Note: I apologize for the wait. I am having trouble remembering some key details. Because of that, some of this may not have actually happened this day.
I woke up in the morning to the sound of my alarm clock. I jumped in the shower, dried my hair, and went upstairs with a bag full of things to do once I was out of surgery. ha ha. I had music, my awana book to study for Bible quizzing, a hand held sudoku game, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a change of clothes. They said I would only have to stay one night if everything went okay. Of course, I didn't know at the time that I wouldn't be better instantly and all the pain I'd be in afterward. I didn't care. I was just glad to be moving on. I also temporarily forgot that people with any sort of brain trauma sleep a lot. I was having brain surgery. You would've thought I would've been more prepared. But how could I be? Everything had happened in 1.5 days. That's not enough time to read up on things and be aware of the situation.
Like any operation, I couldn't eat anything. I believe I was scheduled for 2pm. That was a long time for me to go without food back then. (that may be hard for those of you who recently met me to believe, since I go without breakfast every day, and some days without lunch.) So while everyone was munching away, I sat on the couch and tried to calm my mind and understand what was going to happen to me in a few short hours.
In my opinion, I can remember looking like a mess. My hair looked like a fluffed mop, and whatever I was wearing was wrinkled. But I didn't care. I was ready to go.
My family gathered around and prayed for me. I was overcome with peace. I wasn't worried or anxious. But then again, I didn't know what to expect either.
Dad and Mom got in the car and I crawled into the back seat. I don't remember the ride there. I could have been asleep. I could have been praying. I just can't remember.
When we got to Pittsburgh, we had to find a place to park. Since this was an inpatient procedure, we were able to park in the hospital's parking garage. Dad eventually found a spot and he squeezed the car in. We then headed to the fifth floor for all the pre-op work. We signed in and they gave me a wrist band.
I don't remember what order the next events came in, so I'm just going to type as I remember.
We met with the anesthesiologist who was going to be "taking care of me." First thing he asked was my birth date to see if it matched my wrist band. He asked me what seemed like 100 questions that had nothing to do with my condition and everything to do with my personal life. Things like "Do you have your own room?" and "Do you have a boyfriend?" (yes, and no...in case you were wondering.) There were many other questions as well that I fail to see how it connects to that day, or any day really. "Do you wear perfume? Are you wearing makeup? Do you have any piercings beside your ears?" blah blah blah. And I was told they go over these questions with every child there from age 0-18. Seriously??? Gee whiz. He also asked me what flavor I wanted the anesthesia to be. He said strawberry, cherry or grape. I hate strawberries, and I wasn't feeling very grape like. So cherry it was.
Then I was told to put on a hospital gown. I despise those things. They are pure evil. But I obeyed.
So then the next room we went to was a waiting area. Then they were going to call me back to be "marked." I had no clue what that meant. :) So when I was called, I went to a room where a guy was sitting with several multi-colored sharpies. He asked me my name, my birthday (checked it with my wristband again) and then he asked me what I was there for. He told me he was going to give me a sharpie tattoo (which it looked like he had already given himself several), and asked what design I wanted. I was confused. Was he joking? Sort of. He checked my chart and said he had to draw an "X" on the right side of my forehead. There I sat with a big black X, looking like something from Frankenstein. Then we went back to the waiting room.
While we were sitting there, a custodian came by to grab the garbage in the room I was in. He must have thought I looked scared because he told me a joke. Then he asked me if I was good at math. I said yes, and he said "Ok, pick a number from 1-10. But don't tell me." So I did. He went on, "Double that number. Now add 10 to that number. Now divide that number by 2. Now subtract the number you started with." I did the calculations in my head, and he said "The number is 5?" I said yes, and he laughed and said "Great! It worked! And I got you to smile too! :)" Even a janitor can make a difference in a child's life.
The next thing I remember, we went to the last room I would be in before being wheeled into the operating room. There were a bunch of hospital beds, and there were little children sleeping in some of them. They all had stitches on some part of their body. I was starting to get a bit concerned. I knew they had to shave my head, but I didn't know if I was going to be completely bald, or if it was just a small section. I kept thinking that if I had to wear a wig, I was never going out of the house again.
There were a few people in blue scrubs in the room, just keeping an eye on the sleeping children. Then I saw Dr. Pollock. He was wearing a white scrub with blood all over it. He walked right by me, took off his coat and went into the next room. Then the nurse called my name and said it was time for me to say goodbye to mom and dad and go back to the operating room.
My heart starts to pound as I get on the hospital bed and they wheel me down through 3 sets of double doors, all with the words "Do not enter" on the outside. They wheeled me into a room where there were about 5 people in blue scrubs. There were tubes and wires coming out the wazoo. And right in the middle was the dreaded operating table. They told me to roll off the bed onto the table and put my head in the cushioned pillow thing. The next thing I know, they put a mask over my face and tell me to keep breathing. I felt my face go numb. One of the assistants said she was going to put an iv in my arm. Whatever right? I knew that part wasn't that bad. Well she missed. And she tried again and missed my vein once again. After about 5 tries, I think she finally got it in. Then all of a sudden, I couldn't breathe. It was like the mask was suffocating me. They had only given me nitrous oxide thus far, and even though my arm was numb and I couldn't talk, I managed to reach up to my face and try to push the mask off. The nurse kind of freaked out. She was like "Oh do you need some oxygen?" YES PLEASE. I can't breathe! So she took it off for a few seconds. She told me to laugh and smile. And I did. And that stuff does something to your brain, let me tell you.
Then it happened. She lowered the mask and everything went black.
...to be continued in part 6
January 31, 2011
January 24, 2011
My Battle Part 4
The drive to Children's in the car seemed to take forever. Dad ran me through what they might ask me to do, and that I should do it. Also that I need to answer all their questions with utmost detail. They are here to help me. So I need to help them out by telling them what I feel.
At this point, none of us knew what was going on, and it was starting to get irritating. Please God, just let them know today what is wrong with me. I can't take this anymore.
That morning I had already been to Westmoreland Hospital, my PCP, and now on the way to Children's Hospital. I was getting sick of being around a bunch of people who DIDN'T know what was wrong with me. And being around sick people as well made me feel horrible and sickly.
We were told to go to the purple elevators on the second floor. Go past the silver elevators and enter by the musical mural on the wall. How do I remember that you ask? You'll find out. When we got signed in and everything, Dad realized we were not there to see a neurologist, but rather a neurosurgeon. That was a bit unnerving. And we were both wondering if he was going to be able to help me out at all.
The nurse who called me back was very friendly. She had blonde hair and was wearing a grey sweater. Not a typical scrub like everyone else. She explained to me that I needed to tell her and the Dr. everything that I was feeling. And so I went through my symptoms with her, and then she asked me to stand up, walk in a straight line. I did that fine. Then she asked me to close my eyes and stand with my hands in front of me, palms up. Dad said that she stood behind me waiting for me to fall backwards, which I didn't. I didn't have the typical symptoms of a neurological disorder. I would have if it would have lasted maybe a few days or weeks longer. I don't know how long it takes. But from what I've read about other people my age, I should be, in some way, mentally impaired.
While we waited for the doctor to come in, I realized that whatever the outcome, God was in control. He was putting me through this trial for a reason.
The twelfth year of my life was a great one for me spiritually. I rededicated my life to the Lord, learned a lot about complete surrender, and I actually was baptized that year. I didn't realize it then, but God was preparing me to depend on Him when I needed Him the most. And now was certainly the time. I said in the last post that I was in the midst of preparing for Bible quizzing, which was only a week and a half away. I was worried I that I wasn't going to be able to make it and let my team down. But God had other plans.
There was a knock on the door and Dr. Ian Pollock, the head of the neurosurgery department at Children's came in. He shook my father's hand, and then he shook mine. And then he got right to the point. He said I had a condition called hydrocephalus. Where the ventricles in the brain swell and cause inter-cranial pressure. Making it feel like your head is going to explode, and causing pressure on the back of my eyes. Hence the pressure on the optic nerves in my eyes.
Like I said before, I was clueless to what any of this meant. And I guess Dr. Pollock figured that out. He said "The ventricles in your brain are supposed to be the size of your pinky finger. Ellen's are the size of my fists." Oh boy. That explains a lot. So he said "Let me take you back and show you what the films from the MRI look like. It'll give you a better perspective." And this is what we saw (NOTE: These are not the actual images of my brain, although I do have the original films though from my first MRI. Even though they technically aren't allowed to give them to us, they did.)
Obviously there is something wrong there. And if you think that doesn't look painful, look again. My brain ended up looking like that first picture for about 3 years, but I will get to that later.
So what is the cure? If you read part one, I explained the process of a third ventriculostomy. They drill a hole in your skull, stick an endoscope down in there, and poke a hole through the third ventricle. That was the option Dr. Pollock gave me. There also was a second. I could have a more invasive surgery and have a shunt put in, which is basically a drain with a tube attached that leads to another part of your body, typically the stomach. That requires at least 4 incisions. Two on the head, one on the neck, and at least one on the stomach. That sounded terrifying. And since I was 12, and this shouldn't have happened to me, he recommended the first option. It typically worked and I wouldn't have to worry about the tube getting infected and all the revisions that could come about through that process. (horrifying, just look it up on youtube)
I was relieved to finally have a problem and a solution. And the doctor said he wanted to do it as soon as possible. I was ok with that. God was giving me overwhelming peace that day. I remained calm, and I had a smile on as usual. The dr. said he would never have guessed I was in so much pain. And not many other people that I was around a lot even knew.
So he called out to his nurse/secretary and asked when the next available date for surgery he had.
Then came the real shock.
TOMORROW MORNING she said.
Dad was like "TOMORROW??" I was just like "Fantastic. The sooner the better." Not really, I honestly don't remember what I thought. Everything that week had happened so fast. I was tired. I didn't feel good. I just wanted to go home and sleep.
So then the next process of calling Mother and telling her that he could operate tomorrow...and tell her everything we'd just found out. I can remember the conversation going something like this:
Dad: Hi.
Mom: What's going on? What did you find out?
Dad: They want to do surgery tomorrow.
Mom: TOMORROW!?? What's wrong???
Dad: I'll tell you about it when we get home..is tomorrow ok?
Mom: *flustered and nervous* I guess...I mean, does she have to?
Dad: Yes. So there's nothing going on?
Mom: No.
Dad: Ok.
Mom: Well what's wrong????
Dad: She has something called hydrocephalus. The ventricles in her brain are supposed to be the size of your pinky finger, and hers are the size of fists.
Mom: *in shock* wow.
Dad: Ok, I gotta go, see you soon.
haha...so yeah, that's what I remember.
He scheduled me and said I needed to go for some pre-op bloodwork downstairs. So we went downstairs and I got poked again for about the third time that day. (not to mention I have horrible veins and they always miss the first time) So we finished that and then we headed home. Since it was Wednesday night, and by now it was about 6pm, I think we drove straight to church.
Once we got there, everything started to hit me, hard. That day, I had gone through a 45 minute MRI, had a shock that I might have a brain tumor, been rushed from one place to the next, visited an neurosurgeon, had blood work for the first time in my life, not to mention being poked and prodded at a dozen times, I was told what was wrong with me, I was told I was going into surgery the next morning, and not to mention I don't think I had eaten anything that day at all. I was exhausted, still in pain, and there was nothing I wanted to do except sleep.
I can remember walking into my awana class and everyone asking me what was going on. My class prayed for me. And we studied some for Bible quizzing. Then while everyone else went to gametime, Pastor Hipple and Mr. Parker, and Mr. McCoy and some of the other people at church gathered around me in a room and prayed. I never hardly ever went to gametime since whenever I would get my heart pumping, my head would start pounding. I usually sat in the kitchen and watched. So it wasn't a big deal at all to me.
So the night ended, and we went home and I finally got to sleep. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out. And I wasn't waking up until I had to. The next day my life would be changed. I was hoping for instant relief. And I had no clue how much pain was yet to come. I was just thankful to finally have an answer.
...to be continued in part 5
At this point, none of us knew what was going on, and it was starting to get irritating. Please God, just let them know today what is wrong with me. I can't take this anymore.
That morning I had already been to Westmoreland Hospital, my PCP, and now on the way to Children's Hospital. I was getting sick of being around a bunch of people who DIDN'T know what was wrong with me. And being around sick people as well made me feel horrible and sickly.
We were told to go to the purple elevators on the second floor. Go past the silver elevators and enter by the musical mural on the wall. How do I remember that you ask? You'll find out. When we got signed in and everything, Dad realized we were not there to see a neurologist, but rather a neurosurgeon. That was a bit unnerving. And we were both wondering if he was going to be able to help me out at all.
The nurse who called me back was very friendly. She had blonde hair and was wearing a grey sweater. Not a typical scrub like everyone else. She explained to me that I needed to tell her and the Dr. everything that I was feeling. And so I went through my symptoms with her, and then she asked me to stand up, walk in a straight line. I did that fine. Then she asked me to close my eyes and stand with my hands in front of me, palms up. Dad said that she stood behind me waiting for me to fall backwards, which I didn't. I didn't have the typical symptoms of a neurological disorder. I would have if it would have lasted maybe a few days or weeks longer. I don't know how long it takes. But from what I've read about other people my age, I should be, in some way, mentally impaired.
While we waited for the doctor to come in, I realized that whatever the outcome, God was in control. He was putting me through this trial for a reason.
The twelfth year of my life was a great one for me spiritually. I rededicated my life to the Lord, learned a lot about complete surrender, and I actually was baptized that year. I didn't realize it then, but God was preparing me to depend on Him when I needed Him the most. And now was certainly the time. I said in the last post that I was in the midst of preparing for Bible quizzing, which was only a week and a half away. I was worried I that I wasn't going to be able to make it and let my team down. But God had other plans.
There was a knock on the door and Dr. Ian Pollock, the head of the neurosurgery department at Children's came in. He shook my father's hand, and then he shook mine. And then he got right to the point. He said I had a condition called hydrocephalus. Where the ventricles in the brain swell and cause inter-cranial pressure. Making it feel like your head is going to explode, and causing pressure on the back of my eyes. Hence the pressure on the optic nerves in my eyes.
Like I said before, I was clueless to what any of this meant. And I guess Dr. Pollock figured that out. He said "The ventricles in your brain are supposed to be the size of your pinky finger. Ellen's are the size of my fists." Oh boy. That explains a lot. So he said "Let me take you back and show you what the films from the MRI look like. It'll give you a better perspective." And this is what we saw (NOTE: These are not the actual images of my brain, although I do have the original films though from my first MRI. Even though they technically aren't allowed to give them to us, they did.)
 |
| What my brain looked like |
 | |||||
| What a normal brain looks like |
Obviously there is something wrong there. And if you think that doesn't look painful, look again. My brain ended up looking like that first picture for about 3 years, but I will get to that later.
So what is the cure? If you read part one, I explained the process of a third ventriculostomy. They drill a hole in your skull, stick an endoscope down in there, and poke a hole through the third ventricle. That was the option Dr. Pollock gave me. There also was a second. I could have a more invasive surgery and have a shunt put in, which is basically a drain with a tube attached that leads to another part of your body, typically the stomach. That requires at least 4 incisions. Two on the head, one on the neck, and at least one on the stomach. That sounded terrifying. And since I was 12, and this shouldn't have happened to me, he recommended the first option. It typically worked and I wouldn't have to worry about the tube getting infected and all the revisions that could come about through that process. (horrifying, just look it up on youtube)
I was relieved to finally have a problem and a solution. And the doctor said he wanted to do it as soon as possible. I was ok with that. God was giving me overwhelming peace that day. I remained calm, and I had a smile on as usual. The dr. said he would never have guessed I was in so much pain. And not many other people that I was around a lot even knew.
So he called out to his nurse/secretary and asked when the next available date for surgery he had.
Then came the real shock.
TOMORROW MORNING she said.
Dad was like "TOMORROW??" I was just like "Fantastic. The sooner the better." Not really, I honestly don't remember what I thought. Everything that week had happened so fast. I was tired. I didn't feel good. I just wanted to go home and sleep.
So then the next process of calling Mother and telling her that he could operate tomorrow...and tell her everything we'd just found out. I can remember the conversation going something like this:
Dad: Hi.
Mom: What's going on? What did you find out?
Dad: They want to do surgery tomorrow.
Mom: TOMORROW!?? What's wrong???
Dad: I'll tell you about it when we get home..is tomorrow ok?
Mom: *flustered and nervous* I guess...I mean, does she have to?
Dad: Yes. So there's nothing going on?
Mom: No.
Dad: Ok.
Mom: Well what's wrong????
Dad: She has something called hydrocephalus. The ventricles in her brain are supposed to be the size of your pinky finger, and hers are the size of fists.
Mom: *in shock* wow.
Dad: Ok, I gotta go, see you soon.
haha...so yeah, that's what I remember.
He scheduled me and said I needed to go for some pre-op bloodwork downstairs. So we went downstairs and I got poked again for about the third time that day. (not to mention I have horrible veins and they always miss the first time) So we finished that and then we headed home. Since it was Wednesday night, and by now it was about 6pm, I think we drove straight to church.
Once we got there, everything started to hit me, hard. That day, I had gone through a 45 minute MRI, had a shock that I might have a brain tumor, been rushed from one place to the next, visited an neurosurgeon, had blood work for the first time in my life, not to mention being poked and prodded at a dozen times, I was told what was wrong with me, I was told I was going into surgery the next morning, and not to mention I don't think I had eaten anything that day at all. I was exhausted, still in pain, and there was nothing I wanted to do except sleep.
I can remember walking into my awana class and everyone asking me what was going on. My class prayed for me. And we studied some for Bible quizzing. Then while everyone else went to gametime, Pastor Hipple and Mr. Parker, and Mr. McCoy and some of the other people at church gathered around me in a room and prayed. I never hardly ever went to gametime since whenever I would get my heart pumping, my head would start pounding. I usually sat in the kitchen and watched. So it wasn't a big deal at all to me.
So the night ended, and we went home and I finally got to sleep. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out. And I wasn't waking up until I had to. The next day my life would be changed. I was hoping for instant relief. And I had no clue how much pain was yet to come. I was just thankful to finally have an answer.
...to be continued in part 5
January 22, 2011
My Battle Part 3
It was February 21, 2006, a Tuesday that I will NEVER forget.
I was home watching Amy, Emma and Stephen. Mom had just left to take Kara and her friend Naomi to the mall. Naomi was (and still is) Kara's best friend, and she was spending the week at our house. They decided to go and do something together that day, and thus going to the mall as a result.
I had slept about 11 hours that night, and I was not feeling up to doing anything at all. I can remember being kind of irritated that I was once again left at home to watch my siblings. It seemed to happen a lot that year. Not to mention that I was worried that I was just going to die one day, so I didn't want to be left alone.
I was in my room when the phone rang. Amy answered it. And the next thing I know, I'm being told that Mom completely forgot about another eye appointment I was scheduled for, and she remembered when she passed it on the way to the mall. I don't remember if she asked me if I just wanted to cancel it, or if she was just going to cancel it herself. But something made her change either her or my mind. I'm pretty sure I didn't want to go. This was like the 8th eye appointment I was supposed to have in like 3 weeks. Nothing had changed. So why would it now?
Needless to say, Mom turned the van around and came home to get me right away. She dropped Kara and Naomi off, and I ran out the garage door and jumped in the van (causing my head to want to explode once again.)
We got to the optometrist and they took me right away since we were late. I knew something was wrong when I was sitting in the "examination chair" and he started shining these lights in my eyes with these things that looked like a magnifying glass. I could barely hold my eye open. My eyes by now were very sensitive to light. And this was like torture.
The thing was, it lasted for an extremely long time. Then the Dr. said "I'll be right back," and he walked out of the room and I could hear him talking with my mother. I couldn't make out what he was saying because he spoke in such quiet tones. But I could tell my mother was worried. "What does that mean?" I could hear her say, and "What do you do about that?" and "When can we get that done?"
My head hurts. I just had a bright light shined in my eyes for what seemed like hours. I just wanted to leave that place and go home to sleep.
Then the Dr. came back in and told me I could leave. THANK GOD. Well my mother was in a panic. And she told me that I needed to have an MRI right away. What on earth is that? I wondered. Then I realized it was like that thing I saw on tv where there's a lady laying on a hospital bed and they stick her in a tube. Hmm...interesting. What on earth did that do to you? How far did it take you back? Did it hurt? Was I finally going to learn what the heck is wrong with me? Was I going to die? These are the things that were going through my mind. I can remember the nurse/office manager calling around to see if they had any available appointments within the next few days, but the soonest they said they could fit me in was March. So I was going to have to wait until then.
On the way home, mom explained to me that there was pressure on my optic nerve on the back of both my eyes, and significantly in my right eye. The doctor said that he had another lady a few weeks ago who had the same thing. And nothing was wrong. It was just some sort of fluke thing, and that probably was the case with me as well. It was a condition they called Papilledema.
To my 12 year old mind, I had no idea what any of this meant. What is your optic nerve? Is this a really bad thing? Could I die from this? Why do I have to wait so long? Why do I need an MRI?
We got home, and Mom called Dad to tell him what was going on and that I was scheduled for an MRI in March. Almost as soon as she hung up, the phone rang. It was someone from the Radiology department at Westmoreland Hospital. They said they had a cancellation for the next day and wondered if we could be there first thing in the morning. Of course that was an answer to prayer and she said yes. I think I slept the rest of the day since I don't remember much.
The next morning, I was up bright and early and we were on our way to the hospital. I never liked being at the hospital to visit anyone or anything because to me, that was the place where old sick people go. And I was not old, and I really wasn't sick. I was just in pain. So we found the Radiology department, and they asked me a ton of questions like "Do you have any metal shavings in your skin? Do you have any bullets in your body? Any prosthetic body parts? Was I wearing any jewelry? Did I wear a watch? etc." Strange I thought. Why do they need to know all this? And why on earth would I have a bullet in me? I haven't been shot. Has anyone my age ever been shot? Weird. I was wearing a watch, and they made me take it off, and also take everything I had in my pockets out. I must have been wearing jeans, because I had a belt on. But apparently they did not realize that. And they didn't ask me.
The next thing I know, they are putting an IV in my arm. That was no big deal, but I had no clue why. I'm not scared of needles, and such small amounts of pain were no longer an issue. They said it was so they could do contrast...that meant nothing to me. I just wanted to it to be over with. So they asked me my height/weight, adjusted the bed thing, and put me on it. They covered me with a blanket and gave me ear plugs. Then they said that the hardest part was going to be that I had to lay absolutely still for at least 45 minutes. I figured that would be easy since I was allowed to fall asleep. hahaha...there's no sleeping in those things. It was so loud. Clicking, banging, squeaking, pounding, screetching, etc. You name a noise, that machine made it. Every few minutes, I moved further back into the tube. They had strapped my head down, so there was really no way I could even move it.
Since this was February, I was preparing for my first year of JV Bible Quizzing which was the first week of March. So during the MRI, I was reciting the verses and questions I had memorized to myself. It's the small things like that, that can give me comfort. And I was praying the whole time.
When it was all over, we had to wait while they printed out the films from the scan. This hospital had not yet converted to digital equipment. So it took quite a while to print out every picture. Then we went to visit my primary care doctor.
They took us back to the lit up screens where they put the MRI films up, just like an xray. The doctor said he didn't know how to interpret pictures of the brain. But from what he could tell, something wasn't right. And he said there I could possibly have a tumor.
WHAT??? A TUMOR? I really am going to die. GOD NO! Please! I don't want to die!
The Dr. told us we needed to go to Children's Hospital and see a neurologist there. And so he called and got us an appointment for that day, about 2 hours later. Mom did not want to drive me into Pittsburgh, so she called Dad and since this was becoming even more serious as the day went on, he wanted to take me. By the time we got home, Dad was already there and had changed clothes and was ready to jump in the car and drive.
Little did I know, that day I was finally going to find out what was wrong with me.
...to be continued in part 4.
I was home watching Amy, Emma and Stephen. Mom had just left to take Kara and her friend Naomi to the mall. Naomi was (and still is) Kara's best friend, and she was spending the week at our house. They decided to go and do something together that day, and thus going to the mall as a result.
I had slept about 11 hours that night, and I was not feeling up to doing anything at all. I can remember being kind of irritated that I was once again left at home to watch my siblings. It seemed to happen a lot that year. Not to mention that I was worried that I was just going to die one day, so I didn't want to be left alone.
I was in my room when the phone rang. Amy answered it. And the next thing I know, I'm being told that Mom completely forgot about another eye appointment I was scheduled for, and she remembered when she passed it on the way to the mall. I don't remember if she asked me if I just wanted to cancel it, or if she was just going to cancel it herself. But something made her change either her or my mind. I'm pretty sure I didn't want to go. This was like the 8th eye appointment I was supposed to have in like 3 weeks. Nothing had changed. So why would it now?
Needless to say, Mom turned the van around and came home to get me right away. She dropped Kara and Naomi off, and I ran out the garage door and jumped in the van (causing my head to want to explode once again.)
We got to the optometrist and they took me right away since we were late. I knew something was wrong when I was sitting in the "examination chair" and he started shining these lights in my eyes with these things that looked like a magnifying glass. I could barely hold my eye open. My eyes by now were very sensitive to light. And this was like torture.
The thing was, it lasted for an extremely long time. Then the Dr. said "I'll be right back," and he walked out of the room and I could hear him talking with my mother. I couldn't make out what he was saying because he spoke in such quiet tones. But I could tell my mother was worried. "What does that mean?" I could hear her say, and "What do you do about that?" and "When can we get that done?"
My head hurts. I just had a bright light shined in my eyes for what seemed like hours. I just wanted to leave that place and go home to sleep.
Then the Dr. came back in and told me I could leave. THANK GOD. Well my mother was in a panic. And she told me that I needed to have an MRI right away. What on earth is that? I wondered. Then I realized it was like that thing I saw on tv where there's a lady laying on a hospital bed and they stick her in a tube. Hmm...interesting. What on earth did that do to you? How far did it take you back? Did it hurt? Was I finally going to learn what the heck is wrong with me? Was I going to die? These are the things that were going through my mind. I can remember the nurse/office manager calling around to see if they had any available appointments within the next few days, but the soonest they said they could fit me in was March. So I was going to have to wait until then.
On the way home, mom explained to me that there was pressure on my optic nerve on the back of both my eyes, and significantly in my right eye. The doctor said that he had another lady a few weeks ago who had the same thing. And nothing was wrong. It was just some sort of fluke thing, and that probably was the case with me as well. It was a condition they called Papilledema.
To my 12 year old mind, I had no idea what any of this meant. What is your optic nerve? Is this a really bad thing? Could I die from this? Why do I have to wait so long? Why do I need an MRI?
We got home, and Mom called Dad to tell him what was going on and that I was scheduled for an MRI in March. Almost as soon as she hung up, the phone rang. It was someone from the Radiology department at Westmoreland Hospital. They said they had a cancellation for the next day and wondered if we could be there first thing in the morning. Of course that was an answer to prayer and she said yes. I think I slept the rest of the day since I don't remember much.
The next morning, I was up bright and early and we were on our way to the hospital. I never liked being at the hospital to visit anyone or anything because to me, that was the place where old sick people go. And I was not old, and I really wasn't sick. I was just in pain. So we found the Radiology department, and they asked me a ton of questions like "Do you have any metal shavings in your skin? Do you have any bullets in your body? Any prosthetic body parts? Was I wearing any jewelry? Did I wear a watch? etc." Strange I thought. Why do they need to know all this? And why on earth would I have a bullet in me? I haven't been shot. Has anyone my age ever been shot? Weird. I was wearing a watch, and they made me take it off, and also take everything I had in my pockets out. I must have been wearing jeans, because I had a belt on. But apparently they did not realize that. And they didn't ask me.
The next thing I know, they are putting an IV in my arm. That was no big deal, but I had no clue why. I'm not scared of needles, and such small amounts of pain were no longer an issue. They said it was so they could do contrast...that meant nothing to me. I just wanted to it to be over with. So they asked me my height/weight, adjusted the bed thing, and put me on it. They covered me with a blanket and gave me ear plugs. Then they said that the hardest part was going to be that I had to lay absolutely still for at least 45 minutes. I figured that would be easy since I was allowed to fall asleep. hahaha...there's no sleeping in those things. It was so loud. Clicking, banging, squeaking, pounding, screetching, etc. You name a noise, that machine made it. Every few minutes, I moved further back into the tube. They had strapped my head down, so there was really no way I could even move it.
Since this was February, I was preparing for my first year of JV Bible Quizzing which was the first week of March. So during the MRI, I was reciting the verses and questions I had memorized to myself. It's the small things like that, that can give me comfort. And I was praying the whole time.
When it was all over, we had to wait while they printed out the films from the scan. This hospital had not yet converted to digital equipment. So it took quite a while to print out every picture. Then we went to visit my primary care doctor.
They took us back to the lit up screens where they put the MRI films up, just like an xray. The doctor said he didn't know how to interpret pictures of the brain. But from what he could tell, something wasn't right. And he said there I could possibly have a tumor.
WHAT??? A TUMOR? I really am going to die. GOD NO! Please! I don't want to die!
The Dr. told us we needed to go to Children's Hospital and see a neurologist there. And so he called and got us an appointment for that day, about 2 hours later. Mom did not want to drive me into Pittsburgh, so she called Dad and since this was becoming even more serious as the day went on, he wanted to take me. By the time we got home, Dad was already there and had changed clothes and was ready to jump in the car and drive.
Little did I know, that day I was finally going to find out what was wrong with me.
...to be continued in part 4.
My Battle Part 2
If I were to start at the beginning, I wouldn't know where to start. I don't remember the beginning. I honestly don't even remember it coming on slow, or one day realizing the pain had been there for a while. It didn't happen that way. There are certain days I can remember where the pain would not subside. But realistically, it started before that. I was 12 years old, in seventh grade, enjoying my life, not having a care in the world.
I guess the soonest I can remember feeling pain was whenever I had to read. Since I was homeschooled, I was required to read basically every subject. There wasn't really any "teacher" since I read to teach myself. (or was read to by my mother.) I can remember specifically reading a book called "The Golden Goblet," while sitting on our lazy boy chair. Then I couldn't read anymore. My eyes hurt. The lights above the piano seemed to be brighter than ever. Not to mention that my vision started to blur during my reading time.
These all seemed to be signs that I needed glasses. I knew I was far sighted. I have been my whole life. But all of a sudden, I no longer was able to read things without holding them out at arm distance or further.
So I visited the eye doctor. Several times I did. And probably about the third visit, my vision had changed enough that I needed reading glasses. I remember being shocked at that. I NEVER wanted to wear glasses, EVER. I thought I was ugly enough as it was. Glasses were going to make me look horrible. Especially wearing them to WEC. In fact, I remember thinking that the only advantage to wearing glasses was that people would feel sorry for me and want to be my friend? Yeah, my mind was playing horrible tricks on me. Even though I was only 12, I was extremely self conscious. I look at my sister Emma now, who will be 12 in a few weeks and think "I'm so glad she is not like me at all!!!!" She doesn't seem to have a care in the world. And I hope it stays that way.
The co-op my Mom led, Westmoreland Enrichment Classes (WEC), was always my favorite time of the week. I got to see my friends, and I was learning so much. That semester was composed of a Geography class, a French Class, some sort of Art class, and a History Timeline class. (I'm sure I was in a Science class as well, but I can't recall which one.)
My History Timeline class was right after lunch, and it was on the top floor of the building. By about the second or third week of classes, I knew something was more wrong than just me needing to wear glasses. My head would randomly start pounding at various times of the day. There was never really any pattern to it, other than it would act up whenever I got up really fast or had just walked rather quickly somewhere. And if I threw my head back and tightened my neck muscles, it would seem to ease the pain and eventually stop.
However, throwing my head back and tightening my neck led to many other problems that I had to see the chiropractor for. And whenever I would visit him, the pain was temporarily relieved for a few hours until it happened again. It was like an attack. It literally felt like someone hitting me with a sledge hammer from the inside of my head, out.
One week, I was walking up the stairs to HT class, and I didn't think I was going to make it up the stairs. The pain was so overwhelming. And sitting down in the classroom wasn't helping. If you knew me then, you would have known that I try to hide my pain in any way possible. But that day, it just wasn't happening. I burst into tears in the middle of that class and told the teacher that I had to go find my mother, but I wasn't able to walk down the stairs. That sent her into a panic attack. You see, I was extremely good at concealing my pain. No one knew anything was wrong with me at all except that I had to wear glasses for some reason. So she found my mother, and there was nothing she could do for me except take me to the chiropractor since that relieved the pain temporarily. So I went to the car while she found someone to be in charge of my siblings til we got back. I sat in the car and cried my eyes out. It hurt so bad.
The rest of that day I spent lying on the couch, bawling. And every week after that, the same thing happened. Typically during the same class.
Only one thing was able to relieve my pain for a long period of time: SLEEP
Let me tell you, I have always been a deep sleeper my whole life. And I can sleep for hours upon hours. As long as there is no light and no loud noises, I can sleep forever. A 7th grade girl does not need 12 hours of sleep. But I was typically getting anywhere from 10-12 hours every night. Let alone each nap I would take during the day.
I was starting to become extremely upset why no one could figure out what was wrong with me. I wasn't able to be doing the things a normal 12 year old should be doing. I couldn't run, or I'd be in pain. I couldn't play volleyball, or I'd be in pain. I couldn't walk around church and talk to my friends, because I'd be in pain. You see, everything that I loved to do then was taken away from me. Piano playing literally was the only self comforting thing I could do during that time. That's why I love it so much. And that's why I write music. Because I feel the need to express my emotions through my piano playing since that's what I did for so long a time. Between ages 12-15, my piano playing became my life. I constantly practiced for my next lesson. I was always thinking up ways to "rewrite songs" that I had heard, to be able to play them.
During this whole time, I was still going to the eye doctor like every week. My eyes still hurt. And my vision was getting progressively worse.
Then one day, there was a breakthrough. My eyedoctor found something that didn't show up before. And it was something that changed my life.
....to be continued in Part 3
I guess the soonest I can remember feeling pain was whenever I had to read. Since I was homeschooled, I was required to read basically every subject. There wasn't really any "teacher" since I read to teach myself. (or was read to by my mother.) I can remember specifically reading a book called "The Golden Goblet," while sitting on our lazy boy chair. Then I couldn't read anymore. My eyes hurt. The lights above the piano seemed to be brighter than ever. Not to mention that my vision started to blur during my reading time.
These all seemed to be signs that I needed glasses. I knew I was far sighted. I have been my whole life. But all of a sudden, I no longer was able to read things without holding them out at arm distance or further.
So I visited the eye doctor. Several times I did. And probably about the third visit, my vision had changed enough that I needed reading glasses. I remember being shocked at that. I NEVER wanted to wear glasses, EVER. I thought I was ugly enough as it was. Glasses were going to make me look horrible. Especially wearing them to WEC. In fact, I remember thinking that the only advantage to wearing glasses was that people would feel sorry for me and want to be my friend? Yeah, my mind was playing horrible tricks on me. Even though I was only 12, I was extremely self conscious. I look at my sister Emma now, who will be 12 in a few weeks and think "I'm so glad she is not like me at all!!!!" She doesn't seem to have a care in the world. And I hope it stays that way.
The co-op my Mom led, Westmoreland Enrichment Classes (WEC), was always my favorite time of the week. I got to see my friends, and I was learning so much. That semester was composed of a Geography class, a French Class, some sort of Art class, and a History Timeline class. (I'm sure I was in a Science class as well, but I can't recall which one.)
My History Timeline class was right after lunch, and it was on the top floor of the building. By about the second or third week of classes, I knew something was more wrong than just me needing to wear glasses. My head would randomly start pounding at various times of the day. There was never really any pattern to it, other than it would act up whenever I got up really fast or had just walked rather quickly somewhere. And if I threw my head back and tightened my neck muscles, it would seem to ease the pain and eventually stop.
However, throwing my head back and tightening my neck led to many other problems that I had to see the chiropractor for. And whenever I would visit him, the pain was temporarily relieved for a few hours until it happened again. It was like an attack. It literally felt like someone hitting me with a sledge hammer from the inside of my head, out.
One week, I was walking up the stairs to HT class, and I didn't think I was going to make it up the stairs. The pain was so overwhelming. And sitting down in the classroom wasn't helping. If you knew me then, you would have known that I try to hide my pain in any way possible. But that day, it just wasn't happening. I burst into tears in the middle of that class and told the teacher that I had to go find my mother, but I wasn't able to walk down the stairs. That sent her into a panic attack. You see, I was extremely good at concealing my pain. No one knew anything was wrong with me at all except that I had to wear glasses for some reason. So she found my mother, and there was nothing she could do for me except take me to the chiropractor since that relieved the pain temporarily. So I went to the car while she found someone to be in charge of my siblings til we got back. I sat in the car and cried my eyes out. It hurt so bad.
The rest of that day I spent lying on the couch, bawling. And every week after that, the same thing happened. Typically during the same class.
Only one thing was able to relieve my pain for a long period of time: SLEEP
Let me tell you, I have always been a deep sleeper my whole life. And I can sleep for hours upon hours. As long as there is no light and no loud noises, I can sleep forever. A 7th grade girl does not need 12 hours of sleep. But I was typically getting anywhere from 10-12 hours every night. Let alone each nap I would take during the day.
I was starting to become extremely upset why no one could figure out what was wrong with me. I wasn't able to be doing the things a normal 12 year old should be doing. I couldn't run, or I'd be in pain. I couldn't play volleyball, or I'd be in pain. I couldn't walk around church and talk to my friends, because I'd be in pain. You see, everything that I loved to do then was taken away from me. Piano playing literally was the only self comforting thing I could do during that time. That's why I love it so much. And that's why I write music. Because I feel the need to express my emotions through my piano playing since that's what I did for so long a time. Between ages 12-15, my piano playing became my life. I constantly practiced for my next lesson. I was always thinking up ways to "rewrite songs" that I had heard, to be able to play them.
During this whole time, I was still going to the eye doctor like every week. My eyes still hurt. And my vision was getting progressively worse.
Then one day, there was a breakthrough. My eyedoctor found something that didn't show up before. And it was something that changed my life.
....to be continued in Part 3
January 21, 2011
My Battle Part 1
I don't remember when it started. It came on so slow, that I didn't notice it at first. I can't recall a specific day when I thought to myself "Hmm...I have a headache. I should go lay down." It didn't happen that way. And there is no explanation as to why it happened to me at all, either.
Hydrocephalus is typically a problem that happens to newborns. It's not something that shows up in an ultrasound, and no one knows about it until the baby is born, and usually with an abnormally large head. But of course an operation is performed within a few days and the baby grows normally (and they grow out of their head size) the rest of their life.
If you somehow get hydrocephalus when you are already fully grown, your head may enlarge and it will be like that for the rest of your life. But in an older child or an adult, it typically doesn't get that far since they are receptive to the pain. Therefore it can be stopped much sooner than a child in the womb. There is no explanation for why this problem happens to some people. And if you can imagine, not having a reason can be extremely frustrating. It was to me. I wanted to prevent it. But when there is no clear cause, there can be no prevention.
Ok, now you will clearly start to see the medical nerd coming out in me. =) Call me crazy, call me a nerd, I don't care. But all this stuff is so intriguing to me.
So you're probably wondering now, what exactly is hydrocephalus? First you have to understand a bit about the brain. As you can see, inside your brain three main ventricles and the cerebral aqueduct that drains into the fourth.
The two main lateral ventricles drain into the third. And the third ventricle drains into the cerebral aqueduct where it then goes into the fourth ventricle and down through your spinal chord. Cerebral spinal fluid is created somewhere along the way and is filtered through the ventricle system. That fluid is the same that your brain floats on. It is constantly being created and drained.
Hydrocephalus occurs when there is a blockage in one of the ventricles, and it is typically the third ventricle. It can be caused by an overgrowth of cells, a tumor, anything. And what happens is that the two lateral ventricles (as well as the third) start to expand because the cerebral spinal fluid either isn't draining at all, or is draining very little. This causes inter-cranial pressure. And if you can imagine, it is extremely painful.
It is also hard to diagnose without an MRI. Since we live in the age of migraines and Excedrin, no one even thinks about a headache as being a major problem. That is why many people like myself have to suffer for months or years before the doctor will even consider it to be a real problem. And by then, it may be too far along and the head of the patient may have already enlarged some.
If you want to get a more clear and concise view of what hydrocephalus is, watch this video. This girl explains it better than anyone else on youtube.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_tHOedD-YU
I shall continue with my own story in part 2.
Hydrocephalus is typically a problem that happens to newborns. It's not something that shows up in an ultrasound, and no one knows about it until the baby is born, and usually with an abnormally large head. But of course an operation is performed within a few days and the baby grows normally (and they grow out of their head size) the rest of their life.
If you somehow get hydrocephalus when you are already fully grown, your head may enlarge and it will be like that for the rest of your life. But in an older child or an adult, it typically doesn't get that far since they are receptive to the pain. Therefore it can be stopped much sooner than a child in the womb. There is no explanation for why this problem happens to some people. And if you can imagine, not having a reason can be extremely frustrating. It was to me. I wanted to prevent it. But when there is no clear cause, there can be no prevention.
Ok, now you will clearly start to see the medical nerd coming out in me. =) Call me crazy, call me a nerd, I don't care. But all this stuff is so intriguing to me.
So you're probably wondering now, what exactly is hydrocephalus? First you have to understand a bit about the brain. As you can see, inside your brain three main ventricles and the cerebral aqueduct that drains into the fourth.
The two main lateral ventricles drain into the third. And the third ventricle drains into the cerebral aqueduct where it then goes into the fourth ventricle and down through your spinal chord. Cerebral spinal fluid is created somewhere along the way and is filtered through the ventricle system. That fluid is the same that your brain floats on. It is constantly being created and drained.
Hydrocephalus occurs when there is a blockage in one of the ventricles, and it is typically the third ventricle. It can be caused by an overgrowth of cells, a tumor, anything. And what happens is that the two lateral ventricles (as well as the third) start to expand because the cerebral spinal fluid either isn't draining at all, or is draining very little. This causes inter-cranial pressure. And if you can imagine, it is extremely painful.
It is also hard to diagnose without an MRI. Since we live in the age of migraines and Excedrin, no one even thinks about a headache as being a major problem. That is why many people like myself have to suffer for months or years before the doctor will even consider it to be a real problem. And by then, it may be too far along and the head of the patient may have already enlarged some.
If you want to get a more clear and concise view of what hydrocephalus is, watch this video. This girl explains it better than anyone else on youtube.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_tHOedD-YU
I shall continue with my own story in part 2.
January 17, 2011
What are you afraid of?
Jeremiah 1:6-7
6 “Alas, Sovereign LORD,” I said, “I do not know how to speak; I am too young.”
7 But the LORD said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am too young.’ You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. 8 Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you,” declares the LORD.
Exodus 4:10-15
10 Moses said to the LORD, “Pardon your servant, Lord. I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue.” 11 The LORD said to him, “Who gave human beings their mouths? Who makes them deaf or mute? Who gives them sight or makes them blind? Is it not I, the LORD? 12 Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say.”
13 But Moses said, “Pardon your servant, Lord. Please send someone else.”
14 Then the LORD’s anger burned against Moses and he said, “What about your brother, Aaron the Levite? I know he can speak well. He is already on his way to meet you, and he will be glad to see you. 15 You shall speak to him and put words in his mouth; I will help both of you speak and will teach you what to do.
These are just two of many examples in the Bible of two people who were afraid of speaking. Public speaking. I often wonder, how can these people be afraid of speaking to men, when they have spoken directly to God!? How? You can speak to the most powerful being ever, but you can't speak to a few people in a crowd. That is insane.
The top ten list of things people are afraid of is below. Look carefully. People would rather do the things at the top than they would the things at the bottom of the list.
10. Dogs
Because of all the dog attacks that are on the news and such, people are naturally afraid of them. I certainly can understand this, as I myself have often been intimidated by a dog. You don't want to be eaten, or knocked down. So you run away.
9. Loneliness
Personally, I think this one deserves a spot higher on the list. Loneliness should be feared more than it is. But because most people aren't lonely (even though they think they may be) this gets bumped into 9th place. And that leaves a gap for those of us who are lonely people.
8. Flying
I can't say much about being afraid to fly since I've only flown once in my life. And I was 2. :) I'd love to fly now though just to experience it. And I'm sure I will one day.
But once again, I can understand why people wouldn't want to fly after 9/11.
7. Death
Do you know what this means? People would rather DIE than live through 1-6. Keep that in mind.
6. Sickness
No one likes to be sick. But to fear being sick more than death? Seriously! That's like killing yourself.
5. Deep Water
I'm not much help when it comes to water. I love water. I love deep water. I love lakes. I love pools. I hate the ocean. haha..only because of sharks, and salt water...and sand. But I would love to go scuba diving.
4. Financial problems
Yep, everyone's afraid of that. People would rather die than be poor.
3. Insects and bugs
No comment.
2. Heights
I am extremely afraid of heights. I get really dizzy and if there's nothing to hold onto, I may fall over. Does that stop me? haha..nope.
1. Speaking in public
And lastly, PUBLIC SPEAKING IS THE NUMBER ONE FEAR IN THE WORLD. People would rather stand on top of the empire state building, be covered in bugs, live in poverty, jump into deep water, be sick, DIE, fly in a plane, be alone for the rest of their life, AND be attacked by a dog, than get up in front of a group of people and SPEAK.
And WHY?
One word: JUDGMENT
Everyone is afraid of what the next person thinks. Don't deny it. You know it's true. You care how your hair looks, if you stuttered, if you didn't clearly make your point, if you missed a vital part of the story. Lalalalala. So on and so on.
OMG what if I messed up??? What if I trip? What if...what if...God forbid..what if I say something stupid or funny and they don't laugh!?
If NONE of those thoughts have ever gone through your head during a speaking engagement, then you must be extremely confident in everything. And good for you. Just too bad that you're alone in that way of thinking.
This post was inspired by speech class last thursday.
And yes, I am working on 3 other posts right now. So bear with me.
6 “Alas, Sovereign LORD,” I said, “I do not know how to speak; I am too young.”
7 But the LORD said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am too young.’ You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. 8 Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you,” declares the LORD.
Exodus 4:10-15
10 Moses said to the LORD, “Pardon your servant, Lord. I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue.” 11 The LORD said to him, “Who gave human beings their mouths? Who makes them deaf or mute? Who gives them sight or makes them blind? Is it not I, the LORD? 12 Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say.”
13 But Moses said, “Pardon your servant, Lord. Please send someone else.”
14 Then the LORD’s anger burned against Moses and he said, “What about your brother, Aaron the Levite? I know he can speak well. He is already on his way to meet you, and he will be glad to see you. 15 You shall speak to him and put words in his mouth; I will help both of you speak and will teach you what to do.
These are just two of many examples in the Bible of two people who were afraid of speaking. Public speaking. I often wonder, how can these people be afraid of speaking to men, when they have spoken directly to God!? How? You can speak to the most powerful being ever, but you can't speak to a few people in a crowd. That is insane.
The top ten list of things people are afraid of is below. Look carefully. People would rather do the things at the top than they would the things at the bottom of the list.
10. Dogs
Because of all the dog attacks that are on the news and such, people are naturally afraid of them. I certainly can understand this, as I myself have often been intimidated by a dog. You don't want to be eaten, or knocked down. So you run away.
9. Loneliness
Personally, I think this one deserves a spot higher on the list. Loneliness should be feared more than it is. But because most people aren't lonely (even though they think they may be) this gets bumped into 9th place. And that leaves a gap for those of us who are lonely people.
8. Flying
I can't say much about being afraid to fly since I've only flown once in my life. And I was 2. :) I'd love to fly now though just to experience it. And I'm sure I will one day.
But once again, I can understand why people wouldn't want to fly after 9/11.
7. Death
Do you know what this means? People would rather DIE than live through 1-6. Keep that in mind.
6. Sickness
No one likes to be sick. But to fear being sick more than death? Seriously! That's like killing yourself.
5. Deep Water
I'm not much help when it comes to water. I love water. I love deep water. I love lakes. I love pools. I hate the ocean. haha..only because of sharks, and salt water...and sand. But I would love to go scuba diving.
4. Financial problems
Yep, everyone's afraid of that. People would rather die than be poor.
3. Insects and bugs
No comment.
2. Heights
I am extremely afraid of heights. I get really dizzy and if there's nothing to hold onto, I may fall over. Does that stop me? haha..nope.
1. Speaking in public
And lastly, PUBLIC SPEAKING IS THE NUMBER ONE FEAR IN THE WORLD. People would rather stand on top of the empire state building, be covered in bugs, live in poverty, jump into deep water, be sick, DIE, fly in a plane, be alone for the rest of their life, AND be attacked by a dog, than get up in front of a group of people and SPEAK.
And WHY?
One word: JUDGMENT
Everyone is afraid of what the next person thinks. Don't deny it. You know it's true. You care how your hair looks, if you stuttered, if you didn't clearly make your point, if you missed a vital part of the story. Lalalalala. So on and so on.
OMG what if I messed up??? What if I trip? What if...what if...God forbid..what if I say something stupid or funny and they don't laugh!?
If NONE of those thoughts have ever gone through your head during a speaking engagement, then you must be extremely confident in everything. And good for you. Just too bad that you're alone in that way of thinking.
This post was inspired by speech class last thursday.
And yes, I am working on 3 other posts right now. So bear with me.
January 15, 2011
The Fine Line Between Friends and Foes
Have you ever had one of those moments where you are telling someone that they are your best friend and then the next moment, accuse them of doing something that makes them your worst enemy?
I have.
And I often wonder afterwards "Well, were they really being my friend? Or just going with the flow?"
I am quick to accuse.
There is a long story behind why I am this way, and maybe I'll write about it one day.
But for now, let me just say that one of my worst fears is being rejected by a friend. Again.
And that makes me quick to accuse anyone who wants to be close to me.
In our culture of facebook friends and myspace pals, real friendship has been lost. Sure, I can have 400 facebook friends and not be close to a single one of them. Somedays, it seems as if my real friends who I actually see, don't mean much because of it. I can say "Yeah, you may say that I mean a lot to you, but I have a billion facebook friends who will say the same thing. And they don't even know me like you do!"
I know there are people who just add every single person who pops up in their recommended friends list. But I am not one of those people. All but two people in my friend list on facebook, I have met. And the other two are mutual friends who I have heard much about. So it seems like I know them.
I also have my own policy that I will not add anyone whom I despise. Instead, I often block those people. :) Yes, that may seem cruel. But my life is private. They don't even need to see my profile picture. (and if any of those people stalk other people the way I do, then.....yeah.)
My friend list is longer than my enemy list. :) But there are days where I wonder about who really is my true friend? The way I get lonely sometimes, you would think I'm a dull person who just wants to be alone. But no. I want close friendships. And I just want someone to accept me for who I am at every moment that I feel alone. Someone who will be there for me when I need a hug the most, and when I want to hit the restart button on my life.
So if you are wondering, my "foe" list is composed of people who don't care one bit, have hurt me in some way, or who have rejected me after pretending to be someone they are not. Have I misunderstood some of these people? Yes. Have I done my part in friendship every time? No. Why? It depends. Some of the time I don't care. Other times, I don't want to be a good friend or get close to someone because I know they will only cause me misery.
If you've ever experienced "friendly torture" then you know how I've felt my whole life. I would describe friendly torture as having a close friend who knows everything about you, who you trust, and then they start taking your secrets one by one and shouting them to the world. The first few it doesn't really matter. But after the 4th and 5th times it happens, you just want to scream. This person is no longer your friend, but is quickly becoming your worst enemy.
I like to watch people. And it's usually the so called "best friends" who always engage in friendly torture. It ruins any relationship you may have with that person. Quite often, that relationship can become verbally abusive. And I've been fearful my whole life of having a best friend, because I never wanted this to happen to me.
Then I found someone I could trust. Told her everything about me. EVERYTHING. She knew me better than I knew myself sometimes. She knew my faults, and seemed to accept me anyway. It's funny now how I can look back and see that I didn't know her as well as I thought I did. She wasn't as honest with me as I was with her. I was easily trusting. And of course, she turned on me and engaged in friendly torture when I needed her the most. I became a very emotional person during this time. And I have been since then. I'm so terrified of this happening again.
There indeed is an extremely fine line between friends and foes. And I'm constantly watching my back, just waiting for the next person to shun me. "You worry too much" people tell me. And that's probably true. I'm always afraid that if you don't speak to me, I may have done something to offend you. I don't want to become the friend that I hate so much. And some days, I wonder if since I dwell on it so much, that I may become like her.
So always be on your guard. NEVER let it down. Those are are dear to you may be the ones to turn on you. It won't always happen, but I've seen it happen to all my friends again and again.
Yes, once again, I know this post has become about me. But this is what I write about. Things that have happened to me.
Coming up next: My Battle with Hydrocephalus, and how I was drawn to God through it.
I have.
And I often wonder afterwards "Well, were they really being my friend? Or just going with the flow?"
I am quick to accuse.
There is a long story behind why I am this way, and maybe I'll write about it one day.
But for now, let me just say that one of my worst fears is being rejected by a friend. Again.
And that makes me quick to accuse anyone who wants to be close to me.
In our culture of facebook friends and myspace pals, real friendship has been lost. Sure, I can have 400 facebook friends and not be close to a single one of them. Somedays, it seems as if my real friends who I actually see, don't mean much because of it. I can say "Yeah, you may say that I mean a lot to you, but I have a billion facebook friends who will say the same thing. And they don't even know me like you do!"
I know there are people who just add every single person who pops up in their recommended friends list. But I am not one of those people. All but two people in my friend list on facebook, I have met. And the other two are mutual friends who I have heard much about. So it seems like I know them.
I also have my own policy that I will not add anyone whom I despise. Instead, I often block those people. :) Yes, that may seem cruel. But my life is private. They don't even need to see my profile picture. (and if any of those people stalk other people the way I do, then.....yeah.)
My friend list is longer than my enemy list. :) But there are days where I wonder about who really is my true friend? The way I get lonely sometimes, you would think I'm a dull person who just wants to be alone. But no. I want close friendships. And I just want someone to accept me for who I am at every moment that I feel alone. Someone who will be there for me when I need a hug the most, and when I want to hit the restart button on my life.
So if you are wondering, my "foe" list is composed of people who don't care one bit, have hurt me in some way, or who have rejected me after pretending to be someone they are not. Have I misunderstood some of these people? Yes. Have I done my part in friendship every time? No. Why? It depends. Some of the time I don't care. Other times, I don't want to be a good friend or get close to someone because I know they will only cause me misery.
If you've ever experienced "friendly torture" then you know how I've felt my whole life. I would describe friendly torture as having a close friend who knows everything about you, who you trust, and then they start taking your secrets one by one and shouting them to the world. The first few it doesn't really matter. But after the 4th and 5th times it happens, you just want to scream. This person is no longer your friend, but is quickly becoming your worst enemy.
I like to watch people. And it's usually the so called "best friends" who always engage in friendly torture. It ruins any relationship you may have with that person. Quite often, that relationship can become verbally abusive. And I've been fearful my whole life of having a best friend, because I never wanted this to happen to me.
Then I found someone I could trust. Told her everything about me. EVERYTHING. She knew me better than I knew myself sometimes. She knew my faults, and seemed to accept me anyway. It's funny now how I can look back and see that I didn't know her as well as I thought I did. She wasn't as honest with me as I was with her. I was easily trusting. And of course, she turned on me and engaged in friendly torture when I needed her the most. I became a very emotional person during this time. And I have been since then. I'm so terrified of this happening again.
There indeed is an extremely fine line between friends and foes. And I'm constantly watching my back, just waiting for the next person to shun me. "You worry too much" people tell me. And that's probably true. I'm always afraid that if you don't speak to me, I may have done something to offend you. I don't want to become the friend that I hate so much. And some days, I wonder if since I dwell on it so much, that I may become like her.
So always be on your guard. NEVER let it down. Those are are dear to you may be the ones to turn on you. It won't always happen, but I've seen it happen to all my friends again and again.
Yes, once again, I know this post has become about me. But this is what I write about. Things that have happened to me.
Coming up next: My Battle with Hydrocephalus, and how I was drawn to God through it.
January 4, 2011
Personal Opinions...about men
If you and I have ever talked for any amount of time, you probably know that my opinion of any person is developed mostly by what I hear about them from other people. And of course, then I see that person differently then and most of the time I begin to dislike them. Unless I've really only heard good things. But that is rare.
So the person who is my best friend now, I had a predisposed opinion of him before we met. And I didn't like him whatsoever. Until I found out who he really was. And now, this person who I thought I would hate, is my best friend.
So what does that say about me? Besides the fact that I was MAJORLY WRONG to have an opinion of someone who I've never actually met. (and yes, I'm trying to get better at this. I'm still learning...)
I think many females are like this. Especially when it comes to guys. And where does God come into play? Well He usually doesn't.
Until I started college this past fall, you could've called me a man hater. I didn't hate all men, just most. There were a few guys who I knew in high school who made a good impression. And they will forever have a place in my heart for that. :) But most men, especially at my church, were all arrogant idiots. And so these "Christian" guys seemed to be the models for what all men were like. HA. I was wrong. Totally wrong.
There are many sweet, intelligent, lovable men out there. And when they also hit the Christian category, they are a truly amazing person.
Leading the ReachOut Club this past semester at school has let me meet many Christian men.
I met Jordan before this semester, but he is one guy who is incredibly sweet, funny, extremely intelligent and an excellent example as to what a man is to be.
Then I met Kevin. He was very sweet, humble, and a good listener. He told me his testimony and if I was a judging Christian, I would not like him at all. But I've been learning a lot about forgiveness and grace. And I need to give what I have received to those who need it the most. And to be honest, I hate judging people. But I do it out of habit. So one of my quests for this new year is to eliminate that bad quality in my life.
Then I met Matthew (my best friend), and he was extremely sweet, very funny, an excellent writer, fantastic analyzer, and a real friend. I say 'real friend' because he is the type of person to not care what you have done in the past to determine who you are now. And in that aspect, I want to be like him. But Matthew is also easily judged by all. In fact, he has been the hardest person I've met to not judge. He's told me so many things about his past that he does not deserve respect for, and yet I can't help but admire him for trusting me.
So what is my problem? If you haven't figured it out, it's judgment and hypocrisy.
If you read my post before entitled I am not big enough, you'd see that I struggle a lot with understanding the secular world. I've grown up a Christian home. I was homeschooled. I've gone to church every sunday. I've obeyed my parents rules. I could be considered the perfect model of purity. Many people have called me an angel.
BUT I HATE IT !
Yeah, I bet you weren't expecting that.
Sure, I've done all the right things my whole life. But in my heart, I know I'm just as bad as the worst sinner out there. I don't want people to call me an angel, because that is certainly not who I am. I don't have it all together. And if you get to know me, you'll find that out. I struggle with being accepted. And every day is just another day I long for someone to come along and love me, forever. And I had just about given up on ever finding a guy who would be able to be my hero. Because like I said before, all the "Christian" guys I knew were arrogant jerks.
Well college has changed my opinion. Sure, I go to a secular school. I love it. It's the been the best life experience I've had thus far. (except maybe brain surgery..but that's another story)
This blog is entitled "Finding God in the World" and that is exactly the quest that college life has sent me on. In my photography classes, the sex ratio is about 50/50. Half the class are men. I was kind of surprised by this since all the photographers I follow are women. But really, half of the class are guys. And half of the guys I would say are perverts. And the other half are "semi-nice." There is one kid who I think may be a Christian, because I've seen him with some of my friends on facebook (yes, I'm a fb stalker)...but he's probably the only one.
I met Jordan, Kevin and Matthew all through the ReachOut Christian Club at school. So they are much different than the guys in my classes.
Now here is something about Matthew. I had seen him in pictures with some of my old friends on facebook. He seemed to be a nice guy. And I figured I'd meet him one day eventually since we had so many mutual friends. I actually saw him several times at WCCC sitting in the lobby with a group of friends around him. And there were a few times I've contemplated going up to him and just saying "Hi Matt. I stalk your facebook." But feeling that would be incredibly awkward for the both of us, I never did.
And here's another thing about me. I don't like popular people. I've learned from the past that those popular people are always the ones who will eventually reject me and make me feel like a piece of crap. So I avoid them. And Matthew seemed to know everyone, and that made up my mind even more that I should not say hi. I can't take anymore rejection from friends in my life. So if I think you're not really going to be a good friend, I'll just avoid you. And that is especially true for men.
But anyhow, when Matthew came to our prayer group one week, I thought he seemed to be a hypocrite in the way he acted. He seemed to act all humble and all. But that wasn't who I knew him to be from my friends.
AND OH WAS I WRONG.
Not long after that he messaged me on facebook and we were talking, and I brought up my former best friend. And he goes "Oh, her and I had quite an experience." I was like...dude please tell me you are not that guy who she "ran away with." But he disappointed me and told me the whole story. Which was much different from what I had heard. And today, I'm very glad he did tell me.
But I hated him for a while after that. Until he told me about his feelings of being rejected, hurt, and unloved. Then I realized, "Oh my gosh, I'M SO STUPID. He is exactly like me and I didn't even realize it." I was being hypocritical of him. If someone were to shoot me then, I would've been incredibly happy. haha..not really. But I felt like a total idiot. I was becoming the person who I didn't want to be friends with, myself. And I quickly changed that. And we have become very good friends.
It's not that easy to change for everyone though. It's a problem that I need to work on. And I usually just let my fears get in the way of change. But this year, I am resolving to be a loving person. And not to judge before I know the whole story.
So let me know what you think. Do you have any suggestions as to what I can do to change?
May God bless you all.
So the person who is my best friend now, I had a predisposed opinion of him before we met. And I didn't like him whatsoever. Until I found out who he really was. And now, this person who I thought I would hate, is my best friend.
So what does that say about me? Besides the fact that I was MAJORLY WRONG to have an opinion of someone who I've never actually met. (and yes, I'm trying to get better at this. I'm still learning...)
I think many females are like this. Especially when it comes to guys. And where does God come into play? Well He usually doesn't.
Until I started college this past fall, you could've called me a man hater. I didn't hate all men, just most. There were a few guys who I knew in high school who made a good impression. And they will forever have a place in my heart for that. :) But most men, especially at my church, were all arrogant idiots. And so these "Christian" guys seemed to be the models for what all men were like. HA. I was wrong. Totally wrong.
There are many sweet, intelligent, lovable men out there. And when they also hit the Christian category, they are a truly amazing person.
Leading the ReachOut Club this past semester at school has let me meet many Christian men.
I met Jordan before this semester, but he is one guy who is incredibly sweet, funny, extremely intelligent and an excellent example as to what a man is to be.
Then I met Kevin. He was very sweet, humble, and a good listener. He told me his testimony and if I was a judging Christian, I would not like him at all. But I've been learning a lot about forgiveness and grace. And I need to give what I have received to those who need it the most. And to be honest, I hate judging people. But I do it out of habit. So one of my quests for this new year is to eliminate that bad quality in my life.
Then I met Matthew (my best friend), and he was extremely sweet, very funny, an excellent writer, fantastic analyzer, and a real friend. I say 'real friend' because he is the type of person to not care what you have done in the past to determine who you are now. And in that aspect, I want to be like him. But Matthew is also easily judged by all. In fact, he has been the hardest person I've met to not judge. He's told me so many things about his past that he does not deserve respect for, and yet I can't help but admire him for trusting me.
So what is my problem? If you haven't figured it out, it's judgment and hypocrisy.
If you read my post before entitled I am not big enough, you'd see that I struggle a lot with understanding the secular world. I've grown up a Christian home. I was homeschooled. I've gone to church every sunday. I've obeyed my parents rules. I could be considered the perfect model of purity. Many people have called me an angel.
BUT I HATE IT !
Yeah, I bet you weren't expecting that.
Sure, I've done all the right things my whole life. But in my heart, I know I'm just as bad as the worst sinner out there. I don't want people to call me an angel, because that is certainly not who I am. I don't have it all together. And if you get to know me, you'll find that out. I struggle with being accepted. And every day is just another day I long for someone to come along and love me, forever. And I had just about given up on ever finding a guy who would be able to be my hero. Because like I said before, all the "Christian" guys I knew were arrogant jerks.
Well college has changed my opinion. Sure, I go to a secular school. I love it. It's the been the best life experience I've had thus far. (except maybe brain surgery..but that's another story)
This blog is entitled "Finding God in the World" and that is exactly the quest that college life has sent me on. In my photography classes, the sex ratio is about 50/50. Half the class are men. I was kind of surprised by this since all the photographers I follow are women. But really, half of the class are guys. And half of the guys I would say are perverts. And the other half are "semi-nice." There is one kid who I think may be a Christian, because I've seen him with some of my friends on facebook (yes, I'm a fb stalker)...but he's probably the only one.
I met Jordan, Kevin and Matthew all through the ReachOut Christian Club at school. So they are much different than the guys in my classes.
Now here is something about Matthew. I had seen him in pictures with some of my old friends on facebook. He seemed to be a nice guy. And I figured I'd meet him one day eventually since we had so many mutual friends. I actually saw him several times at WCCC sitting in the lobby with a group of friends around him. And there were a few times I've contemplated going up to him and just saying "Hi Matt. I stalk your facebook." But feeling that would be incredibly awkward for the both of us, I never did.
And here's another thing about me. I don't like popular people. I've learned from the past that those popular people are always the ones who will eventually reject me and make me feel like a piece of crap. So I avoid them. And Matthew seemed to know everyone, and that made up my mind even more that I should not say hi. I can't take anymore rejection from friends in my life. So if I think you're not really going to be a good friend, I'll just avoid you. And that is especially true for men.
But anyhow, when Matthew came to our prayer group one week, I thought he seemed to be a hypocrite in the way he acted. He seemed to act all humble and all. But that wasn't who I knew him to be from my friends.
AND OH WAS I WRONG.
Not long after that he messaged me on facebook and we were talking, and I brought up my former best friend. And he goes "Oh, her and I had quite an experience." I was like...dude please tell me you are not that guy who she "ran away with." But he disappointed me and told me the whole story. Which was much different from what I had heard. And today, I'm very glad he did tell me.
But I hated him for a while after that. Until he told me about his feelings of being rejected, hurt, and unloved. Then I realized, "Oh my gosh, I'M SO STUPID. He is exactly like me and I didn't even realize it." I was being hypocritical of him. If someone were to shoot me then, I would've been incredibly happy. haha..not really. But I felt like a total idiot. I was becoming the person who I didn't want to be friends with, myself. And I quickly changed that. And we have become very good friends.
It's not that easy to change for everyone though. It's a problem that I need to work on. And I usually just let my fears get in the way of change. But this year, I am resolving to be a loving person. And not to judge before I know the whole story.
So let me know what you think. Do you have any suggestions as to what I can do to change?
May God bless you all.
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