Example

I'm the oldest child. Of course, one of these days I might get a knock on the door from a half sibling courtesy of my bio dad, in which case I will invite them in and we will have a jaw about "good ole dad" har har. And, this unknown sibling might be older than me. Until that day comes, I am the undisputed oldest child.

As such, here are the responsibilities granted to me: 1) Maintain family repudiation and honor and improve on it whenever and wherever possible. 2) Provide my parents with a "practice" child to screw up on. Do #1 despite the damage inflicted by #2. 3) When my parents get old, I am responsible for removing their keys when they can no longer safely operate motor vehicles. (My mom will probably bite my finger off. For Dave, I will wait until he falls asleep. I'd do the same for my mom, but as far as I can tell she never sleeps.) 4) When my parents are old enough to experience incontinence, I will provide and change briefs for as long as necessary to maintain dignity. Then, when they are completely senile and (hopefully) won't remember, I will be the one picking out the best home can find and make regular visits to said Home to harass the nursing staff into keeping better track of my unusually energetic mother. 5) Planning their funeral, keeping my siblings from having a complete meltdown, reading a beautiful eulogy, and keeping it all together until I get home and I'm alone. 6) Setting an example to my three younger siblings.

For the record, all my siblings are supposed to do is provide grandchildren, which Sylvee has done excellently and will be a tough act to beat. Oh, did I mention I ALSO have to provide grandchildren?!? I almost forgot: since Justin is the youngest he had the added task of being the most loved member if the family, which he does better than any kid I know! (Although, Ivory is giving him a run for his money!)

I've given significantly more thought to the first 5 items on the list than the last one. I don't know that I ever thought I would do anything with my life that would make my siblings feel the urge to follow suit. But, then, my 12 year old sister called me on the phone one day.

She had just taken an aptitude test that said she would do well working in the healthcare profession. Of course, our mom works in healthcare. But then she said, and I could hear her wiggling with excitement on the other end if the phone, "We have a job shadowing day coming up, and I would like to shadow you."

Wow. Me? She wanted to shadow me? Wow! To say I'm flattered is an understatement. I mean, I am proud of my job. I love what I do. I just never thought my younger siblings would be interested in it, or even consider for a moment following in my footsteps. But, there it is.

So, although I will continue to focus on the rest of my list (it unfortunately gets more relevant the older my parents get), I will keep this little nugget of being looked up to close to my heart. I guess being the oldest child has its perks after all!

Surgery Today!

I had to be at the hospital at 6:45 am. I checked in, got my pre surgical labs (all good), and went upstairs to get ready for surgery.

My pre-op nurse was a very nice blonde gal who had just passed her Nurse Practitioner exams and was fascinated and very impressed with my job. It took them a really long time to find a vein, she had to call in another nurse who happened to know my in-laws. The second nurse found one in my left wrist, numbed it up (YEOWCH!), and stuck me. No flash. So, since it wasn't hurting me, she played around for a little while trying to find it and finally decided it want going to go. I usually have very good veins, but I think that I was dehydrated and that makes me hard to poke.

She switched to a vein in my right hand, and got the IV placed. They had me take some very nasty tasting meds, got me shaved (wasn't expecting that, but she didn't find a lot of hair to shave off; I'm very smooth), and got the lovely, crawly compression booties on me. I turned on the TV at this point because I was starting to get really scared and needed the distraction.

My surgeon peeked his head in, said Hi, and was quickly followed by my anesthesiologist and surgical nurse. The anesthesiologist was amazing! Her name is Dr. Bearnson I believe, and she was great. My anesthesiologist for my sinus surgery was this weird guy who kept talking about buried treasure.

When she came in, I started to really freak out. As you may or may not know, a good friend of mine passed away in March after the same surgery. She was also 22. I know that something like that is a freak occurrence, but I was still terrified. So, I started to cry and hyperventilate a bit, and my anesthesiologist said, "Oh, sweetie, it's ok. I'll take care of you!" Then she said, "I have something in my pocket that will make you feel better!" It was versed, and it did the trick! They doped me up, I kissed my mom goodbye, and they wheeled me back to the OR.

Once we were there, I changed beds, got all hooked up to the monitors, and then the anesthesiologist put on an oxygen mask and said, "Pick your dream!" and I was gone.

When I woke up, I was in a LOT of pain! And, it wasn't even my tummy that hurt, it was my chest! I was saying, "My chest hurts, my chest hurts!" And the nurse was scrambling to give me pain medication. Slowly, slowly, slowly, the pain improved and I became more and more alert. They gave me some cold water (delicious!) and asked if I wanted some crackers. My mouth was so dry, I didn't want dry crackers. Then she offered me applesauce. It was cold and wet and it tasted so good; I think I can honestly say it was the best applesauce I've ever had! I swallowed my pain pills, which helped with the pain a TON (who knew?) and I was deemed ready to be returned to my mother.

I've never been so happy to see her! I was just thinking, "I'm alive! I made it! Thank you, God, for tender mercies!" I was given some sprite, cookies, and jello. When I had surgery in February, I had a lot of nausea post-op, and when I told the pre-cert nurse, she told me that they would give me a sea sickness patch behind my ear before surgery. That thing is awesome! I had zero nausea post-op, it was amazing!

I know my family and friends were praying for a speedy recovery, because it wasn't very long at all that I was ready to get up and pee! I was pretty sore in my tummy and chest still, but I was ok walking around. Not very long after that, I decided I was ready to go home. I had no nausea and my pain was very manageable, and I was starting to nod off so I figured I was ready to go home and go to bed!

My mom told me that the surgeon said my gallbladder was scarred and really sludgy, and that my common bile duct is very narrow. My whole life, my gallbladder must have been working extra hard to push bile out and it finally crapped out. It was great to hear that, because my tests weren't very obviously gallbladder and the main reason I had surgery is because I had textbook symptoms. I will admit I was nervous that they would go in there and find a perfectly healthy gallbladder and I would have no answers and no relief. But, it turns out it really did need to be removed, and hopefully I will be feeling much better in the future.

I still have a lot of recovering to do, but I'm doing a lot better today than I thought I would. I've been up and walking around, which they say is the best thing for the chest pain. A big, big thank you for those who were praying for me. I know that those prayers were heard and answered because I am doing so well and the surgery went so well without any complications. (My Grammie must've been praying because she is so good, God always listens to her, lol!) Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you all!!

New Job!

Way, way back in February/March, I applied for a job. I saw it listed on craigslist, I was qualified, and it was a pay raise. I figured it wouldn't hurt, but that I probably wouldn't get it.

The company is called On Site, and what they do is they work with big companies to open clinics that are for the employees of that company and their families. The goal is to save money and provide better healthcare for these employees. The job would be a medical assistant at a clinic inside of Blendtec, a company that manufactures and distributes high quality blenders. (You can watch their "Will it Blend?" videos on YouTube.)

They called. I had a phone interview, I had an interview with the office manager, I had an interview with the CEO and medical director of On Site, I had an interview with the provider at the clinic, and a group interview with the president of Blendtec, the liason between Blendtec and On Site, the CEO of On Site and the provider, and a working interview. And, after all of that, I got an email saying I didn't get the position.

I was crushed! Throughout the whole interview process, I had really fallen in love with the job and with both companies. I loved On Site's commitment to affordable patient care, I loved Blendtec's focus on providing a healthy working environment to their employees and the way that they provided for the needs of the whole person. I loved the clinic, it was so beautiful and clean.

But, I didn't get the job. So, I licked my wounds, I picked up where I left off, and life continued.

About two or three weeks ago, I got a call. It was On Site, and they were wondering if I was still interested! Perhaps if it had been a different job at a different company, I would have said No, but I was so impressed with both organizations and I felt very strongly that I wanted to be a part if their team. On Wednesday, I got the news that I was finally, finally being offered the position, and I gladly accepted!

I am very, very exited to embark on this new adventure! On the other hand, I am sad to be leaving the clinic. I will miss my coworkers, I will miss seeing my father in law every day (although we will most likely be over at the house to visit more often now), and most of all, I will miss my patients. Yes, even the ones that drive me crazy! I love them all, and I am honored that I was able to help improve their lives, even if it was only in a small way.

Of course, now I will be moving on to a new set of patients, and a new group of people I can help, even if it's only in a very small way. As Walt Disney said in one of my favorite movies of all time, "We keep moving forward." Forward I go onto the next adventure!!

Sick!!

I've had a lot of people ask what's been going on with me, so I thought I would share what has been happening up to this point.

In the wee morning hours of Friday, I was awakened with severe abdominal pain and nausea.
I discovered my mom was awake. After a brief consultation, I threw up, and decided it was time to go to the ER.

The beautiful, kind, amazing ER nurse (I think her name was Donna) gave me some IV fluids, zofran, and dilauded. I'd never had dilauded before, so that was an experience!

They drew labs, which we all normal except a slightly elevated white blood cell count, which could mean something, could mean nothing. I had an abdominal ultrasound, which was normal. They sent me home with meds and an appointment to have a HIDA scan done on Tuesday.

I diligently took my medication, but I was still having pain and by the time 4 hours was up, I would start with the severe pain and vomiting again. When I shot out of bed at 1:30 to throw up a glass of water, I decided to go back to the ER. I had taken my pain and anti emetics 3 hours before, and was still having pain and nausea and vomiting.

Thus began what I like to call The Worst ER Visit EVER! They gave me a GI cocktail, which I promptly vomited back up. Oral zofran, still vomiting, so now oral phenergan, which the ER doctor said, "If you can't keep that down, we will give you a suppository!" And laughed.

Hello? Where's my IV fluids? And, for heck's sake, can't we try injecting three phenergan before you shove it up my butt?

After four hours, one abdominal xray, and no IV, I was sent home feeling just as crummy as I did when I arrived, except now I had a prescription for carafate. Which I have thrown up every time I take it.

Later on Saturday, my amazing angel if a father in law gave me some IV fluids and IV zofran, after which I was able to eat. Who knew what a difference eating and not throwing it up would make?

I slept the rest of the weekend and took my pills. Every morning, I would wake up hoping and praying that I would feel better. So far, nothing.

Yesterday, I tried to work. That was a disaster. I didn't take anything except the carafate and some Tylenol, and by the time the morning was over I was in tears. Dr. Bingham gave me more IV fluid and zofran, and my amazing husband made pork cops for dinner, which I was able to eat. Hallelujah!!

This morning, I had my HIDA scan done. Nothing to eat or drink and no pain medication for 6 hours. They injected a radioactive tracer into my vein, and we watched for an hour as my gallbladder lit up like the sun on the screen. Actually, we watched Criminal Minds. Shemar Moore is a great distraction when you are very uncomfortable...

The tech was waiting for the tracer to start to move from my gallbladder into my small intestine, which never happened. After the hour was up, she gave me a medicine that is supposed to make my gallbladder contract and release bile into my small intestine. 4 or 5 minutes after she started running the medicine, I started to get extremely nauseated. A couple of minutes later, I was in horrible pain. I started to wonder what the procedure was for vomiting, and tried to breathe through the nausea. At one point, I started crying because it hurt so bad. I couldn't really move, but my hands were clenched and I kept wriggling my feet and just tried to breathe through it.

Overall, a pretty miserable experience.

Eventually the pain and nausea faded, and I was all disconnected and sent home. We are waiting on the results, which will hopefully come tomorrow.

In the meantime, I feel craptastic. Hopefully, I will get some answers, but right now it's looking like surgery is still on the table. Thoughts and prayers are always appreciated, and I will try to keep everyone updated!