will I see family, but my little sister, who went off to college a few weeks ago lives in the same town as the reunion now so I get to see her as well.

Unfortunately I'm on a course of steroids right now to break a rebound cycle... and I'm literally struggling for every word I'm typing. Probably because my immune system is trashed & my energy level is always low when I'm on this stuff.

But I wanted to let you all know I'm alive and that I WILL be updating next week at the latest! I should have lots to say... so many entries you will WISH I was still this sick. ;-)

Cousin Kennedy's Death

Now that I've had a couple of days to process my cousin Teddy Kennedy's death, I thought I'd write a little bit to sort of explain what it's like going through the death of someone that so many people can't stand & that so many people feel they know when in reality they have no idea.

The truth is that ever since learning of my Kennedy connection (remember, I was cut off from my father's side of the family for years so I didn't know anything about anyone on that side) I've tried to keep it somewhat quiet. I wrote 1 sentence about it in a previous post on here simply because nobody who reads this actually knows me in person... usually I tell only those who I trust because all it takes is the wrong person finding out and suddenly you're WHOA! in the public eye. Thankfully my last name is NOT Kennedy, as my relation was a female so she took her husband's name.

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a proud Republican... that I admire Ronald Reagan not only because he was a family FRIEND, but because of what he stood for. That I disagree with everything the Kennedys stand for.

But.

We're blood.

Right now I'm extremely frustrated that there's no lying in state in the Capitol. I went to Reagan's a few years ago and although we were out in line from sunset to sunrise (it was a long night!) I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I've got family in Boston (where the events are) that I could stay with - yes, most of that side of the family is still in Massachusetts - I'm not cleared by my neurosurgeon to travel yet.

The funeral is at Arlington Cemetery, half an hour away... but I know they'll be keeping it to close family as many high-profile people will be there and I don't feel like having to explain myself, even though I believe I could be there. I only met him a few times so it's not overwhelming grief... but like I said... it's family.

Am I proud of my Kennedy blood?

Not their decisions, no.

Would I change it?

Not in a million years.

One of the VERY HARDEST things is that my mom & stepdad aren't very supportive because they hate all the Kennedys. That and it has to do with my biological father so they'd probably hate them anyway. :-P So they lead the way with the Senator Kennedy bashing, and I just want to scream. I asked them to stop but they won't. And that is VERY unusual for them, especially my mom... I guess it's her way of dealing with knowing who is part of me.

I'll never forget the day I found out that I had Kennedy blood. Maybe it's God, but I was proud instantly despite knowing I stood for everything they stand against. And since my Gramma's death last Easter, I've taken comfort SPECIFICALLY in seeing Teddy Kennedy's picture - he looks like my Gramma's twin. I'm SO not kidding. When I found out he died - online, of course, as the story was picked up instantly - it was like that last connection to her was gone. So it made the realization that SHE IS GONE even stronger. That was probably the hardest part of it, even harder than how I found out.

If you could be praying, I would appreciate it and I know the Kennedys would as well. I literally LAUGH when I think of the relation, seeing God's humor in it as we're the most unlikely of kin... but I love them and will be praying fervently for them... for better or worse, we're family.

Cousin died... please pray...

Today, my cousin - Senator Ted Kennedy - passed away. Please pray for the family as Eunice recently died, and now this. I'm a very proud Republican, but he's family... the country has lost a great man today.

Emergency Brain Surgery

There's a chance I'll be going in for another brain surgery.

My shunt has been recalled.

This is apparently a very dangerous situation... I won't bore you with the technical details, but basically the part of the shunt that is pushed into my brain between my skull & the center of my brain is likely to detach from the valve that it's connected to, which is between my skull & my scalp. If it detaches, the surgery to remove & replace it is apparently quite risky, and there's a chance I'll suffer further brain damage.

I'm going to talk with my Neurosurgeon on Wednesday (hopefully) about what to do. I need a shunt adjustment anyway, but now we must consider whether or not this need for the adjustment is a shunt malfunction.

Personally, I'm going to see if we can just go ahead and plan for a revision (the term for replacing the shunt). I don't want to wait until it's an emergency, until they have to take me into surgery within hours and risk further brain damage and the likelihood that my body will not be prepared for surgery.

Honestly... I'm a little scared. I just got the shunt 7 months ago and I'm STILL recovering. But I don't really want to wait until it's an emergency, either.

I have a ticking bomb in my brain... and I'm afraid it'll go off before we can stop it.

Please pray for me... for peace, but especially for wisdom. Wisdom for me, my parents, and my neurosurgeon as we decide what to do.

Why couldn't they recall my alarm clock instead?

(P.S. - Ann - thanks for your info. I will call you as soon as I'm able to not only have a coherent conversation, but actually focus on what we're talking about and think clearly enough to do the best I can to help. ;-) Looking forward to it!)

Say NO to Islamic Saudi Academy!!!

If you follow the news, you may have heard about the ISA before. Right now they're making national news because they want to expand their campus here where I live.

Now, don't get me wrong. My high school played their school in sports and although we were a Christian school, we NEVER had a problem with the kids there. Everyone got along fine... they are NOT bad people!!! We had to go through extra security checks, just like everyone who enters their gates, because of the threats against them after 9/11... mirrors are placed under cars to check for bombs & everything... but they were always kind.

But in the past, they've made headlines for going against American law & morals. Their textbooks are horrendous. And, frankly, I have EXTREMELY SERIOUS doubts about the adults leading that school. This has nothing to do with the students... it has to do with those teaching them and WHAT they're teaching them. The textbooks they've been using come from Saudi Arabia... where oppression against women & violent extremism are taught.

They teach Shariah law. Enough said.

Their 1999 Valedictorian joined Al-Qaeda and was part of a terror plot against the U.S., including the assassination of President Bush.

If you're from the D.C. area, please let the Fairfax County Board of Supervisors know that you are AGAINST expanding this damaging school's abilities. We don't need even more kids being taught what is clearly not Biblical and, therefore, 100% wrong.

Please understand that I am not against Muslim people. I have TONS of Muslim friends from my public school days, and they're some of the nicest people I know. This isn't about them personally... it's about a school that is teaching a distorted version of their religion to young, impressionable people in a dangerous age in a highly-targeted city.

I fully expect to be attacked for writing this. It's not politically correct. But as we've established, that doesn't bother me. The Bible is Truth, and it says that what the ISA believes is WRONG. And I will stand for that. I'll speak out for that. Because it's the right thing to do. Because if Christians don't stand up for Jesus & His Word & His teachings, nobody will.

Psych Meds

I've said from the start that I'd be open & honest here. So here's the truth: I'm on psych meds. Actually, that's the problem - I'm NOT on them at the moment.

I'm not crazy. I've got a chemical imbalance that clouds my judgment and I'm one of the 10% of people on psych meds who actually NEED them. Most people need more therapy than medication... but you can tell which you need by trying the meds. If your symptoms are gone after a month, you're probably dealing with a REAL chemical problem, an imbalance that is just as physical a disease as cancer.

And that's me. There's conditional depression (caused by circumstances) and there's chemical depression, caused by a physical chemical imbalance. Of course I've had conditional depression before - look at my history! - but I developed a true chemical imbalance and that's when medication became necessary.

For a variety of reasons, which I promise to explain soon, I'm not on my meds right now. And it's becoming clear that I need to be on them.

Please pray for me. I'm in touch with my psychiatrist & hopefully will be back on my meds by tomorrow evening... if for some reason I'm not, I'll probably visit the Kaiser Urgent Care center so they can get me the meds until I can see my psychiatrist.

Like I said, I'm NOT CRAZY, I'm not a danger to anyone (even at my worst a few years ago, I was a danger to myself, NEVER anyone else), don't take this the wrong way! The ONLY reason I ask for prayer is that I have enough going on medically & withdrawing from meds is hard on me physically. Long-term, there's a danger that I could start with the self-injury I've been clean of for 18 months, but that's not in the near future & I have my family watching me. Just want to put those disclaimers out there so nobody reads this the wrong way... I had somebody call 911 on me once when they overheard me saying "I don't want to be tempted with cutting anymore" and ever since then, I've been super careful to make sure people don't get the wrong idea. ;-)

Prayers for getting this sorted out soon would be appreciated... and of course prayers for my well-being both physically & emotionally wouldn't be a bad thing. :-)

As soon as I'm able, I promise to update about what's going on... as soon as all my meds are worked out, you'll get an explanation. In the meantime, I read your blogs & pray for you. If I don't "Follow" your blog yet, please remind me to in the comments section... I LOVE to check in with my "followed blogs" several times per day to keep you all in my prayers! :-)

The Half-Abandoned Child

For me, Father's Day is bittersweet. It is a day filled with both happy memories and the realization that there will be no more of them. It's a day to thank God for the stepfather who is adopting me as his own, and to ask God why the father whose blood I carry wouldn't love me the way a father should.

I cannot fit into the category of those who have the love of both of their parents. And I cannot fit into the category of those who were orphaned. You see, I have a Mom who has always loved me and been by my side. For that, I am beyond grateful. But on this day every year, I wonder why I couldn't have that love from my father as well.

The word "Dad" isn't one I use. I've tried, but cannot bring myself to call my wonderful stepdad by that name yet... and it doesn't apply to the father who gave me life. Usually, that doesn't bother me... but on Father's Day, quite frankly, it does.

How do you celebrate such a day when the father God gave you abused you for 11 years and then kidnapped you? How do you celebrate him when he left you, literally pushed you away, and scarred you for life? How do you celebrate a man who hurt you so much that you're not capable of having normal relationships with anybody around you?

Most of the time, these thoughts are kept at bay. But once a year, I unleash them... or, rather, I don't try to stop them.

My first stepfather was great at first - I called him "Dad" for years - but he was a dry drunk, worse sober than wasted, and soon became abusive. By the time he left, I was 15, and my impression of older men was less than good. I literally trembled when men became loud around me, even if it was just loud laughter - I had & still have no problems at all with guys my own age, some of my best friends are guys, but I always saw guys my father's age as threatening. Not even men older than that, just ones who were about 50 years old... thankfully that's gone now that I have my new stepdad.

The closest thing to a father-figure I had growing up was my Grandpa. My Mom, sister & I lived with him for nearly 4 years after the divorce, and there was NOTHING we lacked in the physical sense during that time - we lived in a mansion, had maids, spent weekends at the country club, and mingled with the children of diplomats & Congressmen while our family mingled with Senators & President Reagan and his family. But more importantly, we had the love of a man who fiercely defended us and protected us. When I look at what I gained from those 4 years, it is not the physical surroundings I remember... it is the love. I remember the mansion not because of its size, but because it was filled with an incredible amount of love. I remember the maids because my Grandpa always wanted us to have the easiest time possible after what we'd been through in our short (2 & 5 years) lives. I remember the weekends at the Club because my Grandpa, who knew all those "important" people, chose to spend time with us little kids, taking us to the Club to show us off because he was THAT PROUD of us. We were just kids, but to him, we were the world. Today I took his framed portrait off the table in the living room and tears welled up in my eyes... partly sad tears because he's gone, but partly happy because of the impact he had on me without even knowing it.

Thankfully, I do have a Father how has never abandoned me... and never will. A Father who loves me no matter what and forgives me unconditionally - and believe me, I NEED that love & forgiveness! Today I remember Him as well as the other men who have filled the role of "father" in my life.

And that's how a child like me... a half-abandoned child... a child who lost not one but 3 father figures... can have the PERFECT Father.

Pretty awesome, huh?

P.C.? Not Me!

Being politically correct is just not my thing. Having grown up in Washington D.C. and living here all my life, there's a lot of emphasis on what's "right" and how to behave. After all, we wouldn't want to offend anyone, would we??

But how did our sense of "what's right" start to be determined by how people will feel about that standard?

After all, what's "right" these days is allowing anyone to do anything that isn't illegal - and in some cases, even THAT isn't enough!

As a Christian, my idea of what's right isn't the same as the ideas of those who surround me. Not just because I'm from D.C., but because God calls us to be IN the world, not OF the world.

What does that look like in today's society?

Well, I'll share with you what makes me SO not P.C.!

In no particular order...
- Marriage is between a MAN and a WOMAN.
- Abortion is MURDER.
- The Bible is the "rule book" for life.
- There is ONE TRUE GOD, the God of the BIBLE.
- Children are you honor their parents, wives are to submit to & respect their husbands, and husbands are to love their wives as Christ loved the Church.
- Adultery, lying, breaking the law, and drunkenness are WRONG.
- Homosexuality is a SIN.
- Sex outside of marriage is SIN.
- Holding a grudge & witholding forgiveness is a sin.

There's a lot more. But those are some of the big ones.

Now, most people would look at this list and say a few things about me:
- that denying "equal marriage rights" is discrimination
- that abortion is destroying tissue, and that I have no right to tell a woman she must carry a baby she doesn't wish to
- that I have no right to say that MY God is the TRUE God
- that it's not up to me to determine absolute truth
- that children should be able to express themselves however they wish, wives shouldn't have to submit to anyone, and that husbands shouldn't have control over their wives
- that I can't say having an affair is a sin, that people can lie if they want to, that some laws are made to be broken, and other people's drinking is none of my business
- that I'm a "homophobe" because homosexuals are BORN that way
- that it's okay to hold a grudge if you've been wronged, and who can say one must give forgiveness if they don't wish to?
- that a person can do whatever they wish with their body.

That's what the world says to what I've written.

But remember: Christians are to be IN the world, not OF the world.

The things I've said come straight from the Bible. That is the CENTER of the controversy. If the Bible were accepted & believed by all, NONE of this would be a problem! There'd be no debate on homosexuality, abortion, gay marriage, drunkenness, the parent/child & husband/wife relationships, none of it!

In the Bible, Jesus says that we will be persecuted for following Him. And although that may not look the way it did in the days He walked the earth in physical form, it is still very much a part of being a Christian today.

Take a look at our government - especially with the election of our new president. More & more lawmakers are moving towards "equal marriage rights," ending the policy of no homosexuals in the military (i.e. saying homosexuality is okay), allowing stem cell research, confirming over & over that Roe v. Wade was correct and abortion is okay.

It's wrong. And as Christians, we're called to do something about it.

Sometimes the best thing we can do is pray. And I believe that, to some extent, that's true right now. But we can also TAKE A STAND. We can vote for people who stand for what the Bible says, we can vote for or against measures based on God's Word, and most of all, we can love everyone the way God calls us to.

You know the saying, "I have to see it to believe it"?

Well, let's SHOW them. When it comes to God's Word, let's LIVE it, let's PROVE it by living it, rather than just TEACHING it.

Will it make you popular? Nope. Will it be hard? Yep. Will there be times you feel like giving up because you feel like it's going nowhere fast? You bet.

But is it worth it?

Absolutely.

Don't be politically correct... just don't be afraid to be right.

Tragedy... again.

Today, just miles from my house, tragedy struck the D.C. area all over again.

An 88-year-old white supremacist began shooting inside the U.S. Holocaust Museum - a place I've visited many times.

Both he and a security guard were shot. The security guard has died.

There are also reports of others in local hospitals, although I'm not positive what their injuries are.

My first reaction is that this can't happen - as soon as you step inside, you have to go through metal detectors & put your bags through x-ray. When my Mom had a water bottle, they made her DRINK some of of it to prove it was just water.

But apparently the shooter stepped inside and started shooting before going through the metal detectors.

The loss of the security guard may have saved the lives of visitors... had he not been there, the guy could've proceeded. Another security guard shot the madman, thus likely saving more lives.

But that doesn't help the family who lost their loved one.

The D.C. area is used to tragedy, unfortunately. Since 9/11, it's been one thing after another - Anthrax just 2 months after 9/11, then exactly a year later we had the Beltway Sniper, and so on. Sometimes living her is downright scary.

Please be in prayer for all of those who are affected by this senseless act.

Neurosurgeon concerned...

If you have any prayers to spare, would you please lift me before Jesus? This morning I saw my neurosurgeon for a "routine" shunt valve adjustment... and we discovered that part of the shunt valve is malfunctioning.

This means I may be facing my second brain surgery in 5 months within the week.

The adjustment itself is painless, but the result - changed pressure within the skull - is extremely painful. Right now we're trying to control the INTENSE pain with Morphine but it's really rough.

If I don't improve within the next few days, I have to go get the shunt checked again... and if it's still messed up, into surgery I go.

Please pray that this will not be necessary, and that God will take this pain from me.

And if you aren't already, please be praying that Ukraine does not ban international adoption tomorrow. There are a lot of parents who want so desperately to go get their children.

Drinking & Christians

This may be a somewhat controversial post. I will keep the comments option open, but if you disagree with me, please be respectful; as always, I don't mind opposing views as long as they are shared in a mature manner. :-)

I will be 23 in less than two months. And I have never had an alcoholic drink. There was wine at communion as a kid, but I don't really count that. ;-) A couple of weeks ago, I approached my Mom and asked if her & my stepdad might consider allowing me to try a drink. Almost everyone I know who's my age has done this, and done so responsibly... it's mostly a "rite-of-passage" thing for me. I do not smoke and I never will, nor have I ever experimented with drugs and that will never change. But I'd like to be able to have a glass of wine over a nice dinner.

When I approached my parents, I gave them complete authority over this. I told them I'll respect their decision, and I meant it. I laid out my own ground rules: no alcohol in the house under ANY circumstances, and every time I want a drink over a meal (the only circumstance in which I'd have one), it would be only in their presence & I have to ask permission all over again. It would only be when they will be driving and are there to hold me accountable to no more than 1 drink.

My cousin was killed by a drunk driver and I lived with an alcoholic parent for several years... I know the dangers. But I also believe that having the rare drink over a meal can be done responsibly... while also holding to my moral values as a Christian.

Wine is consumed in the Bible by many, including Christ. I do not believe the Bible says "Thou shalt not drink." What it DOES warn about is becoming what we'd call "drunk" - losing control of your actions. There is a fine line which must not be crossed.

My personal view is that as long as I lay out those guidelines and have my parents hold me accountable to them, I can have a glass of wine over dinner. But I also know the importance of submitting to them as my parents, because God not only commands it, He placed them over me in order to guide me in the right path. They haven't made a decision yet, but have told me that they appreciate my coming to them with this... I could have easily gone out & bought some beer and gotten drunk. But I want to be responsible, and I want to submit to them. I live under their roof, and until I'm married, they are my earthly authority (and even after I marry, I must still honor & respect them). My stepsister did NOT handle things this way, and my parents did not appreciate that and it led to many problems.

I'm hesitant to share this, because I do not want to be judged... sometimes Christians are the most judgmental people on earth, unfortunately. But I think it's an important topic and I want to both share my views and hear about yours. It is RELEVANT - when someone reaches my age, this is an issue that will come up, and my parents are very happy with how I've handled it because I'm both being responsible & completely submitting to their authority over me, even though legally I'm old enough to make my own choices & do what I want. Many of you reading this are parents... how would you want your child to handle this at my age? What would your reaction be? If any of you are my age right now, what are your thoughts?

Surgery Story, Part 5! :-)

Okay, so it took me a few weeks... but now I'll go back & continue the surgery story!

Where was I? Oh, right - brain damage. So I was struggling to put words together, couldn't read, and ANY noise in the background overwhelmed me to the point that I couldn't hold a conversation. For awhile, the nurses all told me I'd be okay - my body had been through MAJOR trauma, my brain had something shoved into it, the levels of CSF (fluid) around my brain were less than a third of what they were when I went into surgery - plus I'd had anesthesia, which will make you out of sorts even when you're NOT having brain surgery.

I was still nervous, but didn't really have any choice but to accept what I was being told.

As the days went by, I was still in the hospital. Two days turned to three, which turned to four. On the fourth morning, I was awakened by nurses frantically messing with my IVs, pushing different pain medications through the tubing & into my body. Apparently, I'd been SCREAMING in my sleep... my roommate hit the "Nurse" button, and they could tell by my face that I was hurting. I was completely doubled over as soon as I woke up... so much so that my face was practically in my lap. Eventually, the meds kicked in & I fell back to sleep. That day, I couldn't eat anything... I was too sick to my stomach... so I got dehydrated. Although there'd been hopes I would go home that day, they couldn't release me when I needed IVs. So another night in the hospital it was.

On the fifth day, I got a fever. This was a sign that my body was fighting some sort of infection, and any infection may have been around my brain which obviously isn't good. I needed some scans to see if the newly-placed shunt was working.

That may sound simple, but it's really not. You have to get several x-rays in different positions to check the tubing running from the top of the skull to your abdomen. Then you have to get a CT scan to check brain swelling & fluid levels and if the shunt is placed correctly. The guy doing the CT scan was an idiot... you know that lead-type thing they put over your pelvic area during x-rays? He DROPPED IT ONTO MY STOMACH. Remember, I had an incision there that was over 4 inches long! I started screaming and it took them putting something in my IV to get me to stop. They also had to put me back on oxygen because when I'm in pain, I don't breathe normally.

Once the scans came back clean, they decided I could go home. It was about time!!! After several hours of talking with doctors, the neurosurgeon, and my parents, we got me all discharged & packed up. They put me in a wheelchair since I couldn't walk still, took me down to the entrance (through no less than 15 minutes of hallways!) and got me into our car.

Let's just say the whole seat belt thing wasn't happening. No way was something pressing on any part of my body! My Mom was driving so slowly but the roads around D.C. aren't that great so I cried most of the drive home. Pain meds at that point did nothing.

When we got home, I somehow managed to get myself cleaned up and my Mom helped me into bed. She got everything I could possibly need set up for me, then told me to rest, gave me my meds, and went downstairs so I could rest.

I woke up a short time later, choking.

When I sat up, startled, wondering how I could choke while sleeping, I saw blood.

EVERYWHERE.

And there was more blood by the second.

As I reached for my phone to call my Mom, everything started to get black... I couldn't feel the phone in my hands... I slowly started to fall back into my pillow...

************

And there the story ends until the next part!

I promise it won't be so long between parts this time. I've had a possible case of Swine Flu and I have been SICK. But I'll probably update again soon cuz I'm pretty bored - the doctors said I can't leave the house without a mask on, and I'm just not that into masks. ;-)

so sick...

i'm incredibly sick today. i didn't know it could get this much worse. heart disease causing issues (think Stellan/MckMuffin, but less severe as i have a different kind of tachycardia than him) and we're debating on if to go to the doctor or just to the hospital. this wasn't supposed to happen.

please pray for me.

Why I'll Never Carry A Child

Although right now this blog tends to cover the diseases I'm struggling to overcome, I like to share my heart with whoever will read.

And this issue is something very close to my heart.

Please know that this is not meant in any way to say that I understand the pain of infertility - I'm years out from becoming a parent, and that's IF God heals me.

That said... I do not want to ever carry a child "of my own."

There are the purely physical reasons - with the medications I'm on, it wouldn't be safe, but more importantly, the diseases I have tend to be passed on and I do NOT want my child to suffer the way I do. Obviously anyone can get the things I have, but I see no need to increase the chances that I'll have a child who suffers every moment of their life, that I'll bring a child into the world only to face more pain than most people can imagine.

Then there are the more important reasons. There are over 140 MILLION orphans in the world! And God specifically tells us to care for them. Not "if you want to" or "if you don't want a biological child," but "if you love me, love them." Some people can't adopt - and I'm not one who says everyone should adopt because circumstances are different. But you CAN help in some way.

For me, if I'm physically able to care for them & if I survive this, I want to build my family through adoption.

That's not to say that if God leads me to a husband, and he feels like he MUST have a biological child if at all possible, I won't prayerfully consider that - IN ADDITION to adoption. But right now, the desire isn't there. The desire to eventually have children IS there, but not the desire to give birth to them.

Believe it or not, when I was younger, I thought I could NEVER love an adopted child as much as I'd love a biological child. When my cousin adopted her baby from Guatemala, I loved him as my cousin - that was the beginning of my change of heart. But over time, God has used many people & situations & even blogs to change that completely. Now, I can't imagine NOT wanting to adopt! I'm ashamed of the attitude I held about it for so long and nothing is further from how I feel about adoption now. But most importantly, I've learned that when God brings a child into your heart & into your life through adoption, that child is just as much "your own" as a child you give birth to.

Although I thankfully will never know what it's like to be an orphan as a child - my Mom is the BEST there ever was - I DO know what it's like to feel rejection. My father kidnapped me after abusing me for 11 years... and the abuse was when he was forced to see me at all, he had no desire to most of the time. And although it's important for abuse survivors to be careful in their parenting in order to prevent the cycle of abuse from continuing, I know that my past will make me a BETTER parent - I know what to do & what not to do with kids. When I spent a summer caring for my toddler nephew 24/7, these beliefs were confirmed. I found my weaknesses - I AM easily frustrated - but I also figured out how to effectively deal with them without harming the child. And as much as I love my nephew (more than I can put into words, more than I knew possible), I imagine I'll love my own child even more.

Imagine what an orphan goes through... aside from the abandonment issues, whether they were given up out of love or not:

- nobody to care for them when they're sick
- no one to tuck them in at night
- nobody to celebrate their birthday
- no presents for birthdays or even a card for holidays
- wondering if you'll be warm that night
- wearing clothes that don't fit & are probably literally worn to pieces, passed down from many orphans before you
- never having anything new
- having NOTHING to call your own
- wondering what will happen when you "age out" and are on the streets, alone
- not having anyone to help with your homework or ask how your day was
- having people look at you as potential parents, only to REJECT YOU because you don't fit the picture they have in their head (or feeling that way even if they are being led away from you by God)
- having NOBODY to teach you about the Christian life and hold you accountable to it, helping you in your growth
- not having any pictures of yourself as a baby or your mother when she was pregnant
- sometimes not even knowing our biological parents' names or what they looked like, let alone family history
- not having a family OR unconditional love... can you imagine???

There's a lot more to it than that... these are just some of the things I thought of off the top of my head. Why would I insist on having a biological child when there are so many children who need a loving mother? And not all of those things will go away when a child is adopted... but some of them can be helped, some of the wounds can be healed.

Please understand that I'm not saying it's wrong to want biological children - I'm sure there are many blessings that come with that, and it's special in its own way. As a biological daughter, I love knowing where my blue eyes, blond hair, and light skin came from. I LOVE hearing my Mom tell me about her pregnancy & my birth.

For me, God willing, adoption isn't Plan B - it's Plan A. For now, it's the ONLY plan. I have a love for orphans and that's why I'm majoring in Social Work with plans to go into Child Protective Services (to help kids the way I wished someone would've helped me) and eventually to work in Moscow, Russia with a church that's already told me about a "job" for me there that allows me to work with the orphans there. If God heals me, that's where I want to go, once I'm well enough to finish my last year of college. But whatever the future holds, if I'm healed to the point that I can care for children of my own, I want them to come from somewhere other than my own body.

I don't think I've spoken this candidly about something so personal before. Yes, I've written about my battles with depression, anorexia, self-injury, and my suicide attempt, as well as my past... but I'm so used to talking about it that those things hardly seem personal anymore. I'm extremely open, but this makes me feel rather vulnerable for some reason.

If I've worded any of this in a way that hurts you, please let me know (in a respectful manner) and I'll consider rewording it. I won't apologize for what I've said, but I may apologize for how I've said it if you can point something out - I don't want to hurt people who struggle with wanting a child of their own but not being able to have one. If you can approach me in a mature, respectful way, I'll respond in kind. :-)

If any of you have any questions, I'm open to them... about this or anything else. :-)

Showing Symptoms...

Please be praying that I get better soon, as I'm showing symptoms of Swine Flu after being exposed last week. There isn't anything anyone can really do right now - if I develop pneumonia then I'd be hospitalized but other than that, it's a virus, you can only treat the symptoms. When I got pneumonia as a child I recovered after just a couple days in the hospital, but I tend to get viruses worse than other people - the "seasonal flu" left me with a fever over 104 more than once, which obviously is dangerous. And because of my shunt, if I get a fever, it's off to the hospital to get scans to check for malfunction & tests to check for infection.

Mostly I'm scared of being in isolation. I stayed home today from my Pain Management class because I don't want to expose people, so right now I'm not a risk to anyone except my family (unfortunately, I feel really guilty about exposing them). And I'm not gonna go out unless it's to the doctor, so if there's an outbreak, it's not cuz of me.

Please be praying... I'm really sick. And a little scared. My Mom came in to my room this morning to tell me goodbye when she left for work, and she TOTALLY FREAKED OUT because apparently my coloring was awful & I've been "wheezing" when I breathe (not really wheezing like with asthma, but like a rattling in my chest) so I woke up to "Michelle, wake up! What's wrong?" and questions about painkiller overdoses - that's how bad I looked, and it takes a lot to rattle my Mom after all she's seen me go through.

I'll update when/if I can...

Swine Flu & Shunt Malfunction

Medically-speaking, I'm in a LOT of trouble.

First, I was just exposed to Swine Flu. Now, you may react like my Mom and say, "But Michelle, there aren't any confirmed cases in your area." Well, that's because this case I was exposed to isn't CDC confirmed... it IS confirmed through a blood test done at my doctor's office. So now, if I develop symptoms, I'm in trouble.

Why, you ask?

Where do I even start?

There's the fact that I need to be "surgery ready" at all times - ready to go into emergency brain surgery in case something's wrong with my shunt, as shunt malfunction or infection can kill in 24 hours.

There's the fact that my head ALWAYS hurts, so if I happen to get a fever, we won't know if it's shunt or Swine Flu - meaning I may go in for emergency surgery unnecessarily.

And then there's the fact that I'll end up in the hospital for ANY symptoms of anything in order to make sure they can get me into surgery before I'm in a coma if it comes to that.

So the bedridden girl who never leaves home got exposed to Swine Flu. I leave my house and this is what happens. :-P

I still believe... but, Lord, please give me a break!

You're watching too much YouTube if...

...you watch a DVD on your laptop & click out of full screen to leave a comment on it.

Repeatedly. ;-)

And THEN, to escape the frustration of being unable to comment on said DVDs, you read the news online - only to once again find yourself scrolling to the bottom of the page looking for the "Comment" box.

How sad is that???

Meaningful posts AND a continuation of my Surgery Story series to come - just had to share that with you. :-P

"I want that."

I don't know about the rest of the world, but for me, faith has not always been something that comes easily. Although I grew up going to church & believing in Jesus my entire life - I can't remember a time when I DIDN'T believe as a child - in my teenage years I started to question God.

For me, it's a STRICTLY logical problem... what I can't see, I question. Sure, I know that really, it takes more faith NOT to believe than it does to believe, because the world had to some from somewhere, and believing it came from an explosion of gases makes MUCH less sense than believing it was created, especially when you consider that the things that created the "Big Bang" had to come from somewhere! But still, I want "easy answers." I want to see it... not see the EFFECTS, like with the wind analogy ("you can't see the wind but you can feel it"), but to really, truly SEE. In fact, I secretly labeled myself an atheist for a brief time in high school, much to my shame now.

So the other night, as I was reading in Psalms and some verses about the Easter story, I came upon a man who truly believed. He asked for Jesus to heal one of his household, and believed it would be done. And Jesus held this man's faith up as an example.

My response?

"I want that."

And with those 3 words, in that instant, I proved to myself what I'd been wanting to prove to myself for years.

In wanting that faith so desperately, I proved that I AM a Christian, that Christ DOES live and IS IN ME.

How do I know that?

Because of one simple fact:

The desire to know God is NOT OF THE FLESH, but of HIM.

For me to have that desire - that NEED - He had to give it to me.

Think about it. We as humans do NOT naturally want to serve any god but ourselves. We don't want to hand over control of our lives or subject ourselves to another's rule. It's just not in our human nature.

Human logic: Me first, others second.

Christ-like logic: God first, others second, I am third.

I'm a sinner saved by grace. Not because I'm good, or because I try hard, or because I've earned it, but because of the saving grace of my Savior, Jesus Christ. He died for me, to cover my sins. We hear that so often that it seems trite, but those words hold so much truth & power.

Nothing about me is naturally good. I'm fallen and really, if you know me, that becomes quite clear very quickly! The sins I fall to astound me... sometimes I look at myself and think, "What the heck are you thinking? Why are you acting this way? What is WRONG with you?!?!?"

The answer's simple: EVERYTHING is wrong with me. Or, rather, WAS wrong with me. You see, I'm a Christian now. And although that doesn't make me perfect, it means that the One in me is perfect; although I sin, He who has never sinned forgives me; although by my own efforts I'd be condemed to Hell by falling short of the glory of God, I'm on my way to Heaven because His glory is alive in me.

I don't usually share the lyrics of entire songs... although I often take a few lines, this song really fits in with this post the whole way through. Please take a moment to read the words & really ponder them.

"Faith Like That" by Jonah33

I have read about the days of old
About the men who followed You
And how they saw the supernatural
And became the chosen few

So I come before You now
Tearing off my earthly crowns
For this one thing I have found

[CHORUS:]
I want a faith like that
To see the dead rise or to see You pass by, oh, I
I want a faith like that
Whatever the cost, I'll suffer the loss, oh, I
I want a faith like that

I'm not looking for a miracle
Signs and wonders or things thereof

I caught a glimpse of what You want for me
And what I have is not enough

I read the story one more time
Of those who gave to You their lives
With no fear or compromise

[CHORUS]

I want a faith that can move any mountain
And send them to the seas
I want a faith that can break every stronghold
That keeps You, that keeps from me

And I want a faith like that
To see the dead rise or to see You pass by, oh, I

[CHORUS]

I want a faith like that
A faith like that


...I want that.

Virginia Tech: My Perspective

Yesterday marked the two-year anniversary of the Virginia Tech massacre. Tech holds a special place in my heart, and I will never forget that morning, when I was at my own college 500 miles away.

My mother graduated from Tech, and as long as I can remember, I knew what Hokie Pride was. The "Hokie Nation" the news talked about 2 years ago? It's real. It was before the shootings, and it always will be.

Tech was my second choice - if I didn't get into Cedarville (which is a small Christian school) I wanted to go to Tech. But I got into Cedarville... and that is the ONLY reason I wasn't in Blacksburg that day.

After our daily Chapel service, I went to my first class of the day. I turned my laptop on and settled in for class. The professor wasn't quite ready, so I checked the news online.

"SHOOTING AT VIRGINIA TECH. AT LEAST 1 DEAD."

I literally gasped.

Without thinking, I slammed my laptop shut, shoved it in the case, grabbed my backpack, and ran out of the classroom. NO ONE around me knew yet.

I ran as fast as I could to the campus pastor's office. He wasn't in, so while I was catching my breath, I managed to get out the words that took us all by surprise. But at that point, only the dorm shootings had taken place - it was sad, but small.

Growing up in Northern Virginia - where 7 of the dead were from - a great many of my friends were at Tech. I was slightly worried, but knew that with 1 dead in 25,000, chances were my friends were alright. I headed to the student center, where the only TVs on campus are, as they're always turned onto the news.

It was there that I started making calls. First, my Mom. She called her life-long best friend & fellow Hokie, who had 2 sons currently at Tech - the boys I knew as my "brothers" since I was born. She'd already heard from them & they were safe. Once that was out of the way, I turned to tracking down my friends from high school... all 17 of them... plus calling friends who had siblings there to ask about them as well.

My next call was to my high school class advisor, who I was "friends" with - we had a relationship outside of school, but I still addressed her the same formal way I addressed her in class. Anyway, when she answered the phone, she didn't say "hello" - she said, "I know."

"I know. Okay, we need to make a list. Between the two of us, we should know who's there."

I called my Mom back. "Mom, there's only 1 dead. My friends are okay, right?"

At that moment, I saw it. The headline on the news had gone from "1 dead" to "22 dead."

"Mom, it says 22 dead now, but I think they mean 2. It couldn't go from 1 to 22 so quickly. So 2 dead... that's still not a lot, right?"

She was silent. I heard her take a deep breath, then, as gently as she could, she said, "No, sweetie. It's 22."

I LITERALLY fell to my knees. Right there in the student center.

"NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I screamed into the phone. "That's not right! It CAN'T be right! Mom, tell me they're okay! Tell me they're okay NOW! PLEASE!!!!!!!" It was at that point that it all hit me, and I lost it. Nobody around me understood - those who were watching the TV didn't have cause to be worried. Saddened, of course, just like everyone. But most were from the midwest - they didn't KNOW anyone there, they had nobody to worry about.

In the lobby of the student center, I turned my laptop back on. While I searched Facebook - it DOES have a good use! - for phone numbers and those who might update their Status to something letting me know they were still alive, I called the numbers stored in my cell phone. Every few minutes I'd call my advisor back and let her know who was accounted for.

My dear friend Josh told me that he was running late that morning and missed his bus onto campus.

My friend JK told me that his professor cancelled class for that morning. You know the class if you watched TV AT ALL that day - it was the one that was cancelled and those kids would've been in the building that was shot up, where 31 people lost their lives.

Friend after friend was accounted for. I saw the University President leaving the cafeteria & stopped him. I told him - he didn't know! He immediately hugged me & prayed with me, as he could see how upset I was about my friends. Then he ran off to take care of the obvious things that came up on campuses all over America that day.

I started getting calls from people wanting to know who was accounted for - I guess they remembered from high school that if anyone would be affected & take action, it would be me.

Within two hours, we'd had everyone accounted for. I was relieved, to say the least. For a brief moment, I thought everything would be alright.

But then it hit me.

Not just that my Mom was watching pictures of her beloved Tech all shot up. Not just that it could've been ME if I hadn't gotten into Cedarville or my parents hadn't found the money to send me to a private university.

It was this simple fact: my friends were hurting beyond words. And I was powerless to help them.

My then-best-friend (the one I wrote about at the beginning of my blog & who you'll hear about on my Path to Healing) came into the student center to meet me for lunch, and I remember being so relieved & hugging her so hard. I told her that I was leaving...

..."I HAVE to go, Mary. I HAVE to get to Tech. My friends need me. I can't stay here. If I leave now, I can get there by midnight tonight. I have to go."

She grabbed me by the arms, made me look her in the eye, and told me that I couldn't do anything for them there that I couldn't do from here. Besides, the police wouldn't have let me anywhere near the campus, and everyone was scattered about.

Reluctantly, I agreed.

Later that day, she took me to a house that her now-husband's family used during the summer, because they had a TV where we could watch the news and I could just let myself react rather than trying to hold it together. It was such a blessing to have that. We watched until we had to go back for curfew - just before midnight that night.

I later found out that 2 of the victims went to the high school ONE MILE from my house... and SO DID THE KILLER!!!!!!!!!

My stepsister had MET him. He'd gone to school so close that I can hear their marching band on game nights from my ROOM. If I'd gone to public school rather than private, I may have known the victims.

It all hit home... WAY too close to home!!!

I thanked Jesus for watching over my friends... and prayed for the loved ones of those who He had taken from us. I was praying VERY, VERY hard for the killer's family - it wasn't their fault, yet they were being threatened. They lost a son, too... and had to live with TREMENDOUS guilt over knowing he was responsible. Some parents are partially to blame, but in this case, they really weren't. They had to give up their business & move. Not to mention their son was dead.

I wanted nothing more than to go home, to be back in D.C. with people who "GOT IT," who understood why it hurt so much and why it wasn't just a tragic news story to me. They were all going through the exact same thing. When the semester ended a couple weeks later, I was relieved. The usual amount of Hokie bumper stickers hadn't changed... but now maroon & orange ribbons were added.

It would've been anywhere. It could've been my school. It could've been my friends. Thankfully it wasn't... but it made me realize that nowhere is truly completely safe. Blacksburg is a small college town - just like my school (the one I went to at the time, before I got too sick for school). It made the fragility of life so real to me... these kids just went to class, just like I do, and they never went back to their dorm rooms or apartments or frat houses. They were MY AGE.

When I got back home, I realized that with 1/4 of the dead coming from my area, I easily could've run into them without knowing it. The killer lived very close to me - did I pass him in the store? My stepsister doesn't talk about him... and we don't press it. There's a lot I want to ask, but healing is far more important than curiosity.

Please join me in praying for those affected by what happened at Virginia Tech two years ago as of yesterday. That morning, when I heard the terrible news, I looked at Mary and said, "By the end of the day, the entire nation will know the phrase, 'We are Virginia Tech.'" And I was right. The Hokie Nation joined the entire nation in their grief... a grief that at times still seems fresh.

Please lift them all up in prayer. They ARE Virginia Tech.

Who I am... and why it doesn't matter.

In this world, we tend to define ourselves by what we do. In college, the first thing you ask someone is what dorm they're in & what their major is. When you meet someone, you'll often ask what they do.

Why do we waste time with questions that don't matter?

By worldly standards, I have an "interesting" life, things stand out...

- I'm a Kennedy relative
- I was kidnapped & held in Mexico for a month
- my immediate family was friends with President Reagan
- I get daily migraines & have another disease that means I need a shunt & will have brain surgeries regularly for the rest of my life
- my grandfather was the Doles' dentist & had them over to the house
- my father was a police officer called in to help the Secret Service
- I was abused for 11 years
- I grew up in a neighborhood with ambassadors & went to school with children who had parents in Congress
- I've got connections in every single important building in Washington
- and in gymnastics, which "defined" me for years, my gym is home to world champions & a 2008 Olympian

and yet... none of those things matter at all.

We tend to assign labels to ourselves & others. If it's not a major or job, it's where we're from or who we know. Growing up in D.C. and having the family I have, this has become something I've grown up believing mattered.

It doesn't.

Instead of asking what someone does, why not ask what makes them tick? Rather than asking where someone lives, why not ask what they hold dear?

In this area, everyone puts a LOT of importance in labels... and I will admit, I grew up thinking it was normal. As a small child, I remember being dressed up in horrible outfits for nights at "parties" - not the kind with cake & games, the kind with "important" people and formality. It was "Yes, Mr. Senator" and "No, Madam Ambassador."

And looking back, I realize something: I don't know a single thing about any of those people.

Sure, I know what their titles were... but that doesn't make a person who they are.

We can list off things that "impress" people - I know such & such a person, I met so & so, that sort of thing. But if you ASKED those people if their name defined them, I bet they'd say there's a lot more to them than that.

For example, I lived next door to a guy who was a diplomat from Russia (or somewhere in the former Soviet Union, I can't really remember anymore) from about age 5-9. I was kinda scared of him, he was rather intimidating, but he was a relatively normal guy. He loved his garden, and would sometimes talk to my Grandpa as he watched my little sister & I drive our Power Wheels cars around the cul-de-sac. He had VERY nice cars, and loved all things black. He & his wife had a loud home security alarm that sometimes went off for no reason.

But to nearly everyone else, he was just "a diplomat."

Sorry, but that TITLE didn't define him. In fact, I didn't even realize he HAD a title until one day I was corrected when I addressed him. He was a person. A man with a wife, interests, a home, a sense of humor.

Even with children, labels run rampant. How many times do you see someone in a wheelchair & that's the only thing that sticks out about them? I admit, I used to do this. Then I met someone at college who became my mentor... and she was in a wheelchair. After a few days, the fact she's in a wheelchair wasn't even in my head at all. She was RACHEL.

How often do you do this when you see a child with a disability?
How often do you see someone who's disabled and ask, "What's wrong with you?"

I've done this far too often in my life.

We can be quite superficial people. The things I've written about, the ways we define people, do not matter. My cousin Ted is TED - not "that long-term senator from the Kennedy family." He's got a life, a family, a home, interests.

I'm MICHELLE. Yes, I'm a social work major when I'm well enough to be in school. I want to work with children for a career. And for many years, I was a gymnast as well. But those things are only part of me. If you know nothing about me, and I only say I'm those 3 things, that's all you know of me. Yet I'm much more complex than that. I'm much deeper than that.

So... who do you really know? Who do you try to put into nice little boxes? When you meet someone, do you try to get to know who they are or are you satisfied with knowing what they do for a living?

Labels can be helpful... they describe things ABOUT us. But they do not DEFINE us.

Who am I? I'm a Christ-following young woman who happens to love gymnastics, Social Work, Russia, politics, history, the United States of America, advocating for suicide prevention, being a friend, and voting Republican despite my Kennedy roots.

The only label that matters is this one: Christian.

Everything else is just words.

Who are you?

PLEASE PRAY!!!!!!!!

As those of you following my story know, I had a shunt inserted into my brain with tubing under my skin all the way down to my abdomen just 4 months ago.

I am showing signs of shunt malfunction... which could kill me.

The bigger risk is of brain damage, which I'm still struggling with from the first surgery, both because of the way the shunt goes into the center of the brain & because of the anesthesia I couldn't wake up from.

At the very least, if the shunt's broken, you must fix it - meaning repeat brain surgery even worse than the first, because before the new one goes in, the old must come out - and they have to cut all the way across my stomach to run the tubing through.

People slip into a coma easily if the shunt malfucntions. There ARE warning signs - but everyone in my house is sick with a flu & stomach bug, so the nausea & fever aren't the big things they'd usually be. My head is POUNDING but I get daily migrianes. See the problem? It isn't clear cut.

We need wisdom. I could go to the ER and have scans run... they put people like me right under those who need help staying alive at that second. But my body's been exposed to more radition through scans than most are in a lifetime - I believe my doctor said I'm already at nearly twice the exposure, and CT scans/x-rays/MRIs WILL be part of my life until I die.

We knew I'd have repeat surgery every few years even if things went great... shunts & tubing break down over time. But I'm still recovering from the initial surgery!

I'm scared. I'm not afraid to admit that. Not in a terrified way, more in a "I really don't want to deal with this" way.

Would you please pray for me?

Would you consider even asking your blog readers to pray for me? Even if you don't want to link to my blog, even if you don't mention my name (both of which you're more than welcome to do, I just don't mind if you'd prefer not to), I'd just really appreciate all the prayers I can get.

For wisdom for me as I describe my symptoms, for my parents who are very sick themselves & are more responsible for me than I am because the danger hits when I'll be unaware & they can only tell by my behavior, and for the doctors caring for me, particularly my neurosurgeon & neurologist.

I serve a God big enough to heal me... but that doesn't mean He will this side of Heaven.

Thanks so much for walking with me & praying to the One who controls it all...

Surgery Story, Part 4!! :-)

As the hours passed and I lay in a hospital bed in the anesthesia recovery unit, slipping in & out of consciousness, I started to notice that most of the people in the unit had been moved. I managed to ask the nurse who was caring for me why I was still there.

"Umm... we can't find a bed."

She looked away from me as she said this, and at the time I was too out of it to ask any further questions.

Unaware of how long it had taken me to wake up, I finally was told after what seemed like forever that a bed had been found. Great, let's go! I was wheeled up to the Neurology unit in the hospital in my bed, my oxygen was put back on, and I was given THE BUTTON!



Yes, that wonderful button that you can press to make pain medication come out of your IV. That button & I were wonderful friends! :-D

I suddenly became aware that my hair was missing on one side of my head. This was expected - you have to shave the hair away to do brain surgery - but for some reason, this really upset me. (The picture is one that is the least graphic, it covers the 2 incisions on my head & makes me look a little less bald than I truly am. My hair was held in the position shown with really hard stuff for a full week to prevent it from getting stuck on the incision & lessen my chance of infection.) However, I was soon asleep and blissfully unaware of the true extent of my condition. After lots of medications were put into my IV, I drifted off to sleep for the night, awakened only for the hourly vitals checks.



It was the next morning when I finally was able to ask my parents why it was dark when I was taken to my room, and why all the other patients got to leave the recovery unit so long before I did. They told me something that really shook me up.

"Michelle, honey, you wouldn't wake up. They took the tube out & you were breathing on your own, but you just wouldn't wake up for them."

"How long was I under?" I asked, knowing I should've been awake by lunch time.

"Well... you were out until it was dark out, I'm not sure when that was, maybe 4 or 5."

"WHAT?"

At the time, it was surprising, but not too concerning. It wasn't until later that day that I realized the consequences of not waking up would be.

Later that day, I attempted to read to distract myself.

PROBLEM: I could see the words, I knew what they were, but I couldn't put them together. They didn't make sense to me.

Alarmed, I told my nurse what the problem was and she said, "Oh, it'll be alright, you're still recovery from the anesthesia. Give it a few more hours, maybe even wait until tomorrow."

Although I was still worried, I decided that the nurse knew more about it than I did and decided to watch the TV I was provided with next to my bed... when I was awake, that is. ;-)

Later that evening, my roommate - who was AMAZING - had lots of family over in our room. My parents came in right after her group arrived, and tried to talk to me.

I couldn't talk.

I could SAY things... but unless it was COMPLETELY, 100% quiet, I got overwhelmed with the noises around me and all I could get out was, "Shh!"

It took me over a minute to say, "I can't do this."

At that point, I was thoroughly freaked out!

Others may have been glad that I'd shut up for a change; quiet + Michelle = no. But as for me, I was completely freaked out. And my parents weren't exactly nonchalant either.

I was completely coherent in the sense that I could think perfectly rationally; I was a bit slow, but I was still recovering from the anesthesia and was loaded on painkillers through my IV. The problem was that I couldn't say what I was thinking, I couldn't get those thoughts out, I couldn't express anything... and I couldn't read, either. Writing wasn't happening, and even when I physically could move the pen, I couldn't put the letters together.

The hospital decided not to discharge me that day... I'd been told one to two nights, and they were going for two. I didn't know that I wouldn't be going home the next day, either... or that the term "irreversible brain damage" would be spoken to me so unexpectedly.

********

Part 5 - Crisis - coming in the next couple of days! :-)

Surgery Story, Part 3! :-)

As I slowly opened my eyes, I found myself staring at a ceiling I was unfamiliar with. It took a few moments for me to realize where I was - in the anesthesia recovery unit. The nurse to my left, who was assigned to me & one other patient on the other side of her & all the monitors, asked how I was feeling.

"Like someone just drilled into my skull and cut into my brain."

She laughed. I tried... and that's when I realized the SEARING pain in my abdomen. I knew I'd have an incision there, but despite having had a hernia operation as a child, the pain was so much worse than I'd imagined - even worse than the pain in my head!!!

Little did I know that this laugh wasn't just about my comment... I would only find out later that it had taken me far too long to wake up - as there were no windows in the unit, I had no way of knowing it was already dark out even though I should've been awake by lunch time - and everyone breathed a sigh of relief when I was finally conscious.

Suddenly, an alarm started going off. I tried to turn my head to look at it, but realized I COULDN'T. The tubing running under my skin from the top of my head all the way down to my abdomen was tight and as it rubbed against my bones it was extremely painful.

So I did the only thing a 22-year-old could do. I asked for my Mommy! :-P

"Not yet. Two hours awake, then your parents."

I wanted to argue, but was far too tired. I fell asleep and when I woke up, I once again asked for my parents. I was having difficulty talking, which I later found out was related to the complications I was having, but at the time I was too out of it to notice.

I'll NEVER forget when my parents got to my side. I heard my Mom say my name in a way I'd never heard it said before... almost like a question, like I could hear her saying so much just in the way she said my name, almost begging me to say something - ANYTHING - to show her I was okay, that the brain surgery part of it didn't take her daughter away from her, that I was still me.

"Michelle?"

"Hi Mom. I was asking for you!"

"Thank you dear Lord! Hey sweetie, how are you feeling? Do you recognize all of us?"

It was then that I noticed my stepdad adjusting the nasal cannula delivery oxygen to my body. "Yes, Earl is messing with me. I can't catch a break."

I don't remember what happened next... only that I fell asleep and woke up again to my Uncle and Grandma at my side, still in the recovery unit.

At that point, I was too weak & in too much pain to talk. They kissed my forehead and left.

It was then that I started to realize something was wrong... very, very wrong.

**************

Part 4 - COMPLICATIONS - coming soon!