These last few months have been a dizzying array of appointments and hospitalizations. One activity I like the least is having to call my insurance company to have appointments approved. It is not a hard process, but it can be challenging giving the address of places and spelling doctors’ names over the phone. There is often background noise, and many times the insurance company has a lot of static on their phone lines. It can take four, five or six times of repeating the same information, and even at that, the information is not always correct. I often think how much easier it would be if I could just fill out a form online and submit it that way.
Moreover, there is always the obstacle of trying to figure out when to call without having to wait an hour on hold. The office opens at 8 a.m. Sometimes you can get right through at this early hour and sometimes you wait on hold for a long time. Sometimes it is best to call at 4:45, 15 minutes before they close. However, I have run into snags when an appointment is not approved, and then the insurance company cannot call the doctor’s office or medical facility because the medical center is closed.
Lastly, if the appointment is for a long distance appointment, I have to call my insurance, set-up the appointment, and then call another extension of the insurance company to get a medical necessity form faxed back to the main insurance company. Calling the insurance company extension is always nerve racking. It is always an hour wait on hold, and then the people answering the phone often are inexperienced at filling out the medical necessity form. It can take 30-45 minutes to go through the process. Once the medical necessity form is filled out, it has to be faxed back over to the main insurance company. I then have to wait a few days and call the main insurance company to ensure the medical necessity form was received and processed. I also have to call the main insurance company a few days before my appointment to make sure the appointment has been approved.
Today, I had to call the insurance company to check if an out of town appointment was approved. I have been praying for two days that this last phone call goes smoothly. I have had appointments not approved, and then it is a last minute sprint to the appointment time to get all the paperwork and information corrected to get the appointment approved. This morning, I got right through to the company. The man I spoke to was easy to understand, there was no background noise and the connection was crystal clear. The appointment was approved. Moveover, another out of town appointment, which is not for several weeks, has also been approved. I was a bit dumb-founded how fast and smooth the phone call went. When I hung up the phone, I sent a joyous prayer up to God. “Well, that was easy! Thanks LORD for all Your help! I know You are the One who made this phone call so simple. Amen!”
Thursday, June 28, 2018
Tuesday, June 26, 2018
Grateful for the day to end
It has been a long day—a day in which I am glad to never have to repeat again. The day started with a neurology appointment. I really like this physician. In February, this doctor referred me on to an expert neurologist at the large medical facility 400 miles away. The doctor I was referred to knew little about what was causing some of my symptoms. He ran a few blood tests. When these came back normal, I was told my symptoms were not neurological in origin. Although he did not come out and directly say it, he implied my symptoms were psychological. I was told to follow back up with my local neurologist.
My local neurologist seemed very disappointed that the “expert” found nothing wrong with me. She was so sure he would be able to help find the cause to some of my symptoms. Now, she was left clueless. My doctor said, “Well, if the expert can’t figure out your case, I don’t think anyone can.” Despite not knowing what to do, I am still supposed to make a follow up appointment with the local neurologist. I leave the appointment, shaking and completely exhausted.
My lack of energy is causing all my symptoms to rage forth with vengeance. My head is spinning; my body is aching; it feels as though there is an elephant on my chest. I am hot; then I am cold. My cough sounds like a high pitched squeal. As I sit, waiting to register and schedule my appointment, my coughing grows worse and worse. I suddenly feel as though I am fighting with all my energy to breathe. Sharp pain explodes in my chest. My body is shaking uncontrollably as my energy levels drop through the floor. The woman at registration summons a nurse from the emergency department.
When the emergency department nurse arrives, he immediately recognizes me. I have been recently hospitalized three times in two weeks at this facility. He quickly tells the registration woman not to worry. I am just having a coughing spell. He assures the woman that I get these quite often. The trach in my throat causes a lot of irritation and makes me cough. I will eventually stop coughing. Upon hearing the nurse’s words, I am in disbelief. I do not have coughing fits due to my trach. I have coughing episodes because I have FOUR bacteria who are throwing a party in my lungs. I have in my backpack my culture results from my previous hospitalizations stating this information. However, my coughing is so severe, I cannot speak or move. I decide it’s best not to try to argue with the nurse. I do not ever want to be hospitalized at this medical center again due to previous bad experiences. I decide this is God intervening and protecting me from harm. The nurse leaves.
When I am registering for my appointment, there is no electrical outlet around to plug in my humidifier. Within 20 minutes, my lungs are completely dried out. The thick mucus which was causing my coughing and breathing difficulties is now dried out and stuck to the inside of my airways. I stop coughing and am able to breathe better. I praise God for this insight. I am able to leave the medical center, short of breath and feeling very unwell, but my severe coughing has ceased. When I arrive home, I plug my humidifier back in and run my nebulizer. Over the next eight hours, the thick mucus in my airways becomes re-hydrated and fights hard to clog my trach tube. I am seized with endless coughing as my body tries to rid itself of the mucus. I feel like I might die; I am fighting so hard to breathe. Eventually exhaustion overtakes my body; I fall asleep.
I have grown very impatient with the medical world. I wish I could order the tests I need and prescribe the antibiotics I need to fight off the four bacterial infections inhabiting my respiratory tract. Instead, I have to try hard to remember to respect those in authority and patiently wait for God to direct my doctors. He has saved me many times in the midst of dire straits. I know He can do it again.
My local neurologist seemed very disappointed that the “expert” found nothing wrong with me. She was so sure he would be able to help find the cause to some of my symptoms. Now, she was left clueless. My doctor said, “Well, if the expert can’t figure out your case, I don’t think anyone can.” Despite not knowing what to do, I am still supposed to make a follow up appointment with the local neurologist. I leave the appointment, shaking and completely exhausted.
My lack of energy is causing all my symptoms to rage forth with vengeance. My head is spinning; my body is aching; it feels as though there is an elephant on my chest. I am hot; then I am cold. My cough sounds like a high pitched squeal. As I sit, waiting to register and schedule my appointment, my coughing grows worse and worse. I suddenly feel as though I am fighting with all my energy to breathe. Sharp pain explodes in my chest. My body is shaking uncontrollably as my energy levels drop through the floor. The woman at registration summons a nurse from the emergency department.
When the emergency department nurse arrives, he immediately recognizes me. I have been recently hospitalized three times in two weeks at this facility. He quickly tells the registration woman not to worry. I am just having a coughing spell. He assures the woman that I get these quite often. The trach in my throat causes a lot of irritation and makes me cough. I will eventually stop coughing. Upon hearing the nurse’s words, I am in disbelief. I do not have coughing fits due to my trach. I have coughing episodes because I have FOUR bacteria who are throwing a party in my lungs. I have in my backpack my culture results from my previous hospitalizations stating this information. However, my coughing is so severe, I cannot speak or move. I decide it’s best not to try to argue with the nurse. I do not ever want to be hospitalized at this medical center again due to previous bad experiences. I decide this is God intervening and protecting me from harm. The nurse leaves.
When I am registering for my appointment, there is no electrical outlet around to plug in my humidifier. Within 20 minutes, my lungs are completely dried out. The thick mucus which was causing my coughing and breathing difficulties is now dried out and stuck to the inside of my airways. I stop coughing and am able to breathe better. I praise God for this insight. I am able to leave the medical center, short of breath and feeling very unwell, but my severe coughing has ceased. When I arrive home, I plug my humidifier back in and run my nebulizer. Over the next eight hours, the thick mucus in my airways becomes re-hydrated and fights hard to clog my trach tube. I am seized with endless coughing as my body tries to rid itself of the mucus. I feel like I might die; I am fighting so hard to breathe. Eventually exhaustion overtakes my body; I fall asleep.
I have grown very impatient with the medical world. I wish I could order the tests I need and prescribe the antibiotics I need to fight off the four bacterial infections inhabiting my respiratory tract. Instead, I have to try hard to remember to respect those in authority and patiently wait for God to direct my doctors. He has saved me many times in the midst of dire straits. I know He can do it again.
Thursday, June 21, 2018
Waiting...praying...
Tick tock; tick tock. The clock continues its rhythm. Beat beat; beat beat. My heart thumps away. Waiting, waiting, waiting for my appointment. How many times have I been in this same situation? Find a doctor, get a referral, pray for a fast appointment. Wait days, weeks or months for that appointment to come. Pray, pray, pray some more. “Oh, LORD, please let this be the right doctor. Please let this appointment lead to relief from my symptoms. Please heal me. My body is tired—tired from the endless hours of pain, tired from being malnourished, tired from having so very little energy. Send relief soon. Open doors. Perform miracles. Let me see Your glory every day. I know in an instance, in the twinkling of an eye, You can do anything. Please guard and protect us as we travel to the appointment. Please provide wisdom and insight to my physician. Amen.”
Tuesday, June 19, 2018
Cruel heartlessness
As I sit in bed during a recent hospitalization, a new nurse walks into my room. I can immediately tell from her manner and expressions that kindness and hospitality seem to be lacking from her personality. As the nurse interacts with me, I am immediately struck that this seems to be perhaps the cruelest and most heartless person I have ever met.
I am in the midst of a pancreatitis attack. My body is shaking uncontrollably in pain. My heart is racing; my blood pressure keeps going higher and higher; my breathing is ragged. I can hardly talk because shrieks of pain and screams constantly radiate from my mouth. I beg the nurse for pain meds. The pain is growing worse and worse with each passing minute. I can feel the pancreatic digestive enzymes eating away my pancreas. In addition to the excruciating pain, my pancreas is cramping; it feels as though I have a bad charley horse in my pancreas.
The nurse insists I just got pain meds, and there is nothing she can do. I beg; I plead. “Call the doctor! Take me to the ER! I am in the worst pain of my life!” The nurse ignores my cries. Instead, she continues on with her responsibilities. She shoves a thermometer into my mouth to take my temperature. She notes my other vital signs. She then leaves, closing the door behind her. As time passes, the pain continues to intensify. I cannot help but scream. The words, “HELP! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!” continually cry out from my mouth. I think if it is possible, I might just die from the pain.
When it feels as though all hope is lost, my mom suddenly appears in my room. Relief radiates through my body. I now have an advocate. I silently thank God for sending my mom to my side. When my mom sees me screaming and shaking, she is immediately alarmed. She demands I get pain meds. Again, the nurse says there is nothing she can do and leaves, once more closing the door behind her. My mom leaves my side and goes on a loving kindness rampage. When my nurse will not do anything about my pain, my mom demands to speak to the nurse’s supervisor. The nurse supervisor says she can do nothing either, but she does act and has my nurse call my doctor.
After suffering for 3.5 hours, I am finally given a small dose of fentanyl. The pain does not decrease in intensity. I likened it to having someone slam your hand in the car door and then giving you a baby apsirin for the pain. Another hour passes. Finally, the nurse again calls the doctor. I am prescribed a large dose of fentanyl. After nearly five hours from the start of the pancreatitis attack, I finally have some pain relief. My body stops shaking. I stop screaming. I can finally lie on my back. Fatigue from the long hours of pain and drowsiness from the fentanyl tug at my mind. Very soon, my body collapses into sleep. Less than an hour later, I am jolted back awake. The pain is raging again, but this time, only my body shakes. The pain is not severe enough to cause me to scream. I curl up in a ball. I know I could get more fentanyl, but I do not ask for any. I know this will not be my last pancreatitis attack. If I can endure without medication, I must endure. I will not always be so fortunate to be in the hospital when these attacks occur. I need to continue to build my pain threshold.
As a night of pain and sleeplessness passes, I pray to God. I thank Him for the reduction in pain. I thank Him for sending my mom to my side. I pray my nurse develops kindness and compassion. Amazingly, as the night progresses, my nurse does show some empathy. When her shift ends in the morning, the nurse says how sorry she was that I was in so much pain. Although the nurse never apologizes for being so cruel, I thank God that the nurse seems to be developing a warmer heart. I continue to pray for my nurse. May she continue to grow in tenderness and kindness. May none of her patients ever have to spend so much time in such agony. May much love and beauty blossom from my night of pain.
Thursday, June 14, 2018
Just a girl with Google
I arrive to my medical appointment 20 minutes early; I check-in and meander to the far side of the waiting room. My head is spinning from the drive to the clinic. I desperately want to lie down and take a nap, but I know in just a little while I will be called back to the exam room. As I sit still trying to recover some energy, I feel the need to open up my backpack, get out my iPad and connect the iPad to the medical center’s internet. I do not want to move, but I recognize this is not my own urge but a message from above. I reluctantly obey the command, getting out my iPad and connecting it to the internet. I place the iPad back on my lap.
I am soon called back to the exam room. The nurse takes my paperwork and records my vital signs. She tells me the doctor will be in shortly and leaves. About 10 minutes later, the doctor enters the room. The appointment goes well. He then asks me if I have a neurologist who specializes in neuromuscular disease. I do not. He then tells me about a doctor he knows who works in the medical center’s neuromuscular clinic. He then goes to his computer and attempts to look up the physician via the medical center’s website. He gets to the neurology page, and to his horror, there are about 20 doctors listed. He cannot remember the doctor’s name, but he assures me if he sees a photo of the physician he would recognize her. He tries and tries to find the neuromuscular clinic’s webpage and/or find a photo of the physician, but he fails over and over again.
I instantly know why I have my iPad on my lap. I click open the web browser and type in google.com. In the search box I enter “neuromuscular clinic”. The first link listed is a link for the medical center’s neuromuscular clinic. I open the page. I then see a link “meet our team”. I click open the page, and there listed are the doctors associated with the neuromuscular clinic along with photos of the physicians. I ask the nurse who is standing just two feet from me, “Is this what the doctor is looking for?” She glances at the page and immediately gives my iPad to the doctor. The doctor seems stunned. “How did you find this, and how did you find this so quickly?” I reply, “I am just a girl who knows how to search for things on Google.” The physician seems embarrassed that he did not think of that. He quickly finds the doctor he was searching for and writes me out the referral. I am soon sent along on my way. As I reflect back on this appointment, I praise God for the insight to have my iPad accessible during my doctor’s appointment. What an abundant blessing God bestowed upon me for my obedience—a referral to a neurologist who specializes in neuromuscular disease. “Thanks LORD! Amen.”
I am soon called back to the exam room. The nurse takes my paperwork and records my vital signs. She tells me the doctor will be in shortly and leaves. About 10 minutes later, the doctor enters the room. The appointment goes well. He then asks me if I have a neurologist who specializes in neuromuscular disease. I do not. He then tells me about a doctor he knows who works in the medical center’s neuromuscular clinic. He then goes to his computer and attempts to look up the physician via the medical center’s website. He gets to the neurology page, and to his horror, there are about 20 doctors listed. He cannot remember the doctor’s name, but he assures me if he sees a photo of the physician he would recognize her. He tries and tries to find the neuromuscular clinic’s webpage and/or find a photo of the physician, but he fails over and over again.
I instantly know why I have my iPad on my lap. I click open the web browser and type in google.com. In the search box I enter “neuromuscular clinic”. The first link listed is a link for the medical center’s neuromuscular clinic. I open the page. I then see a link “meet our team”. I click open the page, and there listed are the doctors associated with the neuromuscular clinic along with photos of the physicians. I ask the nurse who is standing just two feet from me, “Is this what the doctor is looking for?” She glances at the page and immediately gives my iPad to the doctor. The doctor seems stunned. “How did you find this, and how did you find this so quickly?” I reply, “I am just a girl who knows how to search for things on Google.” The physician seems embarrassed that he did not think of that. He quickly finds the doctor he was searching for and writes me out the referral. I am soon sent along on my way. As I reflect back on this appointment, I praise God for the insight to have my iPad accessible during my doctor’s appointment. What an abundant blessing God bestowed upon me for my obedience—a referral to a neurologist who specializes in neuromuscular disease. “Thanks LORD! Amen.”
Tuesday, June 12, 2018
Endless pain, endless circles
Since November, I have been on a mission to seek pain relief from my chronic pancreatitis. I believe this task will be simple. Go to the doctor. Present your seven years of medical records indicating you have chronic pancreatitis. And instantly, a prescription will be written in which pain pills will soon be in your possession. Of course my blissful visions and reality are vastly different.
My first stop on this merry-go-round is my primary care physician (PCP). I present everything to him and wait for my prescription. “I am sorry. Your issue is your pancreas. I do not treat the pancreas. You should go see a pain specialist.” Bummed, but not defeated, I go in search of a pain specialist. After waiting five weeks for the appointment, I think, “This is it! I will finally have some pain relief.” The pain doctor notes my medical history. He then says, “I do not treat the pancreas. This needs to be dealt with by a GI specialist. Go to a GI doctor. He can prescribe you pain meds.” A bit baffled why a pain specialist can not treat pancreatic pain, I continue on my adventure.
I search diligently to find a GI physician who specializes in treating the pancreas. I send over my seven years of medical records and patiently wait two months for the appointment. When the GI doctor sees me, he immediately dismisses I have pancreatitis. Despite my endless hospitalizations and stacks and stacks of medical records indicating the contrary, the physician refuses to treat me. “Go to a pain specialist for your pain.” I asked him for a recommendation, but he never responds to my inquiry.
Completely heart-broken, I search for another GI doctor. I find a clinician who used to be my GI doctor six years ago. I figure he can not deny my previous medical records as he treated me for chronic pancreatitis in the past. I make the appointment and wait another month. In the meantime, I search and search for a pain specialist. Not finding any pain specialists near me, I decide to try to see the first pain specialist again, again pleading my case and begging for his help. I wait a month for the appointment. A few days before the appointment, my insurance calls me. “The pain specialist you are going to see on Wednesday no longer accepts your insurance. If you go to the appointment, you will be responsible for the charges incurred.” Absolutely shocked but grateful for the information, I call the pain clinic. Yes, it is true. The pain center no longer accepts my insurance. I cancel my appointment.
The next week, I have my appointment with GI doctor number two. The appointment goes well. But as I speak with the physician and more and more of my medical history is revealed, I see panic and worry in his face. He decides not to treat me but to refer me on to one of his colleagues. I leave the appointment with only a referral and no pain medications.
Next, I try to find another pain specialist. To my great relief, it only takes a couple of days to get in to see the doctor. When I explain my need for pain meds for my pancreas, the doctor seems stunned. “I do not treat the pancreas. That is a GI problem. Go see a GI specialist.” When I explain I have seen two GI doctors already, the doctor has some compassion. He does give me a prescription for a few pain pills. Albeit a small victory, I am grateful for his kindness.
After waiting and waiting for my GI referral to GI doctor number 3 to be processed, the appointment is finally scheduled. Another five week wait. When my appointment comes, the physician explains she does not treat the pancreas. She says she will help me, but no pain meds are prescribed, and no follow-up appointment is scheduled. I again seem to have been dropped as a patient by another doctor.
Through all this, I have been suffering daily pancreatic pain and have had many pancreatitis attacks. When I am in the emergency department, I am yelled at for not taking pain medicine at home. When I explain I have failed at getting a prescription for any significant quantity, the information I provide falls on deaf ears. I am always sent home empty-handed. I have also been hospitalized three times with pancreatitis. I have been given massive doses of pain medication while hospitalized. At discharge, again, no pain medication is prescribed. When I insist from one of my one hospital doctors I need pain meds for at home, he tells me to get them from my PCP.
I have recently switched PCPs. The next time I see my PCP, I ask for pain medication. “I am only a resident doctor. I cannot prescribe pain medication. I will have to ask my attending to write out the prescription.” I do not know if the resident doctor ever asks his attending or if the prescription request is denied, but no pain medication is ever given to me.
So, that is my story (so far) about trying to get pain medication. I have given up hope that I will ever have pain relief. Instead, I will try to endure as best as possible and cling to God that some day this pain shall all be a distant memory.
My first stop on this merry-go-round is my primary care physician (PCP). I present everything to him and wait for my prescription. “I am sorry. Your issue is your pancreas. I do not treat the pancreas. You should go see a pain specialist.” Bummed, but not defeated, I go in search of a pain specialist. After waiting five weeks for the appointment, I think, “This is it! I will finally have some pain relief.” The pain doctor notes my medical history. He then says, “I do not treat the pancreas. This needs to be dealt with by a GI specialist. Go to a GI doctor. He can prescribe you pain meds.” A bit baffled why a pain specialist can not treat pancreatic pain, I continue on my adventure.
I search diligently to find a GI physician who specializes in treating the pancreas. I send over my seven years of medical records and patiently wait two months for the appointment. When the GI doctor sees me, he immediately dismisses I have pancreatitis. Despite my endless hospitalizations and stacks and stacks of medical records indicating the contrary, the physician refuses to treat me. “Go to a pain specialist for your pain.” I asked him for a recommendation, but he never responds to my inquiry.
Completely heart-broken, I search for another GI doctor. I find a clinician who used to be my GI doctor six years ago. I figure he can not deny my previous medical records as he treated me for chronic pancreatitis in the past. I make the appointment and wait another month. In the meantime, I search and search for a pain specialist. Not finding any pain specialists near me, I decide to try to see the first pain specialist again, again pleading my case and begging for his help. I wait a month for the appointment. A few days before the appointment, my insurance calls me. “The pain specialist you are going to see on Wednesday no longer accepts your insurance. If you go to the appointment, you will be responsible for the charges incurred.” Absolutely shocked but grateful for the information, I call the pain clinic. Yes, it is true. The pain center no longer accepts my insurance. I cancel my appointment.
The next week, I have my appointment with GI doctor number two. The appointment goes well. But as I speak with the physician and more and more of my medical history is revealed, I see panic and worry in his face. He decides not to treat me but to refer me on to one of his colleagues. I leave the appointment with only a referral and no pain medications.
Next, I try to find another pain specialist. To my great relief, it only takes a couple of days to get in to see the doctor. When I explain my need for pain meds for my pancreas, the doctor seems stunned. “I do not treat the pancreas. That is a GI problem. Go see a GI specialist.” When I explain I have seen two GI doctors already, the doctor has some compassion. He does give me a prescription for a few pain pills. Albeit a small victory, I am grateful for his kindness.
After waiting and waiting for my GI referral to GI doctor number 3 to be processed, the appointment is finally scheduled. Another five week wait. When my appointment comes, the physician explains she does not treat the pancreas. She says she will help me, but no pain meds are prescribed, and no follow-up appointment is scheduled. I again seem to have been dropped as a patient by another doctor.
Through all this, I have been suffering daily pancreatic pain and have had many pancreatitis attacks. When I am in the emergency department, I am yelled at for not taking pain medicine at home. When I explain I have failed at getting a prescription for any significant quantity, the information I provide falls on deaf ears. I am always sent home empty-handed. I have also been hospitalized three times with pancreatitis. I have been given massive doses of pain medication while hospitalized. At discharge, again, no pain medication is prescribed. When I insist from one of my one hospital doctors I need pain meds for at home, he tells me to get them from my PCP.
I have recently switched PCPs. The next time I see my PCP, I ask for pain medication. “I am only a resident doctor. I cannot prescribe pain medication. I will have to ask my attending to write out the prescription.” I do not know if the resident doctor ever asks his attending or if the prescription request is denied, but no pain medication is ever given to me.
So, that is my story (so far) about trying to get pain medication. I have given up hope that I will ever have pain relief. Instead, I will try to endure as best as possible and cling to God that some day this pain shall all be a distant memory.
Thursday, June 7, 2018
The wedge
Last summer, in the midst of dire straits, God introduced into my life an amazing medical professional. She was kind; she was caring; she was smart. As much as I desperately wanted to put my hope and trust in her, God continually reminded me, “It is better to trust in the LORD than to put your confidence in man” (Psalm 118:8). I know this is true over and over again, but I just wanted to have a comrade in the world of medicine. I yearned to have someone believe me and understand my medical conditions.
As the months have rolled by, I have been continually on edge. I know God will use this relationship as He desires. At His will, everything will fall apart. I have been holding my breath, waiting for a difference of opinion or a misunderstanding to arise between the clinician and myself. But, time after time, everything has gone smoothly.
Finally, at my last appointment, I could sense God had placed a wedge into the relationship. It did not matter what I said, my words fell on deaf ears. Decisions about my medical case seemed to have already been dertermined before I ever spoke to the clinician. My heart sank as I sat trying not to think that this probably was the end of our partnership. God’s purpose for this medical professional in my life had run its course. It was now time to move on.
As much as I want to desperately salvage this medical alliance, I know God will continue to oppose this partnership. So many questions run through my mind—what now? Who will help me through this medical system? Who will help me get the medical treatment I need? I want to collapse on my bed and cry my eyes out, but I know this will accomplish little. Instead, with a heart and mind open to God, I shall trust in the LORD and put my confidence in Him.
As the months have rolled by, I have been continually on edge. I know God will use this relationship as He desires. At His will, everything will fall apart. I have been holding my breath, waiting for a difference of opinion or a misunderstanding to arise between the clinician and myself. But, time after time, everything has gone smoothly.
Finally, at my last appointment, I could sense God had placed a wedge into the relationship. It did not matter what I said, my words fell on deaf ears. Decisions about my medical case seemed to have already been dertermined before I ever spoke to the clinician. My heart sank as I sat trying not to think that this probably was the end of our partnership. God’s purpose for this medical professional in my life had run its course. It was now time to move on.
As much as I want to desperately salvage this medical alliance, I know God will continue to oppose this partnership. So many questions run through my mind—what now? Who will help me through this medical system? Who will help me get the medical treatment I need? I want to collapse on my bed and cry my eyes out, but I know this will accomplish little. Instead, with a heart and mind open to God, I shall trust in the LORD and put my confidence in Him.
Tuesday, June 5, 2018
Be worried for nothing
As I sit in Sunday school class, my teacher brings up the subject of fear. In the book of Philippians, we are commanded to “be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God” (Philippians 4:6). The instructor asked all her students the following question, “What do you most worry about?”
Immediately, my health comes to my mind. Recently, I had the worst pancreatitis attack I have ever had. It was almost six hours of crying, shaking and screaming in pain. I was so thankful, after receiving several rounds of IV pain medicines in the emergency department, the pain finally relented. Unfortunately, a half hour after the pain ended, it started back up again. Another half an hour passes, and I am shaking and crying in pain. Pain medicines are given; my pain and cramping in my pancreas resist the drugs. The pain intensifies as the attack continues. This second pancreatitis attack is worse than the first attack. Again, after many narcotics are given, the pain and cramping in my pancreas ceases after nearly six after from its onset.
As these recent pancreatitis events play out in my mind, I feel the anxiety and worry flow through my body. I have always feared having a pancreatitis attack, but now knowing I can have one pancreatitis attack followed immediately by a second episode grips my body in a tight vice of fear. Moreover, my pancreatitis attacks usually occur several weeks to several months apart. Lately, they have been happening about once a week. The thought of having to endure the hours and hours of excruciating pain makes me want to cry.
As my Sunday school teacher continues her lesson, she instills in her students the need to stop these thoughts as soon as we recognize them. We need to take everything to God in song and prayer. I cling to her words. I want to be free from this fear and anxiety. I want to just live my life not worrying if eating breakfast/lunch/supper will cause a pancreatitis attack. As awful as it is to suffer through my pancreas pain, I know nothing can be accomplished by fearing my next attack. Every day is a challenge to rise above my pancreatitis; every day I shall try to keep God’s Word and give Him all my stress and anxiety. May God give me strength to keep on keeping on.
Immediately, my health comes to my mind. Recently, I had the worst pancreatitis attack I have ever had. It was almost six hours of crying, shaking and screaming in pain. I was so thankful, after receiving several rounds of IV pain medicines in the emergency department, the pain finally relented. Unfortunately, a half hour after the pain ended, it started back up again. Another half an hour passes, and I am shaking and crying in pain. Pain medicines are given; my pain and cramping in my pancreas resist the drugs. The pain intensifies as the attack continues. This second pancreatitis attack is worse than the first attack. Again, after many narcotics are given, the pain and cramping in my pancreas ceases after nearly six after from its onset.
As these recent pancreatitis events play out in my mind, I feel the anxiety and worry flow through my body. I have always feared having a pancreatitis attack, but now knowing I can have one pancreatitis attack followed immediately by a second episode grips my body in a tight vice of fear. Moreover, my pancreatitis attacks usually occur several weeks to several months apart. Lately, they have been happening about once a week. The thought of having to endure the hours and hours of excruciating pain makes me want to cry.
As my Sunday school teacher continues her lesson, she instills in her students the need to stop these thoughts as soon as we recognize them. We need to take everything to God in song and prayer. I cling to her words. I want to be free from this fear and anxiety. I want to just live my life not worrying if eating breakfast/lunch/supper will cause a pancreatitis attack. As awful as it is to suffer through my pancreas pain, I know nothing can be accomplished by fearing my next attack. Every day is a challenge to rise above my pancreatitis; every day I shall try to keep God’s Word and give Him all my stress and anxiety. May God give me strength to keep on keeping on.
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