"Bound to Come Some Trouble..."

"...to your life, but that ain't nothing to be afraid of." "There's bound to come some tears to your eyes....that ain't no reason to fear... People say maybe things will get better, people say maybe it won't be long, people say maybe you'll wake up tomorrow and it'll all be gone. I only know that maybe's just ain't enough when you need something to hold on....There's only one thing that's clear.... There's bound to come some trouble to your life, reach out to Jesus, hold on tight. He's been there before and He knows what it's like. You'll find He's there." (Rich Mullins)

I was filled with anxiety last night that had me crying rivers. This morning, I was scheduled to have a VQ scan of my lungs to see the status of the clot and if it is still there. They had to give me an injection of radioactive material and take pictures of my blood and air flow. The procedure itself is nothing to be anxious about for most people. My anxiety came in when they said they had to inject me with something and watch it flow through. I wasn't convinced that there was no trace of iodine or iodine derivatives in this stuff. I talked to the doctors ahead of time. I googled. i prayed. Again, this morning, I questioned. I explained to the tech that my family has suffered often (twice was near fatal) through the neglect of staff at Womack. I told her that they almost killed me, they almost killed my baby and that when my other baby died, they lost the body. I don't trust anyone. I've watched a nurse read my chart, note my iodine allergy and proceed to swipe betadine on me and then, when I flipped out, tell me it's not iodine, it's just betadine. WTH?! And don't even get me started on the newbie in the ER who messed up my IV and I wound up in a puddle of my own blood (in white pj's, nonetheless) and who exclaimed, "oh man, looks like I slaughtered a pig!". I told him that it wouldn't clot when he told me to just put some pressure on it. He thought I was lying and I said, "do you even know what Coumadin is??!" THEN he scrambled and ran for help.

Yeah, those are just MINOR incidents compared to how they almost let me and Aidan die. I can't even get into that because I, for sure, need counseling to deal with that anger.

Well, needless to say, I was fine with the radioactive injection and lo and behold, it was what they said it was and I am fine. Now I just have to wait a few days for my doctor to call me with the outcome. But when I thought about how completely petrified I was last night, thinking that I wasn't going to come home from Womack....ever....and that it was the last time I would tuck my kids in, I realized what is really lying under the surface in me. Fear. Anxiety. Severe lack of trust (in the hospital to keep me alive and in my husband to adequately take care of my kids if I died. I know he loves them immeasurably, but he's not often enough in touch with their needs and leans towards the lazy side too much). I know that my eternity is in the bag. No doubt that I will spend it with Jesus. Not worried about that. Just worried about my kids. I pour my life into their nurturing and care. I don't want them to be lacking or just given the "bare minimum".

I talked to Sheila about it today (she's the nurse who comes out to work with Aidan every week and is also a breast cancer and heart attack survivor). She said that I really need to talk to a counselor. Going through a life-threatening situation sticks with you in a unique way. Sometimes, I feel isolated and alone even when surrounded by people. I need to talk to other people who have been through something life-threatening and who have empathy, understanding the emotions involved. I don't have a medical staff that I trust to know what they are talking about or to be on the ball. And I don't have a husband that I feel cares about me or has my best interest at heart and who is moody and unreliable on a consistent basis. I wish my extended family lived close by. I thank God every day that Mom was here the day I got the pulmonary embolism. I don't know what would have become of me if she hadn't walked past my room and saw me sitting on the edge of the bed. I do know, actually. I wouldn't be here typing this right now. I wouldn't be here at all. Thank you, Mom. You saved my life. And your tenacity in the ER spoke for me when I was too weak to speak for myself. Thank you. I love you for being a strong woman. :-) And thank you, Brenda, for being adamant about me elevating my feet and getting some rest. :-)

That song by Rich Mullins is what I used to sing to Aidan when I would go visit him at Duke. Even when he couldn't hear because he was knocked out or had those big headphones on to block out sound. . I knew he heard me in his heart and in his spirit. I listened to it again today as a reminder. Stuff happens. God is always there, though. They say, "what doesn't kill us makes us stronger". Well, today, I'm not dead so I must be getting stronger. :-)