Momma RN

2012-02-12T18:13:00.000-08:00

I just had the most wonderful weekend with my kids. It could not have come at a better time, too.

Jay didn't go, simply because we didn't have anyone to watch our high maintenance dogs, and then with him having to work out of state all week, he wouldn't have been able to go anyhow.

So yeah. The kids and I packed up the car and headed to Frankenmuth for the weekend. I was a "bad mom" and called Ethan off school, even though technically I didn't have to. Him and I both had a heck of a week at school/work, so it only seemed fair to each of us to have some peace and quiet for a little bit. Sort of regroup, if you will.

Then, around 2:00 PM, we hit the road! We got there around 3:45 after getting a quick lunch at McDonald's. My parents and sister were already there, waiting for our arrival in the hotel lobby so they could help me out with the kids and getting checked in (bless them!). We found our rooms, changed into our swimsuits, and hit the pool! Both of my kids are little fish. It's so much fun watching them (a little scary, too! No fear in these children). We had a blast. They were just SO happy to be there. And I was so happy to be there WITH them.

Remember my previous post about perspective? I really really REALLY thought about that this weekend. I am allowing myself to be hurt by someone elses actions. Maybe I shouldn't, but then I'd be kidding myself, and that's not healthy, either. But to go back to perspective, this person has made assumptions about me. False assumptions. And is not shy about telling anyone and everyone, EXCEPT me. Wanna know what I call that? Cowardly. If you can say it out loud, at least own it. That was the realization I came to this weekend. And being with these two, precious little beings, who love me, flaws and all, really taught me what is important and what is not.

Ethan and Allison? Those two are my world. And I thank God for every moment with them, because no matter what I do (or don't do), no matter how I look, feel, or act. They love me.

Saturday night Allison got sick. She started with the signs of croup, just barking like a little seal as she would cough and cough. Then she felt feverish, though I had no way of confirming it other than mother's intuition. Then it started to where she would cough so hard and fiercely, she would vomit. Bottom line? There wasn't much sleep. The sleep that WAS had, was had by her. Again, another great moment to gain perspective. Her warm body was wrapped within mine, as she did not want me far from her at all. When she would awaken and whisper out a "Mama!" or when she would start to whimper, I was right there, tending to her needs. Offering a sip of water. Wiping her nose. Rubbing her back. Or just giving her my hand when she'd reach out into the darkness. I was there. And she knew it. Ethan slept through most of this, but even though his sister was sick and coughing a ton, he still wanted to be right there with us. Occasionally I'd feel him stir, knowing that all of our movement was disturbing him, but he never complained. We had a whole other queen sized bed that was empty, but he chose to stay with us.

Perspective. When someone I love and cares about, ESPECIALLY my family, I am there, no questions asked. When my sister was hanging on to life by her fingertips, I was there, catching every detail the doctor said. Scrutinizing every word that WASN'T spoken. Calling them in when everyone else had gone home so I could try to get more information from them. Information they might relay to me because I am in the medical field and would get it.

Every breath my kids breathe. Every cry, every laugh, I am there. Every set back my sister had. Every moment one of my parents would crumble under the uncertainty of her condition, I was there. Jay and I, we have been together since we were 16, and have gone through the worst times of our lives together, times that could split people up, but it didn't. He is always there.

The loss of pets, the loss of family members, the loss of patients, the loss of friendships, those that love me...they are there. And I am there for them.

We got home from Frankenmuth by 12:00. I promptly handed Allison over to Jay who was just dying to snuggle her, did some laundry, then took the world's longest nap. I was able to do that because my husband knew that after our sleepless night last night, I was tired. So no questions were asked when I walked to our bed and fell promptly to sleep.

So this person. You can make assumptions. You can shout them from the rooftops, if it will make you feel better. But I'll be damned if I let you define who I am.

2012-02-08T17:14:00.000-08:00

I realize life is all a matter of perspective. Right now my perspective is glass half empty, so be ready.

Do you ever feel like you take one step forward, followed by two steps back? Or like whenever something good, or even decent happens, something else immediately follows to knock you down again?

I've been feeling this way for a while. Let me share an example.

I start a new job. It's different, but different is not always bad. In fact, I like this job a lot. However, I am facing some resistance by someone I work with. Someone who really hasn't accepted me from day one. Someone who never even gave me a chance to prove my worth.

But whatever. I've learned that some people are just like that. It didn't bother me too much. Sure, it was a little annoying, and it made things challenging when I had a question and had no one else to ask, but I can handle myself professionally and deal with it.

But then the person starts to get a little more aggressive. They step up their game. I could sense it coming. In fact, on Monday is when it all began...this person was just breathing down my neck, waiting for me to slip up.

Today, I felt it all morning. As the day progressed, I developed that feeling you get when you are about to take a huge test. Butterflies, shaky hands, I just felt it.

Sure enough, during our weekly meeting, it hit the fan. I was accused, in front of all of the office staff, including my new manager and the physician that is the head of the department of being "too good" to help out in the clinic. That I was "above" bringing patients back, and cleaning the room after them. That whenever I was asked to help, I would refuse.

Jaw. Meet floor. Might as well punch me in the stomach, because the air was instantly sucked out of me.

What?? WHAT??! "Too good?" Let me make a public announcement to anyone who might not already know: when you are a nurse, you go into it knowing that it is FAR from glamorous. You become very involved with every bodily fluid imaginable. You see people at their absolute worst. You get yelled at by family members. You get yelled at by patients. You get yelled at my physicians. And yet, you still love your job with everything you've got. You love it because you love taking care of people. Helping them. Getting to know them on a level no one else will ever know. Being the last person they might see before they pass away.

TOO GOOD? No. That couldn't be further from the truth, and how dare someone make that assumption??? I pour my heart and soul into my job. I don't do it for any reason other than I LOVE it. I love my patients and there is NEVER a time where I regret my decision to be a nurse.

Being accused of something SO extremely asinine, and in front of my coworkers, boss, and the other physicians just took the wind right out of my sails. I handled it like any professional would. I gently picked my jaw up off the floor, reminded myself to breath, walked to my office, shut the door, and cried my eyes out.

This was at 1 PM and I still can't contain just how BAD that hurt me. I still keep blinking back tears. I feel like I am in a fog.

Right now, I feel really, really crummy. REALLY crummy. I am obviously big on social networking. I blog a lot, I love facebook, and I participate on several different parenting sites.

This incident made me step back. This isn't the first time someone has made assumptions about me. No, I don't blame social networking at all. But I am tired of putting myself out there so publicly. I'm tired of allowing other people who do not know me at all, bring me down. I'll instead focus on the people that DO know me. That know my heart and mind.

I'm taking a break.

2012-02-06T17:38:00.000-08:00

I frequently tell people that I am not a crier. I hate to cry, even when I am alone. If I cry in front of someone, I always say it's an indication that I am really, really upset.

I think I can now officially retract that statement. I am a crier. And I am proud of it. Or something.

Ever since the day I got the dreaded phone call about my sister, I have realized that I am constantly on edge. Even when I feel okay, I'm always a little extra cautious. A little extra nervous. A little bit quicker to get scared and to cry. To panic and worry.

Today was no exception. Mondays at work are super busy. We had a full day of patients, along with all the patients at home, who rely on the nurses via phone to be there for them. I love the pace because the day flies by.

But then you get a call. The message is from your child's teacher, saying your child has been hurt, and asking if someone can come get him. I panic. My heart is in my throat. I don't like this kind of call! I need my son. I need to leave. Can I just leave work? What the heck do I do?

First thing I did was call my boss to let her know. She is wonderful and as a mother herself, told me to do what I had to do...which was be with Ethan. The school had also called Jay, who was on his way. I called my mom, who ALSO left work to get him, since she was a lot closer than Jay was.

Turns out, a child bit my son. It was through his winter coat, thank God, so there was no broken skin, just a lot of redness, swelling, and bruising. The swelling concerned the teacher and she felt it was very important that he be taken to the doctor. Fortunately, they iced it for him, and by the time my mom and Jay got to him, we could see it likely was not doctor-worthy at this point, but they still took him home.

I don't know if I will ever get used to that. I'm just thankful for all of those people in my life who get it. Who get me. Who jump to help, even though their lives are just as busy, if not, busier. I am thankful for wonderful friends and co-workers who listen and help me compose myself and keep moving.

Ethan is fine. It was a minor incident. His arm is sore, but he is acting totally fine otherwise.

My name is Laura Kowalski, and I am overly emotional, sensitive, and constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The first step is admitting it, right?

2012-02-05T19:12:00.000-08:00

I was the BEST PARENT EVER...before I had kids.

No, really. I worked in a daycare for several years up until Ethan was born, and I felt it taught me everything I would NOT do as a parent, because darn it, I would do better!

HAHAHAHAHAH! Are you laughing at me yet?

One of the greatest things I have learned since becoming a parent is this. "Never say never."

I am that mom with a kid who is DEFINITELY old enough to know better, throw a whopper of a temper tantrum throughout the grocery store.

I am that mom who allows sugary cereal and cartoons.

I am that mom who said "No more binky after she turns 1!" ...which turned into "No more binky after she turns 2!" ....and now she is 2 1/2 and guess what? She is still going strong. Maybe when she turns 3?

I remember the first time I saw Yo Gabba Gabba. I thought, "OH my goodness, this show is MESSED. UP." Guess what? My daughter has all the stuffed characters, along with character shirts and blankets. Girlfriend LOVES her some Muno and Brobee.

My kids both only drink chocolate milk. They both HATE white milk (and yes, I offered white milk first).

Both of my kids were formula fed. Allison had a few slurps of breast milk, but...yeah, it didn't work out so well.

I pick my battles with my kids, and sometimes, from the outside, it might look bad, but you know what? It's working for us.

I think the WORST thing parents can do is judge others without knowing the whole story. That is the beauty of BEING a parent. There are so many ways to do it, and there isn't one way better than the other. Is the product happy, healthy, kids? Then you are doing it right!

You'll never see me cloth diaper. And I hate to cook, so making baby food is out. Breastfeeding didn't work so hot. Co-sleep? Good heavens, NO! Sleep is precious to me and I'll be damned if some squirmy little human is going to interrupt that. That's what their crib is for! I tried a baby sling ONCE and felt like my child was trying to strangle me. That was the end of that 4 minute adventure.

But you know what? Ethan is doing AMAZINGLY well in school. He had some maturity issues in preschool, but since then, he has grown so much and he is extremely smart. He has a very close bond to both his father and myself. Bottom line? He is one loved little boy and he knows, without a doubt in his mind, that we adore him, no matter what. He has always been extremely healthy. His "worst" illness was maybe an ear ache?

And Allison. Sweet Allison. That girl is FULL of life and spunk. She has the most beautiful smile, and she will give anyone a hug when it is time to go, followed by a "have a great day!" She loves to eat, and is willing to try almost anything. She is doing amazingly well with potty training, and I have to say, she has done most of it on her own.

Both of my kids love books. Ethan loves to read, and Allison loves to be read to. We are regulars at the library and every night before bed, Ethan and I have a routine we developed, after hearing that President Obama does something similar with his girls. We tweaked it a bit and not a night goes by without us doing it. We'll say "What was your rose, daisy, thorn, and prickly thorn today?" to each other. Your rose is the best thing. Your daisy is the second best thing. Your thorn is something that upset you, and your prickly thorn is something that hurt you or made you angry.

Allison loves Yo Gabba Gabba and Sesame Street. She loves Dora, Diego, and Wonder Pets. But she also loves to sing and dance. She is FULL of animation

My kids are happy. They still have not learned that the world does not revolve around them, but we are working on that. They are healthy. They are well-rounded. They have traveled, and when we travel, we make it a learning experience. They are wonderful, wonderful children.

Never say never. Don't judge. You are judging based on very superficial things.

2012-02-02T17:27:00.000-08:00

Some people exercise to relieve stress. Other people might vent to a friend over a cup of coffee.

Me? I shop. A lot. Throw in a stressful incident like my sister, followed by a string of difficult, challenging times after that, and I kinda, sorta, maybe overdid it. No, no, no, I haven't done TOO much damage, but enough damage to where it caused my husband, who is an avid saver, an enormous amount of stress.

Early in the game, the shopping was fun. But then as I started to shop more, the fun part of it started to wear off. Well, scratch that. The actual shopping part was GREAT. The part where I swiped my card? Ehhhh...not so great. My mind would say "you know you shouldn't be doing this!" ...yet I would sign my name on that smudged screen and walk out of the store, bags in hand.

Then I'd drive home, all the while feeling very, very guilty. But did I return anything? Nope.

It finally got to the point where Jay and I went head to head. Now let me preface this by saying we don't fight often. Bicker? Yes. Find each other annoying? All the time. But fight? No. This time, though, was a full-fledged argument, and while we both got out words (some that weren't so kind), it was much needed.

That very night, I finally did it: I cut up my credit cards (I only had 2....). It has now been two weeks since I have had them and to be honest, it feels really, really good. When the temptation is taken away, and you KNOW that little piece of plastic no longer exists, it sets my mind at ease.

Sure, I miss shopping. But I don't miss the tension it caused in my family. My husband and children are far more important to me than indulging in an unhealthy way of facing my own personal issues.

I have yet to figure out a better way that works for me (that doesn't involve money), but I am working on it!

2012-01-31T16:15:00.000-08:00

911. CPR. Ventilator. Sister. ER. Come quick.

Those are the key words that stick in my memory when I think back to September 20, 2010. The panic. The fear. The tears. Oh my God, the tears. I never knew I could cry that way. I never knew I could beg and plead with God to PLEASE let this just be a bad dream.

Seeing my sister in the ER was devastating. I remember focusing on her hands. They were so flaccid. Her wrists had restraints on them to keep her from pulling out the tubes that were coming from every which way. But her hands were not fighting the restraints. Her hands were just laying there, completely immobile. How much I wanted her hands to fight. SOMETHING to show she was there. But no. The only movement we would see for days would be the awful seizures that shook her entire bed.

I remember the day I was approached at work and asked if I wanted to be a part of the American Heart Walk and help raise money for heart research. Is the sky blue? Do I need oxygen to breath? YES, I will do that!

I jumped right on it. I got permission to use a small bulletin board in the break room. I summarized Leslie's story and posted pictures of her both in the hospital and when she came home. I believe there were 4 pictures total. Space was limited and I wanted to utilize all of it. I posted directions on how to join my team and how to make a donation.

Then I got the word that there were people talking. The pictures were "disturbing" and people didn't want to "look at that" while eating lunch. THAT being my sister. "Heart research is over-rated" and "I'm not giving any more money to these fundraisers."

To say I was hurt would be a complete understatement. I was CRUSHED. Really? REALLY? As much as those comments devastated me, I would never, in a million years, wish the pain my family felt on that dreadful day on anyone.

That day, when I got home, I was done. Until I got the mail. In the mail, I found a check from some very dear friends of my parents. It was a very generous donation to the American Heart Association. I cried again, but this time, they were tears of happiness. Tears of hope. And from that moment on, I chose the high road and gave fundraising my all.

Last year, thanks to the AMAZING generosity of my friends and family, and even strangers, I raised about $1600 for the American Heart Walk. That is $1600 that will go towards hopefully preventing what happened to my sister from happening to someone else. Those lifesaving measures that literally saved my sisters life? That $1600 will help provide AED's to public places in case someone needs it. I remember seeing the burn marks on my sisters chest and side from the AED firing to restart her heart. It worked. That $1600 will help train people in the correct technique in giving CPR. The teachers that did CPR on my sister? It worked. She started to breath again.

To say I am passionate about the American Heart Association would be an understatement. Until the day I die, I will forever be an advocate. My sister is a miracle. A living miracle. If you don't believe in miracles, then you don't know my sister.

The way I think of it is this: Imagine you are walking down a road. The path is crystal clear and you can see for miles. Then, out of nowhere, you are blindfolded, turned around, and set on a completely different path. You can't see, so you have no idea what lies ahead. The path isn't anything like what you started out on, so you have to figure it out as you go. This is how my sister's life was, and how it changed. Every day is different now, and every day is nothing like what it was before the incident. Why did this happen? We will never know. But by supporting the American Heart Association, hopefully things like this will happen less and less, and eventually, not at all.

Please join me. Join my team and walk with me. The walk path is very nice and the enthusiasm is overwhelming among the supporters. Better yet, donate. There is no such thing as a donation too small. Every penny counts.

Thank you, from the very bottom of my very thankful heart.

http://miheartwalk.kintera.org/mommarn50

2012-01-28T17:24:00.000-08:00

I posted this on facebook and I will elaborate on it more here:

How can anyone think that health insurance/care should be a privilege and not a right? I know how. By turning a blind eye and not even considering what goes on with people without health coverage.

My husband and I both work full-time. Do we want to work full-time? Heck no! Do we have a choice? Heck no! Do we have health insurance? Yup. Do we pay an arm and a leg for it? Sure do.

Now. I am a nurse (if you don't know by that, you need to start paying better attention..hehe!). When I worked in the in-patient setting, patients without insurance was all handled by the social worker so I had very little insight to what went on, I just knew we had A LOT of uninsured patients.

Now that I do out-patient, I am the nurse AND the social worker. And ALL of my patients either have cancer, or are recovering from cancer. These are VERY sick women. Last week, I had a case where a chest x-ray was ordered to check for metastatic disease (these gynecologic cancers spread fast) and an incidental finding of a potential aneurysm was found. This warranted further testing to see how bad the aneurysm was and if it needed treatment or just surveillance.

I kid you not, I spent DAYS working on this case. Was I trying to get insurance to approve for some huge, lengthy surgery to open up this woman's chest and analyze it? No. Was I trying to get some super expensive drug to help "treat" her? Nope, not even that. Wanna know what I needed? A freaking CAT scan. That's it. It didn't even involve contrast. A 15 minute scan to analyze this aneurysm.

Wanna know what got her case denied? The fact that she wasn't having any symptoms. Now, I know I am a nurse so I have a little more experience with different medical conditions, but I don't think it takes a rocket scientist to know that there won't BE symptoms of an aortic aneurysm. Wanna know what the only tell-tale symptom will be? DEATH.

I had to jump through hoops, spend HOURS on the phone, send and receive faxes, and FINALLY they let it go. Do I think they finally approved it because they finally understood how important it was? No. I think it was because I was annoying them because I was absolutely relentless. I wasn't going to let this go without insurance approval.

One more case (this one is much shorter, don't worry). This patient needs surgery for her cancer. She is progressing and her legs are starting to swell. She is elderly, so for her to understand exactly what she needs to do on her half to get some charity care is a little overwhelming, but between myself and a financial advisor at this hospital, we are walking her through it. The problem? It's taking for-ev-er to get the process finalized. By the time it's complete and she gets on the table, they just may open her up and see her cancer has gone rampant.

Why does it have to be so hard? I just don't get it. It's sad to know that peoples lives are being lost simply because they have zero means to be treated. Hospitals will say they won't turn away the uninsured, but I assure you....it happens regardless. Have you ever seen a hospital stay with surgery involved broken down into payments? It is astronomical. Literally, it will take your breath away.

It's so sad. I wish there was a quick fix, but unfortunately, there is not.

2012-01-25T19:01:00.000-08:00

I got the reminder e-mail today, letting me know that the American Heart Walk is coming again this spring and asking if I wanted to do it.

It's hard, because it's not like I can say "My sister is a heart attack survivor" or "My sister is a stroke survivor". We don't KNOW what kind of survivor she is. Just that she is one.

In fact, when it comes to her incident, we really know very, very little. We know her heart stopped. We know she was pulseless and not breathing. We know it caused an anoxic brain injury and severe seizures due to the lack of oxygen. That's. it.

The main thing, though, is the sudden cardiac arrest. And THAT is why I am passionate about raising money for the American Heart Association. Not only does to help fund the medical needs to help prevent things like this from happening, such as AED's in schools (which played a role in my sister's survival) to free classes on maintaining heart health.

The money will help prevent what happened to my sister from happening to someone else.

So get ready, friends and family. As soon as I create the team (Heart Full of Hope), I will post it here if anyone wants to walk with us.

2012-01-22T16:16:00.000-08:00

So, I try to be a giving person. I try to not judge and have an open mind. I've said it before and I will say it again: this isn't something that necessarily comes easy to me, so I try to break out of that shell.

Let me share a story.

Saturday I was shopping at Target. As I was walking out, a gentlemen, who was decently dressed, middle aged, was standing there. I thought nothing of this. He approached me and said, "Ma'am? Do you have 40 cents to spare? I just need 40 cents so I have enough for the bus fare to get home."

I didn't even hesitate. I first made it clear, that I did not have any cash, only change. He said that was fine, as he only needed change. I ended up giving him $1.50 in quarters. He thanked me so much, and told me that when he asked a different person, the person yelled at him.

When I left this man, I felt like a million bucks. I felt so good helping him. It was such a small gesture, but he seemed so appreciative.

Fast forward to Sunday.

I'm out shopping at an entirely different shopping center with my mom. As we are walking out, THERE HE IS. Again, same story, and asking for 40 cents.

What. The. Heck.

Part of me wants to say, eh, he clearly needs money, I didn't give him much, and thank God I don't have to stand outside of stores and beg for change.

The REAL me thinks "YOU SCAMMER! GET A JOB AND STOP HARASSING PEOPLE!"

Back in my shell I go!

2012-01-21T17:13:00.000-08:00

There is this girl. We went to high school together, but we didn't really talk much. She then became a waitress at a restaurant Jay and I would frequent. While I was pregnant with Ethan, she became pregnant with her son, so we bonded over pregnancies and newborns whenever we would run into each other.

Then we lost touch again. And like most reconnections, we found each other on Facebook and she inquired about what church I went to. From there, she started attending the church, too, and we see each other weekly.

Just this past week, someone VERY near and dear to her passed away. To say she is devastated is an understatement. I bought a sympathy card for her, but I am at a total loss as far as what to write in it.

It's a nearly a year and a half since my sister's incident, and I still feel as though it were yesterday. Sure the emotions aren't quite as raw and fresh, but not a day goes by that I don't think about that day in one way or another. I anticipate this will be a lifelong thing.

Everyone grieves differently, and there is no right way to do it. There is also no way to control how you grieve. It's however your heart wants you to feel, and you have little to no control over it. It is what it is.

My first thought to write in the card was, "Know your loved one is free of pain and illness now" ...or something along those lines. I mean, isn't that pretty much what you say when someone passes? Or even, "Your loved one is in a better place now". It's just a given. That is what you write. That is what you say.

It's difficult to approach someone who is grieving, because you WANT to say just the right thing. You want to comfort them. You want to let them know you love them and are there for them. Your heart is in the right spot.

The thing is, though, when it comes to words, you have to be so careful.

If I say to her "She is in a better place", while this may be true, in a sense, in HER heart, she is NOT in a better place. The best place is right here, on this Earth. To see, feel, and love. To talk to and share life's burdens with. THAT is the best place for her.

The whole, "Her body is free of pain and illness now," ...okay, yeah, nice sentiment, but again. I bet what is going through my friends mind right now isn't that her loved one is free of pain and illness. Her heart is filled with the question of "Why did this happen in the first place?"

Now I know I didn't lose my sister. She is alive and (thankfully) very well. But in a sense, I did lose her. She is here physically, but she has changed. Every day she shows signs of improvement, but I could literally feel the fire inside me when people would say what were intended to be words of comfort, but it wasn't what I wanted to hear. "This happened for a reason." WHAT reason? WHAT did my sister do to deserve this? "God has a plan for her." Yeah? Well his plan SUCKS. She was doing amazing before this nightmare. "Thank God she lived. She beat the odds." I know, I know. It is a miracle that she lived, and trust me, I thank God every day that she beat the odds. But the fact of the matter is: the sister I knew before is not the sister I have now, and I will forever grieve that loss. I feel physical pain when I think of the "old" sister. I constantly go back to the days prior to her incident and I yearn for those days. I miss them more than I have ever missed anything in this world.

Bottom line, I suppose, is that when loss occurs, there are no right words. There is no sympathy card in the world that will sum it up. There is no action that will be just right, because the only action the person experiencing the loss wants is for their loved one to return.

Life is so hard. Thank God there are people to lean on, because aside from never being able to find the right words, having the tremendous support system makes all the difference in the world.

2012-01-19T17:44:00.000-08:00

Perspective.

My wooden blinds in my living room are ruined at the bottom, due to two very high strung dogs who attack them whenever they seem something exciting outside (mail lady, squirrel, leaf, you get the idea).

One corner of our fairly new couches has a huge hole in it due to an anxious little dog that chews when he gets bored. I have re-stuffed it numerous times, but there is no hiding the gaping hole.

Neither of my kids have matching furniture in their bedrooms. None of the furniture was purchased by us...it was all hand-me-downs.

My kitchen table is the "catch all" for the family. Walk in the door --- dump everything on the table. It's the common practice of all of us.

Laundry is done, but NEVER put away. We don't have enough places to put our clothes away, so 9 times out of 10, we have "Mount Clean Clothes" in the basement that we rummage through each morning.

My linen closet is so unorganized, you practically have to grab what you want and SLAM the door super fast, or else you will be buried in...stuff.

There is almost always gobs of toothpaste in the sink. My 7 year old has yet to figure out how to rinse the sink.

The computer cord is broke after I tripped over it one day. It now has to have packing tape to hold it in so that it can keep charging.

About 3 feet from the floor on every wall in my house, you will likely find some form of kid goo. Won't go into details. Kid goo sums it up quite nice.

Perspective.

Thank God for the sturdy wooden blinds that have held up many dog attacks, because that means that we are fortunate enough to have a home in which these blinds to hang. And dogs that are happy, and healthy, and very, very observant.

Thank God that out of all our belongings, our anxiety-prone pup only turns to this one corner. Thank God this nervous little pup is in our family, because I firmly believe that we saved him from a much worse situation (more on that later).

Thank God that both of my kids have warm beds to sleep in.

Thank God for a kitchen table to gather around. To lessen our burdens as we walk in the door.

Thank God we have warm, clean clothes each morning to put on.

Thank God for a linen closet full of medications for colds and allergies, towels and washcloths, and fresh sheets and blankets. Thank God for "extra" anything!

Thank God that my son takes good care of his teeth after his dentist fiasco last year. He may be messy, but he tries SO hard.

Thank God for the luxury of a new(er) laptop that both the kids and my husband and I can use. What a luxury!

And mostly? Thank God for my sweet children, who keep my house looking the way it does: lived in. Thank God for little finger prints, smudges on the mirrors, and evidence of snacking in the living room as evidenced by the dried cereal and goldfish crackers found in the couch cushions. Thank God that I have been fortunate enough to not just BE a mother, but to be THEIR mother.

Thank God.

2012-01-18T17:27:00.000-08:00

New job update!

I think I finally pinpointed how I have been feeling towards my new job. Hourly, it sounds wonderful: no weekends, no holidays, off at 4:30. But realistically, I have been kinda missing the days off during the week when I'd do story time at the library with Allison, or I'd surprise Ethan at school and have lunch with him or volunteer in his classroom. I live for those moments.

But then when I really think about it. I mean really think about it, I find that I am allowing myself to love this job. Yes, I miss those times. Yes, I feel guilty. Yes, I do wish I could still do it. But by forcing myself to yearn for those times that are not available to me, I was not allowing myself to fully enjoy what my new reality was. And now that I have let go of that guilt, I am finding that I am very, very happy at this position. I still stand in awe of these 4 amazing physicians. When you work inpatient, the doctors are in and out before you can even blink your eyes. When you work in a clinic, you are with them the whole day, so you really get to know them and see them as more than just doctors. They are so genuine, intelligent, and compassionate. I love watching them work, and when I get to sit in on their meetings where they discuss patients on a case by case basis, I am just blown away.

My mom always said she thought I'd be the daughter that was the stay-at-home mom, house-wife kind of girl. It's funny, because so did I! But I love my dual life as a mom and full-time nurse. I love it, love it.

I'm allowing myself to love it, love it.

2012-01-13T17:36:00.000-08:00

It's been about a year since I had my ER visit for heart palpitations, which lead me to getting some cardiac testing by my cardiologist, which lead to them finding out my heart doesn't have the strength that it should, which lead to me seeing a cardiologist who put me through MORE testing, and two medications that knock me off my feet with exhaustion.

I was a good little patient for a few months, but the fatigue the pills caused was just too much so I (gasp!) quit taking them.

Yesterday was my yearly physical with my primary physician, but she wasn't there so I saw her father who has been a doctor for a very long time. To give my history in one quick visit is impossible, but he wanted to know why I was on the heart medications (or supposed to be....) which lead to him reading my stress test and MRI results.

Bottom line: I am 29 years old and I have mild congestive heart failure. Did I know this? Yes. Did I accept this? Nope. Twenty-nine year olds don't get CHF! That is an OLD person condition! I'm not old! I'm at my prime! So, I more-or-less did the whole plug my ears and say LA LA LA! ..whenever the talk of my heart issue was discussed.

I'm pretty certain that now is the time to own it and deal with it. But it's freaking HARD! I don't want more cardiac testing (which I have to do). I don't want more paperwork in the mail reminding me that I have CHF and the warning signs I need to look for (which I do receive!).

I had a major pity party today. Just a real down in the dumps kind of mood. Acceptance sucks. But the alternative is way worse, and if I keep pretending like nothing is wrong, I am only setting myself up for even WORSE consequences. It's not going to go away. I can only pray it doesn't get worse, but I have no control over it if it does. I DO have control over whether or not I do the necessary testing and medication taking, so I am finally ready to just buckle down and freaking DO it.

Like is hard. It's unfair. It lets you think you are two steps ahead and then it shoves you back down again. But it's a choice on whether or not you want to live in a constant state of resentment and anger, or just deal with what it throws at you and make the best of it.

I'm not feeling all "YAY ME! I AM SO PRO-ACTIVE ABOUT MY LIFE!" Nope, not even a tiny bit. I'm dragging my feet and I have my best pouty face on.

But I'll still do it.

2012-01-12T16:18:00.000-08:00

I drew blood from her tiny, fragile veins on Monday, to check her coags to see how fast her blood was clotting because she needed a stat paracentesis to get rid of some fluid on her belly.

She died 2 days later.

Another lady, I accessed her mediport to draw some labs and we chatted about her house on the Gulf of Mexico that she spends 6 months out of the year with her husband. We laughed at her husbands tan, wrinkled face with her saying, "He tans so well, he could tan in a closet!"

Today she came in with severe pain and vomiting. Not good. We had to admit her. She looked pale, weak, and totally not herself.

Four weeks. It took four weeks for the cycle to start.

The cycle of seeing a patient one way, then watching them decline.

Every single time, no matter who it is, a piece of my heart just aches and aches and aches.

When people learn that I used to work on a floor that took care of hospice patients, the most common response was "Oh, I could never do that! How do you do something that is SO sad?"

It always makes me feel like I am being portrayed as heartless, but it actually is the EXACT opposite. I don't know if this is a comfort to people, but I can promise you.... when I am the nurse of your mom, dad, sister, brother, grandma, grandpa, etc. They become my family, too. I will stop at nothing to help them. And when things take a turn for the worse, I cry, too. I remember them, I think of them, and I pray for them.

Four weeks. Four weeks is way too fast. I can see how this is going to be, and it makes me a little bit scared.

2011-12-31T14:00:00.000-08:00

As 2011 comes to a close, I feel it is only appropriate to do a year-end recap.

Looking back, I would think I'd say 2011 was a great year, considering it was 2010 that Leslie had her cardiac event. But now that I have gone through all of 2011, I have found that 2011 was likely harder than 2010.

I think any time a family goes through a tragic event, it is only natural that stressors will arise, especially with relationships, and my life was no different.

Jay and I have been together for a long time, and have been through a lot of sadness. I think our first "loss" that we experienced as a couple was back when we were still in high school and my beloved pet rabbit, Floppsey, died. I called him and told him to come over. When he did, I was standing at the sink doing dishes. He approached me, not knowing what was going on, and I turned to him, eyes full of tears, to tell him she died. He held me as I cried, never once making me feel silly for crying over a rabbit.

We have been through losses of other beloved pets, his dog, Daffy and my dogs, Lady and Mya. We have been together through family member and friend losses: his grandparents, my uncles, a friend we graduated with. But the tragedy we experienced with my sister really changed me a lot. I hit the lowest of lows, and honestly, I will say that I was pretty hard to live with. Yet he stuck by me. I won't lie and pretend it was all perfect...we had some really rough patches and lots of arguing and bickering. But at the end of the year, we are still holding strong and more in love than ever.

This year was a year of changes and challenges. The biggest change was probably my job change. It was (is!) a huge change in our lives, but we are all adapting fairly well, and I still fully believe that it was the best for me and us as a family.

Financially, we have been challenged. Money is tight and it is a constant stressor in our lives. We still struggle with balancing schedules...making sure everyone is where they need to be, homework is completed (Jay does math with Ethan, I do English/writing/creative projects) and due dates are met.

Stating all of that, you might think this has been a difficult year. Well, it has. There have been hurt feelings, tears, anger, and resentment.

However, there has also been a WHOLE lot of love and peace. Do you know how incredible it feels to know that even at your worst you have this solid group of people who forever have your back? Amazing. Our kids are happy and healthy, and the light of our lives. They make us laugh daily, and there is nothing we love more than spending time with them. Even if we are able to sneak off to have dinner or lunch without them, we spend the whole time talking about them and sharing stories. We are SO thankful for them.

We also have a nice, small home, two reliable, safe cars, and job security. Our fridge is full, our beds are warm, and even if the credit card bill is cringe-worthy every month, we are still able to pay it off. We have plans for the future and we are both so, so optimistic about the years to come.

So with that being said...2011 was no walk in the park, but it was a year of learning and growing. It taught us just how strong we are and how even when the going gets tough, we keep chugging along.

I have no clue what 2012 will bring. Leslie's incident taught me that you can never predict what not only tomorrow will bring, but even the next hour. Nothing is guaranteed. But I can say that we are ready for whatever it brings. New memories, new challenges, and new opportunities.

Happy new year!

2011-12-28T17:37:00.000-08:00

I feel like with my new nursing position, I am sort of on the inside looking out. That doesn't even make sense, but it does to me, so we'll go with it.

See... for the average person, they go to the hospital for one reason or another. Get some antibiotics, get some blood drawn, have their vitals monitored, and then someone deems them worthy to go home and they leave.

Today I was "behind the scenes", and I have to say, it was so fascinating. I work with gynecologic cancers. Once a week, some doctors, some lab pathologists, and a whole lot of medical residents get together and review patients. On one side of the screen is the patients stats: diagnosis, labs, treatment, etc. The other side is a beautiful pattern of circles in a lovely shade of purple. The smart people call those tumor cells. Same thing.

Anyhow, as I sat in on this meeting, the amount of time spent on each case analyzing every little detail...EVERYTHING....it was so amazing! Sad, yes, because each case was a person who was very, very sick, but all of these people stopped what they were doing to get everyones point of view on the diagnosis and the treatment.

I'm a nerd, I realize this, but I thought it was SO cool.

Then MY job after this is over, is to take notes on what the diagnosis is, along with a possible plan of treatment, and hang on to it, so that when the patient follows up and meets with the doctor to learn of their sad diagnosis, I will be one step ahead and be getting all the ducks in a row, so to speak.

Out-patient nursing is VERY different. I'm only on week two and I feel like I have learned so much! ...but I also feel like I have so much more to learn and that's a teensy bit overwhelming. I'm getting there, though.

2011-12-27T18:40:00.000-08:00

When I was about 16 years old, there was this boy. We will call him Jay.

Jay was very different from me. I was pretty quiet and a little anti-social...you could find me on Friday nights just hanging out at home. Jay, on the other hand, was likely at a party or on a date.

When I started to get drift that Jay MAY have a tiny crush on me, I'm not going to lie...I was scared! ....but intrigued.

I remember the day. Spanish class. We were to go around the class saying how we feel. Jay said he felt lucky (anyone know the Spanish word for lucky? Anyone? Me either) and right after that he asked me to homecoming.

Now I know it would be really lame and cheesy to say ...and the rest is history! But, my friends. That is the case. The rest. is. history. Jay and I both turn 30 this year. So we have almost spent more of our lives together than apart.

And I wouldn't want it any other way.

2011-12-25T20:51:00.000-08:00

The lights are all out, except the glow of the TV that is playing reruns, and the twinkling of the lights on the tree. The soft (okay, not really that soft, but roaring would totally ruin my attempt at making this sound serene) sound of the dishwasher is whirring away in the kitchen. Both kids are snuggled all in bed. I love the holidays!

Today was wonderful. Both kids slept until around 8. Allison was very gentle and slow with opening her gifts. She savored the moment, I suppose you could say. Ethan went much faster, but every present he opened, he told us how "he was REALLY hoping he would get this!" which made me smile every time.

Once the gifts were open, Jay and I scrambled to at least make a pathway through the living room while the kids explored their new toys.

Around 1, we made the drive to Newport for dinner at Jay's Grandma's. This has been our Christmas day tradition since back when Jay and I were just dating. By the time we got there, Ethan had settled in with some of his new DS games, and Allison promptly declared that she was tired and ready to go.

I hate to say that we pretty much ate and left but....we pretty much ate and left. The kids were so tired! We got home around 4 and spent some time with Jay's parents, which meant MORE presents!

Once everything was opened, we all sort of looked around the room at ALL of the toys (from my parents and sister, Santa, and grandparents) and realized.....we are beyond blessed. Sickeningly blessed. Can I say that? That sounds strange. But it's true. Sickenly blessed. Oxymoron. The toys were literally stacked in piles because there was simply no room. It gave me a quick moment to (again) remind Ethan that he was a very lucky child, and there were children right that very moment that had NOTHING. Not even heat to keep their toes warm. Their bellies were empty and growling while we were all moaning from being overstuffed. Sickenly blessed.

2012 is a new year. New beginnings. I have already started a little mini-version of accomplishments for the year (no, nothing like lose 20 pounds and eat healthy...that won't happen) but little home improvement type things that we always SAY we are going to do, but we never actually do. I've said it before, both on here and in person, but my 2012 motto is: give more, take less. And I fully, fully, FULLY intend to do that.

If I maintain a handful of faithful readers, you can hold me accountable, okay? :)

2011-12-24T19:50:00.000-08:00

The holidays are so magical when you have children!

Allison, who is only 2, knows very, very little about what the heck is going on. If you ask her who is coming, she will say "Santa!" If you ask her what he is bringing, she says "toys!" ....but that is pretty much it.

Ethan, who is 7, believes in Santa with his WHOLE heart, and it is just the most precious thing, because I am assuming it will likely be his last year truly believing. He may believe next year, too, but that grain of doubt will likely be there.

I'm not going to lie. As I did my Santa duties, I looked back and thought, "Eek! I kinda, sorta, most definitely went overboard this year." Part of me feels a bit ashamed, as that money could have gone elsewhere, and Lord only knows, this 800 square foot house is already bursting at the seams! But then the other part of me just enjoys this so much, it's just plan EXCITING! I love having children to celebrate and I will love every second of seeing their faces in the morning and seeing their excitement as they open their gifts.

Next year, for 2012, Jay and I have been touching on doing a budget. I hate the word budget. It makes my skin crawl, because it sounds so...restricting. So in my money-hungry head, I am looking at it not as budgeting, but more about doing BETTER things with my money.

I hope all of my lovely friends and family have a wonderful holiday full of peace and love. Remember it's not about the gifts you receive, but the gifts you give, and that doesn't mean material gifts.

Love lots. Be patient and respectful. Don't judge or speak in anger. Be the same person you are in public and around others as you are when you are alone. Appreciate every day, every breath, because nothing is ever guaranteed.

2011-12-21T18:41:00.000-08:00

Back in September of 2000, I came home from my classes at U of M Dearborn. I walked in the side door (of my parents house, which was my house, too, at the time) and saw this little ball of black and white fluff.

"WHAT is THAT?!" I remember saying.

That was a puppy my parents adopted. That puppy was soon named Mya, and was the a living nightmare for me for about a year. What on earth could a harmless puppy do to be a nightmare (other than the normal puppy antics?) Well, she was...a puppy! And at the time, we had another very OLD dog named Lady. Mya wanted to be a puppy. Lady wanted to be old. I resented Mya for being such a nuisance towards Lady.

A year later, Lady passed away. I remember the day clearly. At this point, her kidneys were failing rapidly and she could not hold any food down. She was skin and bones, so we knew, without speaking, it was time. When we returned home from the vet, the first thing Mya did was look in all of Lady's favorite spots for her buddy.

It was then that I allowed myself to love Mya.

Mya has always been the biggest (and by big, I mean BIG! ...more on that, later) sweetie. She loved to cuddle and be rubbed. She LOVED to be close. All through my remaining years at home before I got married, I slept every night with Mya. In fact, we shared a pillow! Mya was a medical disaster, though. She had all the proper puppy care, but she was developed Bells Palsey (say wha?!) on the left side of her face. Due to the paralysis, she developed a chronic eye condition which made her eye look...to put it bluntly...disgusting. Totally harmless, but yuck. Throughout the diagnosis of the Bells Palsy, we found out she had some pretty serious thyroid problems, which caused her to be HUGE! She was such a big ball of dog. You couldn't help but smile when you looked at her.

She had the curliest hair. When it was humid, it curled even more. She also had what I am assuming was a cowlick right on her nose between her eyes. When her hair would get long, the cowlick would form what my sister and I referred to as the "rainbow of fun", because it looked just like that...a rainbow.

Mya LOVED to "sing". Her favorites were God Bless America and I Say A Little Prayer. You could even just hum the songs and she would immediately "sing". Also, if you talked real low in her ear or hummed deeply to her, she would make this crazy noise. I referred to it as her dove impression. Think "cooo! cooo!"

Mya was Mya. My parents worked with her relentlessly to keep her healthy. Special diets, special medications, you name it. She just had a bad batch of doggy genes, I suppose.

One thing I can say for certain, though, is that with all of Mya's health issues, it took ANGELS to put up with them. My mom and dad put up with them. Spent countless dollars, and loved her all the while.

Tomorrow Mya has an appointment with the vet. We are pretty certain that Mya will gain her puppy wings and fly to Heaven. She is very sick and her quality of life is extremely poor. Prolonging it would be wrong, being that we are her family.

The vet will come in to my parents house. Mya won't have to leave. I can't be there, as I have to work, but I know, with my mom and dad there, that Mya will feel the immense love she has felt all of her years.

I love you, Mya.

2011-12-20T17:14:00.000-08:00

Confession time. I am very judgmental. If you have been reading for a while, you will know that I have said this before. That's because it's something I struggle with.

Most might say I am this way because I feel superior to others. In fact, it's the opposite. Again, if you have read previous posts, you will notice that I don't trust my decisions. Ever.

Anyhow, the point of my post (there is one, I swear).

Tonight I was at the grocery store. I had just received some news that made me sad. Followed by a conversation with my sister that was a small slap in the face of the "old" Leslie that I miss. Bottom line, I was having a pity party for one. Big time.

So anyhow. I was gathering my quick necessities: bread, milk, diapers, etc. As I was checking out, the woman in front of me had a cart load. She had a daughter, who was maybe 3, who was behaving as most 3 year olds do. She also had 2 sons...one was maybe 6. Again, behaving as most 6 year olds do, and an older son, who was autistic (this is not my own diagnosis...I heard her say it to the clerk.

Moving along. Her groceries were all rung up. The clerk gave her the total. She swiped her bridge card (oooh, judgment!) and found out that the money that is allotted to her monthly was not put on the card. She had no idea. I glanced in her cart. Like me, she had the necessities: eggs, milk, etc. I saw the look of defeat in her eyes. I watched her ponder what the heck she was supposed to do as her kids ran all around and she tried to rally them up. I watched as she glanced at her card, then at her kids to try to get them to sit still, then back at her card, and then to her groceries.

I was sad for her. Our money is very tight, too. She had about $100 of groceries, and I did not have $100 to give her. The clerk told her she could void it all out, and she could leave the cart of freshly bagged groceries and they would be restocked. The girl had no choice but to accept this offer. I quietly leaned forward and said "Ma'am?" She turned to look at me, then quickly apologized for her daughter who was bouncing around me. I looked at her daughter and quickly said, "Oh! She is not bothering me! I don't have the money to pay for all of your groceries, but I will help you get some of them, please let me help you."

Wanna know what she said? She said "no, thank you." Then I heard her say to the clerk, "I will be back whenever the money is deposited. It has been a rough day. My kids are being unruly, I have no one to help me watch them, and some stranger just yelled at me for my son, who has autism, for standing in the middle of the aisle." This whole while, she was so calm and collected. Never lost her temper, never shed a tear, just did what she had to do.

She thanked me for my offer, but insisted I not help her, because again, "the money would be there, it just wasn't there yet."

Now my point of this post. As I was drowning in my sorrows, at first glance, I could have seen her as the single mom of misbehaving kids, paying with her bridge card, and my quick assuming mind, could ASSUME that she was likely unemployed, and here I was, after working hours in a very busy clinic, stretching pennies of my own, and here SHE was, holding up the line. This wasn't even the case AT ALL but you had to pay attention to notice. It's not in my natural behavior to take the time for that. I am constantly in a "go, go, go, and please, get out of my way" mentality.

In general, I have just felt a huge sense of anger and hatred amongst most people lately. People being close-minded and disrespectful. A complete lack of personal accountability and the constant desire to place blame. Hate crimes are running RAMPANT and frankly, it scares me to death.

I truly believe that a lot of this would be resolved, if people would just stop feeling the need to pass judgement.

2011-12-19T16:20:00.000-08:00

I never want to be that nurse.

You know, the one that sees it as a job and a paycheck, and not about what being a nurse really means. Let me elaborate.

I was a "floor nurse" for almost 4 years. Loved it. Love it. Will always love it. There are so many amazing aspects to it, and the amount of learning is endless. I can bet that every single shift I worked as a floor nurse, I learned something new. Great, great opportunity.

But soon, I found myself getting burnt out. I was changing. It was changing from being my passion, to being a job. I found that when I left after a 12+ hour shift, I felt as though all I did was pass pills, push narcotics, and listen to lung sounds. Getting to KNOW my patients? It wasn't happening so much anymore. That's not how I ever, ever want to be. I certainly don't blame my previous job for this. This was all internal. It all stemmed from me. And I am so glad that I recognized it before I allowed it to become who I was as a nurse.

Today I got to job shadow the nurse practitioner at the clinic. Let me just say....she is AMAZING. Because I was shadowing her, I also more or less shadowed a physician that I will be working very closely with. Again, amazing. I watched them do their routine work: physical assessments, etc. But then both of them would sit down, eye-level with the patient, and ask at the end of the exam, "What else can I do for you?" And when they asked this, they didn't necessarily mean medically...they meant it however the patient interpreted it (which opened some interesting conversations!) ...but the bottom line was, they never made the patient feel rushed, even though their schedules were packed.

It is a part of my personality to always want to go with the grain. I don't want to stray outside what is considered normal. I don't want to stand out, or make people upset with me. I tend to follow the "in-crowd", so to speak. When word started spreading that I was interested in this position, I was immediately questioned with "are you SURE this is what you want" or "this isn't nursing, this is social work" and my favorite "working Monday through Friday isn't all it's cracked up to be." In typical Laura fashion, I heard this and shut down, deciding that THEY were right, and I was wrong, and this was a terrible decision. It took me a mere few hours to realize that I will never know unless I try, and if I allow myself to be influenced by others, I'll never learn and grow. What is working for one nurse, might not necessarily be working for another nurse.

With that said: Here is to new beginnings! A fresh start and something new. A clean slate, a fresh mind, and a very open heart. Change is not always bad.

2011-12-18T16:19:00.000-08:00

Leslie and I ran some errands today. We finished up some Christmas shopping. Every year, since Ethan was born (Allison, too), she has bought them a book with some sort of special meaning to her, and she writes a message to them. This was her "thing", and both of my kids have a nice assortment of really awesome books, all with personalized messages on the inside cover.

Last year, she never once mentioned gifts. Nothing about giving or receiving. Last year she was pretty literally a blank slate. Void of all expression and emotion. The hardest part of the holidays last year with her was the fact that I knew the book giving was something that was VERY near and dear to her...and she had zero desire to do it.

This year, she remembered. Since she can't drive, she was so thankful that I offered to take her out to Barnes and Noble to get books. Flash back again to last year: Last year when we would shop, she would just wander aimlessly. Now, mind you, she has never been much of a shopper, but she could do what needed to be done. Last year, again, she was blank. Empty. Zero desire. This year, the first thing I noticed as we entered the book store was she instantly started browsing. I did have to help her a little, but overall, she did it herself and she knew, without any reminders, that once again, this was her tradition with my kids, and she was carrying it on.

I love routines and traditions. Christmas Eve is my very favorite day of the entire year, all because of our family tradition. This year, I am so, so thankful that our traditions are continuing on.

2011-12-17T21:32:00.000-08:00

So last night, Jay and I were sitting on the couch together, and I was posting my extremely enlightening post about orientation. Jay noticed what I was doing and asked, "how many people read your blog, anyway?"

Hm. Good question. I have no idea!

Blogger offers a counter, but I know there are TONS of sites that spam, so while it may LOOK like you have readers, it's actually just adware and spybots roaming the web.

So! My question. How many people DO read? You don't have to post your name, but it would be kinda interesting to get a general number and location (according to blogger, I have readers from all over the world, which I highly, highly doubt) ...but if that is actually the case, let me know and I will send you a present. No, really.

2011-12-16T16:57:00.000-08:00

Allie Jaye got her first REAL haircut today! (I've cut her bangs a few times, but I'm not counting that)

This was at the same place Ethan had his first haircut at over 7 years ago. They are fabulous.

Anyhow, I loved Allison's hair, but the mullet was getting out. of. control.

So here's some pics:

Before:

She has mastered the fake smile with perfection.

The back. Now I realize it doesn't look all that bad. But the length of the back was NOT the length of the sides. Not even close. Hence my reference to it as "beautiful blond baby mullet." And just in case you are a very good observer, she is most definitely wearing "backpack" from Dora.

During:

My salon doesn't give me goldfish crackers and let me sit on a wooden airplane. What the heck!

After:

2011-12-16T15:26:00.000-08:00

Last day of orientation today! Such a relief. I hate to complain, because it is easy money, but I don't think they organize the material very well.

I mean, I have been a nurse now for 4 years. Out of the 20 or so people in orientation, I probably had the LEAST amount of experience, yet out of the 4 days, pretty much everything was review.

For example. On the power point presentation on patient safety, one of the first slides said this, "A fall is defined as an unanticipated change in body position in a downward motion."

Well I'll be darned! I thought a fall was when your body suddenly (and unexpectedly!) began to levitate in midair.

But again...whatever. It's done,and next week I start the real deal and I finally get to report to the clinic.

I am so excited!

2011-12-15T17:26:00.000-08:00

History lesson time!

Jay moved into this house (the one we currently live in) in August 2002.

We did not live together until our wedding night (all together now, "Awwwww!!!!")

When I moved in in June 2003, our house was, in every sense, a bachelor pad. Complete with a Keg-o-rator. No, I'm not joking.

My sweet mom tried to help me make the house look more homey, and bought a bunch of cute items to help decorate. One of the things she bought was a little miniature manger scene. I loved it. The figures are no more than an inch tall. I have displayed it every Christmas for the past 9 years, and I always put it in the same spot: right on a shelf (that is at kid level, mind you) in the hallway.

Thankfully, Ethan never broke it. He played with it, but it always ended up back on the little ledge intact.

Then came Allison. Allison played with it, too, and while she never SEEMS overly aggressive with it, I can't help but notice some changes. Here, I'll let you look and see if you can see what I mean:

Now we've got the farm animals. See the little goat (mule?) over there? And one of the shepherds is holding a little lamb. We've got the three wise men and their strange little gifts (I bet Mary would have preferred bottles, diapers, and wipes, but whatev) We've got an angel in pink, praying over sweet baby Jesus (you can't really tell from the pic, but there is a halo and wings on her) and we've got Joseph, looking at his new little bundle of baby boy goodness. But....where is Mary? Anyone see her? Was baby Jesus colicky and she needed to go out with her holy girlfriends for a while? Or maybe she was laying down somewhere cause Lord knows (haha!) that after delivering a baby, your body is kind of...gooey. I don't know. All I know is she high-tailed it out of there and I hope Joseph doesn't go after her for child support. And who invited the hedgehogs??!

2011-12-15T14:18:00.000-08:00

So this past week, I have been attending orientation for any new Henry Ford new hires. Except I'm not a new Henry Ford new hire, I'm a transfer, but apparently that's beside the point.

Here is the dress code for these off-site training sessions:

No denim, no artificial nails, no crocs or open-toes shoes, no bare legs, no exposed tattoos or piercings, must wear dress pants/slacks, skirts/dresses acceptable, shoes should compliment clothing, skirts no more than 2 inches above the knee, clothes should be neat, pressed, in good and appropriate size, yadda yadda yadda.

Now don't get me wrong. I realize the need for these (terribly outdated) necessary (what is it, 1950?) dress code rules, because you can't go out in public without seeing someone in pajama pants and/or slippers, looking as though they just rolled out of bed (or the bar) but it still makes me kinda giggle.

So! When I went to get dressed this morning in my (neatly pressed) dress pants and my (complimentary to my clothing) brown flats, I realized it was rainy. Rainy weather + flats = cold feet.

My way of handling this predicament?

Oh yes. I did.

2011-12-14T14:32:00.000-08:00

In my last post, I brought up Chris Medina. I don't know if anyone looked him up on youtube, but if you did, you likely came across several heart wrenching, amazing videos about Juliana. You might also have come across Juliana's mother's blog. I found it. And by reading it, I found out she wrote a book.

It only seemed natural that I get this book for Leslie (which I did). It came in the mail today. My intentions were to give it to her for Christmas (which I still intend to do!) but first I wanted to read it.

I sit down to read it, and the similarities nearly took my breath away. From the frantic phone calls they all went through (we did, too) to sitting in the "special" room in the ICU which everyone knows is often used to give a family tragic news.

But then I read this:

"I spent the next several days writing a journal for Juliana. I just knew that she would want all the details when she woke up. She was going to feel so bad for all that we went through. She would also want pictures, though she would have been mortified if I showed them to anyone before she saw them."

Followed by:

"That night, Juli's adoring fiance Chris and I slept on and off either in her room or on the couch in the waiting room. Since we expected her to suddenly wake up at any moment, leaving was never really an option because we needed to be there when she woke up."

Oh my God. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.

It took me back. Literally, that is EXACTLY what we experienced. What we thought would happen. And what didn't happen.

I remember asking my parents permission to take pictures of Leslie on the ventilator. My dad said he was thinking the same thing, so that night that I stayed the night with her, I took all kinds of pictures. Like Juli's mom thought, she was going to want to see them! ....or not. But we didn't realize that at the time. After I took the pictures, I told my parents (just like Juli's mom) that I would not post them on the blog. Again, because I didn't want to embarrass Leslie. I wanted her permission to post such intimate, sensitive pictures. A few days later, my mom asked why I posted them when I said I wasn't going to. My answer was something along the lines of wanting our faithful readers and those who loved Leslie so, so much, to see just how serious this situation was. In my head, though, I was thinking, "Because she isn't going to wake up like we thought she would. She isn't going to look at the pictures and think, "Wow! That really happened!" None of that was going to happen, and I knew it."

It's been a little over a year for Leslie. It's been about 2 years for Juli. I'm not reading the book. Those two quotations I used weren't even a part of the actual story. It was a part of the preface. I'm choosing to not read the book because it's too hard. To similar. I don't like to cry, and reading those words didn't bring teary eyes, they brought sobs. I don't want to do that. And anyhow, after reading those two excerpts, I think I already pretty much know the story.

(Quotes are in the book, "For Juliana, Almost to the Almost, One Penny at a Time" by her mother, Janet Spencer Barnes)

2011-12-09T17:10:00.001-08:00

So tonight, as I was browsing the internet (who, ME?!), I came across a link about a man named Chris Medina. He auditioned on American Idol.

I don't really watch American Idol, so this was the first I had heard of him and his story. He was engaged to be married to a beautiful girl named Juliana. In October 2009, Juli was in a terrible car accident, which resulted in a traumatic brain injury.

This type of brain injury is different from Leslie's. Leslie has an anoxic brain injury (meaning her brain was damaged due to lack of oxygen). It's pretty clear that Juliana's physical injuries are way more severe than Leslie's, but regardless, the story is similar in that it involves two young, beautiful girls that had their whole lives ahead of them when it was all disrupted. Taken away? No. But definitely disrupted.

It just makes me again ask WHY.

You must search on Chris Medina and watch him sing. Grab a box of Kleenex first, though. Don't say I didn't warn you!

2011-12-03T21:38:00.001-08:00

Let me tell you a story. No, you don't have to pull up a chair. It's fairly quick.

So about 2.5 years ago, Jay, Ethan, myself, and fetus-Allison were killing time before we were to go bowling with friends. To help pass time, we figured we'd stop at Petsmart to let Ethan look at the fish. Once we had our fair share of fish-looking, we stopped to watch the puppy training class. Well, just past the puppy training class, sat a card table with two elderly people sitting there. On their lap, they had a Beagle. He was cute. I was pregnant and hormonal, and apparently lacking a bazillion brain cells, because I figured this was the PERFECT dog for us to adopt. $175 later, he was ours.

Would you believe that this little furry dog, (and when I say furry, I'm not kidding...he sheds like a freaking MANIAC!) caused me major anxiety? For one, our current dog thought he was the worst new family member EVER. She H-A-T-E-D him. She would bark and growl at him with every move he made. His first night in our home, he whined the entire night, so I had to lay out on the couch with him, all the while thinking to myself....WHAT THE HECK WAS I THINKING?!!

But.... here we are, almost 3 years later, and Logan the Beagle is still a part of our family. I still wonder WHY WHY WHY, but he's not going anywhere...he's good with the kids, he poops in the basement, he gets along with other animals, he has chewed up my brand new couch, and he hardly ever barks. What's NOT to love?

Anyhow...there was a point to this story. No, really, there is. Bear with me.

The point is, I am one who HATES disruption in my life. I like things to always stay the same. No changes. Adopting Logan was a HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE disruption and I had a very hard time adjusting. It's not just adopting him that was difficult. It's ANY change...big or small. I don't like to change. Period.

But what's funny about that (not funny haha, more funny weird) is that this HUGE change I made recently with changing my job, just feels so RIGHT. I am not scared. I am not wondering what the heck I was thinking. I am not worried that it won't work out.

What is also funny, is that the nurse I orientated when I worked on 6 is the one who helped me get this job. I remember the first time I met her. I instantly liked her and I have always felt a connection with her. When we hang out (which isn't very often) it just feels so comfortable, like we've been friends for forever.

I am SO ready for this. I just know this is going to be a very good thing.

2011-11-30T16:56:00.001-08:00

My mind is whirling with thoughts, but I literally cannot get it down in my blog without it being super confusing and jumbled. There is so much to say, I just can't organize my thoughts and say it.

Every week I take my sister out to lunch. Usually I just pick her up, we make small talk through lunch, then I take her home.

Today was different. I could see something was heavy on her mind. Just as I suspected, she started to talk to me, but then stopped short as her chin began to quiver and she blinked back the tears. Me being the sister/nurse/but.mostly.sister said "Just talk! Who cares if you cry?"
...and so she did.

These are thet topics that are breaking her heart:

"Why me? All the tests show my heart is perfectly normal...so why did that happen?"

My response to that was, "I don't think we will ever know." Now I have only been a nurse for about 4 years. I never did any critical care nursing, so the patients I see aren't nearly as ill as my sister was. But MY take on it is that she had a clot in her heart which caused the arrhythmia, which caused the cardiac arrest. They resuscitated her, and her labs showed cardiac damage. Several days later, after she stabilized, we found she had lots of clots in her leg and lungs. Once she was on aggressive Heparin therapy along with Coumadin, things started to heal themselves. This could also explain why then they finally got around to testing her heart through a cardiac cath and cardiac MRI, everything was perfectly normal. Of COURSE it would be by that time! And I don't doubt for one second that it will remain perfectly normal.

"I don't know if CPR was done right. I'm on a message board for people with brain injuries, and they are doing WAY more than I am right now, and their "down time" was way longer."

My response: Maybe. Who will know? Humans are humans and they make mistakes. 29 year olds don't go into sudden cardiac arrest very often. When the EMS arrived on the scene, they had no idea what was going on, but they didn't hesitate a single moment. You were tubed on the scene, and then re-intubated at the ER. Maybe it wasn't done perfectly, but they saved your life. The fact that you didn't die that day still gives me goosebumps. The odds were SO AGAINST you and you beat them. It's unreal.

"I identified myself by my jobs. I worked all my life. The only time I left a job was when I was moving up. That's just what I did....I worked"

My response: Those days aren't done. Do you even understand how far you've come in a year?? This time last year you could hardly shower alone. You couldn't carry a conversation and your memory was literally so bad, you would just repeat yourself over and over again. It'll happen. It just hasn't gotten there yet.

"I wrote a list. It's called "Ways to Make George Love Me Again."

Me: What makes you think he doesn't love you? (insert Leslie crying) He doesn't say that! He never makes me feel like he doesn't love me. But LOOK at me. I offer nothing to our family anymore. I was the worker. We had plans. We wanted to travel to Europe. We KNEW we were going to travel to Europe. And now our conversations consist of "Do we have enough money to order pizza tonight?" (crying ensues) And at this point, I have nothing helpful to add. It was a heartbreaking moment.

"I constantly have to remind myself, "I am here, I am alive"...it scares me to think that when I was at school that day, I was also "here and alive" and then one second later I was gone".

To which I reassured her that she was here, she was alive, she was progressing way faster than any of us could ever predict, and she is doing amazing.

"Someone sent me a card, and there is a part of it that I can't get out of my mind. It says "God had other plans for you. I'm not religious, but that saying gives me a lot of peace. I just wish I knew what God's plan was."

So do we, Les. So do we.

2011-11-29T09:42:00.001-08:00

One of my biggest fears for my children is that someday they will get hurt. No, I'm not talking about bumps and bruises. I'm talking about emotional pain. Because frankly, I think that kind of pain is WAY worse than physical.

At 29 years old (almost 30...eek!) I still can't seem to balance relationships perfectly to avoid hurt and pain. Deceit and lies. I know it sounds naive, but I thought that type of thing only happened when you were a child. But no, it clearly carries into adulthood, and it doesn't get any easier.

I remember a time not long ago, I was with Ethan at a birthday party. His "best friend" was there, but his best friend had another best friend who was also there, and the two of them were inseparable. I remember the sad look in Ethan's eyes as he experienced the saying "two is company, three is a crowd." My Ethan was the "three" in this scenario. It took everything in me to not swoop in and save the day. Doing that would serve him no good. This was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to the dynamics of relationships.

Just recently, I had a friendship that I thought was awesome come to a close. I was sad about it. I AM sad about it. But the more I hear, the more I am starting to realize that this is for the better. Doesn't make the pain any easier, or the desperation to know all the answers as to where it all went wrong.

Thankfully, as my children will learn and I already know, there will always be those relationships that remain loyal. For me, it's knowing that my parents, sister, husband, and a few close friends that I know will forever have my back despite my flaws and shortcomings.

Thank God for that.

2011-11-23T17:25:00.001-08:00

When we left for the night, the only time we ever left her side, we had no clue what the night had in store for her.

My mom asked me just the other day, "When we left her that first night, did you realize that she might die that night?" To which I replied, "Yes. Yes, I did."

I knew her odds of survival were slim when I first got the news. In fact, I remember exactly where I was on Fort Street when it hit me: "This is bad. This is very, very bad."

So with Thanksgiving being tomorrow, it is cliche and expected for people to express what they are thankful for. Last year on Thanksgiving, I had our family go around the table and say what they were thankful for, but the rule was, no one could say the obvious: That they were thankful for Leslie's life. Because that was a given! So here is my mini-list of things I am thankful for:

I am thankful for the bond I have with my sister. We are more than family, we are best friends.
I am thankful for a kind, patient, and forgiving husband who has been by my side through some God awful tragedies in my life
I am thankful for my parents, who have told my sister and I for as long as we can remember that they will love us unconditionally. And they do.
I am thankful for my in-laws for helping us out so much so Jay and I can both work full-time and keep our sweet babies out of daycare
I am thankful for teachers, who do such an amazing job teaching my son. We have been so blessed with wonderful teachers and I am constantly in awe of their patience and creativity
I am thankful my husband and I have full-time jobs that allow us to be with our children AND provide for them
I am thankful for our humble, small, cozy home that always looks "lived in". It's not perfect, but it's ours.
I am thankful for my two dogs. They drive me INSANE, but they are so sweet and loving, and watching my kids play with them is the cutest thing EVER
And last, I am thankful for Jersey Shore, Desperate Housewives, and America's Next Top Model. Hey, you can't expect me to be all lovey-dovey all the time...I gotta stay real! Fist pump!

My "thankful" list could go on and on, these are just a few. I hope everyone has an amazing Thanksgiving. Appreciate your family and tell them you love them.

2011-11-18T15:09:00.001-08:00

Seven some years ago, when Ethan was merely a few months old, I was diagnosed with post partum depression and anxiety.

Because I am a self-proclaimed doctor, though, I knew it wasn't post partum depression. It was just that Ethan gave me the reason to tell the doctor about things I have been struggling with since middle school. Yes, middle school.

At that point, I had a 4 month old that needed his momma, and I needed to be the momma he deserved, so I forced myself to see a doctor. Since then, I have been on and off antidepressants and anti-anxiety medications until the present time.

Between 2004 and now, I spent a good several years off any medications, and did very, very well. And then...IT happened. By IT, I mean the sister crisis.

I know I don't have to go into it at all, because anyone who reads likely knows (and if you don't, go back in the archives to September 2010) but it clearly rocked my world.

Initially, I just took things as they came. I approached each day with a positive attitude. It wasn't until she came home that the depression hit, and hit hard. There were days that had I not had a job and children to take care of, I never would have got out of bed.

Since then, I am back on medication, which I can say with certainty it has saved my life, but things now are harder than they have ever been.

Antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds only take you so far. I think of it like this: Every single day, there is a huge storm brewing inside of me. Some days I am more powerful than the storm. Other days the storm overpowers me. Most days, the storm is in control. Even on the days that I feel more in control, there is no denying the storm is in the background.

I pray that some day I will feel better and be able to fully go off medications, but I know that is not going to happen any time soon.

I have had people tell me that I need to be hush-hush about my mental stability, because I am a nurse. To that, I say with a firm NO WAY. I'm human and I have feelings just like every other human. Everyone responds to things differently, and everyone is wired differently. Unfortunately for me, I take everything very hard. On the outside, I appear happy and calm. On the inside, I am forcing myself to function.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not a walking suicide risk. I have an amazing family, an extremely supportive husband who somehow puts up with me and my emotions, and two children that literally make me thank God for giving me another day with them. I am in a profession that I have absolutely no doubt at all was made for me, and I have a nice circle of friends that I know I can turn to at any time.

I'm just sharing this because it's a part of me. It's a part of my day-to-day life nowadays. I still do what I need to do, and I always feel so accomplished when I fight the storm and win.

2011-11-16T19:32:00.001-08:00

"I never saw you leaving 6! I thought you'd be a lifer!" .... if I had a nickel for every time I heard that phrase or something equally similar since I announced I was leaving, I'd be rich!
I agree with it, though. I never saw this coming, either. I love that floor. I love the experiences it gave me as a new nurse. I truly feel it is one of the VERY best floors for a new nurse to start out on, as we take care of oncology patients, hospice, and general medical patients. You learn SO much.

I don't even recall the exact time that I started scoping out other positions that were out there. Like I said, I never had it in my head that I wanted to leave. The 6th floor was my home away from home, and the 6th floor staff was my family when away from my family. Why leave that?

....but I can also say that I never predicted my perfectly healthy sister to fall critically ill and end up with a forever life-changing diagnosis. I never predicted becoming so emotionally unstable that I would need to be put on antidepressants just to be able to get out of bed in the morning. I never knew I would learn in a VERY hard way who my true friends were.

When I interviewed for this position, I went into it thinking I would turn it down. Then I finished the interview and decided I wanted the position. Then I worked another shift on 6, and decided 6 would still be my "home", and I wasn't ready to leave.

But then I did some soul searching. I thought about ME and my health. ME and my needs. Sure, there is comfort staying in a place that is close to home. The only place you have ever known in your professional career. But that is not what life is all about.

When people ask me if I am scared, I say no. Because I'm not. People ask me if I'm sad to be leaving, and I say no to that, too. Because I'm not. Leslie is proof that life changes. It's meant to change. It's meant to make you feel a little uneasy, hesitant, and even scared. It's not EVER going to be comfortable and perfect, and I learned the hard way that if you expect that out of life, you will be very, very shocked when that moment comes that proves otherwise.

I am excited for this next chapter. I am excited to learn and grow as a nurse. I am excited for ALL of it.

Zero regrets here. Bring it!

2011-11-13T18:16:00.001-08:00

She was 80-something and extremely forgetful. She LOVED to talk, and most of her stories were sad. Like how her husband was an alcoholic and died when she was in her 30's, and her daughter died last year of a heart complication.

She said she felt mostly taken advantage of by her family, and all she ever really wanted was to be loved.

She truly did have a heart of gold, because she was always worried about everyone else. If you shared a story about a hard time in your life, it would bring her to tears. She cared. A lot.

She was restless and didn't like to sit still, so I would take her for walks up and down the hallway. We'd stop at the end of the hall where there is a waiting room that overlooks the river. We'd sit, and she'd chat some more about her life.

No one came to visit her and no one called. When the doctor discharged her, it took 2 days to get someone to finally come get her. She knew that wasn't right, and it hurt her, but she loved her family so much, despite their lack of interest in her.

Imagine my suprise, when, during one of our walks, a man dressed completely in a clown costume, should come to the floor to visit a friend! I found this to be the perfect opportunity to cheer my 80-something year old friend up. I introduced her to Bobo, and she was practically giddy. It was adorable. She smiled, and asked him to make her a balloon creation, so he made her a flower. She loved it.

As we were about to leave to go back to her room, she leaned in to Bobo, I assumed to say "thank you" or maybe "goodbye".

No. She said, "Are you horny?"

Oh yes. She did.

2011-11-11T17:28:00.001-08:00

Kind of ironic how after my little melt down/pity party the night Ethan broke his glasses (and it wasn't JUST the glasses that sent me over the edge. It was a bunch of little things that all added up.

The next morning, on my way to work, I bent down to pick up one of my favorite Joyce Meyer books to read on my lunch break, and next to it was a slip of paper that read:

"Whatever your sin or your personal situation - give it to God. Relinquish it. Trust Him with it - for God is a good God, desiring to do good in your heart and life. Give your battle to the Lord, whatever it is. It is His to win. Trust Him, serve Him, follow Him, believe in Him. He will succeed for you, within you, and through you."

I have no idea where this slip of paper came from. The only thing I do know is it is obviously cut out of something, and the something it was cut out of is a bulletin from a church that I haven't attended in about 8 years. I have no recollection of cutting this out, let alone, saving it.

Do I believe in "signs" like this? Why yes, yes I do.

Now you wanna know my thoughts on it? (No, no, you don't) ....tough! Muahaha!

The whole idea of "giving your troubles to God" is not something new amongst Christians. It is something that is said VERY often. Whenever I think this, I always have this mental image in my head of God standing before me and little ol' me, arms overloaded, dropping my problems at his feet and being relieved on the stress and the weight of the load.

After my SUPER sobbing moment I had the other night, and it wasn't just over the glasses, it was other things, too. Drama, cattiness, and gossip, finances and making ends meet, etc. I imagined God saying "Dude, you can KEEP those problems! I ain't even goin' there!" (Yes, that is how my God talks...don't judge)

But alas, regardless of whether or not I thought God wanted to help carry my burdens or not, I woke up the next morning, and gave it my all. It would be nice to say it was a wonderful 12 hour shift with wonderful patients who brought me tons of doughnuts, but alas, it was not. But still, I got up, did what I was supposed to do to the very best of my abilities, and remembered this: Trust Him with it - for God is a good God, desiring to do good in your heart and your life."

2011-11-09T13:38:00.000-08:00

God grant me the patience...

Let me tell you a little story.

Two days ago, I took my 7 year old to the eye clinic to pick out his glasses. The children's selection was very much aimed at suckering in children. Like, for instance, having a giant display featuring Spongebob, complete with glasses that had a tiny little Spongebob sticker in the corner of the lens. My 7 year old was like flies on honey...he HAD to have them. And OF COURSE the Spongebob glasses were more expensive than the other, generic types. I kept telling him, the Spongebob face on the lens was JUST a sticker, and that they were not on the actual glasses (I bet you see where this is going). I pulled multiple frames for him to try on. Yes, I let him try on the Spongebob ones, but he also tried on others. In the end, I allowed him to get the Spongebob brand, because I know how he can be, and I wanted him to actually wear the glasses. Throughout this whole "trying on" process, I probably reminded him roughly 1,000,000 times that the sticker would NOT be on the actual glasses when we picked them up.

Today we picked them up. He immediately noticed there was no sign of Spongebob. He gave me the death glare. I shrugged and again gently reminded him of what I told him a couple days ago. I told him how nice he looked, and he sulked his way out of the clinic.

On the drive home, he continued to sulk. I kept my cool. I hear a little "click". Oh yes, he did. He broke them. Right in half.

Angry is an understatement.

2011-11-08T17:33:00.000-08:00

As soon as I got to the floor this morning, I found out I was getting a transfer from ICU. "Great..." I thought to myself...just how I wanted to start my shift...with a new patient.

This patient was elderly. She came to the hospital originally because she fell at home and had some fractures in her back. Along the course of her hospital stay, she developed pneumonia, which turned into sepsis, which quickly turned into respiratory failure, ventilator dependent.

When patients become hospice or full no codes, they come to my floor. She was my patient.

Her vitals were stable. She was mostly nonresponsive, and she just had that "look" that made me think the end was coming, but she seemed okay. I just kept a close, close eye on her.

Around lunch time, a family member came in. This family member was the one that was the most involved with her care and medical decision making. You could see the exhaustion in her face. When I informed them the hospice nurses would be in in about an hour to meet with them, she burst into tears. She said she lives several hours away, and she hasn't been home in weeks. She was tired, stressed, and most of all, she did not want her loved one dying alone, and it appeared that was going to be the case.

As we stood around the patient, quietly chatting, the woman, who had been NOTHING but super sweet to me, looked me dead in the eye and said "This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I am an RN, too, so I know how this goes. Now I have to leave to go back home, while she is hanging on, and let her die alone."

My response? "Ma'am, I've BEEN there. I've been on your side. My tragedy engraved it into my heart and SOUL that NO patient is EVER JUST a patient to me. They are someones mom, dad, sister, brother, aunt, uncle, grandmother, or grandfather. My job can EASILY turn into "just a job", but I assured her, promised her, looked her straight in the eyes and said, "I promise you. I get it. She will not die alone."

It was then that the pastor showed up, so I politely stepped out so they could pray over her. About 5 minutes later, the pastor peeked his head out the door, I was assuming to let me know he was done praying and I could go back in.

No, that's not it.

He poked his head out to let me know that as they prayed over her, she slowly, quietly, had her very last breath.

2011-11-06T19:47:00.000-08:00

Wanna hear a shocking fact about me?

I hate when people are mad at me. They can be the most bitter, angry, hateful, rude person in the world, but when I know they dislike me or are mad at me, it rips my heart out.

Wanna know something else? I have low self-esteem, and I think this is where it all stems from.

I remember telling my best friend, Kristen, when we were in Vegas years and years ago that I NEVER look in the mirror and think, "Wow, I look really nice today!" ...I'm serious. I don't. When I know someone is looking at me, I usually look away.

I guess this is why I yearn for approval from people. It eats me to the core to know that there is something about me that is disliked my someone, which leads to my mind running a mile a minute about all of my faults.

Sure, I know there are things about me that make it EASY to not like me. I am moody. Think PMS times a million. That is me. I am crazy unorganized and quite impatient at times. My priorities tend to be ALL out of whack and...well, yeah.

Throughout this past year (you know, the "sister" year), I have been working so hard to rearrange this way of thinking. It literally exhausts me to constantly try to please people, and then at the end of the day, I always think to myself, "Hey, what about what I want? Or what about what I feel is important?"

It is a huge struggle, but I am doing okay. I no longer feel I need to dissect every action I make to others, to make them see my side.

I don't judge people based on others opinions, but I remain brutally faithful to those I love and care about. It is possible to be a good friend, and still be polite and professional with others...did you know that?

I lived an entire year of anger and bitterness. I'm D-O-N-E with that. Did I mention I'm done?

I am working to see good in all of us, because I recognize that no one is perfect (remember I listed just a SMALL fraction of my faults).

Tonight I met some wonderful friends for dinner. We had great conversation (we are all nurses, so the stories are ENDLESS!). Then I had some great phone conversations with two more wonderful friends, and I hung up thinking to myself: I am blessed.

My issue with craving acceptance will likely never go away. It's just a part of who I am. But the part that I am working on, the part where I remain genuine and truthful WITH MYSELF? That part is shaping up nicely.

I'll end this with some positive things. I love my family (both blood and by marriage) with every ounce of my being, and every. single. day. I think God for all you do for me. I am a GOOD mother. Not perfect, but there is no doubt in my mind that my kids know that I would walk to the ends of the earth for them. I live, eat, and breath for those two kids, and I love them with my whole heart. I am a loyal, faithful wife. My husband works harder than anyone I know to provide for his family, and is an AMAZING daddy. Him and I connect on a level that I have never had with anyone else before. Not only is he my lover (ooooh la la!) but he is also my very best friend. And lastly, my friends. Loyalty is used frequently here. I consider myself very, very loyal and I hope they ALL know that. If you doubt my loyalty, then you know me VERY little. And last, I love my God. I love my faith. And I love my church. My Bible is never far from me, and I love how my faith has grown in leaps and bounds.

2011-11-04T17:16:00.001-07:00

I totally DID write "patients" instead of "patience" in that last post! Haha! No denying I'm a nurse, eh?

2011-11-03T18:27:00.000-07:00

One year ago:

- I finally got it when I'd hear the saying "You never know what tomorrow may bring."

-I watched my sister struggle and overcome some vicious odds

- I learned how horrendous depression can be...realizing you cry, sob, and withdraw more than you smile

- I learned what pure exhaustion is

- I learned who my true friends were, and learned that family will always pull through to hold you up as your world crumbles

-I learned life gives no guarantees. No matter how amazing of a person you are. Everything can be taken away in the blink of an eye with no explanation. And you have to accept that.

- I watched, and did nothing to help, as relationships around me crumbled because I was so withdrawn within my own pity and sorrow

-I experienced hate in the truest form, as people found pleasure in beating me while I was down, and I experienced love in the purest form as my friends came to my rescue

- I cried a million tears, I gave up, I didn't care what tomorrow brought because I was too angry about what THAT day brought.

-I shook my fists at God, I slammed my Bible shut, and screamed whenever I'd hear someone say that God "cured" their headache, as my sister laid in the ICU with tubes coming from every direction, struggling to keep her alive

-I was mad, I was angry, I was so, so bitter. I was selfish and self-absorbed. I had daily pity parties FOR MYSELF

This year:

-I have put the past behind me, and KEPT it there. No more "this time last year..." We look forward, not backwards, because you can't change the past

- I have loved deeper than I ever have before.

- My faith is strong. Without faith, I've got NOTHING. I am slowly gaining my trust back in God, but I admit, I do falter sometimes.

- Drama? Save it for yo' mama. I don't have time for it. Life is way too short to hold grudges.

- Give yourself time to grieve, but then pick the pieces up and move on. Find blessings in every day. Have patients and make it a goal to find peace in every circumstance.

- Don't be scared. You can't live a fulfilling life in fear. Things happen. Pretend like they don't. Take chances and never. stop. learning.

- Believe. Whether it be in God, or in yourself...you HAVE to believe. Never give up. Fight, fight, fight. If it matters to you, you will do ANYTHING to achieve it.

2011-10-17T17:57:00.000-07:00

Today was NOT a great day. Allison was in a "I am going to live up the whole terrible 2" kind of mood...very demanding, whiney, and uncooperative. Makes for a very, very long day.

And might I add, that the few hours after Ethan comes home from school until roughly dinner time, is forever my least favorite time of the day. Both kids are tired and hungry. There isn't much to do with the weather getting colder, and it's just a tense few hours.

When Jay finally walked in the door around 5, he took one look at me and knew it wasn't a good day. He mentioned that we needed a few things from the grocery store, and offered to let me go (alone!) but I knew that would just get me into trouble (remember: I spend, spend, spend when I'm stressed) so I told him he could go.

He offered to take Allison with him, to give me a little break from the princess. This was when my mind started churning. On my latest Facebook post (remember the one about the area rug?), someone suggested incorporating the living room area rug into the shopping list. So I did:

Then I got my little diva-in-training ready and gave her a little pep talk about getting Daddy to buy EVERYTHING on the list:

Wanna know what they came home with? Everything BUT the area rug. I guess that means Allison needs a little more training.

Sigh.

2011-10-16T17:36:00.000-07:00

Most 7 year old boys on roller skates would skate around like maniacs, take a wipe-out that makes everyone say "ooooooh!", then hop up and repeat.

My 7 year old is not like most 7 year olds. My 7 year old is the one who will reluctantly try something new (in this case, rollerskating), see that is is tricky (he has never done this before) do a few moves (by moves, I mean his legs went in every direction except straight while he clung to my arms that were above his head. This lasted all of maybe 3 seconds before he plopped himself down on the floor and loudly (he has no shame) that he is NEVER SKATING AGAIN. Now it just so happens, today's lesson in church was on love and patience. So being the good (medicated) Christian woman that I am, explained how this is something very new to him, and OF COURSE it was going to be hard. But you just need to try again!

So we did. A couple falls, a couple tears, a couple more "I AM NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN!" shouts, but after a while, he looked a little less like a clumsy newborn calf, and a little more like your typical 7 year old boy on skates. After about an hour and a half of skating, he gave me the world's greatest grin and a big ol' high five. And of course, I, being his very proud mother that he didn't give up, had a smile on MY face as if I'd won a million bucks. We'll skip the details that my arms were so sore from holding him up that they were practically numb and I have beads of sweat over every inch of my body. It was SO worth it.

2011-10-15T18:52:00.000-07:00

Had you asked me a few months ago if I had plans of leaving my current nursing position, I would have said with 110% certainty, "Heck no!"

I truly feel that God had a hand in the position I am currently in. See, when I was hired, I was still in nursing school. I applied to be an extern. The interview process consisted of a bunch of nervous nursing students sitting one at a time in front of a board of managers. The mangers would shoot out questions, the nervous nursing student would answer, and then the managers would decide who wanted which student, and which students left without a job.

I was chosen to be on the 6th floor, and I have loved it from the very beginning. I still love it today. Sure, I have a lot of shifts where I leave feeling like I was in a 12 hour tornado, and I am almost CERTAIN that during every shift I work, at some point or another, I mutter the words, "I wish I could replicate myself! There is one of me and 6 of them!" ...but I love my job. I love my coworkers. I love my manager and our charge nurse...we have a GREAT group of people. If I were ever sick, or a loved one of mine were ever sick, there would be no hesitation in my mind to request for them to go to 6.

Unfortunately, I have come to a point in my life where I need more consistency. A more set schedule. More reliability on what my days will be like. And just like that, a position opened. My patients would still be oncology patients, but they will be outpatient as opposed to inpatient. My schedule would be set, and there would be no weekends or holidays. It's funny how one minute I can feel like my life is all out of whack and then an opportunity like this opens up.

When I saw the position, I submitted my resume thinking, "We'll see!" I didn't hear anything for a while, and started to think that it wasn't meant to be at this time, and I was okay with that. But then I had a message on my machine. Asking for an interview. The very next day. ACK! Waaaaaaaaait wait wait. I had to go. It would be silly NOT to, and how would I ever know if it was meant for me or not? I'll be honest, the whole way there, I recited off how I was going to politely decline the position, but when I got to talking about it with the managers, it all came out so, so easily. I am terrible at being put on the spot, which is exactly what an interview is, but when they would say "Tell us about a time you dealt with a difficult physician and how did you handle that?" I had a story. When they said "Tell us about a time you went above and beyond for a patient." ...I had a story for that, too. When they said, "Tell us how you detach yourself from the sadness you see at your current position (hospice, cancer) when you leave and go home for the night." ...and I honestly said that a lot of the times, I don't detach myself. I've BEEN THERE. No, my sister didn't have cancer. But she was critical. She was living minute to minute, followed by day to day. When I was with her, I wasn't a nurse, I was simply the patients sister. So when I am in my nursing role, I never EVER forget. While I may only see these people 12 hours out of a day, their stress doesn't end at 7PM like mine does.

I drove home from that interview feeling very strange. In one sense, I was pleased, because when I speak about being a nurse, every bit of it is from the very depths of my heart. It's so easy for me, because I am so passionate about it. Speaking about something I love so dearly puts me in a very great mood.

But as I drove home, my mind shifted back to 6. And the tears welled up in my eyes. My first "real" job. My friends. My patients. The patients I have lost that I still think about daily. Leaving that place? Walking away? Tears. my. heart. out.

I'm torn. This other position has not been offered to me yet. There are other people interviewing. Do I think this would be a great fit for me? YES. There are many areas of my life right now that are a little fuzzy, so the set schedule would help me tremendously. But leaving my "home" is HARD.

Regardless of what happens...if I don't get this position, I might be a little sad, but I know that I am still going to have my job on 6, where I love. If I do get offered the position, I will most likely accept it, and have to go through the sadness of change. I pray I make the right decision. I pray I am doing the right thing for me and my children.

Again...that manual I was talking about?? You know, the one about "Laura's Life?" ....right about now I'd skip to the chapter titled "Career Choices" and read what the right answer is. Oh, right. There is no such book. So I have to make these decisions on my own. Gulp.

2011-10-13T16:54:00.000-07:00

I wish life had a manual that you could refer to whenever you had to make a decision. Instead of having to weigh pros and cons in my mind, I could just flip to the chapter called "Laura's Life" and see what choice is best.

But alas, there is no such thing, so here is to hoping I make some good choices. More on that later.

2011-10-09T17:43:00.000-07:00

Most days I have this STRONG maternal urge to have one more baby. I think of being pregnant and feeling those soft movements and knowing it was something that was only known by myself and my sweet baby. I think of the incredible process of laboring a baby. I think of those first few days when you entire world revolves around each burp, nap, and poop. My uterus twitches just a touch whenever I hear the soft music play while at work, indicating a baby had just been born.

Today though? Today was not one of those days. In terms of my reproductive organs, I'm pretty sure my uterus just shriveled up and dried, that's how this day was.

Why, you ask? What made this day so bad? MY KIDS WERE MANIACS!

In our heads, Jay and I had his picture perfect day planned. Allison and I would go to church. Jay and Ethan would go to one of Ethan's friends birthday party, and then we'd meet back at home and drive out to the apple orchard for a great afternoon of fresh doughnuts, cool cider, and pumpkin picking.

Where the heck did it all go wrong?

Maybe the part where Allison was a total maniac at church. She didn't want to sit with me in church like she normally does, and she acted like she'd never see me again if I left her in the play area...which meant we spent 2 hours just meandering around until we went home.

The ride TOO the orchard was nice, except we hoped Allison would take a nap early on in the ride so she would be rested when we got there. That didn't happen. She started snoozing as we were pulling in. That's always ugly.

And the fact that today was hot and sunny, we anticipated the orchard would be full....and that it was! Ever heard of the website called "The People of Walmart?" Well, there should be one called The People of the Orchard (ooooh sounds like a horror movie!) ...but no, really. It all began as we waited in line with our kids to jump in the inflatable pumpkin, behind a lovely family with the mother wearing a shirt that said clear as day "We'll rip their f&^%$#g heads off." I almost tapped her on the shoulder and gave her a big ol' thumbs up for being such a classy lady, but I didn't.

The bees were ridiculous and I all think we held our breaths as we watched a bee fly down the collar of Allison's t-shirt, fly around against her baby skin, then fly out the bottom of it.

The cider and doughnuts were amazing, but then it came time to pick pumpkins. It was as if someone pulled a string on Allison's back which sent her zipping through the pumpkins that were displayed for purchase and promptly tipping each one over. While she did this, Ethan kept yelling after her "Allison! Stop! Allison!" while Jay kept saying "Ethan! Stop parenting Allison, I will take care of it!" and I chased Allison around taking each tipped pumpkin and putting it back upright. We literally did this for like 30 minutes before we realized we STILL HAD NO PUMPKINS PICKED. By this time we were all hot, dirty, and tired. I ended up picking two good looking gourds and we hit the road.

I had it in my head that the kids would be overtired so they would be quiet on the 40 minute ride home...AHHHAHAHAHA! They were INSANE! Allison cried for her binky (which she HAD, it just apparently wasn't the right binky) and Ethan was mad that I wouldn't let him change his seat as Jay was driving. We picked a movie for the DVD player and neither kid could agree on a movie. It was a long, miserable, loud, migraine-inducing ride. As we finally did the final turns to our home, Jay and I started laughing. What. a. day!

....but neither of us would have traded it for any other day.

2011-10-02T18:17:00.000-07:00

WHAT is this self (husband) -proclaimed shop-o-holic to do???

No, seriously. I can't. stop. shopping. I literally spend HUNDREDS of dollars every single month.

Now before you gasp and consider me a terrible, horrible, no good, well dressed person, let me be more specific. I'm not buying Coach purses and MAC make-up. It's usually spent at Target or Meijer or somewhere less exciting, and it's usually spent on my kids. I love buying them clothes and shoes. And I love cosmetics, so it usually ends up being a couple outfits for Ethan, a couple for Allison, and some shampoo or other random item. And the total is ALWAYS over $100.

Now before you think to yourself, "Uh, so stop shopping, stupid." Let me give a tiny bit of background. I have really bad anxiety. I take medication for it. I am being totally serious when I say shopping is a HUGE anxiety release for me. I can go about 3 days without shopping, then the urge overcomes me and I have to speeeend. I put things in the cart, I pay, then I feel so, so guilty (but heck no do I return any of it!) Then I store these new, shiny items in what I like to call my "trunk of tricks" aka. the trunk of my car so I can slowly pull things out so Jay doesn't bust me.

Now, clearly I need a different outlet for my anxiety. I don't garden (everything dies at the mere sight of my face) and I don't cook (unless it's pre-packaged and frozen). I don't scrapbook (but I could, if I bought some supplies...) I can't do a lot of volunteer work due to my very clingy 2 year old. I love doing playdates and recently joined a local group on meetup.com, but then realized it costs $10 to join, and most of the meet-ups are at places that require spending money.

Winter is coming so parks and playing outside is coming to an end... what do I do???!

Come on. Give me some ideas.

2011-09-28T16:25:00.000-07:00

I have a "what would you do" question for anyone that would like to share.

Tiny bit of background: I am a Christian. I believe in helping others, especially when it is clear they are struggling.

The story: After I came home from dropping Ethan off at school, I realized we forgot to send his library book back which was due today, so I turned right back around to take it to him.

Afterwards, I decided I'd go through the McDonald's drive-thru for a super healthy breakfast for me and the girl. As we were approaching the window, a woman started walking towards my car. Her clothes were kind of rough looking, she had a hood on, and the first thing I noticed about her was she seemed "off". Maybe drugs? Drinking? Not sure, but that was my first impression. Anyhow, she approaches my window and states that she just got out of the hospital (she showed me her bracelet) and got jumped last night by someone who "wanted to poke out her eyeballs" (I can't make this stuff up, folks!) and now she was out of gas and needed money to get home. I asked her if she called the police. She said yes, they caught the attempted eye ball snatcher. But now she was stranded in a McDonald's parking lot. She gestured over to her van, where an equally rough looking woman was in the drivers seat.

I literally had $7 cash in my wallet, which I intended to use on my super healthy breakfast with my daughter. I lied, apologized, and told her I didn't have any cash, then I wished her well, told her to take care, and drove away.

Then I felt uber guilty. I had other means of giving her money. Would $10 really have hurt? I feel like I missed a good opportunity to give. Who knows if her story was true or not (her eyeballs were perfectly intact, with no signs of attempted removal) but she didn't look like she had a very easy life.

Would you have given her money? If not, why?

2011-09-27T18:56:00.000-07:00

I love to read blogs. My list of blogs I check daily is quite long, and I'd love to share them with you (but I am way too tired tonight after working all day). This particular blog, though, I have to share. Her most recent post is amazing.

http://aninchofgray.blogspot.com/

2011-09-20T18:29:00.000-07:00

September 20, 2010:

Getting a phone call from my dad at about 2:30 PM, telling me my sister collapsed at school, CPR had to be done, and she was now on life support

Stopping my car in the middle of the street to repeat the words, "What? What happened? WHO did this happen to? Wait, WHAT?" over and over again, followed by the worst sobbing I have ever done in my life

Panicking, rushing to get my kids to my mother-in-law, then enduring the longest ride ever to Brownstown Emergency Room

Waiting, for what felt like hours but was only minutes, to be allowed to see her

Seeing her for the first time, ventilator down her throat, NG tube and thermometer probe down her nose, several IVs, and restraints on her wrists. I kept telling them, "Please keep her sedated right now so she doesn't wake up and get scared." I should have known by their lack of assurance that her "waking up and being scared" was something that wasn't going to happen right now, whether she was sedated or not

Driving to Henry Ford Main to sit in a "special" waiting room for the doctor to come talk to us and prepare us for what we were about to see

Seeing her in bed, still on the ventilator, totally nonresponsive, and having seizures practically back to back that were so strong, her entire bed would shake

Being told not to touch her, which I obeyed for about 20 minutes, then the urge to rush to her and touch her overtook me

Having to leave her that night, not knowing if it would be the last time

Sobbing to my mom, saying, "I can't lose her! I need her!"

The cold, cold ICU room

Listening to the whooshing of the ventilator as it pushed air into my sisters lungs

Being told to step out while they cleaned her up in the wee hours of the night, and realizing I had absolutely nowhere to go

Wiping her chin and braiding her hair...the only areas that I could touch without disrupting anything

Having her slowly wake up, but being unable to talk due to the severe confusion and swelling of her brain

Having the ventilator removed, but those very scary moments soon after where they thought her airway was closing up and having doctors and respiratory therapists rush in to check

Driving home from the hospital after being there the entire night and thinking "Now I can understand how people fall asleep at the wheel" because I was experiencing pure exhaustion, both physically and emotionally

Hearing the doctors say to us "You should just be happy she is alive...her chances of survival were less than 10%" when we'd ask questions about what the next step was

The constant desire to just dial her number to talk. To drive to her house to visit. Anything. Something to know that she was okay

This is the infamous pack of gum Leslie bought that I mentioned in my previous post. It's hard to see, but note there are only two pieces missing. One for her, one for me. That was it. I know it's stupid, and I know it probably seems very insignificant, but for me, it is proof that that amazing day happened. Proof that we were together. I will never get rid of it.

This is the slip of paper the ICU nurse gave me that first night. The top is the phone number to her unit. The middle number is her room. And the code is the code I would have to give in order to get information. Only George and I had the code, and it was our job to relay any information.

September 20, 2011:

Texting my sister to say "Wanna do lunch?" and having her write me back!

Meeting for dinner at Portofino's to honor those that stayed the night with her, night after night, so she would never be alone. We never had to ask...they just did it. And it was NOT easy. Being tired was the least of our issues when we'd stay the night...it was more making sure she stayed in bed, reassuring her constant paranoia, keeping her from removing the heart monitors, catheters, IV lines, etc.

Watching her laugh and socialize with the people she loves

Seeing her update her status on facebook

Having full conversations with her through texts and e-mails, just like we used to do prior to this past year

Her smile. Her smile is so genuine and so Leslie. That was gone for so long, because for months, she literally was blank. Void of all emotion. It's coming back, slowly but surely

She never did lose her sense of love and kindness towards other people. Even when she was so confused in the hospital, when someone came in and said "How are you?" She'd respond with "I'm fine, how are you?" That is apparently a part of her that will never go away. She has a heart of pure gold

Thank you. Thank you to every single one of you. Whether you stayed the night, visited, brought food, prayed, thought about her, read the blog to stay informed on her progress, sent cards, texts, or emails, WE APPRECIATE AND LOVE YOU and I promise, we will never, ever forget any of that. There is absolutely no way we could have gotten through this without all of the love and support.

This past year was the worst year of our entire lives. My motto here on out is, "It only gets better from here!"

Keep it up, sister. You have SO many people rooting for you.

The beautiful cake, made by Persnickety Sweets. Purple is Leslie's favorite color and the cake was chocolate, which is also her favorite

One of the tables. On the left, from furthest to closest, Allison (my 2 year old daughter), Shawn, and Jim. On the other side, my husband Jason, my son, Ethan, my cousin Beth, and my cousin Michelle (both of them stayed many nights with my sister at the hospital.

My dad's very heartfelt, touching speech that he put together all by himself. It was very, very beautiful.

The other table. On the left side, Georges's sister, George's mom, George, and my dad. On the other side, George's sisters husband (sorry about the lack of names!), my Uncle Terry, my Aunt Bev, Leslie, and my mom

Leslie and her cake :)

That is her battlewound. Okay, more like the scar left behind from her defibrillator being placed. Nonetheless, I can't help but look at it and know that it just may save my sisters life someday.

This was the quote on the cake. Very fitting, and Leslie loves Maya Angelou.

This picture speaks volumes for me. That night I left saying "I can't go on without her!" and here I am, WITH her. Forever with her.

The Tuttle Family, EXACTLY how it should be. Thank you, God, for keeping us together.

2011-09-19T18:54:00.000-07:00

September 19, 2010, my best friend of many, many years got married. My sister and I had the honor of standing up in her wedding as bridesmaids.

It was a beautiful September day. That morning, Leslie picked me up to head over to Kristen's parents house to have our hair done. I texted Leslie just as she left her house and asked if she'd stop and pick me up a pop and some gum. She said she would.

We spent the morning with Kristen and some other friends, having our hair done, snacking on fresh fruit, and making small talk.

The ceremony was beautiful. It was at the Henry Ford Estate in the rose garden. Picture perfect. After the ceremony, Leslie and I drove home to pick up our husbands, and then we headed to Old Chicago for some drinks and appetizers, just the four of us. On our way out, we snapped a quick picture, then headed to the reception.

The reception was a lot of fun. We had a couple of drinks and socialized. At around 10 PM, I hitched a ride with Leslie and her husband. He drove and I sat behind the passenger seat, taking bobby pins out of her hair. As they dropped me off at my house, I remember yelling to her to use lots of conditioner in her hair... and I went home.

Strangely, I left my cell phone in Leslie's purse that night. In a way, I am so thankful that I did, because it was the reason she e-mailed me the morning of September 20 to let me know she left it between her side door at her house, and to let me know she wasn't feeling too great that day.

That day was so perfect and those memories will likely always remain fresh on my mind. I remember when I got the news that Leslie was in critical condition, I called Kristen sobbing, and telling her how thankful I was for being in her wedding with Leslie, because we got to spend the ENTIRE day together.

2011-09-18T18:26:00.000-07:00

Tuesday is the day. Do you celebrate it? Celebrate that although something huge, life-changing and tragic happened, but she survived? Do you mourn it? The last few moments before we knew what was going to happen. Do we act like it's just any other day and not make any big deal out of it? What DO you do?

I can say with zero doubt in my mind that that day was the worst day of my life. Ever. I had very low, rock bottom, depressed days for many weeks after, but the INITIAL finding out what was going on was the WORST. There's no way I can shrug it off like any other day.

Leslie didn't mind being alone for the first part, but as the day is drawing near, she is changing her mind. I am off that day, so I'm thinking after we take Ethan to school, we will head out to the Henry Ford Estate where the wedding we were both in the day before she collapsed was held. We will go there, reminisce, take pictures, and just thank God for what we have. Then we will likely do lunch somewhere downtown Dearborn.

Love you, Les!

2011-09-17T19:04:00.000-07:00

It's my weekend to work. Which means Saturday and Sunday, 12.5 hours each day. It means lots of patients, call lights, doctors and families. It means emergencies, teaching, discharging, and admissions. It means orders, tests, IV starts, and blood sugars. It means people who are truly there because they need health care, and it means people who are truly there to get a good buzz off the best narcotic. But nonetheless, I love my job.

I don't ever forget WHY I do what I do, and I always, at least once, call my husband and my mom. Just to catch up, see how their day is going. Ask how my kids are and what they are going to do that day. Just to try to stay in the loop while I am involved in other's "loops".

Today I made an extra call. I called my sister. Want to know what we talked about? Meerkats. And how cute and squishy their heads are. And how they stretch real long to look all all around. We giggled at the randomness of our conversation (that really only lasted maybe 10 minutes total), rehashed the upcoming events of this week, and then said our goodbyes.

I hung up the phone as the call lights sounded behind me, doctors shouted out "WHO IS THE NURSE FOR 603? and the phone kept ringing, likely a transporter wanting to know if 604 bed 1 was ready to go to her chest x-ray, I sat back and smiled.

I can still talk to her. I can still laugh with her. I can still see, touch, and BE with her.

Love you, Les.

2011-09-16T12:20:00.000-07:00

I've had a nagging thought on my mind lately. It's been discussed before, so it's not a new revelation or anything, but lately it's bothering me more than usual.

A couple months before my sister collapsed, she was complaining of sharp pains when she'd take a deep breath. She said it was worse when she was laying down and it was painful enough that she didn't want to take deep breaths.

I encouraged her to go to the doctor, because the nurse in me was thinking it could possibly be a pulmonary embolism (clot in her lung). Of course, how often do normally healthy 29 year olds get a PE? Probably not often, but my motto is always better safe than sorry. She made an appointment, and saw the physicians assistant. After explaining her symptoms, the PA sent her for a chest x-ray. I think she was assuming broken ribs. When the x-ray came back normal but Leslie was still having pain, the PA told her to "take Motrin." I remember Leslie telling me this, and I remember thinking "Huh?" Wouldn't you want to get to the bottom of why she is having severe pain?

What if it WAS a pulmonary embolism, just sitting there waiting to make it's move. Literally. We will never know.

2011-09-14T17:03:00.000-07:00

I wish I had something profound to blog about, but I just don't right now! My brain is pretty empty, and I am okay with that :)

I was totally dreading Ethan starting school up again, because we had gotten on a really lazy summer schedule, but I have found just one week in to school that I love being back to our routine. Both kids love it, in fact. It's going really, really well, and Ethan is loving second grade.

Allison has become my shadow. Ethan was never really shy, but Allison panics when someone she doesn't know approaches her. Like take today, for instance. We were waiting outside the doors Ethan comes out of after class. There were two other ladies standing around, but apparently Allison didn't feel threatened by them. But then! Oh, but then! A MAN comes! And my sweet, quiet little angle who has one of her arms wrapped around my leg looks up at me and says, "Oh, WOOK, Mama! A man! Carry you, Mama, Carry you!" (Carry you is her way of actually saying carry ME) Yes, it was loud. And yes, the poor man probably wondered what the heck he did wrong. But he scared her!

I taught Ethan how to play REAL hopscotch today and we had a blast. Did you know hopscotch is a really good form of cardio? Especially when your son makes the numbers go past 30. I was huffing and puffing and toppling over and stubbing my toe right and left. And I also learned how thankful I am to have two legs, because playing hopscotch today made it very clear that one leg should not have to bear the weight of the rest of me. My knees were trembling! We had lots of laughs, though. Daddy even joined in!

On a more serious note, this year has been the worst, and we are nearing the one year anniversary of my sister's incident. Since that horrible time, more bad things have happened:

My Uncle Jim was killed in a car accident
I was diagnosed with early congestive heart failure
My grandma was hospitalized and has since had to move out of her apartment and into a nursing home
My Uncle Archie has bleeding on the brain and is having some cognitive struggles right now
As with any family crisis, our marriage has taken a hit as we both deal with stress differently

I'm sure there is more, but it just feels like a really rough year. I remember back in the early days of my sisters incident realizing when people say they can feel the weight of the stress on them. I get that. You literally CAN feel it. And it hurts, and it's heavy, and it's hard to carry around but you literally have NO choice.

September 20 is going to be a HARD day for me. But I am also using September 20 as the day I move forward. Making more changes. Rejuvenating my marriage, breaking out of this funk, make plans, set goals, cut back so I can give more. You have choices in life. Leslie's incident has left me living in fear and anger. Fear that something could happen again to her or to someone else I love, and anger that it even happened at all. Anger that our lives were changed without our consent. I have lived with those emotions now for nearly a year, and while I won't say it's wrong to feel that way, it's not helping me. I need positive changes. I need to let go of the fear and just LIVE. I need to let go of the anger and just ACCEPT.

We will get there. Just like Leslie, baby steps.

2011-09-07T17:08:00.000-07:00

Ethan started 2nd grade this week! It is very bittersweet for me. I love watching him grow and learn new things (he loves to learn!) but at the same time, it feels like just yesterday he was a tiny baby. Where does the time go?

He was excited for his first day. I was able to take him to school, but I had to work and I couldn't pick him up, so I was a little sad about that. When I called to talk to him after the day was done, he seemed very tired. His voice was monotone and he was just giving me one word answers to my questions. This worried me, because I thought he'd have a lot more to say. When I got home that night, we talked some more and it turns out that his teacher took away his erasers because they were in the shape of a car and it was too "toy-like". I totally understand this, but it made him sad and I'm sure he was a little embarrassed, considering he was so excited to use his new school supplies.

Also, as I was reading through the information his teacher sent home, I realized this year was going to be quite different from last year. He's officially NOT a "baby" anymore, and things are going to be more challenging. Less play time, more work. His work will actually be graded now (no more stickers and smiley faces!) and he has to do weekly book reports. Just reading it made me feel overwhelmed so I can only imagine how he felt hearing all this within a couple hours then being sent home. That, and the fact that his two best friends are not in his class, he was just feeling stressed. We talked about it a lot last night, though, and by bedtime, he seemed a lot more at ease. Jay and I are very involved in his school life, so we will be right there with him throughout everything. We take school very seriously, and we hope he does, too.

Today was his second day of school. It was a full day and when I picked him up and asked how his day was, he said "It was great!" He was happy and had lots to say. I know this year is going to be great. He has been blessed with wonderful teachers from preschool until now, so we know we are very, very lucky.

That is his nervous face. And that is Allison's binky face (and yes, I realize the binky has got. to. go. That'll be for another day, though!)

2011-09-06T19:47:00.000-07:00

So while at work, I was still having the crazy palpitations, so one of the nurses suggested I go to the telemetry floor and have them run a strip on me. Sounds like a great idea! I caught the Ventricular Bigeneny within just a few minutes and I'll take it with me to my next cardiologist appointment which isn't until NOVEMBER! ACK! Oh well, though, at least I have an appointment and I am a little more sure that I won't be dying anytime soon from this :)

Ethan's first day of second grade was today but that deserves a post of it's own, so with that said, I'll leave you with pictures of my beautiful, jacked up heart rhythm. (Altogether now: Awwwww!)

What the heck, heart. Get your act together and stop messing around! You have a big job here, don't mess it up!

2011-09-05T18:08:00.000-07:00

Leslie collapsed September 20, 2010. We never really figured out what happened, we just know she was pulseless and not breathing on the scene. We know she was found to have blood clots in her left leg and her lungs a few days later, after she had been nonresponsive and on the vent. We know she had a few bouts of an arrhythmia while she was in the ICU. But that's pretty much the only facts we KNOW.

In January 2011, I started having a lot of chest palpitations, It would feel like my heart was skipping beats and I would feel light headed and kind of dizzy. I saw my primary who referred me to a cardiologist, who just happened to be the same cardiologist who saw Leslie. He did some testing on me, and came to the conclusion that I have nonischemic cardiomyopathy. He DOES believe my sisters incident and mine are related. He believes these cardiac issues are genetic. Our problems are not the same, but we both have heart issues.

I was prescribed 2 drugs to take to help my heart perform more efficiently. I started taking them and learned very fast that they knocked me out. They are usually given for hypertension, and I do not have high blood pressure AT ALL. They also lower your heart rate, and I am ALWAYS told I am bradycardic. So basically, I am taking meds that make me want to just go into a coma, yet still function. It sucks and it's hard!

But now lately, the palpitations are back with a vengence. They are making me feel like I am going to pass out. I'm scared. I'm taking my meds just as they are prescribed (and I have for a couple weeks now when it started) ...but did I mention I was scared? Every time I feel my heart go into this crazy rhythm, I want to take myself to the ER, but they won't be able to do anything. I don't know. I am calling the cardiologist tomorrow and hopefully I can get an appointment very, very soon (I was due to see him in September anyways,)

2011-09-02T19:07:00.000-07:00

To elaborate more on what I said yesterday, once my sister came home from rehab, the care for her was pretty intense. She would be dropped off at my house before the sun came up and she'd hang out with me until dinner time. It was then that I realized, truly realized, that this was the "new" Leslie, and that's when I stopped accepting it. When she was in the hospital, I had the hope that she was improving. At home, it felt like it was God's way of saying, "Okay, she's home now, this is it!" ...and I didn't like it. She couldn't remember anything. She needed to even be reminded to shower. I had to do everything for her. It wa so strange, and so not what I wanted. Sure, I would walk to the ends of the Earth for her if it meant she stayed on this Earth longer, but it was hard to accept. It was like a light switched and I got a new, different sister. She was like a stranger to me.

As the weeks and months went on, my method of coping with my "new" sister, was to simply avoid being around her. That way in my head, I could remember her as best as possible how she used to be. But of course there were times I would see her, and those times I would get so angry. I wanted to say "Just stop it! You remember this! Why are you asking this again? Why aren't you trying?" I hated it. I hated the constant reminders of what I was being forced to accept.

Of course, this method of coping doesn't work well AT ALL. By pushing my sister away, it wasn't bringing me any closer to what she once was, because that Leslie was gone. This knowledge pushed me into a very very deep depression. The worst depressive episode I have ever had. Where just getting out of bed was a huge task. It put strains on ALL of my relationships. I was either crying or bitterly angry. The bottom line was, there was NOTHING I could do, think, or say that would make things go back to how they used to be, and I hated not having that control. I hated having that ripped away from us with no warning.

Lately, the Leslie I know is coming back. Her real smile is there and she says things she used to say. Sure, she repeats herself, but she also remembers A LOT. When I think of how far she has come this past year, it's just unreal.

Today, since my husband and kids are out of town, we went to lunch at the Oak. Later in the day, we met for dinner at Angelina's (SOOO GOOD!) and then went back to my house. We turned my kitchen, living room, and bedroom into Leslie's personal spa and we pampered her :) It was so much fun. Lots of laughing and giggling ensued. We ended it with an ice cream at Twist and Shout. Part of me leaves a night like that thinking, "Man, that was fun!" and part of my mind flashes back to the night of September 20, 2010, as I walked out of Henry Ford Main, sobbing to my mom saying "She CAN'T die! She just CAN'T! I need her!"

....I'm so happy I HAVE her.

2011-09-01T20:11:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was my daughter's second birthday! I can't believe she is already 2. Where does the time go? Following tradition, we had our parents and my sister and her husband over for pizza and cake to celebrate her birth. It was a wonderful evening.

Now it is no secret that I handled (and am handling) my sister's condition very, very poorly. We are 3 weeks shy of it being a year since the initial incident happened, and I think I can finally say that I am turning a corner with coping. I noticed this as my parents, sister, and I sat in my backyard yesterday and just chatted.

My mom made the comment of how she wishes we had video tape of how Leslie was when she first came home and how she is now to compare. I told them that my mind holds very vivid memories of all the different "phases of Leslie" and I can tell them that the Leslie today and the Leslie 11 months ago is a HUGE difference. Huge. For instance, we were talking about what my kids would be for Halloween this year. None of us could remember what Allison was, but LESLIE did! And last Halloween she wasn't even home yet...she was still a patient in the rehab facility.

Her memories are coming back and her personality is coming back. She still repeats things, but she is more like the sister I had before the nightmare happened, and it just fills my heart with SO much happiness.

I can imagine September 20 is going to be a very difficult day, rethinking about the events as they occurred, and I do intend to allow myself to be sad during that particular day. But there on out, September 21 and for the rest of our lives, I will celebrate the fact that SHE DID IT. She is a survivor.

I love you so much, Leslie.

2011-08-31T18:36:00.000-07:00

I am a self-proclaimed shopaholic. Well, actually more like a husband-proclaimed, but whatever. The first step is admitting it, right?

Anyhow, I was >this< close to making this purchase for Allison's birthday:

So cute, so girly. It was $25, without shipping. Couple of quick clicks and it could have been mine.

Buuuut since I was cut off, I had to either go without, or come up with my own version. So I lugged out this tote full of scrapbooking supplies that has been collecting dust for YEARS now, and got to work. After about 30 minutes, and without spending a single penny, I made her this:

You can't really tell from the picture, but each circle is tied with a little yellow ribbon. By no means is it perfect, but it was different, and Allison loved waking up to it this morning! I plan on only saving her name and hanging it up in her room.

2011-08-28T16:45:00.000-07:00

So last night I shared with Jay my idea to simplify our lives. His response was "Uh, how about you just stop spending so much money at Target?" Okay, so he's not following me, but I'm still on this quest.

First things first. Our house is full of stuff. Our home is roughly 900 square feet. Small. Our kids (remember when I said how spoiled they are in the previous post?) have toys ev.ry.where. Toys they likely don't even know exist. Therefore, we are going to have a garage sale in 2 weeks. We have already started gathering items to sell. We will use any money we make towards Christmas.

I also took Allison to church with me (Ethan is still out of town with my parents). As I said earlier, it's so much easier to just leave her at home. She won't go to Sunday School. She cries the entire time and I just can't do that to her. Therefore, she has to stay with me, which means I have to keep her quiet for at least an hour and a half and it can be pretty tricky! But I did it. She dressed sweetly in her ladybug dress. Snacked on dried cranberries throughout the sermon, and when it was time to pray, she politely bowed her head. At one point as she was sitting on my lap, she leaned back, looked at me, smiled and whispered "I just a little girl."

This afternoon, Jay had plans for the entire afternoon. I wanted to take Allison to the zoo, but that easily would have cost about $60 with gas and the admission fee. Instead, we drove 10 minutes away to Elizabeth Park. We sat in the grass and fed the ducks. We also counted them (there were 29!) and I helped Allison count all the way to 29. After, we visited all the play areas, and finished off at the animals, where she pet 2 goats, said hello to a duck, and waved to the horses. Then we came home. We spent $0.00 and had a beautiful time.

Every day is a work in progress for me. Heck, most days every minute is work. I have to make the conscious effort to make my day good and worthwhile. It's hard, but I am setting goals for myself and I firmly believe I will get back on track.

2011-08-27T18:24:00.000-07:00

I have done a crazy amount of thinking lately, so this is basically going to be a "brain dump" kind of post.

This has been one hell of a year. Obviously, because of what happened to my sister (the one year anniversary is coming up and I am having a really hard time thinking about that), but also other things. Any type of tragedy can put a strain on relationships. Jay has been absolutely phenomenal throughout all of it, but it's me that has been difficult to live with. I have been hit with depression that is worse than ever. My mood literally goes from happy to angry/sad in the blink of an eye, and my way of dealing with stress is to shop, shop, shop, and unfortunately, our bank account doesn't allow for my amount of stress.

I love my job as a nurse, but sometimes, it also gets very draining. Obviously there are a ton of legal aspects to my job, so that adds stress, and it seems like every time I go in to work, the load gets bigger. I'm sure you've heard about the nursing shortage. It's true. And there is no end in site.

I think I have wonderful parents. We had such a normal life, if there is such a thing. Just my sister and I, my parents, and we always had a dog that was doted on. We did family vacations every summer, but usually it was low key stuff, like camping. My sister and I did well in school, we got along great, we grew up into incredible women (had to say it...haha!) ...it was just all very normal. Then I take a look at my current life, and I try to be as great of a mother as my own, yet Ethan can be SO disobedient and disrespectful, I wonder where I went wrong. He has such a loving household and he has never gone without. Why does he think this is okay?

While I was in Mackinac with my kids, I thought about a lot of things. I thought about what is different with kids now versus back when I was a child. Facebook, technology, and TV programming are just a few of the things. When Ethan wakes up in the morning, he can usually find me on the computer. If he needs something, he usually hears "hang on a minute." When I was growing up, there was no computer. My mom was THERE. Not saying I'm not there for my kids, but it's in a different sense. I'm distracted constantly. I should be distracted by them, not some glowing screen.

Another thing. In Mackinac, we were walking downtown, and there were t-shirt shops everywhere. In one, Ethan noticed a shirt that had the Grinch on it. He excitedly said, "Look, Mom! It's the Grinch! ...is he holding a beer???" (Yes, yes he was) ...and I shooed him away. There were t-shirts everywhere, for anyone to see with very vulgar words on them. Ethan has a TV in his room, and he is allowed to watch cartoon network in the evening. Did you know cartoon network turns into something called adult swim later in the evening? Inappropriate cartoons are shown at this time. To Ethan, it's just another cartoon. But if you watch it, it's full of sexual jokes and alcohol.

Sometimes when I think about Ethan and how he acts, I wonder what is wrong. Do I need a doctor to evaluate him? Does he need psychological help to determine why he acts so defiantly? Or do I just need to take a look at his surroundings? It was practically a slap in the face when I really thought about it.

My mission is to simplify. One word, a whole lotta meaning. We spend to much and give too little. We get wrapped up in technology and disregard our books and conversation. We spend time inside lounging when nature is all around us (wading in the Great Lakes looking at rocks with my kids? Amazing.) I allow church to be optional for my kids. Praying at home? Eh, we sometimes do it. My kids have toys EVERYWHERE. Run to the supermarket? Buy them a treat. Stop at a toy store to buy someone a birthday present? Sure, you guys can get a toy, too.

In a world where manners are becoming taboo, I refuse to succumb to this new "norm". It's easy to do things the way we are doing them right now. It's SO easy. My kids are worth the work, though. And hopefully someday they will be adults with their own children and looking back on their childhood as fondly as I look at mine.

2011-08-19T11:44:00.000-07:00

Let's talk about Ethan.

Ethan just turned 7 July 20. He has always been a unique kid, and it's really amazing and fun to watch him. He taught himself the alphabet at a super young age, and since then, has always been crazy about letters and reading. He reads ALL the time now. He also loves to draw, write, and design. He writes books, that are very creative and he has now started designing comic strips. He tells us when he gets older, he wants to be an author.

While he is a very bright child, he also has a side that is very, very difficult. He is as stubborn as a mule when he has to do something he doesn't want to. He hates going places, even fun places. He wants to stay home, all the time. He can keep himself entertained for hours at home.

When he is nervous about something, he won't come out and say he is nervous, instead, he will act out...he'll get mouthy and defiant. He is very hesitant to try new things.

Take today, for example. He woke up in a bad mood. The first words out of his mouth crabby words. I always try to be very patient with him when he is like this (he has literally been this way since he was an infant). Allison wasn't awake yet, so I sat by him on the couch, rubbing his back, and I told him I loved him. Yesterday he was begging to go to Funtastic and we never went, so I told him today we would go. I had to go anyways, because I had to finalize the details for Allison's birthday party that is going to be there. I got myself completely ready to go, got Allison ready, and when I went to go help Ethan get ready, he decided he didn't want to go. This meant that he fought me as I got him dressed, he refused to walk to the car so I had to drag him, and he pouted the ENTIRE way there. Now I know you are probably thinking, "If he is behaving that way, why would you take him somewhere fun?" Well, that's because he WANTS to stay home. If I gave in and didn't go, he would get his way. Also, Allison wanted to go, so it wasn't fair to her to make her miss out because he was being a grump.

When we got to Funtastic, he refused to wear socks, even though it was a strict rule there. He kept trying to run out the door, and repeatedly said "I don't WANT to be here." Somehow I am able to remain very patient, and I kept asking him if there was anything upsetting him that he wanted to talk about. He said no. My friend showed up, so I took the opportunity to take him into the restroom where we were alone, to again ask him why he was behaving this way. He was still struggling to just get away from me (and at 7 years old and 50 pounds, he is getting quite strong!). I was so fed up and frustrated. This is how things ALWAYS are with him, and it makes no sense to me.

My friend mentioned maybe he needed some sugar. I was at my wits end, so I bought him a Reece cup. He ate it, and literally, it was like a switch flipped and he was a totally different kid. He eagerly put his socks on, and ran out to play and had a wonderful time. He laughed, played with another little boy, ate lunch, and just had a great time.

Now I do think Ethan has some VERY high anxiety issues, but I also am starting to associate his behavior with sugar intake. When he hasn't eaten (and he didn't want to eat anything before we went to Funtastic), he acts very, very poorly. As soon as he has something high in sugar, he is a completely different kid.

Now I know I can't give him candy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner to make him be appropriate, but how on earth do you handle a child who is so anxious? He's only 7! I'm terrified he will act this way in school, and that would just be a nightmare.

I don't know. That is my vent for today.

2011-08-03T18:42:00.000-07:00

Years ago, around 2003, I started writing in a livejournal. I wrote in it almost daily. I started it right before I found out I was pregnant with Ethan, so his entire pregnancy, newborn days, toddler days, and preschool days are documented. I haven't read them in years, but just today I went back and read some of it. A lot of it was just day to day stuff, which most would find boring, but I was SO THANKFUL that I had all of that!

My intentions when I started doing a blog was to continue the same writing. But of course, life got in the way, and I never did it much. Then when my sister got sick, I wrote daily in it again, but now that there isn't much change in her progress right now, it's back to collecting cyber-dust.

It is now my intention to start writing again. It won't all be about my sister, but of course, I will talk about her. It'll just be about myself, my kids, and my life in general. I realize it will be boring to most, but it is so priceless to look back on these crazy days in years to come.

I'll post a link to my livejournal in my next post. I loved that thing!

2011-07-29T17:32:00.000-07:00

This blog post is at the request of Leslie. She frequently reads my blog to remind her of what happened and how far she has come. As I told her today, though, there won't be much to say because she is doing so well!

For me, the fact that we are just a couple months away from the one year anniversary of her incident is difficult. On one hand, I can't believe how much time has gone by and how much progress she made, and on the other hand, I can't believe how long it's been since I last "experienced" the "old" Leslie.

Leslie struggles a lot with depression. She wants to be back to where she used to be just as desperately as we want her back. I don't really like to talk about what happened much anymore, but I love to talk about how accomplished my sister is. From obtaining her master's degree to studying abroad in Spain, she has done so much. It always made me so proud to tell people what she has done. I totally get it when Leslie cries about how much things have changed. What I wish I could stress to her, though, is just how amazingly far she has come. She doesn't get that, since she obviously wasn't aware when any of the most critical events were happening.

Like when:

We were first allowed back to see her at Brownstown Emergency Room. We had to go back in two's. The entire staff working that day looked at us with such sympathy. I remember that clearly.

Seeing her for the first time...she had two tubes in her nose down to her stomach, a few IV's, the ventilator in her mouth, and restraints on her arms so she couldn't pull any of it out. When I first saw her, I remember thinking "I will be right here to explain everything to her when she wakes up"...with the thoughts that she was going to wake up any second. Little did I know, it would be DAYS before she woke up

Seeing her settled at the ICU at Henry Ford Main, having seizures every few minutes. Her entire body shook. The entire bed shook. And all we could do was stand around her and stare.

The night I broke down HARD. Sobbing hysterically. My face was right up next to hers and my body leaning over her. As I sobbed, she showed no response.

When she finally DID wake up, but her speech was not coherent and she had no control over anything

The day we finally got to wash her hair, but she couldn't even sit up in the wheelchair. She kept slumping to the left. She finally wrapped her arms around my waist and looked up at me pitifully and told me she loved me

When she finally made it to rehab, but she was being taught such basic things... walking, bathing, using the bathroom

When she first came home and she would spend the day with me while her husband was at work. I literally had to do everything for her...help her shower, help her dress, remind her to eat, etc.

See how far she has come? She is SO CLOSE to being back to normal. Sure, there are many things she can't do. But it's not that she won't ever do them again. It's that she's not doing them YET. I remember when this first happened, and for many months after, I kept saying "Why her? Why us?" It took me almost a full year to realize that tragedies happen daily... to many people. And no one ever deserves it and there is rarely ever an explanation. Reminding myself that our situation may be unique, but we are NOT alone in our sadness, anger, and inability to understand has helped me cope so much.

The million dollar question has always been "How's your sister doing?" And my answer? "She's doing amazing."

2011-06-23T18:11:00.000-07:00

Long time, no post! Sorry! I look at the blog daily, but I'm running into some issues and rather than say the wrong thing, I kind of just say nothing at all! I'll elaborate. As of right now, Leslie is bringing in no income. She doesn't have disability because they denied her. When you are trying to get someone disability, they will try their hardest to find a reason, any reason, to deny someone, and I don't want anything I say to be used against her. That would be tragic.

Anyways, she is doing quite well. She stays home alone all day now by herself, as her husband has gone back to working days instead of afternoons. We thought she'd be fine with this, but it actually makes her feel very scared and paranoid. She loves company. Even if it means you come by and have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with her or sit outside on their swing... she likes the company. In her own words, someone coming over "gives her a reason to get up in the morning." So don't hold back! Call or text her and make a date, especially Monday-Friday, during the day. She LOVES COMPANY!

She has started taking Ritalin to help with her motivation. My mom does think it is helping. She completely lacks taking the initiative to do something, but if you TELL her to do it, she does, and she does it well. Take, for instance, vacuuming. They were having some family over and their carpet needed to be vacuumed. It took my moms prompting and reminding, but she did it! And she did it VERY well. She did more than just run it over the carpet a few times...she used the attachments and got all the corners. She's good!

A lot of times, our interactions will feel like nothing ever happened, and I have to say, I love those moments. I called her the other day to tell her about my car being broken into and her response and the light conversation that ensued after were very typical sister-sister talk. I hung up the phone with her and just felt happiness.

There are still those times, though, where the reminders are very clear. I do think I am suffering from a form of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, because when I remember things, I remember them in pieces, and usually when a vision comes on, it takes my breath away and I physically shake my head to get the thought out. Sometimes it's something as small as seeing the scar on her right arm where her PICC line was, or when she will very lightly rub the scar on her left chest where the defibrillator is now placed, because the site is still healing and it is itchy sometimes.

She is so strong, though, and I feel so incredibly blessed that we got the outcome we got. I was just reading some facts on cardiac arrest and it said for every minute that a stopped heart goes without defibillation, the chances of survival drop by about 7-10%. This is HUGE considering the chance of survival IN GENERAL when cardiac arrest occurs is slim to none! She is SUCH A MIRACLE! Someone was watching out for her that day and made it VERY clear.... her time here on Earth is NOT done.

Love you, Les. Always have, and even more now. You are my inspiration.

2011-05-11T13:05:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure if any Brownstown Middle School staff or parents read my blog, but I just had to share this.

Leslie's memory comes and goes, but one thing she has had NO recollection of is teaching at BMS or being a Spanish teacher. None at all. Granted, we pretty much anticipated this, being that she had only been teaching Spanish there for about 3 weeks before she collapsed.

Well! The day before Mother's Day, we were out to eat with our mom, and she shared a very detailed story from when she was teaching there. Not only did she remember for a split second, but she remembered detail.

She's incredible.

2011-05-04T18:20:00.000-07:00

At Christmas time, Leslie never once mentioned shopping for Christmas gifts. Leslie is an awesome, thoughtful gift-giver, and this was just another sad reminder to her family the parts of her that were gone.

Months later, and she can't stop talking about getting mom a present for Mother's Day. We texted today, and tomorrow, these two sisters are going SHOPPING!

Bits of her come back, piece by piece.

2011-04-27T19:29:00.000-07:00

I suppose you could say it was just one of those moments where things hit too close to home.

As most of you know, I'm an RN. I work on a medical floor but we also take hospice patients. I knew I was getting a transfer from the Cardiac Care Unit. What I didn't notice was her diagnosis: Status post sudden cardiac arrest. The same diagnosis my sister had.

Now normally when an ICU nurse calls report to a floor nurse, especially when it's a sad case like this one is, where the patient likely will not live through the night, the actual process of giving report is short and sweet. Not this time, though! This poor nurse! I had so many questions for her! The most common question being "...but why?" Like Leslie, this woman had a normal day at home. In the evening she got sick. Her husband helped her to bed and found her an hour later not breathing and pulseless. EMS called. Intubated and rushed to ER. Her down time was estimated to be about 40 minutes. Leslie's was around 5-10. Big difference when we are talking oxygen to the brain.

Thankfully, this couple had very specific, legal documents stating what their wishes were, and this was NOT her wish. So therefore, she was extubated and sent to me. It was really hard for me. I kept just staring at her. I examined her pupils as I often did Leslie's, except this person didn't make any attempt to track me like Leslie would. When I moved her extremities, she didn't flinch. She was COMPLETELY flaccid. Leslie had more muscle tone. Leslie could swallow. This lady drooled excessively. Leslie's skin was warm and pink. This lady was pale, clammy, and mottled.

Sad, sad, sad. In a sense it makes me so thankful that my sister's outcome wasn't like this poor woman. Leslie has major deficits, but nothing we can't work with (and even laugh at, sometimes!).

But it doesn't stop that nagging question that I just can't shake: WHY. Why her? She had a normal day with her husband before she collaped. Why then? Why with NO warning or while her children are on the other side of the country.

It's comforting to know that other people struggle with the same difficult questions, because sometimes grief can feel so lonely. But there still needs to be more answers.

PLEASE. I encourage you. Walk with me and raise money for heart research. Or just donate. The website is http://miheartwalk.kintera.org/ and my team name is Heart Full of Hope. I urge you. Answers. That's all we want. We want to be able to say "So THAT'S what happened! ....and this is how we can try to prevent it from happening again."

Or you can mail me a check made out to American Heart Association. I beg you. There is no perk for me raising money other than I know it will go towards research to help things like what happened to my sister and this patient to loved ones of yours. I beg you. No amount is too small.

Laura Kowalski
605 St. John
Wyandotte, MI
48192

2011-04-23T18:05:00.000-07:00

Friday was a big day for Leslie. She had a neurological exam that lasted several hours. The whole point of it was to test her in several areas, then the neurologist analyzes it, and helps both her and her family understand where she is at.

We got to Novi where the office was by 8AM. They called us back, and the psychologist wanted some history on her. There were easy questions, such as her birthday and her social security number. But then there were questions that never fail to make my heart sink. Her education. High school diploma? Of course. Bachelor degree from Wayne State? Yup, she has that, too. Masters degree? Mmmhmm. ARGH! It just frustrates me so, so much. She had SO MUCH going for her and it was taken away so brutally. I hate being reminded.

After we did the questions, my mom and I were asked to leave (and head to 12 Oaks...score!) while Leslie was tested. My mom and I are both quite protective of her, so we made sure the psychologist knew that my mom packed her some snacks, that she wouldn't think to eat them, so he needed to remind her, and that she does best when she is well rested, so towards the end, they may notice her struggle more. He just nodded and smiled at us, and shooed us out the door.

By noon, we were back in the waiting room, waiting for her to finish. The psychologist came out first, and said that her results would not be ready for several weeks. I asked him if he could give us even a tiny bit of an idea as to how she did. He said that her memory is clearly significantly impaired. With an anoxic brain injury (where the entire brain is hurt, which is what she has) a patient pretty much plateaus at around 6 months and this will be their baseline. Leslie is 7 months out. He also said that while driving may be something she could handle, because her memory is so poor, one day she might handle driving like a champ, and the next time she might become totally disoriented and be unsafe. This, naturally, was hard to hear. And again, naturally, I won't accept it and I have so much faith that regardless of this "6 month" rule, her healing is NOT done and there will be more progress.

As he was talking to us, I could feel myself start to fight back tears and the anxiety set in. But then something beautiful happened. My sister walked out. She was smiling and looked absolutely radiant. She told us about the test and how they would try to challenge her and trick her. She told us this with a lot of animation...something we don't see much of from her. All I could do was pull her arm down next to me so she was sitting right by my side and give her a big hug and let her know just how proud I am of her.

The rest of the day was awesome. We ate at Mongolian BBQ and shopped. By the time we were done, she was very tired, but she did so, so well.

Baby steps as been the motto all along. And baby steps we will continue to maintain.

2011-04-20T18:04:00.000-07:00

I have always been very open about my issues with depression and anxiety. As a child, I was always anxious, especially at night. When Ethan was born, I became extremely overwhelmed with all the work and stress that comes with a newborn. In your mind, you picture warm, snuggly babies that fill your heart with roses and sunshines and little puppy dogs.

Theeeeeeeeeen the baby comes home. And doesn't sleep. And screams in the car. And pukes. All. the. time. And how the heck do you poop UP your back? I remember when people would come over to visit and say "Oooooh, he is so precious! I could just take him home with me!" ...and I'd think to myself "help yourself! I'll pack his bag!"

Fortunately for me, I have always recognized these feelings weren't normal. It took several months for me to recognize it with Ethan, and I have been blessed beyond measure with amazing doctors who never made me feel like a drama queen.

I have pretty consistently taken antidepressants since Ethan was 4 months old, with the exception of when I became pregnant with Allison.

I think anyone who suffers from depression and anxiety have moments where things are good, and moments where the bottom falls out. The Leslie tragedy was by far the worst thing that has ever happened in my life, so it really doesn't surprise me that my hypothetical bottom fell out. I didn't see it coming, but it didn't shock me when it did.

And again, I have an amazing doctor who is seeing me bi-weekly right now. I take prescription Zoloft for the sadness and prescription Klonopin for when I get uber-stressed. I'm not embarrassed. I'm not ashamed. If anyone wants to talk more about it, I am extremely open about it and I have been known to advise other's who seem to be struggling to get help. It's there. And these feelings are far more common than many think.

These past couple weeks have been tough, and I fully admit, I lost it yesterday. I cried. I trembled. I threw up. I loudly, openly GRIEVED. I let all those emotions of immense sadness and anger out. Sob? You could say that. Yell? Yup. I know some might read this and think "looney bin! stat! ....but I share it because it's how I am coping. You may be picturing me wandering the streets, muttering gibberish and yelling out craziness, and that would be inaccurate. I appear normal. I function normal (when around others). I worked over 12 hours today and I had 6 very happy patients. Patients that thanked me for listening to them. Patients that told me I did a great job, and that even though they had to be in the hospital, they are so thankful I spent so much time with me. I have two amazing, incredible, LOVED children that I literally dote on 24.7. Pleasing them and seeing them smile is my main goal in life. I have friends that love me no matter what. I have a husband that has INCREDIBLY stood by me through all of this. He doesn't understand it and he doesn't try to understand it, but he sees me try and he loves me anyways.

My days of "bottom dropping" (ooh, kinda sounds like some bar dance move, eh) likely aren't over. My mood swings, crying spells, and anxiety will happen. Again, and again, again. But so will my moments where I literally raise my hands up to the Heavens and thank God for my amazing life. For my amazing parents, husband, and children. I am blessed beyond measure and I know that.

I'm struggling right now. Yes. But I will be okay. I have too many reasons (ahem, Ethan and Allison) to not PROMISE I will be okay. I have a doctor who genuinely cares about my well-being. She hands me the box of Kleenex when I cry and assures me she will ALWAYS listen to me.

I have received so many notes of support and love, and I can assure each and every one of you that I physcially felt the love you were sending me. I have parents who send me notes of encouragment, from my dad who listened to me cry at 7 in the morning to my mom who said "I can leave work right this second to get to you. Just say the word." To a little baby Allie-girl who applauds when I walk into a room, to my sweet, sweet Ethan who twirls my hair around his finger and he says "I love you as big as a skyscraper, Momma."

Life IS good. I know that. But there is nothing wrong with getting a little help when the going gets tough.

2011-04-19T21:29:00.000-07:00

Why is this happening again?

For the send time today, I am sobbing, trembling, and nauseous.

I have taken my anti-depressant, my anti-anxiety medicine, AND a sleeping pill and I can't sleep.

Why did this happen to Leslie? What if she does die? Who is to say that whatever mystery thing that happened to her heart that day won't happen again? God took the parts that made her HER, who is to say he won't take her physical body, too?

Dr. Hudson told me no more babies. I am thankful for the two I've got, but what if what happened to my mom with HER baby happens to me with my babies?

Why did Uncle Jim die? Why didn't anyone work harder to save him? I am a nurse and I deal with alcoholics all the time. Did I ever go see him? No. Well, once when he was in the ICU. I just kept assuming he'd get it together. What person with a disease as strong as alcholism overcomes it alone?

Why the nightmares? Jim coming back, me trying to help him, but by the time I get to him I remember he is dead. Leslie at a funeral. Me, all alone, with no kids.

Why am I at rock bottom NOW? Why is it ALL falling down NOW? Why aren't there ANY answers? Why do I have to live the rest of my life in fear. Fear that something else awful will happen. Fear that at any minute, someone else I love will go away.

Why is it so hard to just do what I need to do. When I should be out of bed and functioning, it's like I'm glued to the bed and can hardly move. When I should be resting, I am so anxious I literally can't stop trembling.

My body hurts, my heart hurts, my head hurts, nothing feels normal. No one understands, including myself. Why don't I grieve like a normal person? Be sad, then pick up the pieces and move on. Why the constant flashbacks? Why do I keep her cut up sweater amongst my clothes? I won't look at it, but I know it's there. Why do I start to panic when I realize that the farther we get from September 20, the harder it's going to be to remember her before this happened?

I hate this. I hate every bit of it and I don't think I will ever get over it.

2011-04-16T17:52:00.000-07:00

God works in mysterious ways.

Today I got the wind knocked out of me. Not literally, of course, but I experienced a sense of hurt that I wouldn't wish on anyone.

There is no denying the love I have for my sister. I clearly remember her first night in the ICU. We went home that night, because she was so heavily sedated, we figured we would get some rest while we could because we had no idea what was to come. That night, as I stood in the lobby of Henry Ford Wyandotte Hospital, I was crying. I was crying because for me, living the rest of my life without my sister was terrifying. Having a sibling, you just assume they will always be there. They will always help you through the rough patches. They will always be a shoulder to lean on and a friend to share inside jokes with. A forever friend, if you will, and the fact that I was so close to losing mine was terrifying.

Right off the bat, when I started sharing her story, I got some resistance from people. I anticipated it, though, and I respect it. I know we can't all support every cause. There are so many causes out there, it's just not financially realistic. We can't help what causes our hearts lead us to.

The more involved I got, the more resistance I got. Again, I embraced it and respected it. I never criticized or judged anyone who chose not to support.

The last incident, though, was the one that brought me to my knees. I shared my sisters story in a brief summary, along with a picture of her when she was critical and a picture of her when she was doing much better. I won't go into details on it, because my blog will NEVER be about trashing someone(s), but I will say that if you want to hurt me, go for it. You go through my family, though, and I lose that sense of respect. I am FIERCELY protective and loyal to my family, especially my sister.

So when this nonsense was brought to my attention, I responded the way most girls would. I cried. A lot. I cried for hours. I had red, splotchy, swollen eyes as I tried to cheerfully greet my patients with "Hello! My name is Laura and I will be your nurse for the day." I cried on the phone to my dad and I just know it ripped his heart out because he is equally protective of both his girls. It was a long, rough morning, and I strongly wanted to throw in the towel and say ENOUGH!

But you know what? I have some amazing coworkers. I have some amazing friends. People that care and support me. To those people? You will forever have a friend in me and I vow to not let you down.

Now here is the kicker. I took all my heart paraphernalia home, at my own doing. No one told me I had to. I CHOSE to. When I got home, feeling as if I got hit by a truck, I opened an envelope addressed to me and inside was a check for $250 for the American Heart Walk. In the folder that help the money from the red dress pins and the cardboard cut out hearts, I had $127.00. Then just from general online donations, I had $100.00. This puts my total at $477.00 and this is just incredible!

So now I want to fund raise with a vengeance. I would like to raise $1000 by May 14. Can I do it? I'm not sure. But I will spend every second trying. If anyone has any fundraising ideas for me, please let me know ASAP. If you would like to send a check, my address is Laura Kowalski, 605 St. John Wyandotte, MI.

I will be sending out notes with self addressed envelopes this week.

Every penny counts. If you don't do it for Leslie, do if for your loved ones. Nothing in life is guaranteed, so let's help make things as safe as possible.

I love you all. I truly do. Most of you I have never met, but just knowing you read and think about Leslie means the world to us. SHE means the world to us.

2011-04-14T12:36:00.000-07:00

Ethan had his school conferences today. I can't believe he is almost done with first grade. I looked back recently in the livejournal I maintained, starting when I found out I was pregnant with him up until he was in preschool and it amazes me how much he has grown and changed.

The last post I made in this blog before Leslie got sick was in regards to Ethan's coping mechanisms. He has always been very sensitive to change and unpredictability. He struggled a lot in preschool with transitioning, and even had to have his own special chart to encourage him to try new things. Leslie getting sick was obviously extrememly traumatic for my family, but I was terrified of telling Ethan. Leslie (or Sessee as he has always called her) was his best buddy. He adored her and she equally adored him. He would often spend afternoons at her house, and they loved to go play mini-golf together on a hot summer day. Leslie never wanted kids, but my kids have always given her such a huge sense of fulfillment.

Initially, when Leslie got sick, we didn't say a word to him. We didn't know what the outcome was, and I just wasn't emotionally ready for his innocent questions. It was amazing how I could leave the hospital sobbing, then come home and maintain a perfectly normal mood. One particular Saturday, I had a REALLY rough day. The doctor implied we needed to be thankful she even survived, and reminded us that she could still die. It was a HARD slap in the face. I cried the whole way home, and I couldn't stop. I cried all evening, and all night long. Hiding my feelings from Ethan was impossible.

For a child who struggles with coping skills, it was after explaining what was going on with Leslie that made me realize he is FAR more mature than I ever gave him credit for. Ethan became my rock. When I would cry, he'd sit quietly beside me. When we took him to visit Leslie at the hospital, he'd hop up next to her and try to trigger memories out of her. When she'd say something unintentionally funny, he would giggle a little bit, then help her remember things the correct way. He would frequently remind us that "everyone gets sick sometimes" and that we need to be patient and wait for her to get better. He wasn't scared of her. He did ask a few times if she was going to die, but he never worried that the mind frame she was in now may be permanent. He accepted it. He accepted her.

The Sessee he knows now is nothing like the Sessee he knew before. He no longer spends afternoons with her, unless someone else is there with him, and the mini-golf sessions likely won't happen as much, but he is okay with that. Children are amazing. They are unconditionally loving and accepting. The things we adults struggle with, kids don't. I will never underestimate Ethan's ability to love. His heart is pure and golden and I am certain Leslie knows that.

2011-04-12T18:05:00.000-07:00

This blog has become sooooooooooooo slow! I apologize (I'm not even certain people read anymore!) but there just isn't much to update on day-to-day anymore. In a sense, I am thankful for that. I remember those days when things were so touch-and-go, and I wouldn't relive those moments for ANYTHING.

The Heart Walk is fast approaching and I will be there! It's Saturday, May 14 at Ford Field. Starts at 9AM. If you want to come walk with us, please let me know. Fundraising is optional (but obviously encouraged). If you DO plan to walk with us, please send me a quick e-mail letting me know, because I am going to look into getting Team Leslie t-shirts. Just send me a quick e-mail with your name so I have an idea of how many I'd have to order. My e-mail is LauraB2000@wyan.org.

If you need any help registering for the walk, I can guide you through the steps. The name of my team is Heart Full of Hope. It's going to be a GREAT day and it's for a GREAT cause! Again, please don't hesitate to contact me.

Leslie is doing pretty good. We cut a lot of her medication doses in half, and at first, we noticed an increase in her energy and motivation, but now she seems to be backsliding again. I know this discourages my mom a lot, but I kind of anticipated this. I know she will continue to have her good days and her bad days. One of Leslie's commonly used phrases (and she has a lot of these...) is "my appetite is back with a vengence!" and she implies that she is hungry ALL the time. Just from the limited time I am with her, though, I really don't think her appetite is all that extreme. There was a time months ago where she would sit all day and say "I'm hungry!", but taking the initiative to get up and get something to eat was not something she could/would do. She'd go an entire day without eating, but FEELING hungry the entire time. Now she'll say it, and actually get up and eat! Make meals? Well, no. But she is fully capable of getting herself a snack and I think this is a step in the right direction.

It is so easy to get very frustrated with her. She literally says the same things over and over again or she will do or say something that is so out of character for her. I don't want to say she is child-like or immature, but I will say she has NO filter on what is appropriate conversation pieces and what is best left to keep inside. It's annoying and you just want to snap back at her and say "Why did you say that???" ...but then I remind myself about what she went through and how far she has come. I think back to her principal at the middle school explaining how she slumped backwards in her chair and was breathing with a really gurgly, raspy sound. How they had to rip her clothes off her to do CPR. How she was essentially nonresponsive for 3 days. If she wants to speak her mind at any given moment, the SPEAK it, sister! Speak your mind and tell us what you need, because by God that means your mind is working.

I will always continue to update this blog. Some days I try and the words just don't come, but I never forget about it and I always want to keep those that love her so much in the loop.

2011-03-17T18:48:00.000-07:00

Hasn't my motto all along pretty much been "baby steps"?

Well...more baby steps are ensuing!

Leslie had a follow-up visit after her ER visit. First was with the cardiologist. Amazingly, her defibrillator provides a cardiac monitoring strip of any time we want. The cardiologist could see exactly what her heart was doing, even if she wasn't on the monitors. It was very, very cool. He was NOT concerned with the rhythms Leslie's heart would go into at all. He also assured us that Leslie, right now, has a VERY healthy heart.

We also took her to her primary doctor. Her primary doctor didn't realize that the defibrillator could do this, and wanted her to wear a 24 hour Holter monitor. This was fine with us, but it is just another reminder how these doctors are all working for HER, but none of THEM are working TOGETHER, and it gets tricky. It's all on us to relay information, and that gets stressful!

Anyhow, after rehashing the ER visit (and her doctor seemed a little more concerned, which prompted her to do the Holter, but also prompted her to start Leslie on Magnesium pills).

As soon as she mentioned a new pill and another prescription, George and I kind of smiled at each other... that lead into our OTHER reason for the visit. Her meds.

We all feel she is over medicated. All of her medications serve a great purpose...improve memory, help with depression, etc. But all of them TOGETHER are too much for HER.'

At first I could see the skepticism in her doctors face, but I wasn't backing down on this. I know my sister and while I may not understand her brain injury, I know there are certain parts of her that are her, and nothing will take that away.

Therefore, her dose of Lexapro is cut in half (5 mg) and her Aricept is also cut in half (5mg). Her doctor said if we didn't notice much of a change, they could be eliminated altogether (like we already did with the Namenda).

Now I know I'm not with Leslie as much as George and my parents, but I noticed a pretty big difference! She smiles now. She has expression. She gets excited. She plays with my kids. It has been such a significant change, and I love it.

Last night, my mom and I took her out to RIM (Rehabilitation Institute of Michigan) where she spent about 2 weeks of her recovery to take her to a brain injury support group. I had my daughter, Paris "Hollywood" Hilton" with me (more on that another time..) so I missed a lot of the meeting, but I was able to hear the introductions and they were very refreshing for me. For one, I saw so many people that were just like my sister. A little forgetful, and they'd lose their train of thought while speaking. That's her! One gentleman spoke up, saying how he had just graduated from college as an accountant when his brain injury happened. I literally almost wanted to stand up and shout, "That's not fair, too!" excitedly, but I knew that would be inappropriate.

You see, I really struggle with how unfair all of this has been. Not just the fact that it happened to her, but the timing of it. She just got married, FINALLY landed a teaching job, bought her own home. Things were darn near perfect. Why did it even happen, but why did it happen THEN? The support group was a great way to learn that these things do happen, we aren't alone, and there are people out there that truly understand. I hope to get more involved in it. I thought it was quite powerful.

I love you, Les. Every single day I give thanks for you. You have no idea how much you mean to me. I will forever honor you.

2011-03-04T18:02:00.000-08:00

It's kinda funny how this happened.

My mom and I have been talking about Leslie a lot, and how we are kind of discouraged with her progress, or lack thereof. My mom has said since last week how Leslie seems even LESS motivated now, and we didn't realize that was even possible.

So we have started discussing her meds, and how Leslie never used to take ANY medications, except maybe an occasional Excedrin for a headache, and now she was on so many. We started questioning if it was medication side effects that might be limiting her progress. Neither of us knew when her next doctors appointment was, but it was something we thought might be worth discussing.

See, all along, we have had so many different doctors working with her. A neurologist, a cardiologist, a primary doctor, a rehab doctor, and the defibrillator doctor (yes, this was different than the cardiologist). Even from the ICU days, it always felt like everyone was working for her, but none of THEM were working together. Everyone had their own agenda. They came at all different, various times, so the family member that was with her was always different. It was SO. FRUSTRATING.

Well now that she's home, it's no different. The defibrillator doctor has seen her several times and he's the one that prescribes the Sotolol (a blood pressure medication that lowers the shock threshold. Her defibrillator does NOT work without this medication). Her primary doctor has mostly continued the hospital medications, which includes things like a multivitamin, stool softener, and a medication for acid reflux (there may be more, these are just the ones that come to mind) and she has also started her on Namenda which helps with memory, and an antidepressant, because back in December, she was crying a lot. Then the rehab doctor put her on Aricept, which is also for memory. The Namenda is a very new pill...that ironically was started right when we noticed she was starting to get even more fatigued. Right when we put those together was when I started questioning ALL of her medications and how they may be affecting her.

So anyways. I got totally off track. My mom and I were starting to touch on questioning the meds, then Thursday at work, while on my lunch break, my cell phone rang. It was George. He started right off the bat saying "I think we need to take Leslie off of some of her meds." I swear, I literally almost jumped out of my chair as I said, "I totally agree!" I spoke with a pharmacist who said there are no side effects to suddenly stopping the Namenda and Aricept. Now I know what you might be thinking...why stop something that is for memory? Well. Because how will we ever know if it's working? She definitely doesn't seem to be getting better. We'll never know without them if they make a difference, or if they are causing her so much fatigue, it's hindering her progress.

It has now been a few days since she's had them, and just today, Jay commented on how much better she seemed today. He had no idea we were stopping some meds.

Next up...the antidepressant. When she was started on it, we saw her crying spells decrease significantly. But then when she didn't shed a single tear at our Uncles funeral, I was immediately bothered by this. My sister used to cry if her fruit salad didn't look "right". For her to be so emotionless and expressionless at a sad event was NOT like her. George also informed us that at her last appointment, the doctor increased it! WHAT! She was doing okay...she didn't need a higher dose! I don't think she needs a dose, period, but that'll have to be worked toward.

The Sotalol and Coumadin are the only "must-haves." Whatever side effects those meds give her, we have no choice but to deal with. They are helping her live. The others? Does she REALLY need it? And the more you research a med, the more you learn. Like how one of them that she is on can cause heart disturbances. Another one can lower your magnesium (remember her magnesium being low in the ER last week? Hmmm?) and low magnesium affects the heart, too.

We just don't know. Obviously, NONE of this will be done without her doctors knowing, but I think after myself, my parents, and George all realized we felt so strongly about this, it was kind of like we all got a burst of energy to go forward with gusto again.

Team Leslie! I love you so, so much.

2011-02-27T17:08:00.000-08:00

We had Leslie in the ER on Friday. It was scary. She was at my parents house that afternoon, dozing on the couch, when she sat up and said her heart felt like it was beating funny. My mom got ahold of me, and we decided to take her in to get checked out.

They immediately hooked her up to the heart monitor, started an IV and drew some blood. Her vital signs were great. The monitor showed her heart beating in a normal sinus rhythm, with pretty frequent PVCs (bigemeny, just like me!). Later into the ER visit, her heart rhythm started doing something that I immediately recognized from back during her ventilator/ICU stay. I don't read rhythm strips, but I knew the doctors didn't like it then, so they shouldn't like it now, either. It's a PVC that can turn into ventricular tachycardia. She was having ventricular tachycardia back when she was at Henry Ford Main, and ventricular tachycardia will fire off her defibrillator.

They way it is frequently described to us, is if her defibrillator fires off, it feels as if you got kicked in the chest by a horse. It is pain that will bring you to your knees. Sounds ridiculously unpleasant, no?

The plan for her ER visit was to leave her on the monitors, and draw blood to monitor troponins, which is an indicator of cardiac damage. This is typically done at hours 1, 3, and 6. They said if hours 1 and 3 were fine, then she could go home. Hour 1 was normal. We waited (and watched the monitors...total deja vu) until the second blood draw came. She also got 1 gram of Magnesium, because her magnesium level was slightly low. Finally, they came in to tell us that her second troponin was also low. I immediately tried to argue her being discharged, telling them about the v-tach she had at Main, and this rhythm that keeps showing up could cause that. The doctor agreed and said it was still fine to send her home.

Now he never actually SAID this, but I'm no idiot, and I firmly believe that they sent her home because should her heart start showing v-tach, her defibrillator will take care of it. Now pardon me, but if I can avoid having my sister go through immense pain, I WILL. I was not not not happy with this decision. I'm calling tomorrow to see her doctor with her.

Other than this, she is doing okay.

She has started taking both Namenda and Aricept to help improve her memory. These drugs are commonly given to dementia patients or Alzheimer's patients, and that's great. But in MY mind, my sister will NOT be like this the rest of her life. She will get better. These drugs both have the side effect of causing fatigue. The LAST thing Leslie needs is to feel tired! I hope to discuss this with her doctor, too.

I wrote in my previous blog about how I can't accept this new reality. Well really, I just can't accept ANYTHING. I question everything. Are we doing enough? Too much? These medications, are we not asking enough questions or are we just taking whatever they prescrible and giving them to her? Are there better therapies out there? More, more, more! I just want to know more about what will help her.

As far as Leslie improving, I truly don't feel she is right now. If you compare her now from what she was back in the hospital, then YES! She has improved tremendously. But right now we are at a total standstill. She is a shell. No emotion or expression. Sit her on a cough with no stimulation and she will be perfectly content with that. If she feels hungry, she'll just sit there hungry. If she feels tired, she'll lay down and likely sleep for several hours. She can't get enough sleep.

The Leslie we love is gone. The loving, caring, would do anything for anyone part...gone. And has been gone since September 20. We want THAT Leslie. The shell of Leslie is nice, because we can look at her, touch her, and play with her hair, but until she starts showing me that it's HER that's in that shell, I can't be happy about it. Talk to me, call me, show some sort of interest in me that isn't so forced. I would love that.

I don't know. But I won't accept nothing. We need SOMETHING.

2011-02-23T19:05:00.000-08:00

September 19, I texted Leslie and asked her if she could pick up some gum and pop on her way to get me.

I still have that text in my phone, but I don't read it anymore. I've read it twice. Once when I received it on September 19, and once when I was craving something that proved that she was at one time okay.

The morning of September 19, we spent the morning at our best friend, Kristen's house, to get ready for Kristen's wedding. Leslie and I were both bridesmaids. In between getting our hair done, we sat at the kitchen table, snacking on fresh fruit and chatting while I painted my nails bright red to match our dresses. When it was time to head to the Henry Ford Estate, she drove me in her car. We both took a stick of gum from the pack she bought and chatted nervously.

The day was incredible. The weather was beautiful. The ceremony was perfect. Afterwards, we drove home together. She dropped me off at my house, then she went home to get her husband and we met up at Old Chicago for drinks and appetizers. We snapped a quick picture together afterwards on our way to the car.

The reception was fun. She danced, and would tug on my arm and say "Come ON! You are a bridesmaid and you have to dance!" and I'd pull back and say "I don't dance!"

On the ride home, she rode up front with her husband, and I sat behind her and helped her take the bobby pins out of her hair. We joked and said we were like monkeys because of the way I was picking at her hair. I remember one of the last things I said to her was, "Make sure you use lots of conditioner!"

The morning of September 20, she e-mailed me to say I left my phone in her purse, and that she felt hungover, even though we didn't drink much at all the day before. I wrote her back and said to drink some diet coke, because that always made her feel better.

This was our last "normal" interaction. I wish I had known September 19 what I was going to learn on September 20.

I wish I knew that I would be forced to accept a new "normal".

I wish I savored those texts and e-mails, because they would soon stop. That even though my sister would miraculously survive incredible odds, she would stop seeking me out to talk to me.

I wish I had said more to her that day. "More" meaning, "I love you."

I wish I had been more prepared for what was to come. Mentally, physically, emotionally.

I wish someone would have asked my family and I (and of course, Leslie) if we wanted our lives turned upside-down and inside-out.

I wish, I wish, I wish.

Unfortunately, that's not how it goes. Life doesn't pause and wait for you to catch your breath. It keeps moving, whether you want it to or not. And just because you went through one tragedy, there is no guarantee that the bad stuff won't hit you again. And again. And even again.

I have not come to terms with this new reality, not even a tiny bit.

2011-02-13T16:49:00.001-08:00

So many evenings, I sit down to write, but the words just don't come.

There really isn't a whole lot to update on, though. Leslie is doing well. Small, slow improvements, with the occasional set-back. I'll take it, though. Her memory is improving. She can recall things much quicker than she used to. Now the challenge is getting her motivated to share things. If no one talks to her or MAKES her do things, she will literally just sit there. In her own words, "I never get bored."

Therapy is still continuing, and she is now seeing a neuro-psychologist to help with her lack of motivation. I am clinging to the hope that once the weather gets better, she will be more motivated to do things, even if it's just to get some Bob Jo's ice cream, cause I know my sister, and I know she will never pass up Bob Jo's.

As far as MY health goes, no real changes. I had my cardiac MRI a few weeks ago, and it was torture. It started out fine. I was told it would take 1.5-2 hours. HAHAHA! It took...get this...4 HOURS. My body was so sore when I got out of that tube, you'd have thought I just got done with something extremely physical instead of just laying flat.

The MRI confirmed what the echo did...my heart is weak. Not SUPER weak, but weaker than a 28 year old heart should be. I have to continue the Lopressor and Lisinopril, and I am still wearing the heart monitor. I see the cardiologist at the end of March to see what the next step is. It sounds like I will be increased on the heart medications "to a dose as high as I can tolerate" (or in my own words, until my blood pressure bottoms out and I DIE!) and then repeat the echo in about 6 months. We'll see.

That's all for now!

2011-01-28T06:14:00.000-08:00

Help me help raise money for heart research!

Let's walk in the American Heart Association Heart Walk on May 14 at Ford Field in Detroit.

I set up a team, Heart Full of Hope, so you can join by going to www.miheartwalk.org, clicking on register, and then looking for my team OR you can go here: http://miheartwalk.kintera.org/mommarn50 which will take you to my personal fundraising page, and from there you can either donate, or click the "team page" link and join my team.

It would be so awesome to have a huge group of supporters, all walking in Leslie's honor!

2011-01-20T10:53:00.000-08:00

I never look back on the initial incident as a whole. I always get flashbacks of small things. The horrible cough she had when the ventilator was taken out. The sound of the ventilator breathing for her. Brushing her tangled hair. Wandering the empty halls at 2AM while they gave her a sponge bath. The constant red, swollen eyes from crying so much for her. The moment of panic immediately after the vent was taken out, when they thought her airway may be closing. They called in the doctor and respiratory therapist immediately to see if she might need to be re-ventilated.

There was one night in the ICU that I was staying with her. She was completely nonresponsive, and as I sat there in that dark, cold room, my mind was just racing. The nurse didn't even have to ask me anything to know I was struggling. She offered to call in the doctor to talk to me, and I let her. I remember that doctor so clearly. He was a resident, I believe. I don't remember his name, but he was awesome. He pulled up a chair and talked to me for about an hour. One of the last things he said to me before he left was that I needed to be the strong one for my family. I needed to be the voice of reason. I took that comment very seriously, and I have tried very hard to be the one to not let anyone get too pessimistic about her condition, but also not too optimistic when things were looking very bleak.

Today she is with me. I had a doctor's appointment, so she went with me, and I found myself staring at her hands and thinking "I am so glad I can still see her."

We were so close to losing her. It's so morbid, but I remember when I was feeling so exhausted from all the trips to Detroit and staying the night with her and thinking "If the outcome of September 20 had been different, right now we would be trying to adjust to our new life without her." ..and I immediately felt thankful that I could still physically see her.

She is doing well. She has more good days than bad, but she still has those bad days. Some days her memory is spot on. Other days she goes back to repeating herself constantly. I noticed today that when she does repeat a question, it feels like I got kicked in the stomach because it is a reminder of what is gone.

2011-01-17T09:56:00.000-08:00

So today marks day one of wearing a heart monitor. Day one of THIRTY! I was getting annoyed with the 24 hour Holter monitor by hour number 20, so you can only imagine how hateful I'll be at the end of these 30 days.

I also have my cardiac MRI scheduled for the 25th. I have never had an MRI before, but I'm not real worried. I know it's not going to be pleasant, and small spaces don't exactly thrill me, but it'll be fine. I'm more concerned with getting up and out the door for my 8 AM appointment.

I also got a phone call from a different cardiologist from Henry Ford Main who asked if I'd be willing to participate in a cardiac imaging study. Of COURSE I would! They are doing this study to try to find something to replace cardiac MRI's, so it'll be a 3-D ultrasound of my heart. I do this immediately after my MRI.

Last week I started taking the Lopressor Succinate and the Lisinopril. I am so relieved that I really don't feel any side effects, especially since these drugs are commonly given for hypertension (high blood pressure) and my blood pressure is usually normal to low (like 110/70). At one point while I was working, I took my blood pressure and heart rate, just out of curiosity (Lopressor will lower both blood pressure and heart rate) and both of mine were quite low, but I felt fine.

In other news, Leslie is doing quite well. I think her memory is doing a LOT better. She doesn't repeat questions nearly as much as she used to. Right now her biggest issue is her total lack of motivation. It's not even that she has a LACK of motivation. She has NO motivation. She frequently will tell me, "I never get bored." She has started seeing a neuro-psychologist to try to help with this, but it sounds like it is just one of those things that we just have to keep pushing her on. I think it totally works against her that it is the dead of winter and bitter cold. Someone without an anoxic brain injury has no motivation, so it's super hard to do things with her. I am hoping, just as she has consistently shown progress in every area, that she will start to show progress in this area, too, in due time.

2011-01-11T17:53:00.000-08:00

Around early December, I started having some bouts of chest palpitations. They were increasing in frequency. I blew it off for a few weeks, but then one night at work, I was having so many of them, I decided to go down to our ER (I work in a hospital) to get checked out.

When they got me on the monitors, it showed Ventricular Bigemeny, meaning every other heart beat was a PVC. I got up to around 30 of them before they stopped.

From that night in the ER, I saw my primary doctor who sent me for a stress echo and I left that test wearing a Holter monitor for 24 hours. The stress echo came back abnormal, showing my ejection fraction to be 45% and the blood flow was sluggish through my left ventricle. Those results forced my primary doctor to send me to Henry Ford Main to see a cardiologist. Not just any cardiologist, though. LESLIE'S cardiologist. If you are a faithful reader of this blog, you remember a post I made that involved him that triggered one of my worst, saddest days of the whole experience. Bed side manner? He has none. But still. Leslie is doing just great, and my doctor thinks the world of him, so I was willing to give him a shot. I don't doubt he is a great, great doctor.

One of the first things he asked me today was if I was done having kids, to which I replied, "I'm not sure." So then he said, "Just don't be trying right now, okay?" Okay.

My heart is not functioning properly. How or why? I don't know. I now have to have a heart MRI and wear a heart monitor for 30 days. I'm also on two different medications for my heart to protect it. From there, I may be having a cardiac cath.

Now interestingly, he DOES feel my heart issue may be related to Leslie's heart issue. He feels there are some genetic ties. Both of us are otherwise healthy, so why would two sisters have these issues? I don't know, and I am determined to find some answers.

I'm not too worried right now. I think the MRI will tell a lot, and I won't go back to see him until March when he'll have the results of the 30 day monitor to see what our next step is.

2011-01-09T18:47:00.000-08:00

When tragedy strikes, there are lots of instructions for the patient. Things such as physical, occupational, and speech therapy instructions. Discharge instructions on different medications, why you are taking them, and how often. Follow-up instructions so you can make sure you go to all your different appointments on the right days and times. Then there are just the generalized, day-to-day instructions, such as avoid green, leafy vegetables while you are taking your Coumadin.

But what about the family? What instructions do THEY get? How do they treat this patient, who basically walked in some sort of time machine one day and came out an entirely different person. Do we treat her different now or do we treat her the same? How should we feel? Is it okay to feel frustrated and annoyed sometimes, or should we feel ashamed of those feelings because we clearly are not appreciating what we've got. What the heck do we do and how the heck are we supposed to feel right now?

I know, speaking for myself, I feel a TON of grief. Solid, hard, knocks me to my knees grief. Grief that makes me want to push everyone away, including those that love me the most, just because it's too much work to share it with others. I have a TON of anger. Fierce, hateful anger. Every day, I wake up and I'm either so depressed and empty, it literally takes everything in me to get out (and stay out!) of bed every morning. I literally feel like I could sleep all day long. If I'm not feeling mopey, then I am crazy angry. Everyone bothers me and every situation is so annoying.

Is this NORMAL? What can I do for Leslie to help her? No one ever told us that part so we are all winging it, and we're all winging it in our own way. No one knows what the best way for her is.

My mom said something recently that really stuck with me. She said "What if, a year from now, we realize that there was one more thing... one more doctor or therapy...that we could have done for Leslie and we didn't. And now it's too late."

Ugh! That's so true! But no one has ever told us what our other options are. Again. We're winging it. We're winging my sisters life. Her future. We hope we are doing everything right, but in the meantime, we are all still trying to recover from this all. It all happened so suddenly and without warning, there was never a chance to regroup and start fresh. I know I don't speak for myself when I say I'm just TIRED. I'm tired of feeling and of thinking and worrying. I want my normal life back.

Please pardon me shifting the focus of my blog from Leslie to me. It's just a really big struggle right now.

Are we doing the right things for her? Have we done everything we can?

2011-01-01T20:28:00.000-08:00

Many, many months ago, well before the incident of September 20, I gave Ethan, my 6 year old son, my digital camera, because I had upgraded to a new one. He loves to take pictures, and it's fun to see what he snaps photos of.

Normally his pictures are really random... toys, the dogs, the TV, or just random blurs as he runs through the house. Tonight, as I sat with him on his bed right before bedtime, I took the camera and started looking at the various photos. There are approximately 200 pictures on that camera. I was flip- flip- flipping through them, pretty fast, when I suddenly slowed down. He had snapped photos of Leslie when she was in the hospital. Days after being off the ventilator, but still very early in this whole journey.

There is no denying the photos are nowhere near professional...they are a little blurry and at strange, 6 year old boy-type angles, but to me, they take me back. There is a picture that perfectly captures all those days where Leslie had such a blank look in her eyes. Her actions were extremely child-like and impulsive. He got one photo where you can see me trying to shoo her hands away from pulling off her monitors (and she did that SO many times!) and another where she is staring blankly into space and I am rubbing her hands. We did a lot of rubbing in those early days. It was one of the very few things we could do to try to keep her calm.

You can see the worry and love in our faces, and the emptiness in her face. It takes me back to those days were we longed for something - anything- familiar from her, and got so little back. It takes me back to the night where Jay and I quietly left her room, quite late into the evening to head home to our kids, and my mom followed us, crying, asking if she would ever get better. It takes me back to the day I left the hospital with my parents, and my dad, crying, saying "I just want to hear her say "Hi, dad"... and all she does is mumble now".

They are terrible, beautiful, haunting, memorable pictures. Thank you, Ethan, for giving me that reminder of what we have now, and how far we have come.

2010-12-26T18:38:00.000-08:00

One step forward, two steps back. Two steps forward, one step back. Every day is the same, and every day is different.

I talked to Leslie on the phone today, around late afternoon time, and one of the first things she said to me was "I'm hungry!". I told her she probably had lots of leftovers from her Christmas dinner, and she should warm something up, all the while, knowing that every suggestion I was making, she was forgetting them probably almost immediately. When I hung up with her, this just wasn't sitting well with me. I called her back about an hour later, and much to my relief, they were getting ready to order some pizza, but I told her I would bring them by a Frosty later in the evening.

When I got to her house tonight around 9, she was wearing the same clothes she had worn all day yesterday. She also slept in them. When I asked her about that, she just kind of shrugged. I took her back into her bedroom and she put her pajamas on. We also laid out fresh, clean clothes for tomorrow. While I was doing this, I noticed she was crying. I asked her what was wrong, and she said "I just never have fun anymore." I asked her what she would like to do that was fun, and she suggested a "girls dinner" with my mom and I, but then she quickly added "but we do that all the time and I'm still not any better."

This part literally breaks my heart. It was torture leaving her house tonight with her crying. She is so desperate to get better. She does not accept that it will take time, and that it will be a slow process. How do you accept that, though, when everything changed to this with the blink of an eye. Why can't the reverse be the same? It's not fair. It's not fair to me, it's not fair to my parents, it's not fair to her husband, but most of all, it's not fair to her. We can all throw pity parties for ourselves because our lives are being changed against our consent (and trust me, there are parties galore!) but the bigger picture is OUR lives haven't changed at all. It's HER life that is upside down and backwards, and her life was going so amazingly well before this. She did absolutely nothing to trigger such an event.

It's not fair. And I don't know how to make things easier for her.

2010-12-25T16:56:00.000-08:00

This blog has gone in many different directions. From those first, frantic posts where I thought I was posting only for my own personal records, to when my list of readers grew and grew, because it was such a quick, easy way to get updates on sweet Leslie.

So now what? She's home and has a very long road ahead of her. I frequently get people saying to me "Don't stop writing!" or "You haven't posted anything in soooo long!" Well, it's not necessarily that there is nothing to post about. It's just now Leslie is a lot more aware of what is going on, so I want to respect her privacy on some level. I can tell you that she is really struggling with depression and a TOTAL lack of motivation, and this has been really hard on all of us. Leslie is usually the go-getter. She was always in the kitchen, making new dishes and hosting little parties. None of this happens anymore. Give her pajamas, a couch, and a warm blanket and she is golden.

Therapy still happens twice a week, but it's getting a little frustrating. She is officially done with physical and occupational therapy now. She just has speech, but we really don't see how it's benefiting her anymore. She is also going to start seeing a neuro counselor for her depression and lack of motivation. I think this will help her a lot.

So. Where do we go from here? I can't update Leslie's life day to day, because there isn't really much of a chance day to day. What direction should this blog go so that we can all stay connected without everyone getting bored?

My thought was, aside from Leslie's updates (and I promise they won't stop...they'll just be less frequent), to fill in the gaps, we can discuss wellness topics. I have had a slight heart scare myself just recently, so now I have to go in for a stress echo and I have to wear a Holter monitor for 24 hours. Deep down I know NOTHING is wrong. I have heart palpitations, but that is nothing serious. If it might give us a glimmer of an idea of what was going on with Leslie's heart, then, I will continue to go through with the testing.

Let's post about things we all are doing to promote wellness. Yearly physicals? Check-ups? Losing those last pesky pounds? Walking a mile? Getting educated on AED's and CPR training? Let's all set some goals. And as we chit-chat and talk about the changes we are making, it will lead us right up to the American Heart Walk which will be this Spring and we can all walk in honor of our Leslie... the one who brought us all together.

2010-12-10T18:53:00.001-08:00

Tomorrow is the big day! Tomorrow is the day that we celebrate Leslie's life. That we let her know how much she means to all of us.

She is really struggling with depression right now. She desperately wants her life back to normal. She misses the classroom. She misses normalcy. Her biggest worry right now are finances.

My sister has worked her entire life. She started as a dishwasher at the 1897 Smokehouse when she was 14 years old. She did that for like, FOREVER. She loved that job and the people she worked with. They equally loved her. She got me a job there, too, when I was roughly the same age and I lasted, oh, maybe about 30 seconds?

She stayed there for quite a while. All through high school, if I remember correctly. When she graduated from high school in 1998, she attended Wayne State as a full time student. She then got a job at City Hall. In true Leslie style, she loved that job, too, and was very committed to it. She was a great employee. She eventually got her bachelor degree from Wayne state in education. Her major was in English, her minor in Spanish. Right before she graduated, she took a semester off to travel to Spain to study Spanish over there. She loved that trip and she has always vowed to go back.

As most people know nowadays, she didn't get her first real teaching job right off the bat. There weren't any positions available. She ended up working at an elementary school in Wyandotte, McKinley, as their media specialist (fancy name for librarian/computer teacher) and this, I believe, is where she found her passion. She loved working there, and she loved being in the library, which is why she didn't waste one second going back to school for her Master's in library science. She eventually got a job on the weekends at Henry Ford Community College working in their library. During the week, she worked at McKinley. When McKinley closed a few years ago, she got a position in Brownstown doing essentially the same thing, she just traveled to all of their elementary schools.

She LOVED her job. She loved the children, and she loved her coworkers. She was good at it. She never wanted children of her own, but she had such a way with them, I would frequently go to her for advice when it came to my kids.

The last position she had was teaching 7th grade Spanish. She was very nervous about it. I was very nervous for her. She was used to really little ones. I was afraid this age group would be difficult for her. When she started, she INSTANTLY fell in love with it. She had just posted on her own facebook page just before September 20 how much she was enjoying it.

She was so good at her job. She was such a loyal, faithful employee, no matter what position she had. She was always thankful to just have a job.

Every single day she talks about how much she misses it and how much she wants to go back. Every. single. day.

Someday, Les. For now, let's just focus on YOU.

2010-12-10T10:53:00.000-08:00

Leslie had an appointment with her primary doctor. My mom, my 1 year old daughter, and 1 all went with her. We were quite the spectacle!

I had some concerns with Leslie's INR (a lab that measures how thin her blood is). Her blood needs to be thin due to the blood clots she had in her legs and lungs when she was in the hospital. Despite being on 10-15 mg of Coumadin per day, her blood remained thick. This made me SO nervous and didn't make sense. That is A LOT of Coumadin...it should be working! After talking with her doctor, we realized that the multivitamin she is taking daily had enough vitamin K in it (antidote for Coumadin) that it was likely causing her blood to stay thick. We now have to go to a health food store to find a multivitamin without vitamin K in it. If we can't find that, she has to stop taking the vitamin altogether. Right now her INR is right around 1.9. Ideally her INR should be around 2.8-3, but the doctor said she would be totally fine if it got as high as 4. Blood that is too thin is better than blood that is too thick.

We also have to start challenging her more. She wants her to work on her Spanish for 30 minutes per day, and also start doing activities that challenge her. Some of you might read this and think, "Well no kidding!" because it seems so obvious to do that, but the thing is... Leslie has zero motivation. She doesn't want to do anything and is perfectly content just laying on a couch without any stimulation. If you ask her to do something or go somewhere, she will agree, but you know she is just doing it to be polite. It's hard to push her because you just want her to be comfortable. The doctor also wants her to get in about 30 minutes of exercise per day. I just wish the weather was nicer so she could take walks. The Coumadin makes her SO cold all the time, that to make her go for a walk outside, even if she was completely bundled up would be torture for her. I am going to call the high school on Monday because I know they allow Wyandotte residents to use their indoor track when school is not in session. That would be so good for her, and it's free!

Other than that, she is doing well! She is anxious to see everyone tomorrow at her benefit. See you there!

2010-12-09T18:34:00.000-08:00

All of my life, I have considered myself a Christian. As a child, I was involved in Sunday school and youth group. I have extremely fond memories of those days. As I got older, I continued to be an active member of my church, and I even taught Sunday school for preschoolers and served as a trustee. I thoroughly enjoyed going to church, and could not imagine my life without it.

When Ethan was born, I had him baptized. I took him to Sunday school. However, as he got older and our lives became busier, I slowly stopped attending. After all, I had to work every other weekend, so having a weekend "off" was a treat. Who wanted to get up early if they didn't have to? Slowly, I started realizing that I was no longer praying. I even started to question the whole idea of God, Jesus, and Heaven. It was a nice idea..but it was just that. An idea. And the sad part was... I was totally fine with my new way of thinking.

Several months ago, I was driving alone in my car, when I thought to myself "For me to become a believer in God again, something big is going to have to happen. Something life-changing. And then a miracle is going to have to happen. THEN maybe I will start believing that there is a power out there that is bigger than myself."

And then September 20 happened. My sister collapsed. I won't lie and say that I immediately turned to God. I didn't. I didn't even pray initially. It took me several weeks before I remembered what I had thought months before. And it literally took my breath away when I remembered.

Now I am certainly NOT saying that God saw my faith whithering away and used my sister as some sort of example. I don't believe that for one second. I am also not going to say that now that my faith has started to grow again, that my life is all rainbows and sunshine and everything all of a sudden makes sense. NONE of it makes sense and the unknown is haunting. I am a mess. Every morning I wake up thinking that today will be the day that I will start making better choices, and every night I go to bed trying to think of new ways to escape this reality. Often I wish that I could take Leslie's place. I deserve it. I'm not as good of a person as she is. She is a GOOD person. She has a heart of gold. I have always been more...what's the right word... mean? Judgmental? Both?

One of my biggest issues with Christianity are the people who act as though once you believe in God and start following His ways and reading the Bible, everything in life is so much easier. What the heck am I doing wrong, if this is the case? I struggle with how God can supposedly heal some people of such simple, insignificant ailments, yet my sister has to struggle every single day. I know how much MY heart hurts when I listen to her cry and ask, "Why me? What did I do to deserve this?" ...how can this supposed "almighty, loving, and powerful" God sit back and not fix her?

I don't know. But I do know that the odds were VERY much against her. One horrifying incident has had such a ripple effect. People who hardly know her tear up when they hear her story. People are giving in such extremely generous ways, and I am absolutely CERTAIN that Heaven is literally bombarded with prayers for her on a daily basis.

I believe in God and I believe He was with her on September 20. I believe that God knows how much my heart is hurting, and I believe he knows how much her heart is hurting, too. I believe that her time on Earth will NOT be done any time soon, and that someday we will have a better understanding of why this happened. I do NOT believe this is the new Leslie, and I do believe that while it seems as though she has hit a plateau, she will continue to improve, a little at a time. And I also believe that I will have my days where I hit rock bottom, but I will also have my days where I will be full of hope.

She is a true miracle.

2010-11-22T06:45:00.000-08:00

I am going through some really strange emotions lately. I can't even really pinpoint it. Not really depressed, not anxious, maybe just sad? I'm not sure.

Don't get me wrong. I feel so overwhelmingly blessed that Leslie is doing as well as she is. I am so proud of her and it is great that I can call her or see her whenever I want.

I guess reality is just starting to set in, and I am having a hard time accepting it. When this all happened, we had a lot of people contact us who have had loved ones experience brain injuries, and their stories were (are!) so, so encouraging. We are very thankful for those people, because a lot of the time, that was the only real hope we clung to...that other people have had similar things happen, and they were okay. However, the main theme we got out of these personal experiences were that even though their loved ones recovered, there was always a part that never really returned. There was always a reminder, even if it was small, that their brain was injured. This is where I think I am struggling.

I literally look back on September 20 and shudder. I think, in a sense, as ridiculous as it may sound, that I am traumatized by it. I have been having "flashbacks", if you will, of certain moments. How cold the ICU room was. All the times I would be asked to step out of her room and wandering around the empty hospital at night with nowhere to go. The way my heart would start to race as I'd get close to the hospital. The beeping machines. Getting so excited when we'd notice her swallow, because it was a sign that she was responding to SOMETHING.

People have asked if we have gone back to Main to give them a flyer, or even just visit her old nurses, and I don't think I can do that at this time.

She is doing all of the things we wanted her to do, but there are constant, daily reminders of what happened. She sleeps a lot and is always saying how tired she is. She has no motivation. We can make her go places and do things, but she never asks to do anything. She has no interests. Her husband decorated their house for Christmas, and Leslie just sat and watched. Normally, she would have helped.

Why? Why can't she just be BACK. Why did this happen to her? Will she ever go back to work and live a normal life? Will she ever call ME and ask if I want to go shopping or out to dinner or will I forever have to ask her? Will she ever show the initiative to get up, showered, and dressed or will we constantly have to tell HER when it's time to get moving?

I just. don't. accept it. I want to. I feel selfish that this isn't "good enough" for me. I try to feel thankful, and I am thankful, just not thankful enough, I guess.

A sister is a lifelong friend. Someone who will always be there, regardless. I think that all of my life, I have taken the fact that she is there for granted. I am regretting that I will likely never have those times back, and it's too late. I blew it.

If you have siblings, cherish them. I never thought anything like this would happen to Leslie, and we had no reason to believe it would. She was healthy. Twenty-four hours before she collapsed, we were getting ready to walk down the aisle as bridesmaids in our best friends wedding. Tell them you love them and spend time with them. Appreciate them and don't let silly things get in the way.

You only get one chance.

2010-11-20T17:18:00.001-08:00

Last Friday, my mom, sister, and I went back to "the scene." Well, not the EXACT scene, but close enough. As we drove down the long driveway in, my mind kept saying "this is the road that the ambulance drove in on, and out on, with my sister in there. As we passed by her room, I remember thinking "that's probably the chair she went unconscious in.

My God. It was real. It's so hard to imagine until you really see it. The day it happened, September 20, is like a haze. It was my absolute worst nightmare. I know I've said it before, but I wouldn't wish moments like that on ANYONE. When I start to think of that day, I will physically shake my head as if to shake those thoughts right out. I can't go there. I never want to go there again.

As my sister, Allison, and I got a little mini-tour with Rachel (who is just so sweet!) my mom stayed behind to talk to the principal. About things like the nice weather, the holidays, and oh, maybe how he played a HUGE ROLE in saving her daughter's life! How do you thank someone for doing something so amazing? For doing one small thing, he helped get Leslie where she is right now, which is home with her family.

To hear the details just literally rips my heart out. It is too disturbing for me to hear, and I just can't imagine what her coworkers and friends were thinking. To you people that played a roll, whether it be call for help, get her students out of the classroom and try to keep the calm, to try to keep YOURSELVES calm...you are hero's.

I still don't understand why this happened and I don't think I ever will. I don't plan on dwelling on it, either. I plan on dwelling on what I do know. That Leslie was in the very "best" place for this to happen. That the fast response of EMT got her heart beating again. The defibrillator picked up where the EMT workers left off, and it will continue to keep her heart in line, so to speak,and so far, so good.

My heart is so full to gratitude to all of you who have so eagerly given already. We love you!

2010-11-15T18:18:00.000-08:00

This is why we are having a benefit for her.

Leslie Bishop's life was forever changed on September 20, 2010. She was in front of her 7th grade Spanish class, reviewing an assignment when she suddenly and unexpectedly slumped over and started breathing really heavy. The students reacted very fast and brought staff members back to the room. Someone called 911 while another assisted Leslie to the floor where it was discovered that she had no pulse and was not breathing. CPR was started, and when EMS arrived, she was intubated and her heart had to be shocked twice before it would start beating on it's own in a regular rhythm. She was immediately rushed to the emergency room, and from there, to Henry Ford Main in Detroit. While there, she spent 3 days on the ventilator. When the ventilator came out, she was battling pneumonia. As the pneumonia cleared, she was able to have a cardiac catheterization, along with a defibrillator placed to protect her from any future arrhythmias. She finally started to wake up about 5 days later, but she was very confused. She had trouble remembering who her immediate family was.

As time has gone on, she has steadily improved. After a month and a half at Henry Ford Main, she was sent to the Rehabilitation Institute of Michigan due to the anoxic brain injury she suffered when her heart stopped. She was in extensive rehab for physical, speech, and occupational therapy. She completed this for 2 weeks before she finally came home.

Physically, she is doing great! She has a lot of issues with memory, though, especially her short term memory. She has a long road ahead of her, with doctors appointments and therapy sessions.

Unfortunately for Leslie, the district she works for does not have a contract. Leslie will not be able to return to work for a while, but her paychecks have run out. She only received paychecks for as many sick days she had. Those ran out a long time ago. Her insurance? That ends 12 weeks from the initial incident on September 20. We may be running out of time from the insurance company's standpoint, but we certainly aren't running out of the desire to make sure Leslie gets the treatment she needs to she can get back into that classroom that she loved so much.

Please come help celebrate Leslie's health. December 11, 2010 at 5 PM at the Knights of Columbus in Wyandotte. There will be food, drinks, and music, along with some AWESOME raffles.

2010-11-14T18:39:00.000-08:00

Benefit updates!!

It is absolutely going to be December 11 at the Knights of Columbus. I believe the start time will be 4PM and it will be a spaghetti dinner. We have AWESOME items to raffle off, too!

If you would like to donate to the raffle, please contact me ASAP and let me know when I can come pick the item(s) up. Any time is good! My cell is (734) 301-1757 and you can call or text me. Or e-mail me at LauraB2000@wyan.org and we will make this work! The sooner, the better, so we can be really organized.

More details to follow!! Thank you to all those who have so graciously offered to donate!

Leslie up-date to come later after I sister-sit on Tuesday. She's doing great, though!

2010-11-09T12:38:00.001-08:00

Circle talk. All day long. That's all we did. Circle talk.

Circle talk is what my family calls the repeating of questions Leslie does. Today was my first day "sister-sitting" with her. She got to my house around 7:30 and I dropped her off at her house at 3 for a doctors appointment. The whole day, she kept asking the same 5 questions. Think of a CD that keeps skipping and repeating the same thing over and over...this was Leslie.

Most of the time, I would just answer the question for her. A few times I would respond with "I don't know, you tell me" ...and this really made her nervous. I would make her think about it and she always answered her own question correctly, but she still wanted me to say it.

Around 1, she said she was really hungry and wanted to go out to lunch. When we got to the restaurant, she hardly ate a thing. When we left, as soon as we got out the door, she realized she left her purse at the table, so she went back in to get it. I let her go ahead, then I followed behind her. When I got inside, I saw that she was very far away from where our table actually was. I called her over to our table, and she didn't remember sitting there. The waitress happened to be at our table, and handed her her purse. Leslie apologized to the waitress for being confused, and said "I have a brain injury." This made me so sad for her.

Yesterday she had a good day, I thought. Granted, I wasn't with her nearly as long, but we met a friend of mine for lunch, and she did great. She ate good, carried on with conversation, and just seemed to be doing well. Today was totally different.

She doesn't sleep well. She goes to bed good, but then wakes up in the middle of the night and is restless. I do think that when she is tired, she is more confused, so I'm wondering if she was just really tired today. She has an appointment with her primary doctor today, so we'll see what she says.

Some family members have decided that they want to give a benefit dinner for Leslie! We decided on December 11, since my work schedule is pretty chaotic right now. More information will come. We are in the process of finding businesses that would be interested in donating. We are looking for items and gift cards that could be raffled off. If anyone can help with this, please let me know! We will have flyers out very soon.

2010-11-04T16:20:00.000-07:00

I remember the day, just over a month ago, when I drove up to my parents house and thought to myself, "What I would give to see my sister's car here, too." ....and today, my sister's car was there (she didn't drive, though, don't worry!)

I also remember all the times I thought, "I wish I could call my sister up and ask if she wants to meet for lunch/dinner." ...and tomorrow, we are going to lunch to celebrate her 30th birthday.

I remember the nights spent in the ICU, staring at her, thinking, "Please, just open your eyes. I miss your voice." ...and tonight, I not only heard her voice, but I heard her laugh, tell jokes, and reminisce.

I remember the night of September 20th, driving home without her, and thinking, "I can't go through the rest of my life without her. This was never supposed to happen." ...and tonight, I couldn't help but think, "We're getting a second chance."

My sister came home today. She is HOME. She will wear her pajamas instead of a hospital gown and no one will wake her up at midnight to check her blood pressure. She will wake up to see her husbands face and not someone she doesn't recognize. If she cries, it'll be US consoling her, face-to-face instead of on the phone. There was a time when we thought this day might never happen, and today...it happened.

Make sure you tell your friends and family you love them. Be patient and notice the small things. Love your kids extra and remember that time goes by so fast, and you NEVER KNOW what might happen tomorrow. Nothing is guaranteed, and Leslie's story is proof of that.

Thank you, God, for Leslie.