Tag: healing

Punching Clouds

There are times when words or phrases I hear will get stuck in my mind. For instance, the other day I was listening to one of my favorite podcasts and the host used the phrase “willful incontinence.” The twelve-year-old boy that is still inside of me got a good laugh from that. My mind instantly began to wonder how I could work that into a blog post. My mission has been accomplished! But seriously, that is not what this post is about.

I’d like to share another phrase that came to me today as I was watching Our Little Fighter play on the floor. He has a little mat that he can lay on that has various age-appropriate toys suspended overhead. One of these items is a cloud with eyes. As I was watching Our Little Fighter, he reached up and “punched” the cloud. He reminded me of a boxer using a punching bag while in training. Furthermore, it reminded me that I too have a few of my own “clouds” that need a good thrashing.

Those of you who read my blog on a regular basis know I have been battling some health problems lately. With these have come some dark mental clouds. However, I am a fighter too.

I just needed a reminder to keep “punching” the clouds. They are small compared to the good things in life. You just need to have a childlike faith. I’m fortunate to have reminders of that on a daily basis.

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Dazed and Infused

I have become an IV drug user. It was just a matter of time before it happened. Fortunately, I am not hooked on heroin or cocaine. My drug of choice is meropenem. This a powerful antibiotic that will be treating the osteomyelitis in my left foot. I will be giving myself infusions through a port in my chest for the next five weeks.

I also came home from the hospital with a wound vac on my foot. This device suctions to my foot and sucks any drainage that might seep from the closed surgical wound. The vac when doing its job sounds eerily like a velociraptor that is about ready to pounce. So, I am now basically a member of a chain gang that is being chased by a deadly dinosaur.

Steven Spielberg, if you are out there, give me a call. I have the story for your next summer blockbuster. Middle-aged man with spina bifida chained to a medical device that sounds like it is about ready to disembowel him. This movie will shatter box office records.

Who should star as the leading man in this story? If you have any ideas drop me a reply. I’m off to take a nap. Hopefully, I will dream of further details for this film. I can smell that Oscar now!

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The Patient Who Lost His Patience

I surely must be in the midst of a nightmare. It is 1:45 a.m. and was just woken up by a nurse requesting that I “sit up” and “sign a consent form for surgery.” Oh, and while I am at, I also need to complete a “risk assessment for anesthesiology.” This couldn’t wait until sunrise for me to complete?

I am having surgery today. This will be my third procedure in a week. I have osteomyelitis, which is an infection in my bone. This past Wednesday I had a surgery to remove some infected bone from my left foot. Yesterday, I had a procedure to close the wound on my foot. This morning I will have one to put a port in my chest, through which I will receive IV antibiotics for the next 6 weeks.

Don’t let anyone fool you. Hospitals are not a place where one goes to rest. I actually have had very little of that since Wednesday.

I am quite certain I didn’t really need to fill out a risk assessment for anesthesiology. Especially, since I have done two of these with an anesthesiologist in the past week. However, I was too tired to argue. I could have asked to speak to a supervisor, but it is too early for me to put up a struggle. So, I signed the consent and completed the assessment.

I wonder if nurses are even made to play the patient while they are in school? If not, perhaps they should be. For the most part I’ve had very empathetic nurses this past week. However, there have been a few who could learn some things about patient care.

Having been in and out of the hospital quite a lot over my 45 years, I have seen it all. Perhaps, I should start a side hustle as a “professional patient.” I could consult with hospitals as to the quality of the care they are providing.

However, for now my patience as a patient has petered out. I am actually looking forward to surgery. Maybe I will get some sleep in the operating room. If not, I might need to conduct my own “risk assessment” with the anesthesiologist.

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One Little Victory

I am a fan of the Canadian rock band, Rush. One of the last albums they made before disbanding was an album called “Vapor Trails.” Perhaps, my favorite song from this album is “One Little Victory.” The material on this album deals largely with the healing process their drummer went through after some very dramatic losses in his personal life.

For example, the song “One Little Victory” addresses how hard it can be even living from moment to moment when you are experiencing periods of grief. In my struggle with depression over the last few years one verse from this particular song often comes to mind:

Celebrate the moment as it turns into one more/Another chance at victory, another chance to score/The measure of the moment is a difference of degrees/Just one little victory, a spirit breaking free

Sometimes it is difficult to see the forest for the trees, especially when your mind is clouded with the doubts of depression. Oftentimes, the only thing worth celebrating is a particular moment. Its these “little victories” that enables one to keep moving forward when the “big picture” cannot be seen.

I have been in the hospital for the last four days. Laying in a hospital bed for nearly a week can cause you to lose focus on the positives. Therefore, I have been looking for the “little victories” each day that will spur me on to getting back home.

For instance, tonight I learned that I no longer have to be hooked up to my IV unless the nurse is specifically running medications through for me. My veins, my kidneys, and my bladder are all thankful for the rest! It will be heavenly to go to sleep tonight not having to worry about accidently ripping a needle out of my arm! These “little victories” can feel huge at times.

Hopefully, within the next few days I can return home. I miss Amanda and our boys. Being separated from them is the hardest part of this ordeal. However, I am going to wake up tomorrow and look for at least one “little victory.” There is sure to be at least one.

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The Eye of the Tiger

Do you ever feel as if you have no fight left within you? Living life in a disabled body, especially when that body breaks down is overwhelming. I have been luckier than most in my life. My independence has not been as limited as others who are disabled. However, the past few weeks has left me feeling like I am down for the count.

Battling a bone infection is tough work. I’ve actually done it a few times in my life. It saps your energy. Being treated with heavy doses of antibiotics is not pleasant, as these drugs often kill the normal bacteria that grows within your gastrointestinal system. This often leads to unpleasant side effects for your bowels. Fortunately, there are probiotics that can reverse these side effects.

Struggling with physical ailments typically increases the anxiety, which often bombards my mind. Usually, my first reaction is to get frustrated, which leads to anger. I often question God why He allows suffering of any kind. I think sometimes it is a way of getting our attention when we are stubborn. This is especially true in my case. I am a very stubborn person, who often refuses to listen to others.

My stubborness led me to avoid treatment for a wound on my foot, which then became infected. This infection then entered my blood and bone, which if it had not been caught in time, could have killed me. This realization has been frightening. According to my doctor, I am still not out of the woods. I will be on IV antibiotics for the next 4 to 6 weeks.

Some days are better than others. Frankly, I feel like a boxer who has been knocked down one too many times. How much more do I have left to give? This is a question I have pondered lately. My body is tired. My mind is exhausted. My nerves are frayed. However, I am not ready to quit.

I came across a story tonight about a little girl who is in the hospital fighting for her life. She has multiple IV tubes running into her neck, which are delivering heavy doses of antibiotics to her body. I pray that this little girl has a lot of fight left within her. What I am battling is minor compared to what she is facing.

One of my favorite movies is Rocky IV. It is essentially a David vs. Goliath story, where a much smaller, slower fighter is tasked with defeating a giant, genetically engineered monster. Just before the final fight sequence begins this behemoth leans down into Rocky’s face and says, “I must break you.” I feel as if that is what this infection has said to me.

However, much like Rocky, I have the will to win. I am bruised and bloodied, but no one is going to throw in the towel. I have plenty of people in my corner, many of whom I know are praying for me. This giant will be defeated. Can you hear the opening chords to “Eye of the Tiger” yet?

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PICC Your Poison

Coming home from the hospital always does a body good. I slept last night better than I have in weeks. That is despite the Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter or PICC sticking out of my arm. This is the line through which I’ll receive a daily dose of antibiotics through September 21, that is if things go to plan.

This is not the first time I have had a PICC, however, I am hoping it is my last. It is fascinating to watch a PICC line being inserted. An ultrasound machine is used to find an appropriate vein. Then through the use of ultrasound imaging the catheter is guided up through the vein until it reaches a point just above the heart.

The next several weeks will be filled with follow-up appointments with doctors. I’m also going to attempt to return to work here at home. It is going to be an uphill battle, but I have a great partner with whom to fight. Without my wife Amanda I would not be able to get through my days.

I am hoping my body responds to treatment as it should. The sooner all of this is in the rearview mirror, the better. I’ll be praying for strength and endurance for both Amanda and I. Likewise, I’ll be praying for healing. My body is weak, and my mind is weary. However, I know this too shall pass.

I am thankful to have such a wonderful family and group of friends who are willing to help wherever it is needed. I’d appreciate your prayers through this trying time.

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Please Shut the Door Behind You

I wish someone could explain to me what sense it makes to wake someone up who is in the hospital every three hours to take their vitals. If someone is critically ill, yes, I can see keeping a close watch on their blood pressure, temperature, and pulse rate. However, for a patient who is stable, and has been since their admission then why the need? Rest to me seems as if it should take precedent over anything else.

If a body needs healing, rest seems to be one of the best ways to promote that. I get horrible sleep in the hospital. It is more like a series of cat naps I take at night. This is because I know that if I try to fall asleep for real, I’ll have someone in asking to check my blood pressure, my temperature, and my pulse rate. This is despite the fact all of those numbers have been consistent for days!

I’m a quiet person who generally doesn’t summon the nurse or an aide for anything, unless I need to use the bathroom. Then I ask for help getting to and from there. Once that is done I expect to climb back into bed and be left to my own devices. If I have my phone and iPad within reach that is all I need. I like my door to be shut and to not be bothered.

This seems to unnerve some nurses and aides. I am a low-maintenance patient who loves to be in the quiet of my own space. That is not to say I don’t appreciate their kindness and their helpfulness, but in all honesty, I’d rather just enjoy the solitude. Maybe in hopitals there needs to be a side of the floor for those who need the extra care and support, and a side for those who just want peace and quiet.

In reality, I am pretty certain none of this will ever change. however, if I am in a hospital to rest then let me do it. I know my body and it enjoys its rest. Let me sleep and I will be gone much quicker out of your care. Yes, I know I sound like an old man who is growling through clenched teeth for medical staff to “get off my lawn!” Nonetheless, I do appreciate what they do. They just need to do it more in someone else’s room. I am fine, I will be fine, and I know when I need to call for help.

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Scars

Scars are ugly, at least that is what many people think. I would disagree. After having undergone dozens of surgeries, I have scars. I have them from the top of my head all the way down to my feet. While they are not things of beauty, they are reminders of healing. What once was torn is now mended.

At one time I hated the scars that line my body. However, the older I get the more they remind me of the battles I have fought. These are battles I have won. I know this because I am here to tell about them. Having surgery no longer frightens me as it did when I was a child. I must admit I kind of enjoy the feeling of anesthesia. It makes you feel like you are leaving your body just as you lose consciousness. Surgeries to me are just another opportunity to find victory.

This victory comes from knowing that my body will heal, as it has dozens of times. I know there will come a day when my body will give up the fight. The wounds will no longer physically heal. Despite this I will still have victory.

I have faith that I will be given a new body once I depart my earthly one. This new body will be free of scars. There will be no more pain or sorrow to endure. No more battles will need to be fought. I will be healed for an eternity.

So you see, scars are not ugly, they are what is left after healing has come. Likewise, they can be badges of honor if you choose to see them as such. If you are in a place where you are feeling defeated, look at your scars. You may have physical ones, or they may be mental scars. Let them remind you of the healing that has taken place. You’ll live to fight another day.

One of my favorite songs is by a band called Rush. The song is titled “One Little Victory.” To me this song perfectly captures what it feels like to struggle against the forces we often face. It is a song that helps to motivate me when I feel I am losing the battle. It helps to remind me that I have scars but that those are merely emblems of victory.

“One Little Victory”

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Omphaloskepsis

As I’ve noted before in a previous blog post (see The Summer of Ryan), I enjoy the sitcom Seinfeld. I relate to the character of George Constanza, as I tend to be a bit neurotic at times. It is for this reason that my mind usually goes to extremes after I have had surgery. I worry that there will be complications that will delay healing, which has actually happened a few times after previous surgeries.

Today, I have had some chills and a low-grade fever. In truth, this is probably because I have become a little dehydrated. However, my mind instantly goes to the possibility of infection, despite there being no indications of this. Should I go to the ER, or should I just stay home? I often weigh these questions heavily. I also feel quite run down, but I guess that is to be expected a few days after having surgery.

It is difficult to be patient when you are the patient! I want to be back on my feet doing everything I could do a week ago before my gallbladder became my worst enemy. Despite this, I know that healing takes time. It is just a little frightening when your body is doing things it normally doesn’t do.

For instance, I had a blister inside my belly button that popped this evening. It almost appeared as if someone was trying to blow a bubble from my umbilical area. I was thinking this might be a new party trick that I could unveil at Christmas – “Step right up and watch me blow bubbles from my belly button!” I could even take this show on the road. I’m sure there is an audience somewhere that would appreciate my act.

Having surgery is nothing new to me. I have seen my body in much worse shape than it is tonight. However, the paranoia sets in when something unexpected happens. You’d think I would have learned by now to be more patient as the patient. However, at 42 my mind still wanders to the “what ifs.” What if I do have an infection starting? What if I will never be able to have another bowel movement? What if I feel like going to work on Monday, but I can’t get any pants to sit comfortably over and around my surgical wounds?

This is a busy time of year at work, and I am not there. How big of a stack of things are waiting for me upon my return? I would say probably quite a few.

These are all things that I will pray about. Life will go on and I am sure I will be back to my old routines soon. Until then I’ll continue to navel gaze. I’ll let you know if the bubbles keep coming. I am off to take my temperature…

Four statues which stand in the Louvre, depicting the fine art of naval gazing. I like the Greek word for this practice much better, which is “omphaloskepsis”
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