When I started this blog, I thought long and hard about what I should entitle this website. As I was reading God's word, I realized our whole lives are a continual test of us standing on the shores of the Red Sea. We are surrounded on all sides by tests, trials and the enemy. There seems to be no escape. Then, God calls us to go forward. But where are we to go? Again, we are told to go forward. Will we obey?
Last week was the Feast of Unleavened Bread. It culminated with the seventh day (April 26) being remembered as the day God lead Israel through the Red Sea. Israel fled Egypt on the 15th of Nisan, the first day of Unleavened Bread, and traveled for six days, fleeing the Egyptians. On the seventh day, they were standing on the shores of the Red Sea. Everything seemed hopeless. The Egyptian army was behind them, mountains were on their left and right, and the Red Sea lie before them. What should they do?
The Israelites cry out to Moses. "They said, 'Is it because there were no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness? Why have you dealt with us in this way, bringing us out of Egypt? Is this not the word that we spoke to you in Egypt, saying, "Leave us alone that we may serve the Egyptians"? For it would have been better for us to serve the Egyptian than to die in the wilderness'" (Exodus 13:11-12).
Moses relays this message to God. "Then the LORD said to Moses, 'Why are you crying out to Me? Tell the sons of Israel to go forward'" (Exodus 13:15). Moses tells the Israelites to "go forward".
According to Jewish tradition, one man heeds God's commandment. Nachshon, from the tribe of Judah, plunges into the Red Sea. The waters reach his waist, and they do not split. He continues forward. The waters reach his chest, and they do not split. He continues forward. When the waters reach his nostrils, nearly drowning Nachshon, then God parts the waters. The nation of Israel then begins their travels through the Red Sea on dry ground.
Although there were between two to six million people standing on the shores of the Red Sea, and everyone was given the commandment to "go forward", it was only one man who obeyed. Nachshon trusted God for a miracle. When Nachshon does everything he can, when the waters are about to drown him, only then does God intervene. One man's faith in God saves millions and millions of lives. This is such a beautiful picture for us.
How many times have we been standing on the shore of the Red Sea, screaming at God for miracle? "Oh LORD, help me! My enemies are all around me. There's no place for me to go!" God tells us to follow Him, to go on His path, the path which is right before us. Yet, we are often like the Israelites. We would rather surrender and go back into the cruel bondage and slavery of the Egyptians rather than trusting God and be delivered from oppression. We may put one foot into the Red Sea, but when the waters do not part, we quickly pull back. Some of us might even walk into the waters, but when they reach our waist or chest, we believe God is not going to help us. We flee back to shore. However, as Nachshon shows us, it is only when we do everything in our power to follow God--when the water is ready to swallow us up--only then does He intervene; only then does He part the sea, allowing us to walk safely on dry ground.
May we all continue to strengthen our faith, believe God and follow Nachson's example. May we all escape Egypt and rejoice in God's deliverance.
Tuesday, April 30, 2019
Thursday, April 25, 2019
Calling India. A test of patience. A prayer for deliverance.
In the world of business, one must always be mindful of expenditures. Where can a company save money? Many corporations have opted to replace their American receptionists with call centers in other countries such as India and Indonesia--places in which the wage they pay their employees is far less than their American counterparts. Although this may be financially savvy for the employer, it can be utterly frustrating for the client.
Today, I had the joy of calling a home infusion pharmacy to dispute a bill. The billing department is a call center in India. I have interacted with this facility before, and it is always a tooth and nail fight with the receptionists. I try to maintain a calm, collected disposition, but I am always challenged. The call center employees do not allow me to speak a full sentence before they go on a two minute rant about some topic. I often try to politely interrupt this monologue and attempt to explain my situation. I never am able to get any resolution to my problems. I can tell the language and cultural differences impede communication.
I wish I could get the home infusion pharmacy to speak with my insurance company. There seems to be a miscommunication between the two places of business. Instead, I am forced to go between the two companies and never have any satisfaction. It seems all my efforts are in vain. Ultimately, I am told by the home infusion pharmacy, it doesn't matter what the insurance company says, I am wrong. I owe the pharmacy money. I must pay. If I do not pay the bill, it will be sent to collections.
I try to not let my blood pressure skyrocket. I attempt to keep a steady, slow voice as I speak to India. I fight my increasing heart rate and pray to God. "Help me! Help me speak clearly. Help this man hear what I am saying. In Your Word it says, 'Those who guard their mouths and their tongues keep themselves from calamity' (Proverbs 21:23). Please help me from falling into destructive speech. Please lead me in the way I should go. Please resolve this financial situation."
As God would have it, a good friend of mine just came back from India. He posted photos of his trip on Facebook. It was heart-wrenching looking at the filthy streets and over-crowded dwellings in which some many people live. As I viewed the images, I could not help but think about the call center in India. "Oh LORD, help these people! Help the folks at the call center provide for their families. Help the employees have enough wealth to live away from these smog-laden and excrement-filled streets. Help these people find You in the midst of so much poverty and despair. In Jesus' name. Amen."
Today, I had the joy of calling a home infusion pharmacy to dispute a bill. The billing department is a call center in India. I have interacted with this facility before, and it is always a tooth and nail fight with the receptionists. I try to maintain a calm, collected disposition, but I am always challenged. The call center employees do not allow me to speak a full sentence before they go on a two minute rant about some topic. I often try to politely interrupt this monologue and attempt to explain my situation. I never am able to get any resolution to my problems. I can tell the language and cultural differences impede communication.
I wish I could get the home infusion pharmacy to speak with my insurance company. There seems to be a miscommunication between the two places of business. Instead, I am forced to go between the two companies and never have any satisfaction. It seems all my efforts are in vain. Ultimately, I am told by the home infusion pharmacy, it doesn't matter what the insurance company says, I am wrong. I owe the pharmacy money. I must pay. If I do not pay the bill, it will be sent to collections.
I try to not let my blood pressure skyrocket. I attempt to keep a steady, slow voice as I speak to India. I fight my increasing heart rate and pray to God. "Help me! Help me speak clearly. Help this man hear what I am saying. In Your Word it says, 'Those who guard their mouths and their tongues keep themselves from calamity' (Proverbs 21:23). Please help me from falling into destructive speech. Please lead me in the way I should go. Please resolve this financial situation."
As God would have it, a good friend of mine just came back from India. He posted photos of his trip on Facebook. It was heart-wrenching looking at the filthy streets and over-crowded dwellings in which some many people live. As I viewed the images, I could not help but think about the call center in India. "Oh LORD, help these people! Help the folks at the call center provide for their families. Help the employees have enough wealth to live away from these smog-laden and excrement-filled streets. Help these people find You in the midst of so much poverty and despair. In Jesus' name. Amen."
Tuesday, April 23, 2019
You can't jump the track...
A few weeks ago, I became extremely sick with a high fever. I fought and fought to get through the week. I kept praying to God to give me the strength to make it to the following week when I had an appointment to see my pulmonologist. Thankfully, God heard my prayer. He lessened my symptoms.
The morning of the appointment, I had to wake up early to pack up all my medical equipment and put everything in the car. I was not feeling very well, but with the help of God and strong black tea, I pushed through my weariness. On the way to the appointment, I abruptly became extremely ill. An hour from my doctor's office, I thought I was going to die from shaking chills, violent coughing spells, extreme heaviness on my chest, etc.
I somehow made it to the clinic. While waiting for the doctor I took my temperature: 104 degrees. My pulmonologist told me I needed to go to the emergency department for medical treatment. I did not resist her request. I knew I needed IV antibiotics and breathing treatments to open up my lungs. During my emergency department visit, I was informed I was going to be admitted. I had double pneumonia. My sputum was cultured, and the waiting game for the culture results began.
Three days later, my microbiology results came back. I still had my pseudomonas infection, and I now also had another bacteria called serratia. I needed IV antibiotics to fight these infections. The doctors submitted their request to an infusion pharmacy, and another waiting game began for insurance approval of the medicine.
I waited and waited, day after day for insurance to process my request. Finally, the doctors gave me the option to go home and assume insurance was going to approve my claim in the next 24 hours. I eagerly agreed and went home. Days passed, and I never heard anything from the insurance company. My IV antibiotics were only slated to be administered for 14 days. The end date for the antibiotics was fast approaching. I called the infusion pharmacy. My insurance company was playing games. They authorized my request; however, they did not approve the antibiotics, stating they needed more information. The pharmacy resubmitted all the information. Time continued to pass. The last day on my IV antibiotics prescription came. Insurance never approved my medicine request. No antibiotics were ever dispensed.
Despite doing my best, I again never received the complete treatment for my pseudomonas infection. I am devastated. I have been trying and trying and trying to get rid of this deadly bacteria, but God always seems to place a stumbling block in the way. I cradle my head in my hands; tears stream down my face. I am tired. So tired. I was able to receive a week's worth of antibiotics while hospitalized which allowed my infections to decrease in intensity. I still have mild symptoms, but I know at any time, this pseudomonas (and now also serratia) infection can roar back to life. I feel like a ticking time bomb. Will I get sick again today, tomorrow, next week? The uncertainty is daunting. The exhaustion from my body's constant fight against these infections drains my body of all its energy. I know all trials are from God, but I hope and pray this test is soon over. Until then, I keep hearing the lyrics of one of my favorite songs, Breathe (2 AM) by Anna Nalick.
"Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button girl
So cradle your head in your hands
And breathe, just breathe..."
The morning of the appointment, I had to wake up early to pack up all my medical equipment and put everything in the car. I was not feeling very well, but with the help of God and strong black tea, I pushed through my weariness. On the way to the appointment, I abruptly became extremely ill. An hour from my doctor's office, I thought I was going to die from shaking chills, violent coughing spells, extreme heaviness on my chest, etc.
I somehow made it to the clinic. While waiting for the doctor I took my temperature: 104 degrees. My pulmonologist told me I needed to go to the emergency department for medical treatment. I did not resist her request. I knew I needed IV antibiotics and breathing treatments to open up my lungs. During my emergency department visit, I was informed I was going to be admitted. I had double pneumonia. My sputum was cultured, and the waiting game for the culture results began.
Three days later, my microbiology results came back. I still had my pseudomonas infection, and I now also had another bacteria called serratia. I needed IV antibiotics to fight these infections. The doctors submitted their request to an infusion pharmacy, and another waiting game began for insurance approval of the medicine.
I waited and waited, day after day for insurance to process my request. Finally, the doctors gave me the option to go home and assume insurance was going to approve my claim in the next 24 hours. I eagerly agreed and went home. Days passed, and I never heard anything from the insurance company. My IV antibiotics were only slated to be administered for 14 days. The end date for the antibiotics was fast approaching. I called the infusion pharmacy. My insurance company was playing games. They authorized my request; however, they did not approve the antibiotics, stating they needed more information. The pharmacy resubmitted all the information. Time continued to pass. The last day on my IV antibiotics prescription came. Insurance never approved my medicine request. No antibiotics were ever dispensed.
Despite doing my best, I again never received the complete treatment for my pseudomonas infection. I am devastated. I have been trying and trying and trying to get rid of this deadly bacteria, but God always seems to place a stumbling block in the way. I cradle my head in my hands; tears stream down my face. I am tired. So tired. I was able to receive a week's worth of antibiotics while hospitalized which allowed my infections to decrease in intensity. I still have mild symptoms, but I know at any time, this pseudomonas (and now also serratia) infection can roar back to life. I feel like a ticking time bomb. Will I get sick again today, tomorrow, next week? The uncertainty is daunting. The exhaustion from my body's constant fight against these infections drains my body of all its energy. I know all trials are from God, but I hope and pray this test is soon over. Until then, I keep hearing the lyrics of one of my favorite songs, Breathe (2 AM) by Anna Nalick.
"Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button girl
So cradle your head in your hands
And breathe, just breathe..."
Thursday, April 18, 2019
One little monkey climbing on the bed
As the years on the calendar roll by and the digits in my age increase, I often forget that my body is growing old. I often forget that I am no longer a young chickadee. When an item falls in the back of our van, I eagerly climb over coolers, my wheelchair or other objects to retrieve it. When my knees abruptly give out, sending me free falling to the van floor, I howl when I slice open my hand as I try to break my fall.
My forgetfulness is the worst when I am in the hospital. I am usually confined to the bed most of the day, and my body grows restless. Being hooked up to various monitors--heart rate, blood pressure, pulse oxygenation, etc.--I am very limited in my mobility. If I want to leave my bed, I have to disconnect all these devices, which sends my monitors blaring when they no longer receive information. So, if I want to move around, I often try not to disconnect any of my recording devices.
When I am lying in bed and my box of tissues falls to the ground underneath my bedside table, I see and accept the challenge: retrieve the box without calling for assistance and without setting off any of my monitors. I carefully move my bedside table and lower the head of my bed. I move to the side of the bed, but I am slightly impeded because my IV line is very short. If I want to lean over the side of my bed, I will have to do so without moving my right arm which has the IV in it.
I study the box of tissues and pull on the cords to all my monitors. I get as much slack in the lines as possible. I carefully lean over the left side of my bed and reach with all my might to elongate my left arm. The tips of my fingers brush the corner of the tissue box. I just need a tiny bit more length in my arms. I extend my left arm a little bit more and grab the box. I suddenly lose my balance. My right arm and right leg are flailing in the air. I quickly grasp the side of my bed with my left arm and then I freeze! My blood pressure cuff is going off. To prevent any suspicion by the outside world of my covert activities, I have to remain completely still while the blood pressure monitor records my blood pressure.
Before the machine completes its reading, my nurse walks into my room. I am in a sorry state. My right arm and leg are extended to the ceiling. My left arm is wrapped around the side of my bed. The top of my body is hanging off the side of my bed. My nurse exclaims, "What in the heck are you doing?" As soon as the blood pressure machine is finished recording its data, I pull myself back up onto the bed. I then innocently reply, "I dropped my box of tissues."
My nurse is very enraged I did not call for help. She puts up the guard rails on my bed and sets the bed alarm. Now, if I cross the side of my bed, my bed will start alarming. My nurse believes she has a victory. I, however, just view the situation as being slightly more complicated. As soon as the nurse leaves, I lasso a chair in my room and move it to the side of the bed. Now, if I want to leave my bed, I will have to carefully step over the side of my bed and onto the adjacent chair.
As the day progresses, I am obedient and do not leave my bed. I wait and wait for shift change. I pray my day nurse forgets to tell my night nurse about setting the bed alarm to prevent me from moving. Soon the sky outside my room is dark, and my night nurse takes over. I wait an hour to ensure my day nurse has left the unit. When I believe the coast is clear, I ring my nurse call bell. The nurse comes into my room and asks how she can help me. I state I need to use the bathroom. The nurse unhooks all my monitors and lowers my bed rails. As I exit my bed, my bed starts alarming. "Well, who put this on?" the nurse asks as she scratches her head. She immediately disables the bed alarm. I do my business and go back to my bed. The nurse hooks back up all my devices and leaves. She does not reset the bed alarm. I am now free! I am again free to move about my bed unhindered! Ah, another victory! I breathe a sigh of relief and drift off to sleep.
My forgetfulness is the worst when I am in the hospital. I am usually confined to the bed most of the day, and my body grows restless. Being hooked up to various monitors--heart rate, blood pressure, pulse oxygenation, etc.--I am very limited in my mobility. If I want to leave my bed, I have to disconnect all these devices, which sends my monitors blaring when they no longer receive information. So, if I want to move around, I often try not to disconnect any of my recording devices.
When I am lying in bed and my box of tissues falls to the ground underneath my bedside table, I see and accept the challenge: retrieve the box without calling for assistance and without setting off any of my monitors. I carefully move my bedside table and lower the head of my bed. I move to the side of the bed, but I am slightly impeded because my IV line is very short. If I want to lean over the side of my bed, I will have to do so without moving my right arm which has the IV in it.
I study the box of tissues and pull on the cords to all my monitors. I get as much slack in the lines as possible. I carefully lean over the left side of my bed and reach with all my might to elongate my left arm. The tips of my fingers brush the corner of the tissue box. I just need a tiny bit more length in my arms. I extend my left arm a little bit more and grab the box. I suddenly lose my balance. My right arm and right leg are flailing in the air. I quickly grasp the side of my bed with my left arm and then I freeze! My blood pressure cuff is going off. To prevent any suspicion by the outside world of my covert activities, I have to remain completely still while the blood pressure monitor records my blood pressure.
Before the machine completes its reading, my nurse walks into my room. I am in a sorry state. My right arm and leg are extended to the ceiling. My left arm is wrapped around the side of my bed. The top of my body is hanging off the side of my bed. My nurse exclaims, "What in the heck are you doing?" As soon as the blood pressure machine is finished recording its data, I pull myself back up onto the bed. I then innocently reply, "I dropped my box of tissues."
My nurse is very enraged I did not call for help. She puts up the guard rails on my bed and sets the bed alarm. Now, if I cross the side of my bed, my bed will start alarming. My nurse believes she has a victory. I, however, just view the situation as being slightly more complicated. As soon as the nurse leaves, I lasso a chair in my room and move it to the side of the bed. Now, if I want to leave my bed, I will have to carefully step over the side of my bed and onto the adjacent chair.
As the day progresses, I am obedient and do not leave my bed. I wait and wait for shift change. I pray my day nurse forgets to tell my night nurse about setting the bed alarm to prevent me from moving. Soon the sky outside my room is dark, and my night nurse takes over. I wait an hour to ensure my day nurse has left the unit. When I believe the coast is clear, I ring my nurse call bell. The nurse comes into my room and asks how she can help me. I state I need to use the bathroom. The nurse unhooks all my monitors and lowers my bed rails. As I exit my bed, my bed starts alarming. "Well, who put this on?" the nurse asks as she scratches her head. She immediately disables the bed alarm. I do my business and go back to my bed. The nurse hooks back up all my devices and leaves. She does not reset the bed alarm. I am now free! I am again free to move about my bed unhindered! Ah, another victory! I breathe a sigh of relief and drift off to sleep.
Tuesday, April 16, 2019
Beaten, but not defeated
This year has been one financial hurdle after another and one medical crisis after another. I feel like have been been beaten over and over again. Every time I think I have things figured out, something goes wrong. I have been praying to God, "Why are You making this so difficult? I am following everyone's rules. Why is everything going awry?"
This week, perhaps, things are starting to go in the right direction. During my last hospitalization, I was in extreme pain. My pseudomonas infection has invaded my joints. My head, neck, right shoulder and back scream in pain. As the infection is treated, the pain lessens. In the meantime, I actually had a doctor who cared I was in pain. I often mention I am in pain, but nothing is ever done. This one doctor, who was a fellow, was bound and determined to get me pain-free. Despite my case being handed off to another medical team during my hospitalization, the theme of getting my pain score down to a 5 was maintained. When Tylenol with codeine did not touch my pain, my drug was changed to Vicodin (hydrocodone with Tylenol). Finally, I had some relief!
When I was discharged, the attending gave me a prescription for 60 Vicodin pills! Well, ladies and gentlemen, you may not be familiar with this ludicrous "opioid epidemic" we are told we are in, but getting narcotics is growing more and more impossible. Doctors cannot prescribe pain pills without the constant threat of having their medical licenses revoked. Despite being in extreme pain, it is better for the physician to let the person suffer than to give out any pain medication. So, getting 60 Vicodin pills was like winning the lottery!
Now comes the obstacle. My drug insurance company was being a pain in the rear about getting narcotics. They have a policy that if you have not gotten narcotics in the last 90 days, the doctor has to submit additional paperwork stating the medical necessity for the medicine. (Did I mention we are in this "opioid epidemic" in which doctors will not prescribe narcotics, fearing they will have their medical licenses rescinded?") My primary care doctor did give me a prescription for Tylenol #3 a few months ago. I got the prescription filled 95 days ago...five days too late for the insurance to allow me to get the Vicodin without additional hoops to jump through.
I thought my prescription was all but lost. The doctor who prescribed the Vicodin is a hospital doctor, not my regular doctor. I was sure he would not take time out of his chaotic schedule to fill out busywork. But, to my delight, three days after requesting the additional information from the physician, my insurance received the paperwork and approved my medicine!!! Another miracle happened when I picked up my prescription. The price for 60 pills was only $0.62! I was pretty sure this was an error, but when I gave the cashier a dollar, she gave me back $0.38. I snatched up the bag with my prescription and fled the premises. I was sure someone was going to chase me down to demand more money and/or take away my pain meds. But so far, everything is good.
Other miracles have happened when I found out my insurance company does cover some services for which I have received bills. Despite being told the contrary, I have documentation that proves some of my bills my insurance company should have paid. Now, I have to call and attempt to get some of these financial situations resolved. I will still be in a huge amount of debt, but every little bit helps. Lastly, knowing God has been hearing my prayers is perhaps the most priceless lesson I have learned from all these situations. What a blessing it is that we have such a merciful Savior.
This week, perhaps, things are starting to go in the right direction. During my last hospitalization, I was in extreme pain. My pseudomonas infection has invaded my joints. My head, neck, right shoulder and back scream in pain. As the infection is treated, the pain lessens. In the meantime, I actually had a doctor who cared I was in pain. I often mention I am in pain, but nothing is ever done. This one doctor, who was a fellow, was bound and determined to get me pain-free. Despite my case being handed off to another medical team during my hospitalization, the theme of getting my pain score down to a 5 was maintained. When Tylenol with codeine did not touch my pain, my drug was changed to Vicodin (hydrocodone with Tylenol). Finally, I had some relief!
When I was discharged, the attending gave me a prescription for 60 Vicodin pills! Well, ladies and gentlemen, you may not be familiar with this ludicrous "opioid epidemic" we are told we are in, but getting narcotics is growing more and more impossible. Doctors cannot prescribe pain pills without the constant threat of having their medical licenses revoked. Despite being in extreme pain, it is better for the physician to let the person suffer than to give out any pain medication. So, getting 60 Vicodin pills was like winning the lottery!
Now comes the obstacle. My drug insurance company was being a pain in the rear about getting narcotics. They have a policy that if you have not gotten narcotics in the last 90 days, the doctor has to submit additional paperwork stating the medical necessity for the medicine. (Did I mention we are in this "opioid epidemic" in which doctors will not prescribe narcotics, fearing they will have their medical licenses rescinded?") My primary care doctor did give me a prescription for Tylenol #3 a few months ago. I got the prescription filled 95 days ago...five days too late for the insurance to allow me to get the Vicodin without additional hoops to jump through.
I thought my prescription was all but lost. The doctor who prescribed the Vicodin is a hospital doctor, not my regular doctor. I was sure he would not take time out of his chaotic schedule to fill out busywork. But, to my delight, three days after requesting the additional information from the physician, my insurance received the paperwork and approved my medicine!!! Another miracle happened when I picked up my prescription. The price for 60 pills was only $0.62! I was pretty sure this was an error, but when I gave the cashier a dollar, she gave me back $0.38. I snatched up the bag with my prescription and fled the premises. I was sure someone was going to chase me down to demand more money and/or take away my pain meds. But so far, everything is good.
Other miracles have happened when I found out my insurance company does cover some services for which I have received bills. Despite being told the contrary, I have documentation that proves some of my bills my insurance company should have paid. Now, I have to call and attempt to get some of these financial situations resolved. I will still be in a huge amount of debt, but every little bit helps. Lastly, knowing God has been hearing my prayers is perhaps the most priceless lesson I have learned from all these situations. What a blessing it is that we have such a merciful Savior.
Thursday, April 11, 2019
There’s a reason I don’t leave home...
Today was an unusual day. My parents needed me to take them to the airport. Well, actually, my dad drove to the airport. I just had to drive back home. As the bright morning sunshine warms my cold skin, I smile as I enjoy the drive to the airport. The change in landscape from my usual view out my bedroom window is so refreshing. About 2.5 years ago was the last time I traveled this road. Two and a half years ago, a time before I needed my ventilator to breathe.
Before my parents arrive at the airport, they take a slight detour to a fast food restaurant to eat a quick breakfast before they start their air travels. When we arrive at the restaurant, I meander inside to use the restroom. As soon as I exit the car, I am overwhelmed with dizziness, nausea and fatigue. I manger to go inside the building to use the restroom, and as soon as I am back at the car, I collapse on to a pillow in the backseat. I feel as though my head is going to explode. My chest is heavy with intense pressure, and my ears feel as though they are full of water. I wonder how I am going to drive home.
My dad drives to the airport, and we say our good-byes. I take the driver’s seat. My head is spinning; I want to cry out in pain. Thankfully the drive home is an easy route. I am grateful when I pull into the garage. I feel so sick. I just want to climb into bed and not move. And that’s what I do for the rest of the day. I want to be productive. I have the house to myself. I need to write a Bible study for next week. I want to enjoy relaxing on the couch, but I cannot move from my bed.
As I try and try to lessen my severe headache, nausea and aching muscles, I reflect back on the day. My heart grows heavy, and my eyes fill with tears. Yes, this is the reason I rarely leave home. As much as I would love to explore the world, my body is too fragile. Oh how I would love to go to a clothing store to shop or meet with friends at a restaurant for a night out. But these desires shall remain just dreams and fantasies. Instead, I thank God for having a comfortable bed to lie on and for having the technology available for me to breathe via a ventilator. As tired and exhausted as I am, I thank God over and over again that I do not have to use my precious little energy to breathe. As my ventilator whines away, my body drifts off to sleep...to a place where singing, dancing and hanging out with friends is but a thought away.
Before my parents arrive at the airport, they take a slight detour to a fast food restaurant to eat a quick breakfast before they start their air travels. When we arrive at the restaurant, I meander inside to use the restroom. As soon as I exit the car, I am overwhelmed with dizziness, nausea and fatigue. I manger to go inside the building to use the restroom, and as soon as I am back at the car, I collapse on to a pillow in the backseat. I feel as though my head is going to explode. My chest is heavy with intense pressure, and my ears feel as though they are full of water. I wonder how I am going to drive home.
My dad drives to the airport, and we say our good-byes. I take the driver’s seat. My head is spinning; I want to cry out in pain. Thankfully the drive home is an easy route. I am grateful when I pull into the garage. I feel so sick. I just want to climb into bed and not move. And that’s what I do for the rest of the day. I want to be productive. I have the house to myself. I need to write a Bible study for next week. I want to enjoy relaxing on the couch, but I cannot move from my bed.
As I try and try to lessen my severe headache, nausea and aching muscles, I reflect back on the day. My heart grows heavy, and my eyes fill with tears. Yes, this is the reason I rarely leave home. As much as I would love to explore the world, my body is too fragile. Oh how I would love to go to a clothing store to shop or meet with friends at a restaurant for a night out. But these desires shall remain just dreams and fantasies. Instead, I thank God for having a comfortable bed to lie on and for having the technology available for me to breathe via a ventilator. As tired and exhausted as I am, I thank God over and over again that I do not have to use my precious little energy to breathe. As my ventilator whines away, my body drifts off to sleep...to a place where singing, dancing and hanging out with friends is but a thought away.
Tuesday, April 9, 2019
Hospital meals—when it all works out
I used to work in a kitchen for a small healthcare facility. It was a daunting job. I was always scrambling to get food out the door in a timely manner and while the food was still hot. I cannot imagine what it must be like to work in food service for a massive medical complex. I am grateful any food gets delivered to my hospital room, but at the same time, I get grumpy when my meals are messed up.
Today at lunch, I order some vegetables, tea and two oranges. When my tray arrives, I receive the vegetables and tea; however, the two oranges are missing. This is the third time during this hospitalization my oranges have been forgotten. Since it is nearly 2:30 when I receive my lunch tray, I decide not to call the kitchen to ask for my oranges. I will just wait and order the oranges for supper.
For supper, I order two teas, milk and two oranges. When my tray arrives, there is one tea and a carton of milk. (One tea and two oranges are missing.) I instantly notice the error. Before the food service worker exits my room, I tell her I am missing items. The girl takes the meal ticket from my tray and promises to return with two oranges and a tea.
I wait almost 45 minutes. The girl does not return to my room. I call the food service number and tell the woman I did not get my oranges with my supper tray. The food service receptionist states the kitchen might be out of oranges. If the kitchen did not have oranges, is there something else I would like. I respond two containers of strawberries would be nice. The woman tells me she will contact the kitchen and get me my food.
Thirty minutes later, a food service worker is at my hospital room door. He has two oranges in his hands. I rejoice that the kitchen had oranges. Another 30 minutes pass and another food service employee is at my door. This worker has two small bowls of strawberries. I smile and nearly start laughing. “Well, I didn’t get my oranges for lunch, but I got two oranges and two small cups of strawberries for supper. All is well that ends well. Praise be to God!”
Today at lunch, I order some vegetables, tea and two oranges. When my tray arrives, I receive the vegetables and tea; however, the two oranges are missing. This is the third time during this hospitalization my oranges have been forgotten. Since it is nearly 2:30 when I receive my lunch tray, I decide not to call the kitchen to ask for my oranges. I will just wait and order the oranges for supper.
For supper, I order two teas, milk and two oranges. When my tray arrives, there is one tea and a carton of milk. (One tea and two oranges are missing.) I instantly notice the error. Before the food service worker exits my room, I tell her I am missing items. The girl takes the meal ticket from my tray and promises to return with two oranges and a tea.
I wait almost 45 minutes. The girl does not return to my room. I call the food service number and tell the woman I did not get my oranges with my supper tray. The food service receptionist states the kitchen might be out of oranges. If the kitchen did not have oranges, is there something else I would like. I respond two containers of strawberries would be nice. The woman tells me she will contact the kitchen and get me my food.
Thirty minutes later, a food service worker is at my hospital room door. He has two oranges in his hands. I rejoice that the kitchen had oranges. Another 30 minutes pass and another food service employee is at my door. This worker has two small bowls of strawberries. I smile and nearly start laughing. “Well, I didn’t get my oranges for lunch, but I got two oranges and two small cups of strawberries for supper. All is well that ends well. Praise be to God!”
Thursday, April 4, 2019
God will take care of you
As I arrive at the emergency department (ED), I am running a fever and cannot stop the shaking chills. I nearly want to cry when I see the parking lot is full of cars. As I pass car after car, I pray to God that there is a parking spot near the ED entrance. As the car slowly moves through the parking lot, I am in disbelief that the absolute closest parking spot to the ED is wide open! The car swings into the spot, and I rejoice.
As I make my way to the ED entrance, I am struggling to propel my wheelchair as constant coughing fits seize my lungs. I send up another prayer. “Oh God. Please send someone to push me into the ED.” No sooner than saying my prayer, I see a man walking toward the hospital. The gentleman yells, “Ma’am, do you need help?” I cannot respond verbally but shake my head yes. The man hustles to take control of my wheelchair and quickly whisks me into the ED. The gentleman drops me off at the ED check in and then vanishes out of sight.
A woman is standing in front of me, slowly filling out the triage intake form. I am gasping and straining to breathe. I cannot stop coughing. I can sense the people in the ED waiting room growing alarmed at my condition. A man jumps up and asks if I need help. I don’t know how to respond since we are in the ED. I am not sure how he can help me. I don’t say anything. Finally, the women ahead of me finishes her paperwork and steps aside so I can grab an ED intake form. I see a male nurse working behind the tinted windows located just behind the ED check in desk. He pops his head out the window and disappears again. I am trying to fill out my form, but it is hard because I am coughing and having shaking chills.
I only fill out today’s date, my date of birth and my name before the doors, which lead straight back to the ED, fly open. A female nurse grabs the intake form out of my hands and takes hold of my wheelchair. She frantically wheels me into the ED, skipping the triage department. When we arrive at ED room 10, there is a doctor and a couple more nurses waiting in my ED cubicle.
I am dumbfounded at this sight. A doctor is waiting for me? I don’t have to wait an hour to see a physician? I am thrilled that I will be receiving prompt medical treatment. I send up praise after praise to God. “Oh LORD, I am so sick. I was in need of so many miracles, and You went above and beyond! Thank You for all Your loving kindnesses! Please continue to watch over me. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
As I make my way to the ED entrance, I am struggling to propel my wheelchair as constant coughing fits seize my lungs. I send up another prayer. “Oh God. Please send someone to push me into the ED.” No sooner than saying my prayer, I see a man walking toward the hospital. The gentleman yells, “Ma’am, do you need help?” I cannot respond verbally but shake my head yes. The man hustles to take control of my wheelchair and quickly whisks me into the ED. The gentleman drops me off at the ED check in and then vanishes out of sight.
A woman is standing in front of me, slowly filling out the triage intake form. I am gasping and straining to breathe. I cannot stop coughing. I can sense the people in the ED waiting room growing alarmed at my condition. A man jumps up and asks if I need help. I don’t know how to respond since we are in the ED. I am not sure how he can help me. I don’t say anything. Finally, the women ahead of me finishes her paperwork and steps aside so I can grab an ED intake form. I see a male nurse working behind the tinted windows located just behind the ED check in desk. He pops his head out the window and disappears again. I am trying to fill out my form, but it is hard because I am coughing and having shaking chills.
I only fill out today’s date, my date of birth and my name before the doors, which lead straight back to the ED, fly open. A female nurse grabs the intake form out of my hands and takes hold of my wheelchair. She frantically wheels me into the ED, skipping the triage department. When we arrive at ED room 10, there is a doctor and a couple more nurses waiting in my ED cubicle.
I am dumbfounded at this sight. A doctor is waiting for me? I don’t have to wait an hour to see a physician? I am thrilled that I will be receiving prompt medical treatment. I send up praise after praise to God. “Oh LORD, I am so sick. I was in need of so many miracles, and You went above and beyond! Thank You for all Your loving kindnesses! Please continue to watch over me. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
Tuesday, April 2, 2019
Playing by the rules, stuck with another bill
As I mentioned in a previous blog post, I have very limited financial means. I am constantly checking insurance coverage and eligibility requirements to ensure I am covered by my insurance for medical benefits.
Last fall, I was very sick and was set home on IV antibitics. Before being discharged, I met with a representative from a home infusion agency to discuss my insurance benefits. I had concerns because I did not think I met my insurance eligibility requirements for receiving the IV antibiotics at home. The representative called my insurance company and assured me I was covered 100%. I signed some paperwork which stated my insurance coverage was 100%. I thought I was free and clear from any financial obligation.
While receiving services from the company, I was repeatedly sent items I did not want. I continually told the company I had an over abundance of supplies and did not need any more. I was constantly in and out of the hospital and never used the supplies the home infusion agency sent me. I have a huge bag of unused supplies sitting in my closet collecting dust.
Recently, I received a large bill in the mail from the home infusion company. I called the home infusion agency to ask why I was being charged for the services. I was informed my insurance company did not pay. I contacted my insurance company today to inquire why my account was not paid to the home infusion agency. The insurance representative told me my insurance does not cover these charges. I am responsible for these bills.
I am a numb, broken-hearted and angry. Either the home infusion representative never called my insurance company, or my insurance company relayed the wrong information to the home infusion company regarding my insurance benefits. Furthermore, I was again sent items in the mail which I did not desire and am again on the hook for paying for these unwanted items. So, it seems, I have another bill to add to my never-ending debt...another bill in which I tried everything I could to prevent from happening.
Last fall, I was very sick and was set home on IV antibitics. Before being discharged, I met with a representative from a home infusion agency to discuss my insurance benefits. I had concerns because I did not think I met my insurance eligibility requirements for receiving the IV antibiotics at home. The representative called my insurance company and assured me I was covered 100%. I signed some paperwork which stated my insurance coverage was 100%. I thought I was free and clear from any financial obligation.
While receiving services from the company, I was repeatedly sent items I did not want. I continually told the company I had an over abundance of supplies and did not need any more. I was constantly in and out of the hospital and never used the supplies the home infusion agency sent me. I have a huge bag of unused supplies sitting in my closet collecting dust.
Recently, I received a large bill in the mail from the home infusion company. I called the home infusion agency to ask why I was being charged for the services. I was informed my insurance company did not pay. I contacted my insurance company today to inquire why my account was not paid to the home infusion agency. The insurance representative told me my insurance does not cover these charges. I am responsible for these bills.
I am a numb, broken-hearted and angry. Either the home infusion representative never called my insurance company, or my insurance company relayed the wrong information to the home infusion company regarding my insurance benefits. Furthermore, I was again sent items in the mail which I did not desire and am again on the hook for paying for these unwanted items. So, it seems, I have another bill to add to my never-ending debt...another bill in which I tried everything I could to prevent from happening.
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