Saturday, November 15, 2014

Ahem, Ahem.... Listen Up

Hey friends- yo-

Please read this and take it, remember it when reading future posts, or hey- don't read my blog at all! :D 

It's totally your choice.

I am a few things:  Sarcastic, creative (debatable- but my mind is on 24/7 so I'm going to call it creative mode), and I have the ability to laugh at myself.  This all amounts to what I write about, how I write, etc.

When I say something like, "Taylor Swift and I are going for coffee later on"- that's not true.  That's me STALKING  WRITING with flare.

I think we'd all be a bit better if we didn't take ourselves so seriously.  Lighten up, eh?

PS-  I AM a Christian.  And I DO occasionally swear.  I am a son (daughter) of a son, of a son, of a sailor, after all....

I think that's it....

MUST get dolled up.  I'm off for a coffee date with Taylor Swift- wish me luck- she's so close to casting me as a back up singer.

Thanks!
xoxo- Ash

Monday, November 10, 2014

The post that probably shouldn't be posted (side note- I think I have like 5 of these same titled posts)

WORD VOMIT.

Happens every time.  I swear.

But yesterday I was on the verge of losing it.  Losing it, like walking out the front door, driving "somewhere" (probably like, Starbucks??) and then just cry in my car for an hour.  Obviously at some point in my breakdown I'd text Ryan and tell him "I'm just at starbucks... want me to pick up TP on the way home?"

My life. 

Here's what I wrote in my journal yesterday (in the midst of said breakdown, because I couldn't leave my house- logistical reasons like kids and stuff)

"There's no purpose in working harder.  There's no point in trying to be better.  Get better or do better. I am always the one who will be 3 steps behind. It's nothing new. I'm the one who effs everything up. I destroy possibilities."

(HELLO) #selfloathing

I'm not sure where the stuff came from about how I eff everything up... that just spilled out onto the pages; truth, I feel for sure, but not the catalyst to anything that happened yesterday.

Yesterday I was trying to work while Ryan was at the movies with the older kids.  The two youngers were napping (they napped for like 30 minutes...omg) and I just got super frustrated.  Like, shut the computer, stalked off to my room, scribbled in my journal and then watched youtube videos of Adam Duritz interviews.  The thought that popped into my head, exploded and then bled on everything was this:  "What's the point in doing this work today, Ashley?  You're going back to the hospital on Wednesday..."  The bleeding continued, "What's the point of trying to be a better mom?  You're always going to be sick or in the hospital.  Why are you dieting and trying to be active?  You'll always be overweight and gross, because you'll always be sick and in the hospital."

Basically everything led back to me being sick.  The excuse that trumps all excuses.  "I'm sick."  And I've been given that excuse for so long, I don't know what to do with myself.

I'm lost;  I don't cook dinners anymore, because "I'm sick" and Ryan took that on.  I don't do things at the kids' schools because "I'm sick" and I can't be relied on.  I don't go to the gym anymore because "I'm sick" and what's the purpose in going to the gym one day, and then being hospitalized for a week?  I mean, the list goes ON AND ON.

Excuses suck.  They're like useless skin tags.  Annoying, unnecessary, sometimes confined to just a single area, but often picked open, and bleeding, destroying anything in its path. 

I don't have any good resolutions about getting rid of excuses.  At the moment, I'm tired, it's raining and grey outside, my bed sounds like heaven.  Should I abandon ship here (at Paneras) and head home?  I mean, Wednesday I'll be in the hospital so what good is it for me to work like a dog on stuff that probably wont be touched again for weeks?

And every few minutes I have to backtrack; stop the bleeding- I am here.  I am well today.  I am listening to one direction and kicking butt on some work stuff.  Stay.  Stay.  Be still.

Breathe :)

I start to feel confident.  I have words written, a cup of coffee, a scarf and glasses, because its fall and I'm smart.  And then the kid next to me points at my glittery toms and says "MOM!  I WANT THOSE DOROTHY SHOES!"  dammit.

Again, stay.  Stay.  Be still.

I honestly feel like this is a deep rooted problem that MOST of us have, if put in the correct situation.  So I'm not super embarrassed to spill my beans. 

Reflecting back on yesterdays scribblings... (seriously I'll have to post a picture- I felt like a musician writing important lyrics), I realize that I have LONG been an excuse giver.  Unfortunately, its just now that I'm seeing the red.

To a point, we're all excuse givers.  But let me just tell you a few stories.... so you know that I'm a chronic excuse giver;

This one time (at band camp...no) my bestest came on spring break with my family and I.  We thought we were hot sh!t of course.  I think we had cornrows, and those butterfly clips.  I mean, supah fly.  We also had this CD, full of burned songs we had illegally downloaded.. and these songs weren't Jesus songs.  They were like, um, the complete opposite.  We listened to that CD over and over.  There was a song, it was the first on the illegal CD, and I literally refuse to write the name on this blog.... a few of you know what song that was... Anyways, my dad found it, listened to it, cracked it (the CD) into a million pieces and dropped the dreaded line, "I'm disappointed in you."  To make a really long, embarrassing story short, at the age of fifteen I had to squirm in a chair, making excuse after excuse as to why that CD was in my possession, why I would ever listen to something like that, etc.  (picture sex ed with your parents, diagrams and rap music that YOU don't even understand).  It was awful.  And I mastered the excuse.  And I think I won;  I blamed it on this kid at school- "I didn't even know what was ON the CD dad!  This kid just gave it to me and I don't know what any of that means!  We were listening to it as a joke!"   yaddayaddayadda

So, see?  In a way we're ALL excuse makers (I want ONE of you to tell me you didn't make an excuse in high school when you got in trouble with your parents...) 

It just so happens I make a LOT of excuses.  Like lately, my entire existence has been a giant excuse.

And that needs to stop.

I suppose if I need to get a grasp on reality every few minutes with the mantra (you are here.  you are not in the hospital.  you are working.  you look like you're 20-not 40- you can totally pull off glittery toms and pink hair) I can survive this season of my life.

But I'm not going to lie; its hard.  Very hard.

Anyways.

Like I said, this post probably shoudl've never seen light.  Because its embarrassing, and now you all know that I am a chronic excuse maker.  And that's no good.

But today, at this moment.  I'm owning it.  I'm owning everything.  I'm owning this work that needs to be done.  I'm acknowledging the hospital stay that awaits me.  I'm going to grocery shop today, and make my family dinner because I can.  When I'm done "working" I'm going to pick Henry up from school, and carry him out. 

Because today, I can.

Excuse makers unite:  Enough is enough. 

Let's do this.




Wednesday, November 5, 2014

points to hit on 11/??/14

  • at least I know the month and the year, right? ^^^
  • what happened yesterday:  I woke up with no vision in my right eye and an awful headache.  As soon as my neurologist opened (8:30) I was there.  Like, waiting at his door (so stalkerkish).  The nurse sat me down in a back room and I cried and cried because I thought for sure my eye was coming out and my head was just.... are there words for debilitating migraines?  If there are, swing some my way because I have no idea how to describe them.  Anyways he gave me a medication to try-can't remember the name- I tried it.  It zonked me out.  I woke up sometime after my kids were home (obviously Ryan was running the house yesterday) and was super disoriented.  I was thinking it was morning and the kids were at school, blah blah blah..  Long story short, it was like 3 PM and the kids were home, and I was incredibly confused.  I walked out to see what was going on and realized the vision in my RIGHT eye (it's always been my left) was weird- hazy- a little "buzzy" if that makes sense?   And within MINUTES, it went out.  Everyone always asks "whats went out mean?"  Went out to me is where I have to put my hand over whatever eye it is because I can't see.  There's light- not complete darkness- but no shapes- no space orientation whatsoever- just yellowish colors.  Also no peripheral vision.  It's very freaky.  Since this has happened before, I didn't immediately jump up and yell "ER!"  We called my neurologist (whom I had seen that morning) and he said if my headache was too severe to treat at home and my pulses were higher than 90, I needed to go into the ER.  Both were true.  Around 4:30 Ryan dropped me off at the ER (with every.single.kid.in.tow).  I felt like the worst mother.  "Bye kids!  Going to my second home!  Have fun with daddy tonight!  Oh and Ryan?  Pick me up around 7!"  I mean this has just gotten BEYOND ridiculous.  I fixed an ice bag/pouch over my right eye and was feeling around with one hand trying to make it to the window of the ER.  Someone had mercy on me and gave me a wheelchair.  No clue how much time passed, but soon enough I suppose I was in a room.  I was on my side, pressing the ice pack into my eye.  A nurse came in first to ask some questions... and then HE came in.  I know his name because I've filed a complaint, but I won't use it on here.  He'll just be referred to as the a-hole.  Because.... I hit rock bottom last night people.  Rock.  Bottom.  So there I am, no vision in my right eye, already crying because I was upset about where I was.  I wanted to be home with my family.  My head was pounding/exploding.... and then the ahole walked in.  I couldn't see very well (obviously) but he was short.  And had his arms folded across his chest.  He leaned against the wall and without any kind of introduction (or even an, "are you Ashley)?  started peppering questions at me.  In my right state of non-exploding mind, with two good eyes I might have handled the whole thing differently.  But last night, all bets were off.  I could keep up with his smart ass and he continued asking "Why are you here though?  You want me to give you pain medicine?"  I thought I had answered that question 3000 times.  "DOCTOR.  I LOST MY VISION THIS MORNING AND SAW MY NEUROLOGIST.  I JUST TALKED WITH HIM.  HE SAID IF MY PULSES WERE OVER 90 AND MY HEAD WAS TOO MUCH TO TAKE AT HOME TO COME IN.  DO YOU WANT ME TO LEAVE?"  And the ahole without blinking shrugged his shoulders and said "No, you're welcome to be here.  We're open 24/7 for people like you.   You can come whenever you want."  
-que MAJOR waterworks.  To the point of where he left the room...  Oh wait- I called him an ass hole first.  And then he left the room.  It went something like this:
Him:  "So you want strong pain medicine?"
Me:  "NO.  I have pain medicine at HOME.  I can walk out right now and go pop some pills.  That's the problem.  The problem is I can't see and my heart rate is high.  I feel like I'm having a freaking stroke.  Can you check my eye and tell me I'm not having an ocular stroke?"
Him:  "So let me understand this.  This isn't the first time this has happened?"
Me:  "No."
Him:  "And you saw your neurologist today and he said you're fine?"
Me:  "He said I was fine this morning to go home and take a medication.  When I called him back he said if I felt I needed to go into the ER, then that's what I should do."
Him: "But you said you've lost your vision like this before.  And you're being worked up for MS."
Me:  "Yes."
Him:  "So, what exactly do you want me to do?  You know its not a stroke.  You know you have MS.  This isn't an emergency."
Me:  "I WANT MY DAD TO COME AND GET ME BECAUSE YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE AND GET ME THE LADY THAT HANDLES COMPLAINTS BECAUSE I'M NOT TALKING WITH YOU ANYMORE!" 
Him: "Okay"

And just like that he left the room.  Not an "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you.  I'm sorry that MS comment might have been a bit offensive.  I'm sorry, I see you're scared, let me just look into your eye to make sure there's nothing going on back there.  Nothing.

I got on the phone with my dad ( because dads fix everything) and he said he was on his way.

Then the patient coordinator (???Not sure of her title) came in and asked what the problem was.  She took it very seriously.  I filled out a form to the best of my ability, although I couldn't see much so in the end she gave me the email I'd need to send a formal complaint. She also gave me the option to switch doctors- which I said HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLYES.  So she sent a nurse in to start all of that.

And then the ER blew up.  And I got lost in the shuffle- and that's okay- I realize there are people there with heart attacks, REAL strokes, etc and Ashley McKenney is not first on the list.  So when ahole walked back in the room an hour later, I wasn't super surprised I had slipped through the cracks.  BUT- my dad was there.  And I felt like this "doctor" could do or say anything... I had Goliath behind me :)

So as ahole ran down the list of things with my dad, I started to say something- I can't remember what it was- something like "I told you..." And then my dad cut me off. 

"Sweetie?  I'm going to talk for you now.  (instant flashback to like 2nd grade)....  but as I laid on the bed bawling, in pain, I surrendered.  And my dad rubbed my head and said, "Listen.  I see you're wearing a wedding ring.  You have a wife, I'm assuming?  Maybe kids?  Would you want your loved ones treated like this?  Are you giving her the kind of care you'd give your wife?  This girl, my daughter, (and here I am crying even harder now), has been through hell in the past 8 months.  She's learned to catheterize herself.  She's had painful tests, numerous hospital stays.  She's passed over 15 kidney stones just this summer.  She is exhausted.  We're all exhausted.  And all I want from you is to treat her like you'd treat your wife or daughter.  So give me that, doctor."

Ahole took a minute and sighed, then said, "I'd start her on steroids for her vision loss.  And monitor her overnight."

Okay- we were getting somewhere. 

They started an IV and I just couldn't stop the tears.  My dad asked if I wanted a colder wash cloth to put on my eye- I said yes.  As soon as I took the wash cloth down from my eye I noticed blood.  "Dad??  Is my eye bleeding?"

He came over and looked in, and said, "Yeah.  I'll grab the doctor."

Nothing panics my dad.  Nothing.  It was incredibly odd to see him out the door in a flash and back in with the doctor, flipping on lights to look into my eye.

Sure enough it was bleeding.  Ahole said it was coming from the bottom lid because I had scratched at it too much.  Again, my dad said "I'd like her to see an ophthalmologist.  Or get some kind of imaging so we know something isn't happening with her retina."

Ahole decided to put his two cents in, "You know, this is classic MS.  CLASSIC MS"

I continued to cry (if you've ever wondered how many tears you have... its a lot)

My dad told him that nothing has been ruled in or out yet and if need be, he'd drive me up to Jacksonville to get the proper imaging.  And then "miraculously" there was an ophthalmologist on call!  Imagine that.

I was admitted, and was seen by the kindest, most gentle ophthalmologist on the planet.  He understood the pain of shining lights into the "bad eye" and he took so much time with me, patient to get everything he needed.  Indeed, my retina was swollen and inflamed which he said PROBABLY produced the bleeding.  BUT there was nothing anatomically wrong with my eye- meaning the eye itself was healthy, Retina attached, no disease, etc.  Just swollen and inflamed which can be signs of MS OR a very sever ocular migraine.  Can I tell you how confusing this medical stuff is?!?! 

Anyways, I was given sweet, sweet pain relief all night but an angel of a nurse.  My mom and and sister came and sat with me until I fell asleep.

This morning, Ryan was there and we ate breakfast together.  We saw the same gentle, sweet, ophthalmologist again and this time he had great news for us:  The retina was fine- super healthy and he was pretty confident with ruling the entire thing as super bad migraine episode.    He gave us the all clear to go.

But as we all know too very well now, being released from the hospital requires 30 signatures.  Ryan left to pick the kids up from school and get dinner stuff.  And I had yet to see "THEE doctor"- the floor- doc who has control over who leaves and stays.  Around 2 or something she came in and said I could leave (HALLELUJAH!) and she'd get my discharge papers going.  And then my phone rang- the hospital phone.  It was Dr. Soto (the floor doctor).  She had just reviewed my blood work and noticed my liver panel was incredibly off. 

I told her "Yeah, I've got a really large legion on my right lobe.  I'm actually getting it biopsied this Friday at Baptist."  She wanted to draw more blood to make sure certain enzymes were at least stable and not on the rise.  Someone came and poked me again... gathered my blood, and I texted Ryan saying "don't get your hopes too high.  Blood work came back bad."

Around four she called back and said as long as I was going in for this liver issue on Friday, as in two days, she'd be okay with letting me go.  I promised I'd keep the appointment (should've kept it like a month ago...whoops).  I'm also banned from a giant list of medications- and you'd be SHOCKED at what can be sold over the counter, that can potentially cause this kind of liver damage.  It's terrifying and so sad.  I've literally been led like a blind sheep.  Listen people:  Acetaminophen?  It's not just a fluff warning they put on packaging.  It's real.  And it's caused damage to my liver.  I know this because I used to take tylenol like candy.  Any ache or pain or hangnail, 2 tylenol!  Can't sleep?  2 tylenol PM's!  I mean, I lived like this for YEARS.

 And I'm paying the price now with four little sets of eyes watching me. It's sickening.

 So yes... this Friday I go BACK in the hospital.  I'm terrified.  My liver hurts.  It HURTS.  That can't be good, right?!?!  Like you know under your ribs?  The entire area is tender and throbs.  So even if this is nothing to be concerned about, it's causing pain, which is going to have to be addressed eventually.  I mean.... I feel like I am stuck on the most disgusting merry-go-round.  And I CANNOT GET OFF. 

  • that was a huge bullet mark ^^^
  • In a couple of weeks, after the liver mess, no matter what the doctors come back and say about it, Ryan and I have made it a mission to take the kids SOMEWHERE- for a few days.  They deserve it.  Ryan deserves it.  Sometimes I feel like this sick rag doll that gets pulled around. limbs constantly falling off, having to be sewn back together.  Just a complete mess.  A job.  And not a fun one.  I am a job- that's the best description.  haha!  And everyone- including myself- needs a break.  So, we're going somewhere.  I don't know where.   But it will be a place to laugh, smile, run, drink sprite and chocolate milk, eat dessert late at night in hotel rooms, rent kid movies and lots of king sized bed cuddling with our babies.  
  • Stella just walked in our room, turned the bathroom light on, peed on the floor, shut the light off and said "I'm so sorry mom." And then retreated to her room.   Like that really just happened.
  • I am now logging off to clean up our bathroom.


Thank you friends and family for prayers and thoughts.  Thank you YL girls for my beautiful flowers that made me ugly cry. 

xoxo, Ash

Monday, November 3, 2014

The McKenney's 2014 Holiday ETSY Guide :)

My status from last night (because I'm too dang tired to re-type it)

"Don't mind me while I shout from my soapbox for a hot sec: okay so christmas is coming, yeah? I so, so, so urge you to try and shop local, or on etsy, or through friends who sell products. Let me use myself as an example. When you become an oil client of mine, that's a grocery bill paid. When you put an oil order in, that's a baseball bat for Henry. When you support locals and working mamas with etsy businesses, oil businesses, jamberry, etc. your money is going directly to a family. Think about that before forking over 300 bucks at Walmart . I'm planing on getting all of my kids stocking stuff from etsy- wooden cameras, play food, dolls, teethers (Rosie), animal masks for Stella, jewelry for Maeve, wooden pirate stuff for henry; the list goes on and on. If you're interested in specific shops I'm buying from I'd be more than happy to share! . Let's support each other this season and keep our money local. . -off soapbox-"

Trust me, I get it;  I know kids want electronics and plastic crap, but (shhh) I let my parents and grandma get that stuff.  :)  

I prefer to give my kids handmade, one of a kind items.  Some are huge hits, some aren't.  But something that I think we can all take away from holiday shopping is this; let's stop throwing money at big companies for that piece of plastic crap that will break in two days, and start investing in our friends, family and neighbors.  

Etsy and Instagram are HUGE havens for homemade gifts.  I bought quite a bit last year off of Etsy, and I plan to do even more this year.

I had a lot of people asking "What are your favorite Etsy shops?"  And as I started to list them on facebook, it occurred to me, there are just TOO many.  Ask my husband.... we have packages delivered here every day.  I have discovered an incredible amount of talented people who pour their heart and soul into their work.  

It gives me goosebumps to think of hands being used, instead of machines.  One of my favorite artists, Jack Johnson sings a song about this whole thing.  A lyric goes, 

"Future complications
In the strings between the cans
But no prints can come from fingers
If machines become our hands
And then our feet become the wheels
And then the wheels become the cars
And then the rigs begin to drill
Until the drilling goes too far"
(The Horizon has Been Defeated)

Anyways, I thought I'd put together a little shopping catalog/guide for anyone who wants to participate in buying locally, paying a little extra for fingerprints.  

Here's my shopping list:
KID SHOPS (toys, teethers, rattles)

KID CLOTHING

BIG PEOPLE STUFF (for sisters, moms, dads, etc)




These are the stores I've ordered from within the past year or so and I can tell you, they're all so wonderful.

Step outside the Walmart aisle and see how you can support a family AND get something great for yourself. 

Treasure those fingerprints.

xoxo Ash

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Lazy Pretzels, Other Catastrophies I Like to Entertain & Ramblings about My Faith

I feel sometimes like a slave to this blog; not that I dislike writing on it.  It's the fact that its morphed into something so far from what it was originally intended to be:  A diary of my kids' lives.  It's twisted into "Ashley's problems" and "pray for this" or "pray for that."  It's getting old for me... I want to talk about what my kids are doing;  I want to tell you about the insane, unbelievable things Stella does.  I want to have a neat little blog post, tied up in strings (like they used to be) showing, "Oh look!  We went berry picking!  And here are our beautiful pictures!"  The truth is, it hasn't been like that in a long, long time.

And thus, I feel a slave; its like the blog that won't die.

Maybe when this stuff passes I'll start clean.

For now, it's your random post, full of ramblings and nonsensical run-on sentences... a girl pining and whining her way through life.

I get way too many messages saying the same things, "Ashley, you are strong!  You're a source of strength for so many!, etc."  Wrong.  WRONG WRONG WRONG.

I am weak.  I have nothing left;  what you see floating around town is a body.  The brain, the heart and soul are elsewhere.  In "lala-land" or something.  Always thinking and churning over the "what if's."  Always beating myself down for not being the best mom or the most amazing cook or wife.

I often look at my days like a giant "to do" list.  Was I a fun mom today?  Did I tell my kids I loved them enough?  Did I tell Ryan I loved him?  Did I tell him thank you?  Did I cook dinner?  Did I pick up enough?  Did I spend enough time with the kids?  Did I?  Did I?  Did I?

The answer is no- I fail on all of that.  Everyday.  Especially days of late.  I've had to step way, way out of my comfort zone and allow others to bridge some hefty gaps.  Gaps that were once my territory;  I'm leaving them open for others to fill.  Some are simple, but incredibly (OH MY GOSH INCREDIBLY) helpful, like making dinner or a gift card for dinner... You guys... YOU GUYS.  You have no idea.  Just none.  We'd be on our 30th day of Chick-fil-a if it were not for y'all.  So THANK YOU- beyond WORDS!  Thank you.

Other gaps are harder to watch;  like when my friend had to take Henry's first day of school pictures.  I cried the entire day, which led to a crazy migraine.... yeah that was tough.

But to know I have friends and family that are ready to jump in and pick us up, plug a hole in our deflating balloon; that's priceless and I seriously cannot thank you enough.  I've never felt more loved.

This blog post has been a thorn in my side for awhile.   I was planning on writing some sort of whiny post (typical) around the beginning of September.  And then sh!t hit the fan.

Our babysitter arrived like normal, to watch the kids.  I had had an appointment the previous day; a gallbladder scan (a Hyda scan?)  and wasn't thinking much of it... other than I had a pain in my right side and was interested in hearing if it was my gallbladder or not.  After leaving the house I pulled into Panera's with this laptop (that I'm typing on now :) and got a call- it was my GI doc up in Jacksonville.  My gallbladder wasn't functioning- like at all- in fact it was beginning to disintegrate.   They asked if I could come up pronto to be admitted and get it taken out.  Thankfully, our sitter and my family worked together to make all of that happen and I drove to Baptist Memorial on a Thursday, for what was supposed to be an easy gallbladder surgery.

HA.

I was admitted and my surgeon wanted to run a CT scan before surgery.  I was doped up, and couldn't have cared less.  One CT scan later, I was taken down for surgery.  Literally, as I was getting off the elevator (or being wheeled in the stretcher) a surgical tech came out to meet my nurse and said, "Is this McKenney?  She's not having surgery . I don't know the details but its canceled for right now."  And that's when the hospital stay turned into a nightmare.

I was brought back up to my room, where I sat with (sister) Emily.  We ping ponged ideas back and forth, wondering what would halt surgery... around 8pm they brought me down for two MRI's that I swear was the equivalency of being in a pit of snakes.  #IhateMRIs  I still didn't have a CLUE what they were looking for but the MRI tech was awesome... and I asked a sneaky question, "So, what are you looking for with this scan?"  And he answered, "Primarily the liver."

I pondered that.  The liver.  Hmm... But then also knew the gallbladder lied inside the liver, so I guess it wasn't too crazy?  Anyways, we got through the MRI (barely) and I was taken back up to my room.

Around nine PM, the lights shot on in my room and a team of doctors swarmed my bed.  I honestly can't remember how it was said- what all was said, I really cant.  But it was basically "We didn't do the surgery today because you have a lot of issues.  We found free fluid in your abdomen, a large cyst on your ovary and a mass on your liver.  Now we know your gallbladder isn't working, so it certainly could be a reason for your symptoms and pain, but you need to know that we could take the gallbladder out and nothing could change.  Meaning, you'll continue to have pain, because you have several other conditions going on."

I said to go ahead with the surgery- to knock that off the list.  The doctors agreed, saying it would be nice to have the gallbladder off the table; not a viable source of the symptoms.

The next morning I went in bright and early for surgery.  Because I'm Ashley, there were complications getting to it and I had some anesthesia issues as well... which prompted an automatic night stay.  And honestly, I was in SO much pain, that was fine with me.

I have five incisions.  One in my belly button, the other four up top.  And for the first day, I asked for morphine whenever I could get it.  It hurt THAT bad.

Normally when I am in the hospital I keep a stiff upper lip; refusing meds because, who knows.  They'll ask me to rate my pain and I always answer with a 2 or 3.  An hour later they'll find a stone ripping down my ureter.  The nurses fawn all over me, "We have grown men come in here saying they are dying!  And this is what, your 15th stone?"  Stupid pride.

Okay- back to Baptist; While in the hospital they found a new reason to keep me (it seemed this way).... each day.   Something was ALWAYS wrong with my labs or scans, etc.  It was just a really hard, not fun, tear and anxiety filled week.

The stiff upper lip completely quivered and I surrendered to whatever they would give me.  I was sick, in a ton of pain and my chest was filled with panic.

Also, did you know getting released from a hospital is kind of like being released from jail?  Like you are THEIRS.  They OWN you.  I had to get permission from ALL of my doctors that I could be discharged.  And at this point in my stay I had a floor doctor, a GI doc, a surgeon and a neurologist.  And there was so much miscommunication;  one doctor would say "she's good to go!"  The other would say, "I need more labs.  Or let's repeat this scan."  It went around and around like that until finally- FINALLY- one of my doctors rallied all the signatures needed, and I was out.  

At home I took up residence in bed.  Typical.  And that's when the meals started arriving.  And its here that I lack the words to properly thank you all.  But I'll try.

Ryan was brushing kids' hair, teeth, filling back packs, tying shoes, etc.  And YOU saved him from a necessary, but everyday hassle; making dinner.  I know I keep going on about it, but really- the outpouring was just insane.  I cried every time I read a card, or ate a meal that someone had taken the time to cook and deliver.  Just thank you... over and over and over again.

Somewhere around day 3 of being discharged from the hospital, Ryan started talking about resigning from his job.  I think I cried for about two days straight.  I envisioned the power being turned off, standing in line for  WIC, having to move the kids again, etc.  (my psychiatrist says I like to make catastrophic events in my head- wha??  He so cray cray.)

So yep. That's a huge announcement.  The change that trumps all changes.  Ryan resigned.  He's done at Embry Riddle.  He's home taking care of his forlorn wife.  If you could only imagine the guilt... it's all consuming.  We keep  joking about "for better or for worse..."  But we have four kids... we can't play around here.  There are bills to be paid, an incredible amount of logistics to get through (like finding GOOD, new insurance...gahhhh)... and most of all, leaning SO heavily on the Lord.  We're living on hope and faith right now.  And so far so good.  Why am I surprised?  Does the Lord ever fail?  This may not have looked like the life I thought I'd be living this year, but it's exactly what He has written.  I don't know the why or what or when.. but He does.

I am officially 1 month out since my botched gallbladder surgery... (well not botched I guess; they did get the thing.... after 6 incisions).  My insides still ache and the fatigue is overwhelming.  All the time.  I feel like I'm standing in the middle of the road, cars flying by on both sides of me; life happening everywhere- and then there's me.  Stagnant.  It's all too fast right now,- the world that is.  I can't keep up with it and its making me feel like the biggest failure.

Because I lock up my confidence and self worth in silly things like, making the perfect pinterest cupcakes or having the best dressed kids, the moment something slips (ie- we bring a bag of PRETZELS for snack- and they're in a bag, like we picked them up on the way to school, which we most certainly did).  I could just see the other mothers eying my bag of lazy pretzels.

I need to get over lazy pretzels.

Anyways, a bit ago I got some sobering news.  The liver mass has grown 1.2 cm since my last scan- that's a whopping total of 9.2cm of SOMETHING that's squashing and taking over the right side of my liver.  And yeah, it hurts.  I think the pain is simply because of the size; its protruding out- my belly is SO bloated; I mean that sucker's gotta be pushing on stuff right?  UGH.  Disgusting.   I met with my internalist to figure out what to do/where to go next. Last week I had a colonoscopy (terrific times) and I've scheduled my liver biopsy twice.  And have cancelled it twice.

Yeah.  That's about where I'm at right now.

We did get some incredible news from my neurologist- my spinal fluid is perfect;  He felt confident in ruling out MS.  And it snapped me back into reality.  Just hearing that, "We can rule out MS or anything else that's a serious neurological issue."

I fell back into me.

I thought the transition from "sick Ashley" to "normal Ashley" would be earth shattering;  I basically had a zillion pieces to pick up.

It was anything but earth shattering.

Wait- I take that back... it was earth shattering, but in an amazing way.

I came home, cried with my mom, praised God about the incredible news of no MS and decided in that moment I was me again.

I could think about going to Disney World and walking around with the kids.  I wanted to go grocery shopping!  I could get out of bed in the morning, excited for the day.  It had been a long time since I had felt any kind of pure, sugar, maple syrupy happiness.  And I let myself sit in that moment for awhile, day dreaming of life withOUT MS.

 It was a really, really good day.

This post gets a few awards tonight; I'll start out with "most whiny" and follow up with "longest post ever."

Okay- so today- here, and now.  I am due for a liver biopsy that I can't seem to keep on my calender.  I don't want to do it.  I don't want to ever go back to Baptist.  I don't want medicine.  I don't want pain.  I don't want to know what this is, growing inside me.  In the same breath, I can say I need to know what is growing inside of me.

Tomorrow's goal is pretty simple:  Reschedule liver biopsy for the 3rd time.

Following through is where I'll need some encouragement.  :)

I'll try my best to keep you updated.

On a totally NOT medical note, seasons are changing, transitioning to a cooler, colorful time.  I call this weather my "second skin" weather.  You can walk outside and I swear, the weather matches your body temperature (obviously it doesn't.. but it feels that way).  It's just sweet goodness.

We have four pumpkins on our stoop.  Two giant spiders (real ones), weaving webs around our porch.  Sidewalk chalk drawings have taken over our back patio porch and there's a constant smell of leaves and coffee in our house.  I love it.

Something I've been struggling like, horribly with, is faith.  Or trust-(lack of) whatever you want to call it, when I decide that the world is ending and my heart is going to fail and my kids are going to find me passed out on the bathroom floor.  What does tomorrow hold?  I wish I knew.  But we're not meant to know.  I have faith in my God.  He's done amazing things in these past few weeks (years,- my entire life).... 

That's super easy to type out and its simple.  It makes me feel like a good person.  The truth is, practicing this kind of faith and trust in Him is hard.  HARD.  The day of my neurology appointment (pre-appointment) I sobbed, listened to a few of my favorite worship songs, got on my knees and cried (literally) to the Lord.  He delivered.  No MS.

You'd think my faith would be sky rocketing high, right?

Wrong.

Now my mind is triggered on the liver thing.  Christians, how do you give it ALL up to Him?  And why is it so hard for me?

A friend of mine (she'll remain anonymous :)  prayed with me a couple of weeks ago.  Through tears, she asked me, "Ashley, if the Lord takes one of your kids, are you going to deny Him?  Will you not worship Him?"

Automatically, like my soul was being held in His hands, I said "Of course not!  I will forever worship my God."

I've been thinking a lot about that conversation.  There are three thousand things that could potentially go wrong at any given second and trust me, I can come up with some good ones (one of my current fears is being swallowed in a sink hole...yeah) anyways, if any one of those three thousand things were to happen, would I abandon my God?  Never.  And I guess that's the moral of this HUGE, long, rambling post.

No matter what happens, sink holes, my kid being bullied, liver cancer, WHATEVER- my God is HERE.  He is ALWAYS present.  And I will always bow to Him.  He is ALWAYS good.  Even in the midst of super scary times.  He is the One I can cling to, and I know I will never be failed by Him.

I'm focusing on this; remembering His love for me.  His love for my kids.  My heart is His, and He's in mine.  And that's what's going to help me walk out the front door tomorrow.

Alright- I think this is over.

Goodnight, God bless.  Be thankful for health!  Live life beautifully- fearlessly.

(but still watch out for sink holes- those things are real).

:) xoxo- Ash

Monday, July 14, 2014

all I can manage for tonight

  • I cancelled my much anticipated silver in six retreat.  The one I worked all year for.  The one that has been inching closer and closer on my calender.  The one that's marked off in yellow and blue polka dots in my planner as my "SILVER RETREAT!"  It stings, it hurts, its real.  And honestly, I don't want to talk about it.  A few days ago I was shuffling through the house.  My 89 year old grandma who helps with Maeve and Henry was there;  she had taken them on a walk while the little ones napped, so I could nap.  (LOVE YOU GRAMS).  As I slunk out of my bedroom my grandma caught sight of me and said "Oh Ashley, you have your trip coming up!  What are you going to do?   You can't go alone and travel like this."  And I had been thinking that for awhile;  ever since the MS thing.  I had kept it a secret thought in my head like, "I'm going to admit when I come back from the silver retreat that I almost didn't go- but I'm so glad I trusted in God and went for it!"  Hahaha.  And then she said those words and I was forced to say something back.  And it sounded like, "Yeah, I know, grandma."  I cancelled my travel plans before Ryan got home to stop me.  
  • I want the leg puffers/pumpers they give you in the hospital to prevent blood clots.  I want them BAD.  Someone tell me where I can get them!?!?
  • This "thing" whatever it is.... whether its MS or bad kidneys,  or just my flippin lot in life.  It's too much to carry on a daily basis.  I thought about this in depth tonight.  How many times have I  gotten on here to declare victory over some thing I can't even grab a hold of?  "I am going to stay strong and eat healthy.... blah blah blah."  It's enough to make me vomit.  The truth?  It's too much.  IT'S TOO FREAKING MUCH.  I can't carry this.  I can't carry it for a day... two days, three days.  It's too heavy.  There are too many blows and knock downs.  It's hard to admit that I'm not "okay."  That things aren't hunky dory! :D (my mom always uses that phrase...)  But they're not.  They're just not.  Some days- some moments I'm given that sweet swish of the life that was mine a year ago.  A night at the park; a visit with a friend.  Those things are so obsolete right now.  When something "big" (like a park night, or a walk, or whatever...) I feel so good.  Warm and normal.  And I start coming up with a grocery list.  I get half way through before I remember "I need to cath myself."  And then the entire sunshiney day dream comes crashing down.  THIS is reality.  THIS is what's happening right now and there's nothing- no magic pill- or oil- that's going to change this.  It's a domino effect;  and I know this.  One step is going to lead to another step, that will lead to another, etc.  I'll take a few steps back; that's for sure.  But its also to be expected.  Anyways, what I'm saying is I don't have anything together.  I'm winging it every day, all day.  But I have the hope of the Lord; and I've said this a million times to Ryan and my friends- I seriously don't know what someone would do without that knot to grab onto.  Obviously I know people do it daily; lose a loved one, diagnosed with cancer, etc.  and they don't know the Lord.  But with my hope and faith in Jesus, its like this giant cushion.  I know the entire world can come crashing down.... just give me Jesus.

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

the whole hossy thing.

My eyes feel like they're glued  Literally, every time I blink, there's a good chance they'll stay shut.  Maybe this is how celebs feel when they get "hospitalized" for exhaustion. Because if that were an option right now I might consider it just for a night...

Wednesday night I was having flank pain and blood in my catheters.   That's normally a sure sign of infection. 

I called my primary and he arranged an ultrasound; unfortunately the only place that was open was the ER- but it was fine; they were expecting me and I was in and out pretty quick.


The  ultrasound tech checked for blockage and back up.  I had neither.  Just two, itty bitty stones (less than 4mm -again if you've passed a stone, less than 4mm doesn't feel too "itty bitty.") that were passing; thus the reason for pain and bleeding.

Was sent home Wednesday night with a foley bag (when I get stones, its easier to put a bag on and literally drink myself silly (with water of course lol!)  and let the urine collect in a bag, versus me catheterizing myself every five minutes and funneling it through a sifter, etc.  Just a huge pain.  So I agreed on the bag, and left the ER determined to flush these stones out.


Thursday I woke up with my bag and spend the day drinking water, flushing my kidneys.  But Thursday night I was feeling pretty bad.  I think I emailed a few nursing friends, soliciting free advice, because that's how I do.

In the end, (early Friday morning) I was beyond sick.  Like felt as though I could die.  For real.  I was one of those dorks that had to be wheeled into the ER by her husband- I couldn't even stand.

They gave me that magic dilauded, which knocked the pain out immediately.  I fell asleep and woke up a couple of hours later, realizing I was in a huge trauma room- like the kinds you see on TV.  And I had doctors and nurses surrounding me.  Somewhere during my nap my blood pressure had dropped to 67/43 and my heart rate was in the high 100's.  I had a temperature and was totally out of it.  Which was probably a good thing; because had I been with it, I would have been scared out of my mind.

I had a doctor (not a nurse- but doctor) above me squeezing fluids into me and a nurse taking my vitals.  I was like a blob. Couldn't even try and move.  I suppose things stabilized (though my BP never got over 100) and the next thing I knew I was in the ICU.  How. DID.  THIS.  HAPPEN?!?! 

As they gave me more fluids, meds, etc.  I became more "with" it and was able to remember what had happened.  I mean, most of it.  There were a lot of empty pieces but I knew I was really sick and I was on the ICU floor.  I knew my vitals weren't good and that  I was being admitted. 

The first doctor I talked to thought I had some horrible disease; like TB or something.  (pros and cons of having a private room- you're alone and its private, but that usually means you're pretty sick)  For the first 24 hours I had over 7 antibiotics;  apparently I was close to becoming septic;  they couldn't' identify the exact bacteria or virus I had.  So they were using wide spectrum antibiotics.  This sucked for a million reasons.  Each med gave me some new reaction;  I itched, I puked, I felt heavy in my chest; it was AWFUL.

After 48 hours my culture finally grew something;  enterococcus faecalis.  A serious bacterium, linked to a whole host of scary problems, often associated with use of catheters. 

Once they identified it, they put me on three antibiotics to kill the sucka.  Yesterday I couldn't take the hospital for another second and braved the question, "Can I  go home?"  One doctor (infectious disease doc) said "NO."  My other two doctors (my floor doc and my urologist) said "yes."  So my dad and I ran with those "yesses" and some how I got myself out of there.  I've questioned it a few times; did I leave too early?  Should I have stayed to be monitored longer?  My vitals had improved- totally normal- except for right before we left.  My BP was 134/90 and my heart rate was 55.  Like complete opposite of when I came in.

Anxiety is playing a good part in all of this; telling me "GO BACK!  Run back to the doctors!"  And then theres another part of me hat's saying "Stay with your kids.  You need to be with your kids."

All in all its bee a trying 5 days.  My grandma is here to help me today, and I appreciate her help SO much.  But all I really want is Ryan.

We'll get through this;  I'm determined.  My love for the kids is so great- that I have a will to get 100% better and become that energetic, fun mom they so deserve.

Right now... I'm just tired.  Anxious.  Full of fear and thoughts. 

PS- nursing friends feel free to PM me a message about why my BP and heart rate were so funky before I left! 

I'm also a human slug.  No really; like can barely get around.  I am crazy tired.  CRAZY TIRED.  I'm assuming this is just from everything that's happened?

I miss my old doctor (Dr. Bigelow) so badly.  I need someone o tell me "You are not going to quit breathing.  You are not going to die from this.  You just need to take your medicine ad rest." 

gahhhhhhhhhhhhh

what a few days, huh?

Seriously though; if you have any kind words of encouragement about me being "okay"- like "hey Ashley I dealt with this same thing last year and I am totally fine now!  Took my meds and all is well!" I'd LOVE to hear it! :D

thanks for all the prayers and love!

xoxo
Ash