Beauty is from Within

THURSDAY JULY 10014

Beauty is from within

I don't know where to start. It's difficult to type, but I need to record what happened this past week. I was so happy when Eric came for my surgery; he makes everything better, we have never been apart for this long and it has been hard on both of us. Seven weeks of waiting is a difficult road to ride. I read my new Live Happy Magazine over and over, Knowing I Can Make a Difference--figuring out how the hard part was.

On July 3, at the Cleveland Clinic around 5:30 am, Eric and Diana were with me. As I paced the floor, not wanting anyone to talk to me or touch me, I realized I was having a panic attack and prayed to Heavenly Father to take this pain and anxiety away. He did, and I was soon off to the O.R. to get dressed in the hospital gown--It doesn't matter what hospital you're in; the robes are all the same.
Before Eric came back to see me off to surgery, I said several quick prayers asking Heavenly Father to watch over the surgeon's hands and asked if it were His will that he would allow me to heal from this odd, unexpected trial I was facing. I wanted to put my head under the pillow and hold it down so I could scream, cry and forge through this quickly.

Frenchy sending me off to surgery.

Ready for Surgery with Diana Lents

Eric kissed me on the forehead as they wheeled me into the OR; it was challenging to maintain my composure, tears flowed from my eyes and onto my pillow. Down the hallways of Cleveland Clinic, I saw a wall with 30-50 white coats hanging on hooks; I started to cry again. Those coats belong to doctors who will come to the hospital, take their white coats off the hook, and go to work. The tears continued to flow as nurses came up to me, asking what they could do for me--I shook my head back and forth and watched them walk away, not knowing what to do. I wanted them to put me out and get going on this surgery. I always look forward to going to my Happy Place in Paris Port Jaune; Eric and I pick wildflowers, ride bikes, and have a picnic, leaving the rest of the world and worries behind. I'm ready to move on with the surgery and hopefully put this chapter to rest,

This picture still brings me to tears; Eric is the
the most positive person I know--thank you Frenchie

I woke up in recovery in a lot of pain; I was trying to process where the pain was coming from, as the Nurse said, "Mrs. Williams, time to wake up. Do you know where you are?" "How many fingers am I holding up?" It was then that I realized the surgery was over; my immediate response was to touch my head to see what damage had been done. It was an 11-hour surgery, lots of anesthesia, blood, and what's this? A neck brace--I'm confused--Eric and Diana came into recovery; Eric told me I was beautiful. I thought his saying I was beautiful was so sweet, and I knew it wasn't true; how could I be beautiful with blood all over me, a swollen head, and staples making their way down my skull like a train track?

Just out of surgery

So happy to be with this guy

a kiss from Frenchy

Going back to my room, I kept going in and out of consciousness; not only does Cleveland have bumpy roads, but the driver taking me back to the room was also bumping into walls and doors. He also asked me what I would like him to sing for me, really? He wanted to sing; I said OK, Luther would be good, so he started singing Luther Vandross 'Here and Now' I told him it was beautiful, but not to quit his day job. He put his pointer finger to his mouth as if to shhh me. We arrived at my room; I had a few minutes before Eric and Diana came so I cried a little. I was overwhelmed with immediate love and peace when Eric walked into my room. With Eric, I don't have to say a word and he knows what I think. I sure don't want to disappoint him; he has been my rock and my friend Mysti has been with me through all this nonsense,

 On day two at the hospital, it was a Holiday..the 4th of July. The doctors on my team sent their residents to visit me. One resident told me he was there in place of my pain doctor, and he would put in orders for my pain medicine. Within a half hour, my pain slowly rose to a 6; I beeped for the Nurse and asked her for pain medicine. She said she would get it right away; within a few more minutes, my pain rose to level seven. I beeped for the Nurse again, asking for pain medicine. She then told me the resident did not put any orders in for pain medicine...WHAT? By now, I was at level eight going on nine ...the pain was so bad I started to cry, then I asked the Nurse to please call my husband; just wanted him there. From this point on, I tried to process happy thoughts and happy moments; sometimes worked sometimes it just didn't. I stared at the clock, not only waiting for the meds but also wanting Eric to be with me; he always makes things better. I was out of breath and crying so hard, trying to catch my breath I was sobbing in pain. The sweet Nurses rubbed my arms and legs trying to help, but she too was crying so we were not getting too far. I tried to sing "Be still my soul" through the gulps of air, then I sang "Come thou font."  Trying to tune my heart to Him. I sang, "I feel my Savior's Love"

  My room was right in front of the nurse's desk so they could watch me and monitor my pain levels. I was staring at the clock and whimpering loudly, out of control. I was on my own, I felt deserted, left alone, scared, and crying the hardest I ever had in my life. I was yelling in between cries, "Why have you ignored my pleas and prayers?" This was going to be my last day on earth, and I would not be able to say goodbye to Eric. Before every surgery, I write a letter to Eric and each one of my children. I paged the Nurse and asked her if she had contacted Eric, she said no, I asked her to please give him the letters in my backpack in case I didn't make it.

The other patients in the area where I was were complaining, telling the nurses to get my doctor or move them so they wouldn't have to hear me--I tried so hard to stop crying, the nurses were coming in saying how sorry they were, but they couldn't do anything until they heard from the doctor. I could hear nurses at the station outside of my room, they were laughing and joking with each other. The cackling of laughter I heard I will never forget. My desperate cry for help was falling on deaf ears. After an hour and sixteen minutes, the resident came into my room. He walked up to me and said "Why are you crying? It can't hurt that bad." I was covering my mouth because I knew I must have looked horrible. Then he said something that made me want to kick him "Why are you covering your mouth?" Looking back on this I say, "Are you kidding me?" I also recognize he was showing off as the senior resident to the junior residents. I didn't respond except with a cry and a loud scream "Please help me" Finally the pain medicine was surging through my veins with purpose and strength. As he walked out of the room, I heard the Nurse ask "Where have you been for an hour and 15 minutes? We have been paging you?" Arrogantly as possible he turned looked at the Nurse and said, "I don't have to answer to you."  When I could finally speak without trembling, I didn't want to, I just wanted Eric. I had been wailing and gnashing from side to side for an hour and 15 minutes, it took every bit of energy I had. My heart was racing but my blood pressure was low. When Eric arrived all was calm, he had no idea except he asked me "Sweetheart have you been crying?"  Uh--just a bit and I could see the hurt in his eyes as I told him, Eric said no one ever called him, which now in retrospect I realize was best. He never gets mad, but I'm sure this was not going to be acceptable behavior, I know he would have gone crazy seeing me in that much pain.

Today I had my post-op appointments with the surgeons, and they told me my ear looks great and everything is healing perfectly. Still, I am in a lot of pain, and I just want to go home.

I was told I can go home, and that I will need to see Doctor Barrs for the next few weeks, then in two months we will see how the nerve in my face has regenerated. The doctors told me this type of major surgery with nerves takes at least six to eight months to see results, so patience is going to be my middle name. Tonight, I am exhausted from the appointments, I am grateful for Dr. Haberkamp. I hope I never see Dr. Cocky Face again. I am looking forward to seeing my family. The happiness I feel in my heart far outweighs the horrible experience I had at the hospital. I'm going to live happily with the results of my surgery no matter what.

Happiness comes from within and is found in the present moment by making peace with the past and looking forward to the future. Eric was right when he said "You are beautiful"

I think I look terrible here, but my sister
said, "well you have no wrinkles, Nerium
is working"  

I was able to send those beautiful nurses who took such great care of me a note telling them how grateful I was for their compassion during a horrible time.

 

I feel my Saviors Love

 

WEDNESDAY, JULY 2, 2014

I feel my Savior's Love

 Rainbows always show up when I need a sign from Heavenly Father
that he here's me. They are magnificent to me.

Well, I'm here again the night before a significant surgery, hoping and praying I've been away from my family will prove worth it this time. Making decisions without Eric or the kids helping me has been challenging. Every hour, I need to say a silent prayer to the Lord to bless me with a light that can feed my brain with knowledge. Then I ask them to help me be still enough to hear what He is trying to teach me. 

 I know change, and fears of change, have been on my mind. I've been walking around with a patch on my right eye; I hope the drops I've put in it night and day, along with the patch 22/7, were enough to not have a cornea transplant. My time alone has given me time to reach down and ask some gut-wrenching questions. One is, can I live a quality life with my face the way it is right now? Am I confident enough to live the rest of my life having people stare, to hear children say to their parents, "what is wrong with that lady's face or eye?" I've had a few even ask me themselves; I just tell them I have a boo-boo. 

These past 5 weeks in Cleveland, I've gotten inner strength I never thought I had. I wish I could understand His plan for me. I've read my scriptures and Preach My Gospel chapter 6, every day trying to be led to a place I need to be, asking and begging Him to teach me what I need to do so that I can return and live with Him one day. I don't know how I'm doing in that area; this is so hard. I need to hold on to everything I know to be accurate and not let go. Those things I know are precious to me and can never be taken from me. I've had many spiritual experiences since my 1st surgery at Mayo. The Lord loves me enough to give me a glimpse into my future; it is beautiful; every time I wake up, I want to go back, but I'm always told, "It's not your time; you must return and finish your journey." 

I received a text from a friend today (I don't want to reveal her name. She knows who she is). She had been thinking of me but didn't quite know the right words to say. She then said I hope you can get the answers you're looking for if it is the Lord's will. When I read that part, I could not get it off my mind... What is the Lord's will for me? Even I don't know the answer to that. She mentioned the fact she has been the caregiver of 2 sons who have been struggling with health issues; she said something else that has stuck in my head...she said she would gladly take their pain on herself so these boys would not have to feel it. This reminded me of the feelings our Heavenly Father must have when He sees his children struggling, He easily could take our pain away, but for some reason, He never does; why is that? I believe He wants us to learn to rely on Him entirely, give Him all we have, then sit back and have FAITH, have enough HOPE in Him to make miracles happen, or be strong enough to accept what is being presented to us, and find a way to live a happy life in whatever circumstances we are faced with.

I also received a text from my sweet Haleigh Bear:
H: "mom, when are you coming home.?
M: "Good question; it all depends on how well the surgery goes. I'm praying it all goes excellent so I can go home this weekend. I'm really scared.
H: We miss you so much, I pray for you every morning and night and I have faith that the surgery will go well. Don't be scared. The Heavenly Father is always looking over you, and dad will be there.
M; yes, I'm looking forward to seeing him; this is the longest we have ever been away from each other. He's the only one who knows how to calm me when I get those anxiety attacks while I'm waiting for surgery; I just don't want to ever feel that extreme pain from the nerve again."

Have I kept my promises to Him? When I was about fourteen, I promised the Lord if He would get me out of the situation I was in, I would promise to live a life of pure intent, I would share His Gospel with others, I would study and share with others how to live a happy life, no matter what. These past 5 years are different from what I had in mind. When I look in the mirror, I don't see what He sees. I know He sees the heart inside me, and He knows how much strength I have; he has shown me I can handle any trial I face. He's always been there beside me; I know when I kneel to pray to Him, He always answers back, it's not always the answer I want, or the timing is not always when I want it to be. I believe in Miracles, and He is the only one who can make those happen.

Going into this surgery, I feel all alone; even though Eric is here, I feel like I am negotiating with the Lord for my life. My anxiety for this surgery differs from what I have fished with other surgeries. I'm far away from home, and I just must keep remembering no matter where I am, He is always there, just one prayer away. I feel like this road is getting longer and longer, harder and harder to maintain calm. My heart is beating in my chest; I don't know if I can ask Him to take that away. I realize my life is forever changed, and I will never be the same again; I hope I can be a better version of myself; even with my face disfigured, I know who I am, and I know the kind of person I want to be. As a person who has witnessed what Heaven feels like, I cannot deny what I know to be true. I know the Lord has a plan for me; I just need to figure out what that is.

Tonight, as I lie down to sleep: I feel my Savior's love; his gentleness enfolds me, and when I kneel to pray, my heart is filled with peace; he knows I will follow Him, give all my life to Him, I feel my Savior's love, the love He freely gives me.

Dr. McDreamy

 

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 18, 2014

Dr. McDreamy

Been there, done that....never again...

That little black area is where the source of blood came from

So much for that shirt, bra and undergarments.

I felt every bit of that blood trickle down.

Ambulance...? REALLY...?? I wonder how much that will cost me

I decided to venture out of my hotel and see if I could find some pants. I only brought one suitcase and ran out of clothes. I thought by now I would have had surgery and been home with my family, so I didn't bring extra anything...really, you can believe it, I'm a woman and didn't pack heavy--my husband should be impressed.
I made it to a Macy's department store and was looking on the sales rack (Eric, you would be proud)
Nothing there, but while I was standing there, I heard something behind me hit the wall, I turned to look, and it was a significant splatter of blood. Immediately my ear was gushing bright red runny blood down my neck; I felt a puddle forming in my undergarments but was afraid to look--I grabbed my ear, and sure enough, it was not stopping. There was blood everywhere. The sales associate took me to the bathroom and sat me on a chair. The blood was still gushing out, saturating the wet towel, and I could feel the blood going down my throat as I put my head back.
Macy's called 911... I asked them not to because I didn't want to pay the bill for an ambulance when I could just drive to Cleveland Clinic. As soon as the EMTs saw inside my ear, they decided for me, and soon I was lifted into an ambulance. I had to tell the history of my ear issues over and over today. To top it all off, when I arrived at the Cleveland Clinic, they rolled me into the emergency area and told me to put in room 13..." No, I will not go in room 13; please don't take me in that room, I'll wait in the hallway, but do not take me in there"  wanting me to calm down the EMT asked me why I didn't want to be in that room, I said "It's not a good number, it's bad, and I need all the blessings I can get right now"  he laughed at me and rolled me into room 13...YIKES--Soon Diana and her sister, who lives here, came into my room they waited with me until a doctor could come--An ENT came, cleaned me up, and called for Dr. Haberkamp; however, he was deep into surgery and would not be able to come. We waited for one of his residents to come. Finally, he opened the curtain and said, "Hello" I couldn't resist it I replied, "Did you have to be so dang cute?"
  he laughed, and as he walked closer, I could see he had a hickey on his neck, again I couldn't resist it...."Um, you know I can see that hickey, you're not fooling anyone" he laughed and said, "I'll have to talk to my wife about that."

By this time, it had stopped bleeding...this was so scary; I had no idea an ear could bleed that much--Originally, the EMT told us he could see the blood seeping from the surgery plug Dr. Haberkamp had put it in to cover the nerve. Dr. Cutie Pie said there was a small black area in the bowl area of my ear where the blood was coming from. He said since I was seeing my surgeon tomorrow, I could leave, and Dr. Haberkamp will assess it tomorrow. I was so relieved; it was very scary to feel that amount of blood gushing from my ear and not know what to do. I just held it, like I did when I was a young child; I remember holding it when it hurt. I thanked the doctor and said have a good day "Dr. McDreamy." He was embarrassed but he smiled.

Besides a migraine, I felt fine when I left the hospital. I just wanted to go back to the hotel and sleep; I was exhausted. I did my usual going-to-bed regimen, I was finally able to lie down and once again, the blood started gushing. I remember Dr. McDreamy told me to put some Afrin on a cotton ball and pressure it if it started to bleed again. I did exactly what the doctor said, and voila' blood flow stopped. I put some bacitracin on it, covered it with a cotton ball and band-aid...and off to sleep.

I WANT MY WIFE BACK

SATURDAY, MAY 24, 2014

--I WANT MY WIFE BACK--

First,  before I start on today's excitement, I have not been able to blog for a while, not because of the neuropathy, but because this is a sacred place I like to come, to get real with my feelings and come to a higher ground of healing--I'm having a hard time coming to grips with the new me--I don't like it--I feel like everything that has lead up to this moment was supposed to prepare me, but it hasn't, and I feel like a failure in so many ways--with this being said I want to lead up to today's events.

May 16 -Eric's birthday--I called and asked him to please NOT come to the hospital; I wanted him to spend some time with the family and grandkids--do something fun--being at the Mayo Clinic AGAIN is not fun--he had a tough time agreeing with this--but I insisted.

Ezra and Recker with Grandad on his birthday

I wish I could have been there, but so glad to get this picture text over to me--I love these little guys and really miss them. Eric could go to dinner with the kids and have a great time with the grandkids.

Saturday, May 17

Today, Eric brought me home from the hospital--as happy as I am to be home--I am still drugged up and cannot wait to get myself off these pain meds. If I listed the drugs I am "supposed" to be taking, it would blow your mind--it does mine--I know they are doing this to keep my pain in control, as I was in extreme pain while in the hospital. So I started slowly taking myself off them to ensure I was not in any pain. 

 I knew I did not want to go through the pain I had initially felt, so I have taken every precaution to ensure I am OK. The 1st couple of days, I slept hours upon hours--then tried bit by bit to slowly wean myself from the medicine; today, I am completely off of all pain medicine and back to the regimen I was used to before this episode.

  We arranged for a home nurse to come in and teach Eric how to administer my antibiotics twice per day through a PICC line in my upper arm. Every morning, Eric administers my medicine through my PICC line; that evening, 12 hours later, he does it again.
Last night the home care nurse came by to take blood--it was a difficult take--my PICC line was clogged up, and it took her over an hour to pull any blood out it felt as if blood was being pulled from my heart.--and I think she just barely got what she could.

Today is Wednesday, May 21.

Eric and I got up early. He wanted to be with me at this appointment today. First, he had to access my PICC line, which was extremely hard for some reason. Now both sides were clogged up, and Eric was putting all of his weight into it he was able to finally push through, with little blood return. Once that was done, we headed on our way to Mayo Clinic--I looked at myself and told Eric I don't think I have ever left my home looking like this. He didn't see anything wrong with it. My shirt was wrinkled, I had no makeup, and bruises were on my face, arms, and hands. I was a mess. 

To walk into Mayo Clinic today was excruciating. The smells hit me from every direction--I could see the people I walked past looking at me as if I had a massive tumor growing out of the side of my face. I thought I should have left my sunglasses on and worn a mask. I would look perfectly normal here--when we checked in, the receptionists saw my PICC line hanging out of my shirt and asked me if I was supposed to be on the 7th floor at the hospital (equal to the 3rd floor on the Shea Campus--ports, PICC lines, and chemo) I said, "I have no idea, the lady who called yesterday asked me to come for blood work to be done before my appointment with Dr. Barrs." I assumed she knew it was to be taken from my PICC line. She said no, it was to be drawn from a vein on my arm. I was immediately called into the lab, where she proceeded to find a vein--nope, not that one. After several attempts with insufficient blood being drawn, she tried one last time in my right hand. Yay, it worked. She was able to get just enough blood.

I found out the blood work was being ordered by my endocrinologist, who had recently changed my thyroid medicine and was checking to make sure it was a high enough dose--I suddenly remembered I had that appointment with her a couple weeks ago. Hence, she had no idea what I had been through these past weeks. 

As we stepped out into the waiting area, something was always going on, but today I was not in the mood. Still, a part of me watched as people came in and out. Today two people stood out in my mind. One was a doctor who arrived in his scrubs and sat down. He was looking around, and our eyes met, and then he was called back for labs. A man and his wife were waiting to see an ENT in the other corner of the room. He tried to speak. He had to activate his voice by putting his finger on his throat. I watched him scare the lady off her chair next to him as he leaned in to ask her a question about some video game she was playing, she apologized, and he then returned the apology. This brought the 1st smile to my face in weeks. Why? Maybe because I saw that they, too, found humor in it.

We were called back and sat in a room where we waited for a very long time, but not longer than my appointment was supposed to be. We had just gotten there too early for lab work. Dr. Barrs came in with his resident Dr. Coursin (Andy). I had been in such a foggy head the second I saw him and remembered seeing him quite often at the hospital. He is a pretty familiar face, one I enjoy seeing; he's quiet yet seems to know his stuff.

I told Dr. Barrs I had taken myself off of all pain medicine--I think he was surprised but mainly wanted me to be honest with him about whether I was feeling the pain or not. I reassured him and Eric that I was not in pain and was trying to de-fog my brain from all that junk. He agreed it was OK as long as my pain was gone.  

Then he took a look inside my ear--it is really corroded with dried blood; I was hoping they were going to clean that out today--nope, he filled it with bacitracin which was like filling my ear with Vaseline, and the hotter it gets outside, the more it melts and makes a mess. Then he asked me to come to take a seat next to Eric. He told me exactly what happened to me during my stay at the Mayo Clinic Hotel (Hospital). Within days, the nerve he covered with a graft of skin became gangrene; in other words, the nerve died. He gave Eric a picture of it; the flesh around it is healthy, but the nerve died. It was black--and is now being covered by packing in my ear.

OK, so what is the next step? Dr. Barrs begins by explaining he has a team of Doctors available to help with surgery on June 03. There were some options. Dr. Barrs explained the minimum was to cover the nerve with a muscle graft and wait. Or go in and graft over the nerve and have another doctor there to do something with the nerves in my tongue to reposition over to the nerves that are not working in my face. 

I'm sure I got some of this wrong--the whole time he was talking, I felt like I was in a charlie brown cartoon, and the teacher was talking, but my ears were not understanding--waaa waaaa waaa-- I continued to look at Eric and make sure he is taking notes.  

Eric said, "I want my wife back, and I want her to be HAPPY again," Dr. Barrs said, "if you're asking me if the right side of her face is ever going to be the same again, the answer is no. I'm sorry, but the nerve is dead, and we cannot bring something back to life that is dead. You need to start loving your wife and forget about her face ever looking the same again." I could feel the tension. Eric did not know how to respond except, "I never said I didn't love my wife. I just want to see her happy again."  

Dr. Barrs looked at Eric and said, "She needs to learn to love the new Monya. I was fond of the Monya you and I used to know, but I also love the new Monya, but I need you both to understand she will never smile again." Eric asked him if we could have a few minutes alone. When he left the room. Eric and I looked at each other with questions what should we do next? Are we being hasty in making a decision? Actually, just the opposite, we looked at each other and said, "We are not making any decisions today; we are going to wait, pray as a family, and make a decision when we are ready. With nerves, I know there is a window of opportunity, and we need to make decisions quickly. However, not today, not now, please. I'm so confused.

 Fighting back the tears, trying again to be BRAVE--I think I have finally gotten to a point where I am ready to say, "Why me?" I've done everything I've been asked to do, all Dr. Kreymerman, Dr. Magtibay, Dr. Northfelt, and now Barrs have asked of me. I have lived a life worthy of feeling joy, I know my tears are not meant as a surrender, but I'm tired. The pain is not going away, and I'm not talking about the physical pain. This pain comes from deep within me--it makes me question everything I have preached to my children to live by. I trusted Heavenly Father; why was he abandoning me?  

I believe there are times when life throws us into unexpected storms, and it's at those times we are forced to face our most profound pain--it is then that we have to dig deep and decide if the pain is worth it; I know this life gives us disappointments and HARD things come. I have been forced to stand up, be BRAVE, put on my big girl pantie,s and move on. Today, I'm not there--I just want to cry, and I deserve to cry until every drop has left my body--

After leaving Dr. Barrs's office, we headed up to the infusion floor. The seventh floor of the hospital is where the chemo is infused. The antibiotics I am being infused with twice a day are very strong and cause my body not to work as well as I am used to--I spent a bit of time in the bathroom several times while waiting to be called. Eric took care of checking me in and getting our beeper. I positioned myself in chairs so we could see the outside mountains, dessert, and sunshine.  

I kept thinking about Dr. Kreymerman; most of the time, I look forward to these visits knowing I will be able to see him and Heather and even have lunch with them between appointments. Today, Heather is not available for hours. I'm nauseous, taking in the smells of this floor, this hospital where I was just discharged from last week--it's more than I can handle. When I close the door on this place, it lets itself back in. For some reason, it enters my life uninvited. It allows me to go, but it finds me again. I can't help but wonder how many times I can pick up these pieces and start over again. 

I watched as a nurse came and got Shirley, pushed her back in the wheelchair, asking her if she was ready for her IVIG infusion today? What kind of question is that? Who says, "Hell yeah, I'm ready to. Let's go. It's a party back here?" 

This is not just passing through. This one is BIG. Just as soon as I feel I'm in a good place and can move forward, like I've let this go, it always finds me again. I can't handle it anymore. I wish I could say the tears release my pain, but in so many ways, I feel like I am constantly learning to breathe again and again. This time it's more than tears. It's the sobbing, not wanting to be left alone, I can't handle. I'm sorry this is so real and raw. I know God did not make my body a place to constantly feel this pain. I wonder how long the depression and despair will last. This is the VILLAIN taking on a different name.

 I watched as plenty of people came in and out of the infusion unit today, some bald, some carrying their chemo packs on their backs in a backpack--I was trying every way I could to have a pity party, but then someone else would step off that elevator and give me a new perspective--a man with one leg, being pushed in a wheelchair by a not so patient wife, or a patient wearing an oxygen tank.  

It took quite a while before we were called back, but a cute young, well-qualified PCC line technician finally took us back into a room. She could not access it and had to put some medicine in the line and asked us to return in an hour. We went down the elevator. I just wanted some fresh air. I heard a "code blue" at the entrance of Mayo; seriously? Could anything else happen today that would push me over the edge? Right before me, I watched a woman take her last breath. They worked as hard as they could, and I watched and wished it was me. What the hell of an exit--drop down at the entrance of Mayo Clinic on your way to your car, take your last breath, and be done, done with Mayo, done with pain, done with having to make medical decisions. Today, I have no grace left in me, no patience, no remorse, no regrets, and no feeling.

Eric was waiting for me in the cafe. He wanted to grab a bite to eat--none of it looked good, but I tried a bit of everything-- grilled cheese, tomato and arugula sandwich, hot dog (something I never order), minestrone soup, and a white chocolate raspberry bundt cake--none of these were eaten--just itty, bitty bites--As I walked outside to find the perfect table, I glanced over. I saw Tony Mendez, PA, to Dr. Barrs. He didn't even recognize me.

I've always said, "since I've done away with sugar, processed foods, and white flour, per Dr. Northfelt's request, if my cancer comes back, my final meal will be filled with all of the above" However, today showed me the exact opposite--none of this looked good to me, none of it tasted good, everything I eat tastes like metal--this is from the infusions of antibiotics. I want to throw up every time I try to eat--and it mirrors how I felt going through chemo.  

If I am honest, I would much rather be sitting in front of Dr. Northfelt and having him tell me...these exact words, "your cancer is back"  At least with cancer, it was challenging to go through. Still, the VILLAIN did not win; I hate when people say, "she or he lost their battle to cancer," but no, they didn't. Most people who go through cancer treatments come out on the other side of it a better person, a stronger person, given a chance to redeem themselves and help others to do the same. I feel this thing with the nerve in my face is not going away--I'm not sure how I can recover from this.

 I feel like I have a heavy load. I can hardly breathe right now--my strength is gone, and I'm weak--I don't think I've ever felt this emptiness I'm feeling now.  

I've asked friends and family to pray for me, to ask the Lord to heal me, or to give me strength to endure whatever is coming next. Maybe their prayers will be heard. How many times do I need to do this? Eric said softly, "You are beautiful." Today, right now, I don't want to hear that. I'm sad, I'm scared, and I'm angry.

 After we finished up my PICC line, we were given the green light to go home--I ran to the elevator, got off on the 1st floor, and ran past the piano player. As I passed the area where the lady had just passed away less than an hour ago, I glanced over and looked at the people sitting in the chairs surrounding that area and said to Eric, "I wonder if that guy knows an Angel got her wings today, exactly where he is sitting" and then I ran as fast as I could to the car I mean I was like a bull trying to get out of the pin--Eric said, "Sweetheart, you really need to keep your voice down while you're walking or running through the exit."

This has been a tough week; looking in the mirror, I am a different person--my face has partial facial paralysis, not bell palsy. I've been told it is permanent and that only 2% of people in the world have it for the same reasons I do. I don't want to look in the mirror--this is much worse than when I looked at my breasts for the first time after my mastectomy, at least then I could cover them up and have them fixed, and the baldness was hard, but it never defined me--it grew back. No, this is much worse. How can I continue in this body looking like this? So many people will say, "but your alive," or like Dr. Barrs told me today, "But you have your eyesight" Those words pierce my heart right down to my soul--I know those are supposed to be inspiring and help me to move forward, but right now I need to process what happened today.

• 
  

•