A space alien no more

Last spring, when I was using non-invasive ventilation 24/7, I often felt like a space alien. I always had to wear my full-face BiPAP mask in order to keep high pressure air flowing into my nose and mouth. The high pressure air was essential in forcing air into my lungs. By forcing my lungs to inhale, my body was able to more fully able to exhale, ridding my body of carbon dioxide. If I took off my mask, I was once again in a low pressure environment. My body could not properly exhale carbon dioxide and very soon, toxic levels of carbon dioxide would build up in my blood. So although taking off my mask did not mean I would inhale poisonous gas (like I imagine would happen to space aliens if they visited our planet), taking off my mask was almost just as deadly when my body could no longer properly get rid of carbon dioxide.

With all this being said, anytime I left my house, I always had to wear my BiPAP mask. This was very challenging. Wearing the mask meant I could not talk to people. Also, I could not communicate via facial expressions because no one could see my face with the full-face mask on. Of course having a large plastic mask on my face which was hooked up via long tubing to a ventilator meant that people would ALWAYS stare at me. People would sometimes whisper, and kids would look with wide eyes at me. I really felt like a space alien and was not able to communicate with people while wearing the mask. When I got to the checkout lane at the grocery store, the only way I could converse with the cashier was by shaking my head "yes" or "no".

After having surgery which placed a tracheostomy tube in my throat and allowed me to breathe via invasive ventialtion, I suddenly was freed from the large mask on my face. The day I was discharged after having my tracheostomy surgery, the very first place I visited was the grocery store. People still stared at me because that is what people do when they see someone riding around on a motorized scooter with a tube in her throat connected via tubing to a ventilator. But now, everything was different! When people stared, I could smile back at them. I often would also greet them, which seemed to startle people. Either people in a stunned disbelief greeted me back, or they quickly turned away from me. When kids stared at me with their wide eyes, I smiled and waved at them. When I got to the checkout lane, it was such a relief to be able to communicate with the cashier. How joyous it was to say, "Thank you!" or even to say "yes" or "no".

What a joy it is to smile! What a joy it is to be able to speak! What joy it is to no longer have a giant mask on my face and no longer be a space alien!

The running of the bull...well actually it was a very angry mama cow (Part Two)

I soon passed the stand of trees and was once again on the dry sand. The rocky cliff was so close! As I was about to ascend the steep crag, I noticed how jagged the rocks were. I was very thankful at that moment to have my sandals. I quickly threw down my sandals on to the sand and slipped my feet into them. As fast as I could, I started scaling the rocky outpost. I could see mama cow a little distance behind me. I thought, "Can cattle climb cliffs?" As this thought ran through my head, I noticed hoof prints in the dirt. "Oh no! Cattle can and do climb this cliff. I have seen cattle on this point several times, and sometimes they also climb down the cliff on to the on-campus beach! Oh Lord, please give me the strength to keep on climbing. Please keep this beast far away from me!"

When I finally reached the top of the massive rock formation, I immediately traversed the apex and started my descent toward the on-campus beach. As I was weaving my way down between rocks, I could see about 15-20 students happily running and swimming on the on-campus beach. I was elated to see other humans! I was very excited because if I happened to slip and/or fall, someone might see me and rescue me. When I finally jumped down from the bottom of the rocky crag on to the soft sand, I started to jog toward campus. (I did not want to full-out run to prevent any alarm from springing up in my colleagues.) At the end of the beach, there was a small incline which lead to a paved road and some campus housing. When I reached the concrete pavement, I stopped and turned around. As I panted and gasped for breath, I looked back toward the rocky cliff, but I did not see mama cow. A tremendous sense of relief and praise to God filled my soul.

Still spooked by the whole situation, I immediately turned around and started briskly walking back to my dorm room. Every so often, I would quickly glance over my shoulder to make sure mama cow was not behind me. When I reached my dormitory, I slowly ascended the two flights of stairs to my dorm room. A question floated through my head, "Can cattle climb stairs?" I know this was a ridiculous question, and what was even more ridiculous was to think mama cow would track me all through campus and find me at my dorm...but fear was still consuming my thoughts.

When I finally entered my dorm room, I looked over my shoulder one last time to make sure mama cow was not behind me. I then gratefully closed my dorm door. I slung my heavy backpack to the floor and collapsed on to my bed. My body was shaking with fatigue, and excess adrenaline was still coursing through my veins. As I waited for my breathing to slow down, I re-hashed the day's events. I suddenly started to find the humor in it all. While living in Spain, I had wanted to run with the bulls in Pamplona. Unfortunately, I was never able to attend the event. Well, now, as I thought about mama cow chasing me, I suddenly realized I had accomplished one of the things on my bucket list! Although I ran on a beach (and not on the streets on Pamplona) and was chased by a cow (and not a bull), today's events were close enough for me! And oh what an adventure it was! Now, it was time to open up my book bag and start studying.

"Be not far from me, for trouble is near; for there is none to help. Many bulls have surrounded me; strong bulls of Bashan have encircled me. They open wide their mouth at me, as a ravening and a roaring lion. But You, O LORD, be not far off; O You my help, hasten to my assistance. Deliver my soul from the sword, my only life from the power of the dog. Save me from the lion's mouth; from the horns of the wild oxen You answer me" (Psalm 22:11-13, 19-21).

The running of the bull...well actually it was a very angry mama cow (Part One)

It was a gorgeous weekend day many years ago, while I was attending university. I had a lot of studying to do, but I did not want to stay indoors. With the whole campus and beyond waiting just outside my dorm room door, I decided to pack up all my books and look for a place to study. Now, when I say I packed up all my books, I do mean I packed up ALL my books--my histology book, my histology atlas, my two biochemistry books, my 1500 page anatomy book, my 1280 page Gray's Anatomy textbook and of course pages and pages of class notes. With my backpack stuffed full to capacity, I set off to find my perfect study place.

As I was walking on campus, I headed toward one of the on-campus beaches. I remembered seeing a beautiful white-sand beach which was just a little ways away from campus. The beach was sequestered off from campus by a rocky cliff which jetted out into the water and separated the off-campus beach from the on-campus beach. No one ever seemed to venture to this secluded beach. I thought to myself, "What a great place to study!" And off I went.

When I arrived at the off-campus beach, I marveled that there was not a single person around. I slowly walked along the shore. I spotted a beautiful shaded area at the far end of the beach. "Perfect!" I thought. "This is going to be my studying sanctuary for the afternoon." As I approached the shaded area, I noticed in the midst of the grove of trees which lined the beach, there was a barbed-wire fence. And behind the face, there were about 75-100 cattle. I thought it was odd that there was a cattle ranch so close to the beach, but I pushed aside this anomaly and kept walking toward my intended destination. As I was nearing the shaded area, I noticed a young calf tied up with rope to a tree. As soon as the calf saw me, it started whining and squealing. Since the calf was tied up, I figured I was safe from the calf possibly attacking me. I continued walking. As I got closer to the calf, it started to squeal louder and louder and paced frantically back and forth.

Suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I saw something. Coming down a path made in between the trees, mama cow was bolting toward the beach! She was bellowing loudly like a ravening lion and stampeding right toward me! Now, mama cow was not an ordinary cow. She had two very long horns with very sharp points on their ends. She stood about 6-7 seven feet tall and could easily destroy a car if one happened to run into her. Mama cow was a brute beast. I knew I had to run for my life to avoid being trampled to death or possibly being gored to death by her long horns. In a split second, I turned around and started running toward campus. At this moment, I was lamenting for having taken ALL my textbooks with me to study. My book bag was incredibly heavy and was slamming into my back with each step I took. I thought to myself, "I know I could out run this beast, but these books are slowing me down. These books might yet be the end of me!"

As I was running, one of my sandals fell off. I quickly did a cost-benefit analysis. "Well, these sandals cost $40. They are my only pair of sandals I have here at university. I wear them almost every day. If I turn around and quickly backtrack to retrieve my sandal, I think I have enough of a lead on the cow to avoid being gored by the cow's horns." In an instant, I flipped around and started running the twenty feet back to my sandal. As I was slowing down to pick up my sandal, I kicked off my other sandal. I swooped down and grabbed both sandals with my right hand and immediately turned back around. I briefly looked behind me. The mama cow was so close! I could hear her snort as air rushed quickly in and out of her nostrils. I mustered up all my energy and ran with all my might toward the rocky cliff which separated the off-campus beach from the on-campus beach.

I was gaining some distance on the mama cow when a tremendous obstacle stood in my way. A stand of trees extended out from the grove of trees which lined the beach and reached out into the water. "Oh no! What am I going to do! The trees are a tangled mess. If I wished to stay on the beach, I will have to climb up and over the trees. I know mama cow will definitely catch me if I have to climb through the trees." So looking out to the water, I knew what I had to do. I dashed and splashed into the water. Thankfully, I only had to wade through about 3 feet of water, which kept my precious textbooks dry. A question ran through my mind, "Can cattle swim?" I immediately looked over my shoulder. To my astonishment, as the cow was nearing the stand of trees, she started running into the water! "Oy vey! I am in trouble!!!"

When God moves mountains

Last week, my respiratory therapist from my durable medical equipment company came to visit me, as she does every month, to check in on me and to retrieve data from my ventilator. My respiratory therapist was very disheartened to see after several trips to the large medical facility, I was still very short of breath and still having significant issues with my trach tube. As we were talking, she started telling me about a pulmonologist who specializes in neuromuscular diseases and practices at the large medical center. I told the respiratory therapist I was very happy with my current pulmonologist, although the next available appointment I was able to schedule with her was three months away.

After the respiratory therapist left, the new doctor was on my mind. What if this was an answer to my prayer? I have been asking God over and over again for relief from my symptoms. Maybe this new doctor could help. I did a Google search on the doctor, and all her reviews came back as five out of five. Every comment posted about the doctor reflected on how the doctor was caring, compassionate and went above and beyond to find solutions to her patient's challenging problems. As much as I did not want to see another pulmonologist, her reviews were too good to pass up! What did I have to lose!?

But then a thought drifted through my mind that it might be a good idea to see my primary care doctor and have him refer me to the doctor. I thought perhaps I might be able to get in to see the pulmonologist faster going this route. So, I called my doctor and hoped I could get an appointment to see him soon. To my great surprise, the receptionist told me he had an appointment available the very next afternoon. "I'll take it!"

I was very grateful my primary care doctor happily made a referral to the pulmonologist. He even called the pulmonologist's office and got the referral going while I was still in the clinic! The doctor said the pulmonologist's office would call me to set up the appointment.

I patiently waited four days for the pulmonologist's office to call me. Finally, I decided to call them. The receptionist told me it was six week wait for a new patient to see the pulmonologist. She then said someone would call me back to set up the appointment. I waited another day. Then, I decided perhaps my primary care doctor could help out. I called his office, and his nurse agreed to follow up with the pulmonologist's office.

Finally after several more days of waiting, I called the pulmonologist's office again. This time, the receptionist said, "Oh, yes. I was supposed to call you. The doctor wants to see you in the next month, but there are no appointments available. Maybe I can talk to the doctor and see if I can get you in to see her." I usually do not plead my case to relate to the receptionist the urgency of my situation, but today I did. "Please see if the doctor can see me soon. I am in respiratory failure. I have seen almost every pulmonologist in my area, and none of them have been able to help. My breathing is very fast and is putting a strain on my heart. I would greatly appreciate if the doctor could see me soon." The receptionist said she would talk to the doctor and call me back.

A few minutes later, the receptionist called back. "The doctor can see you at 1:30 on Tuesday. Can you make that?" (What!? That is only five days away! I nearly start crying.) "Yes, Tuesday at 1:30 works for me!" When I hang up the phone, tears of joy and gratitude fill my eyes. I lie on my bed thanking God for His abundant kindness. Two hours after I scheduled the appointment, the nurse from my primary care doctor's office calls. "I am so sorry. We have been calling every day this week to get an appointment for you with the pulmonologist, but we can not get anything set up with their office." I am filled with delight that my doctor's office had followed through on their promise. "Oh, thank you so much for all your help. I was able to schedule an appointment this afternoon." The nurse was very pleased. He took down my appointment information and then hung up. I was smiling ear to ear knowing that my primary care doctor and his office were working hard to get me an appointment. It made scheduling the appointment with the pulmonologist today all the more miraculous!

"Oh, LORD! Oh, LORD! I have been praying and praying and praying. And now, in an instant, I have an appointment to see the pulmonologist and do not have to wait the usual six weeks for a new patient appointment. Oh, thank You again for Your loving kindness and abundant mercies. Thank You for moving so many mountains. Please, let this appointment go well. Please give guidance and wisdom to this doctor. Please let me be free from all these tracheostomy issues. In Jesus' precious name. Amen"

Thank God you are still here! (Part 3)

In the morning, my first visitor was the doctor I saw at the clinic. He was so very kind and had a deep sorrow in his eyes. He talked to me only a few minutes. He told me that I had a ruptured ovarian cyst on my left side which leaked 700 mL (24 ounces) of fluid into my abdominal cavity. The cyst had compressed and occluded my intestines, which caused my vomiting and had compressed everything on the right side of my body, which caused the severe right-sided pain. (I was relieved to hear it was indeed my left ovary which had ruptured as that is the side of my abdomen which had been ailing me for about the last 3 months.) He kept asking if there was anything he could do for me. Despite having a raging fever and desperately wanting ice to cool off my hot flesh, I insisted I was fine and thanked him for his visit. 

A little while later, the doctor who accompanied me in the ambulance to the hospital visited me. He had a worried look on his face. The first words out of his mouth were, "Thank God you are still here!" I was a bit amused by his remark. I thought to myself, "Oh course I am still here! I just had major surgery last night! I am cut from hip bone to hip bone. I sure hope they would not have discharged me home while I was still under anesthesia!" Instead of blurting out these rude remarks, I remained silent. The doctor talked to me for just a brief time and then left.

I spent only that day and the next recovering. On the third day, I was begging to be discharged. I had a flight I needed to catch the following morning. It was the week before Christmas. I knew if I was not on that flight, I would not be able to get another flight for a week. Furthermore, most of my university friends would be on that flight. I knew they could help me travel. If I had to wait and catch a later flight, I would be traveling alone. So, in my desperation, I began lying to my doctor. "Oh no, doctor, I am in very little pain. I feel great." (Liar, liar! I was in lots of pain and was extremely dizzy whenever I stood up...but hey, I had a flight to catch!) I remember praying all morning (starting at 4 a.m.) for God to allow me to go back to my dorm to pack up my things and catch my flight the next day. Thankfully, God answered my prayer in a favorable way. Since it was a Sunday, the surgeon was not slated to come in to the hospital. I was able to convince the resident doctor to call the surgeon and ask for my discharge. Praise be to God, the surgeon consented to my release.

My journey home was nothing short of many miracles. When I arrived back at my campus dorm, my roommate packed up all my things. I felt bad that I was not able to help, but I was in so much pain. I could do little more than lie on my bed, and quickly I fell asleep. The next day, a number of my friends helped me through airport security and on to the flight. They also helped me get off the plane. Then we parted ways. I had two more planes to catch. God was incredibly gracious and provided help every step of the way. Eighteen hours after I left my university dorm room, I arrived home! Praise be to God!

Nine months after surgery, as I was walking to one of my classes on campus, I saw the doctor who accompanied me in the ambulance to the hospital. He stopped and started talking to me. He told me how concerned he was for me that day so long ago. He said no one was sure if I was going to make it through surgery. I was very sick. I was in septic shock--my kidneys and intestines had shut down, and my health was quickly deteriorating. He told me he had stayed at the hospital through my surgery. He only went home when the hospital medical staff said I was out of surgery and should make it through the night. Immediately, his words from nine months ago rang in my ears, "Thank God you are still here!" I suddenly realized the doctor did not mean he was grateful I was still at the hospital. Instead, he was grateful I was still alive. 

Instantly, I felt very weak and overwhelmed with thanks to God. I knew I was sick, but I had no idea I was that sick. Despite my hard-headedness in not seeking medical treatment sooner, God had moved mountain after mountain to clear the way for me to keep on keeping on...and that knowledge has been a tremendous blessing in my life!

"Surely my soul remembers and is bowed down within me. This I recall to mind, therefore I have hope. The LORD'S lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness." (Lamentations 3:20-23)

Thank God you are still here! (Part 2)

When we arrived at the hospital, a physician who worked at the university was the doctor in charge of the emergency room. He was the first person to greet us. Tears of relief filled my eyes when I saw the doctor's university ID. Praise be to God! I did not have a local doctor but was in the hands of a highly skilled physician. Seeing this man from the university comforted and reassured me everything would be ok. The university doctor quickly diagnosed me as having an ovarian cyst. 

As soon as he made this diagnosis, he pulled out his mobile phone and called the best surgeon in the region, who just "happened" to specialize in OBGYN. (Oh another incredible miracle!) Furthermore, the doctor just "happened" to be at the university, only a 30 minute drive away, and not at her home, which was over an hour away from the hospital. She quickly was on her way to the hospital.

I was whisked away to have an ultrasound. The ultrasound technician told me how lucky I was. Usually there was a 2 hour wait for the ultrasound machine. But today, at this moment, there was no one who needed to use the machine. (Again, I was overwhelmed with an incredible sense of gratitude that God was moving so many mountains to get me the care I needed.) The technician could see lots of fluid in my abdomen. She could not clearly discern which ovary had a cyst on it, but decided after much examination it was my right ovary.

I was hurried off to the gynecology ward of the hospital, where the surgeon examined me and was sure I had an acute appendicitis. By this time, pain consumed my body, and I was screaming in agony. The surgeon told me she thought it was an appendicitis, but either way (if it was an appendicitis or ovarian cyst), she needed to operate. She told me she would do an exploratory laparotomy and whatever was ailing me, she would fix. (In normal circumstances, I would have been petrified to go into surgery. However, I was in such extreme pain, I was grateful to hear I would soon be asleep from the anesthesia and would be out of my misery.) I gladly signed my release papers to go into surgery. 

I was soon prepped for surgery and wheeled into the operating theater. I was overjoyed when I saw the large syringe with the magic white anesthesia liquid that knocks you out for surgery. Everyone kept telling me not to be afraid. I, however, was not afraid but in severe pain. Moreover, my body was consumed with fatigue, and I was fighting hard to stay awake. I knew in a few minutes, I would be out of my misery and finally able to get the sleep my body craved. As the people in the operating theater rushed around me, a doctor who used to attend my university started talking to me. She was asking me about various professors and classes. She was such a comfort when so much chaos was swirling around me. Very soon, it was lights out!

When I woke up in post-op, the room was completely white--white floors, white walls, white ceiling, white sheets draped over a sea of hospital beds. I could see a nurse far across the room clothed in a white dress with white shoes and a white hat. She was sitting behind a white desk. (One could almost imagine with all the white, it was like waking up in heaven!) The first thought that ran through my mind was, "Am I alive?" I then heard the nurse pick up a white phone on her desk and say, "She just woke up." I then immediately look down toward my abdomen. I then said, "Thank God, the pain is gone!" I then went back to sleep.

The next memory I have is of me being wheeled up to the gynecology ward. I kept going in and out of consciousness for the next 12 hours.

Thank God you are still here! (Part 1)

Once upon a time in a far away land, I attended university. It was absolutely a dream! All the students were pursuing the same degree, and thus we all had the same classes. It was amazing to be in the midst of individuals with the same interests and with the same hopes and dreams. My first term was a fairy tale. Everything that could go right did go right. My second term, however, changed my life forever.

About a month into my second term, I started developing lower left quadrant abdominal pain whenever food passed through that part of my intestines. I was not worried at first. I thought it perhaps was a GI flu. The pain grew worse and worse and was accompanied by severe nausea. Two weeks before midterms, I could only eat liquids. All other food made me severely ill. The week before midterms, I was so sick, I could not attend classes. But determined to complete midterms, I put my nose to the grindstone and ignored the pleas by my body to seek medical attention. I made a promise to myself I would go to the clinic after midterms if I was still severely sick. Despite being very malnourished, dehydrated and sleep-deprived, I whizzed through my midterms with stellar grades! After the exams, my GI symptoms slowly went away. In a few days, I was again able to eat solid foods. In my deep pit of self-denial, I assured myself I was on the road to better health.

I enjoyed about a month of good health. I was able to eat food without any ill-repercussions and had gained some strength back to hike up the hill to classes. Unfortunately, my good health was short lived. Two weeks before finals, I again became terribly ill, with the same symptoms I had had previously. I could eat no more than liquids. I survived by drinking 4 glasses of Cadbury hot chocolate with milk and sugar, which provided a generous 400 calories per glass. I soon was too weak and too sick to attend classes. Again, my strong will to finish the term with my classmates superseded all logic and common sense to go to the campus medical clinic. Somehow, I managed to complete all my finals and achieved high marks in my classes. 

At 2 a.m. after my last final, I awoke from sleep with the worse pain of my life! I could barely move and had no idea what was wrong with me or what I should do. I managed to make my way to the bathroom where I threw up and curled up in a ball from the intense pain. Over the next few hours, I managed to make my way back to my room. By the time I got to my room, I was so exhausted, I could only think about getting back in bed and getting back to sleep. Knowing I was in bad health, I left my door to my room open, hoping in the morning one of my roommates would see me and come into my room. I tried and tried to go to sleep, but I couldn’t do anything to alleviate the pain. Any direction I tried to lay on my bed, I nearly shrieked in pain. The more I moved, the more nauseas I became, and the more I threw up. In the end, I threw up about 7-8 times, with the last of my vomit being black--i.e., bile from my intestines. 

At around 11 a.m., my one roommate got up and seeing my door open, checked in on me to see what I wanted to do for the day. I told her I didn’t feel well and didn’t know what to do. After a brief discussion, the pain was too much; I told her I needed to go to the clinic now! I could not get up from my bed. So my roommate ran to the on-campus clinic. She arranged for a campus van to pick me up and get me to the clinic. My two roommates carried me down two flights of stairs and into the awaiting van. Upon arriving at the clinic, I was able to be seen by a physician within about 2 minutes.

The nurse took my vitals, which were impressive! My blood pressure was 240/150, my temperature was 104.5, and my pulse was 140 beats per minute. I was extremely short of breath and could barely speak. When the physician examined me, he tried to dismiss all my symptoms as a bout of GI flu. I could sense he was trying to push me out the door. Thankfully, this physician was the same physician I had the semester before in my anatomy small discussion group. Suddenly, his lecture on appendicitis ran through my brain. Moreover, in my head, a voice was  screaming, "You need to get to the hospital now!" I knew something was seriously wrong with me; I knew I needed urgent medical treatment.

In an instant, I started remembering everything I had ever learned about an appendicitis and started acting like I had an appendicitis. Although the pain for the last 3 months had been on my left side, today the pain was on my right side. So, in the spirit of not lying, I started complaining about my lower right abdominal pain. I kept repeating words the physician had said during our small group session. Very quickly, the doctor's ears pricked up, and he finally looked at me! He then quickly started telling me he thought I had an appendicitis and needed to go to the hospital. (I was praising God for the insight to feign an appendicitis. I was also grateful the physician said I was going to be taken to the hospital. I knew once I got to the hospital, I would get the medical attention I so desperately needed.) 

(A side note: my roommate said she could not believe the physician was going to send me home. She said, all you had to do was look at me to see I was ashen gray in color and in severe distress. My roommate said if I had not spoken up when I did, she would have. Her words from so long ago still overflow my heart with abundant gratitude and love. I am so grateful God arranged for us to be roommates. She has been a blessing over and over again in my life!)

When I was loaded up into the ambulance, a physician from the clinic, a nurse and my roommate accompanied me. It was a long 30 minute drive to the hospital on very pot-hole laden roads. The driver was trying to go fast, which caused the ambulance to bounce up and down as it hit a plethora of potholes. I was so grateful the nurse screamed at the driver to slow down. "We are in a hurry, but for goodness sake, avoid the potholes and slow down!!!"

When words seem to be lost...when words are not heard.

Whenever I see a physician, I do my best to boil down my symptoms to just the ones which need the most urgent attention. I know my medical case is often complicated, but I try really hard to give only the most relevant details and skip anything which might only cloud the air with unnecessary information. However, as hard I try, sometimes doctors just make everything so complicated.

Recently, while hospitalized, I had my trach tube changed out. Within ten minute of having the trach tube changed, I was violently coughing and gasping for air. No matter what I did, I could not stop coughing. My trachea was becoming inflamed and was becoming more and more painful with each passing minute. I begged doctors and nurses for relief from my symptoms. Benadryl? Sedation? Anything? I was offered lidocaine, but after having been hospitalized about 40 days in the last four months and having lidocaine constantly poured down my trach tube due to coughing spells, my lungs now no longer respond by going numb. Instead, I start coughing violently. So, I am coughing uncontrollably, and the only thing I am offered is a substance which causes painful coughing spells. Oh boy! This is going to be a long night! And indeed it was.

In the morning, I hoped maybe I could get my trach tube changed back to my old one. When the doctor came in, I tried to clearly outline that my new trach was causing significant discomfort...although I am fairly certain my distress was evident based on my breathing being 65 breaths per minute and me hardly being able to talk due to the severity of my shortness of breath. The doctor seemed to dismiss all my concerns. "Your trach tube is NOT the problem. Of course you are breathing fast. You have respiratory failure." The doctor insisted that my ventilator settings needed adjusting. Her solution was to put me on the hospital ventilator and do arterial blood gases. I tried to calmly explain that hospital ventilators seem to over-react to my breathing, causing me to develop a fast heart rate, and fast breathing rate. Moreover, the hospital ventilator does not allow me to breathe out completely, which leads to hyperinflation of my lungs. In short, using the hospital vent makes me very miserable and very sick. The doctor dismissed all my concerns and said this was the only plan she had for me.

After thinking about the situation, I decided I was done. It was time to go home before any more suffering/harm could be inflicted upon me. Thankfully, the doctor agreed to discharge me home. When my nurse found out about my discharge, she was shocked. "You are struggling to breathe! You can barely talk! You cannot go home in such a state!" In my sympathy for the nurse, I briefly explained that all I needed was my trach tube changed back to my old one. The nurse stopped my discharge and tracked down my doctor. The nurse then explained everything again to the doctor. However, the doctor again insisted the issue was not my trach tube. Only after ruling out everything else, would the doctor possibly consider changing my trach tube.

When the nurse came back to my room, she begged me to stay in the hospital. I told her I was very tired and did not have the energy to endure needless testing. I was going home. Reluctantly, the nurse proceeded with my discharge. I was thankful to be going home, but I was also scared. My breathing was very ragged. I was not sure I could endure the eight hours it took to get home. Thankfully, through much prayer, God gave me the strength and energy to make the journey. Once home, I was able to sterilize my old trach tube and put it back in. Once the old trach tube was back in place, my extremely fast breathing slowed down, and the constant coughing attacks ceased. (Praise be to God!)

Although I could easily be frustrated and upset by this hospitalization, I look to God's Word for comfort; I look to God's Word for direction. "My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry" (James 1:19). Yes, indeed. This is a lesson we can all take to heart. Shalom!

My Bible does not say that

Once upon a time, I attended a church. It was a lovely church filled with lots and lots of friendly folks. After the first church service I attended, a woman at the church invited me to have tea with her. Being a tremendous lover of tea, I simply could not pass up the offer.

The afternoon tea appointment started off well. The woman and I exchanged stories about our families and a bit about our lives. It was the typical social chatter that encompasses two people getting to know each other. Soon the conversation turned to God. I was happy to talk about my faith experiences--churches I have attended, missionary work and other work I have done with my church family. Very oddly, the woman asked if I was born again. I was confused. "Born again? No, I am pretty sure I have had only one birth. Once was enough for my mom." The woman started telling me I had to be "born again" to be a Christian. I was terribly confused. I had thought I had been a Christian since I was a small child. I prayed to Jesus, loved Him dearly, and proclaimed His Word to children at Sunday school and on the mission field. But now, I was being told none of that matter because I was not "born again".

The woman showed me in her Bible where it said I must be born again. I looked dumb-founded at the words. I had never read these words in my Bible. I thought to myself, "My Bible does not say that." But in the midst of my shock and awe, I could not conjure up the words from my Bible in my head. The woman said I needed to pray a prayer to be "born again". In a state of shock that I was not a Christian, I eagerly prayed the prayer, which ended up being almost the exact same prayer my pastor said at the close of his services, and which I had said in my heart and mind countless times with the pastor. After saying the prayer aloud, the woman seemed satisfied that I was now a Christian. Still in a state of shock, I left the woman's company and went home.

On my way home, my soul was terribly grieved. I wept and prayed to Jesus, telling Him I was so sorry after all the years of my prayers to Him, loving Him and worshiping Him, I was not truly a Christian. I apologized for teaching His word to others, when clearly I was doing all these things as a non-believer. Suddenly, a gentle voice saying, "Open your Bible and read My Word," drifted through my head. But in my state of tremendous grief and shock, I ignored the message. For the next several days, I wept and lamented that for most of my life I had not been a Christian.

Finally in bitter distress, I opened my Bible to the passage the woman showed me in her Bible, John chapter 3 verse 3. My Bible reads as follows, "Jesus answered him, 'Very truly, I tell you no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above,'" (John 3:3). I wept and thanked God. Yes, of course! Born from above, being a new creation. We must laid aside our old selves filled with sinful wickedness and follow Jesus. This is what my pastor had taught year after year. The reason I did not know what the woman was talking about when she said I had to be "born again" is that my Bible translation does not use those words (and neither did my former pastor/church). I then realized I had let someone tell me I was not a Christian because the words in my Bible were translated differently than hers. Oh what relief flowed through my soul to know that indeed I had been a Christian.

Ever since this experience, I try to not judge if someone is a Christian. If someone tells me they are a Christian, I believe them. I will ask questions about what they believe to try to discern their beliefs and practices--do they pray regularly, do they read the Bible daily, do they believe the Bible is true, etc. Even if I get a sense that these folks may not have a relationship with Jesus, I never try to argue that they might not be a Christian. Instead, I will try to encourage them to read the Bible, to pray and to ask questions if they believe something in the Bible is false. If the person is not a Christian, I hope to lead the person to a relationship with Jesus. If the person is a Christian, I hope I can help encourage and strengthen their faith. Only God knows people's hearts and minds. I hope and pray I never hinder someone's belief in Him. "'All things are lawful,' but not all things are beneficial. 'All things are lawful,' but not all things build up. Do not seek your own advantage but that of the other. So whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God. Give no offense to Jews or to Greeks or to the church of God, just as I try to please everyone in everything I do, not seeking my own advantage, but that of many so that they may be saved" (1 Corinthians 10:23-24, 31-33).