Build Quality of Life

One of my former clients passed away today. 

A sweet, spunky little bundle of energy who lit up a room with her laugh and her silly sense of humor.  She was only a year older than Flannery. 

I won't use her name here to protect her family's privacy.  But I have to say--this little kiddo was one of my favorites.  I know we're not supposed to have those.  But there are just some clients I really "click" with, and she was one of them.  She loved dress up, and playing pretend, and laying on her (amazingly good natured!) dog, and going outside in the rain.  She was working on using "am" in sentences, and would say, "I running, I winning!" until I prompted her to say, "I AM running, I AM winning!"...which was just never as much fun to shout, I think. 

One of the things I remember wanting to get out of our sessions, was helping her to play in a warm and successful way with her sister.  My hope was that by teaching them fun games to play together (that also gave my client practice using the language structures I targeted in therapy), we would not only help expand her language--we would also improve her quality of life.   It warms my heart to remember all the sweet times we spent together--my client, her sister, and me--making art projects, playing pretend, dressing up like princesses and movie stars, pretending to be powerful monsters or dinosaurs.  And we still focused on our speech goals--and made some good progress, I might add!  I remember that at times, her family would ask if I'd like some time to just work with my client alone without her sister.  But the look on my client's face when her sister walked in the room and sat down to play with us was worth a zillion checks of data showing mastery on language goals.  For those 30 minutes three times a week, we built more than grammatically correct sentences--we built quality of life. 

And what a quality of life she had.  A loving, strong family.  Friends and neighbors who would drop everything to help out if they needed a hand.  Classmates and teachers who loved her.  A medical team that tried everything to keep her illness at bay--a gazillion experts consulting on her case, progressive doctors leading a valiant fight, countless hospital stays with nurses who became like family, two bone marrow transplants, and who knows how many other procedures.  And throughout it all, there was always someone by her side--family members & friends rotating in and out to keep her feeling safe and loved. 

My life was broadened by knowing her.  My appreciation for all the little moments with my own family grew deeper as her situation reminded me not to take anything for granted.  Her strength amidst pain and unpredictability made me realize how small my own problems really were. 

And now, her death. 

It is horrible and dark and wrong.

It leaves such a wrenching in my heart, thinking of her parents, her sister, her grandparents, having to return home from the hospital without her.  Having to live out the rest of their lives, without her.

Such a separation must be unbearable.

But this.  This is why Jesus came to us.  To save us from this darkness, this chasm.  This separation from the ones we love who have died. 

He came to trample down death, by death.  He broke the chains that would have kept us apart with no hope of reunion. 

And this is important. 

In a time of political correctness and openness and tolerance, I admit that I hesitate to say that there remain a few absolutes.  But then I remember my grandmother's brave last words to her sister.  "I want to know that you all love Jesus, so I can see you in heaven one day."   When faced with death, my grandma's only fear was that her family might not know what was absolute. 

My client's family has exceptional trust that she is in heaven.  I have exceptional trust that they will see her again.  And in the meantime, I imagine, I try to really picture...an amazingly beautiful quality of life for her, as she gets to experience the fullness of a life finally without pain, finally without suffering. 



Who do you love to picture up in heaven, no longer suffering, but now perhaps praying to ease your suffering instead?  I am rather sure that my Grandma Norma has interceded for me many times in this life, and I also somehow feel a connection to my husband's grandfather "Pop."   And now, my sweet little client.  My sweet, sweet little client.  May her memory be eternal. 

Time Heals all Wounds

First, I want to apologize for not updating this blog at all since my resolutions post.  Crazy, crazy craziness ensued shortly after I wrote that.  

Craziness to the tune of a stomach bug that just wouldn't go away.   Craziness to the tune of me going to my general practitioner and asking him to figure out how to help me get past said stomach bug.  Craziness to the tune of my brilliant doctor immediately recognizing the need for specialists.  

Craziness to the tune of my doctor sending me straight to the hospital.  To meet with a surgeon.  A wonderful, grandfatherly and kind surgeon, but a surgeon nonetheless.  

Craziness to the tune of having a CT scan that revealed an intestinal obstruction.  The same type of difficulty I'd had 5 years ago, when I was pregnant, which had landed me in the hospital for 4 weeks being totally IV fed until Flannery was born.  Luckily back then, the obstruction cleared with time and GI rest. I wasn't so lucky this time.  

This time around, I needed surgery.  There was a strap of scar tissue from a surgery I had had as a baby, that had wrapped around part of my intestine, pulling it and twisting it so that nothing could get through.  The surgeon--that kind, grandfatherly surgeon--he snipped the scar tissue, took a few photos of the before and after, and stitched me back up.  

And then more craziness ensued.  Recovery.  

Pain.  Nausea.  Morphine.  Itchy side effects.  A crazy haze of pain and darkness and fear.  With waves of relief interspersed here and there.  A desperate alone feeling.   Fuzzy vision.  Prodding nurses trying to collect blood from unwilling veins.  Kind nurses telling me about their three children.  Manipulative nurses trading meds for walks in the halls.  My calm husband always there beside me, sleeping on the strange chair-bed each night.  Harsh fluorescent lights.  IV poles beeping.  Care that seemed so violent sometimes.  But always with waves of relief interspersed here and there.  

And then, somehow, the fog cleared.  And I was myself again.  I got to come home.  I ate warm broth my mom made from scratch.  I stopped the pain meds.  I started understanding conversations again.  My vision cleared.  I was able to read again.  My brain could follow along when I read paragraphs.  My husband's nervous forehead stopped looking so pinched.  My daughter started forgetting to be careful when she hugged me.  My mom sat down and watched a show with me and laughed a bit again.  We all finally exhaled.  

And then, today, I drove again.  Not too far.  Just to renew the car tag with my hubby.  And then, we picked up Flanna from school, and my husband took us all out to dinner.  It was breezy and cool and crisp out.  I wore jeans for the first time in almost a month.  I had pasta and shrimp.  My daughter drew pictures and played on her iPod during dinner.  We were just your average family.  I was just your average mom in baggy jeans.  

And that, my friend?  Is how time heals all wounds.  

What wound are you healing from?  What has helped you through the healing process and back into life again?  For me, it was going outside, seeing the japanese magnolias blooming, watching my husband have endearing conversations with our kiddo, and thinking about work projects again.  Those little things pulled me up out of lethargy and toward recovery.  And time.  I know that time played a big part, as well.  

Strep, Strep, and More Strep

I took Flanna to the doctor today, and she has strep.  Then, I wasn't feeling very well, so I went to my doctor.  And I have strep, too. 

Lovely. 

This is a busy work week for me.  I have so much to do at work and a short timeline in which to get it all done. I was thinking I would just push on through and go to work tomorrow.  But then I called my friend from work to chat about the plan for tomorrow, and she talked some sense into me. 

"You have strep, TJ!  You need to stay home and get better!"

And suddenly it seemed crazy to push on through while I'm sick. I mean, really, the world will not fall apart just because I'm out for a day. 

Don't you love it when you have a friend who tells you when you're being crazy? 



What's your favorite way to help yourself feel better when you're sick?  Flanna and I had hot peppermint tea with honey today, and chicken noodle soup, and popsicles.  And my throat really did feel better after all those wonderful liquids.  :)

Sick, and Tired

The more I look at this sad clown, the more I want
to paint it by numbers.

I can't stop coughing today. My voice comes and goes. I'm freezing, but I don't have a fever. My body feels achy, but I can't tell if that's from all the coughing making my body tense up so often or if I'm just achy.

And my hubby's out of town. Which means I didn't sleep well last night. I just can't fall asleep as well when things are different than normal.

I'd been feeling like I was getting sick for about a week, but rather than rest up and try to get myself well, I just kept going and going. Which in hindsight seems silly.

I mean, the world will still spin if I take a day off. The planets will remain in their orbits. But sometimes I get so caught up in all the things I need to do that resting seems, well, impossible. Not very smart, right?

So today, I took a day off. I tried to rest, although somehow I could never actually fall asleep. And, guess what? Nothing fell apart. The sun rose, the sun set, and life went on. Imagine that.

Tomorrow, I'm going to push on and take some cold medicine and get back in the saddle. Fingers crossed that my voice cooperates! I mean, a speech language pathologist with laryngitis is like a sad clown. (My husband tells this joke much better than I just did. I'm sure he's shaking his head if he's reading it now.)



What's your favorite laryngitis remedy? Honey and lemon in hot tea? Crushed vitamin C in honey? A zinc lozenge? (and yes, mom, I am gargling with warm salt water and taking garlic!) :)

Get Enough Sleep

I haven't been getting enough sleep lately. Like, pretty much for the last few weeks. So it's little wonder I'm feeling kind of sick today.

I'm taking my vitamins, taking EmergenC, eating extra garlic, and I just bought zinc lozenges today. Fingers crossed that I can ward off a big illness, because I really want to go camping as planned this weekend!

I'm also heading to bed by 8 today. I know, 8 is kind of ridiculous! But hopefully a long night's sleep will boost my immune response. Sounds plausible, right? Or even if that doesn't happen, at least extra sleep will improve my mood. When I get good sleep, I'm less easily frustrated; I'm more patient; I'm generally more lighthearted and silly. It definitely affects my happiness level.

So now, I'm off to get ready for bed. My amazing husband is taking the reigns for the evening so I can rest. He's such a lifesaver.



How do you get yourself to bed at a reasonable hour? Are there any other night owls like me who have to get up super early every day? And if so, how do you squelch your night owl tendencies?

Lethargy

I've had a sore throat and lingering cough, along with lethargy and achy joints, for going on 4 weeks now, and today, I thought my throat was going to burst into flames, so I finally made a doctor's appointment. I kind of hoped it would be strep, so that I would be able to get some meds and start getting better. But the quick and dirty strep test came back negative. They'll do a culture now and let me know the results, but, ugh. I really would like to feel better, quickly.

But instead, I'm going to bed early. Gargling with salt water. Using the neti pot regularly. Taking my vitamins. Doing an old tribal ritual to cleanse my chi.

Just kidding on the last one. But seriously, I'm open to anything if it will just get me well.





What home remedies do you turn to when you're sick?

There's Regular Sick, and There's Homesick

This week, I have really felt the tug of homesickness.

As my daughter says sometimes, "I miss the green house." (that's it, our old house back in Athens, in the pics)

Maybe it's just because I've been "regular" sick, and I don't really have a good support system here yet for times when I'm sick and my hubby has a ton of deadlines at work.

Or maybe it's because I'm missing a baby shower this weekend, of a friend back home in GA whose wedding I had to miss because I had just moved. And another friend is about to go into labor at any moment. And I'd love to have been preparing the perfect vegan dish to take to her after the baby comes. But, oh, that's right, she lives states away. And another friend has gone through some trying times this week, and I would've loved to have dragged her out for a fancy coffee and a long chat. But, instead our phone conversation got inadvertently cut off when my cell phone suddenly had no signal, in my own home. And I'm tired, and have been sick, and it would've been a perfect weekend to let Flanna hang out with her grandparents for a few hours while I caught up on the laundry or maybe took a nap. But, yeah, you guessed it, said grandparents are states away. And then I kept meaning to call my sister every day, but then it was suddenly 11 pm every night, and now I haven't talked to her in eons. Seriously, eons.

Hummph.

Homesickness is sometimes worse than regular old sickness.

But, on a positive note, my hubby won an award today for having the best "poster" at a networks conference at Duke. Which is really neat. That boy's a smarty. And it's worth occasional bouts of homesickness to get to see him flourish professionally.

Worth it, but I do still get to say, "Hmmph."




Have you always lived in the same general area, or have you made big moves in your life? How have you juggled maintaining old friendships and making new ones as you've moved through your life?

Still Sick, and Lake Pics

My daughter is still sick. And I'm not feeling so hot, either. We had chicken noodle soup and saltines for 2 meals today. We rested. And now I'm exhausted.

So, in lieu of a thought provoking post today, here are a few cute pictures from a trip to the lake last Saturday. Flanna got brave enough to swim on her own with the fish float (she's usually super conservative and cautious about the water). We ate fresh strawberries and picnic lunches, and even stopped for ice cream on the way home. It was a fabulous day.

And now for more cough medicine and an early bedtime!

Snuggle while you Can

Today, my daughter woke up sick. A fever. A cough. A headache.

We snuggled for three hours on the couch before she even said more than a few words.

The funny thing about that girl is that, when she wants to snuggle for more than, say, 2 minutes, you can pretty much bet that she's sick. She loves to snuggle usually, but in short bursts, in between cute dance moves and intense art projects.

So, when she wanted to snuggle, and wasn't torn away from the snuggling by some wonderful idea for an art project or some wonderful song she just had to dance to, I knew that something was up.

And the terrible thing? The horrible thing?

Is that I secretly enjoy a lazy day of my daughter wanting to snuggle all day. A sleepy day of naps on the couch together and watching endless Dora videos and old home movies.

I pray that she'll be well tomorrow. But for today, I'm going to take all the snuggling I can get with my sweet girl.

As Gretchen Rubin says, "The days are long, but the years are short."




What makes you feel better when you're sick?



P.S. These pictures are obviously not from today. They're from earlier in the week, when Flanna was feeling well. But I was tired, and who knows where my camera is, and, well, aren't they cute?

Happiness amidst Pain

My recent GI study brought back a flood of memories for me from when I was sick with an intestinal obstruction. Some of the memories are better than others, like remembering how my hubby slept in the hospital room with me every single night I was there (almost a month!), and how he had to sleep in a ski cap because I kept the room so freezing to avoid being nauseated, and how I got to hear Flanna's heartbeat constantly because the nurses had to monitor her every hour or so.

And then there are the darker memories, like how at the peak of my pain I felt physically ill if someone spoke loudly or turned on a light or (God forbid!) had to take my temperature or blood pressure. And how, when I had been vomiting for like 3 days straight with no relief, I felt like I was in a dark cave or hole teetering on a ledge trying not to fall further in, and every back rub or cold compress from my husband was the rope that was pulling me out. (By the way, back rubs and compresses from nurses? Those were amazingly not helpful at all. Not sure why, but I think they just couldn't understand what I wanted as quickly as Robi could.)

The lucky, wonderful thing about memories, though, is that I really haven't thought about those dark times at all since my illness. My memory let me glaze over the rough spots and focus on the new baby I got in the process.

That is, until I was lying on that metal radiology table again.

And then the floodgates opened, and the memories of pain and nausea and fear and worry rushed back in full detail. Scary detail.

And this really got me thinking. About the relationship between happiness and physical pain.

So, I did a little research. And it turns out that people in physical pain (surprise surprise!) have a hard time being happy. Of course, I pretty much assumed that would be true. What I didn't realize, though, was that the actual biological pathways for pain and depression are intricately linked. A doctor from the Mayo Clinic says it this way,

"...pain and depression share common pathways in the emotional (limbic) region of the brain. In fact, the same chemical messengers control pain and mood."

I also read an interesting article from a doctor at Johns Hopkins who described a vicious loop that is set in motion between chronic pain and depression. Chronic pain limits participation in activities that could bring increased happiness (like exercise, going out socially with friends, working, finishing projects), and then lack of these activities often leads to increases in pain (perhaps due to lack of exercise or fewer distractions to keep our mind off the pain), and so on. I also had no idea that many doctors prescribe antidepressants for pain patients not just because the doctors want to treat possible depression, but because there is recent research that antidepressants are actually quite good at reducing pain as well (because of the shared nerve pathways for pain and mood). How interesting is that?

Now, I didn't actually have chronic pain. And I don't think I was ever actually clinically depressed during my illness. But had the pain persisted, had I not known there was an end in sight, I could definitely see how happiness would've been pretty elusive. Heck, even now, if I twist my back funny and have a catch in it for a few days, it's really a lot harder for me to be "light" and to have fun.



What about you? Have there been times in your life when pain has made you irritable and moody? Hooray, you're not crazy! It's completely normal. You know, shared pathways and all.



By the way, I thought this was a really interesting pain scale. I remember being asked about my pain on a scale of 1-10 when I was in the hospital, and responding, "Oh, I'm maybe at a 3." When I was actually stuck in a bed throwing up all day long. If they had asked me questions like this, I might have realized how much pain I was actually in. You know, a whole heck of a lot. But, anyway.