When someone keeps throwing acid in my face.

Last year someone contacted me because he was an advocate for people with a certain medical condition. The people afflicted with this ailment frequently need a tracheostomy tube. The person wanted information about tracheostomy tubes. I politely emailed the person a number of times. We shared our knowledge. The conversation died out.

Recently, someone emailed me. I had no idea who the person was. The person DEMANDED I answer the email and the laundry list of questions included in the email. The email was sent late in the evening. I was already in bed. The following day, just 14 hours after the first email was sent, the person wrote another lengthy email, which included a LONG rant about what a horrible person I was because I had not answered the first email.



The email was quite vicious and dripped with venom. It disturbed me so much, I had a terrible night of sleep, one which was full of nightmares.

I speculated this person must have been given my email address from the man who contacted me last year (since the person suffered from the same medical condition the man was advocating for. This assumption was unofficially confirmed when a reference was made to the organization the man worked for in a subsequent email.).

I spent about two hours responding to the emails. I gave the person extensive information answering the questions asked. I gave resources to help the person understand the concerns raised.

The response I received back was in short, “Yeah. My doctor told me the same thing. But I am not going to do it.” And then the person went on and on about all the complications which have arisen since the advice was not followed.

Included in this email were many hostile words which seared my soul to the core. I could not understand why this person was filled with such contempt when I had done nothing but been polite and had spent HOURS trying to help the person.

There was no reason I had to answer they person’s emails. I could simply not respond.



I prayed to God, “What should I do?”

I heard in my head a saying from a preacher, “Hurt people hurt people.”

Let me expand this saying. If someone is hurt, the person will lash out and hurt other people. The person writing me these emails probably feels hurt. In turn, I am the target of the person’s ill feelings.

I decide to respond to the emails, but I employ a tactic I learned long ago. Do not say anything in the email. Give no advice. Do not relate anything to my own life. Simply read the email and respond, “Thank you for sharing xxx with me. I am sorry xxx did not go as you had hoped.” And continue the email in broad statements which should not elicit any negativity. Be support but do not give any information which can be turned around and used as a basis to throw acid in my face.

So far, this style of writing seems to have worked. It is allowing my wounds to heal.

White Coat Ceremony...15 Years Later

In January 2008, I gathered with my friends as we stood in a large auditorium. We were dressed in our best business causal attire. We held our precious white coats in our hands. This day, we would go through a special white coat ceremony which would officially launch our medical careers.

 

As I stood looking at my classmates, I wondered where we would be in 15 years. I imagined I would be at a medical center on the East Coast of the USA, working tirelessly to save medically complex patients. It would have been a long journey, but I would have done it! I would have successfully conquered medical school and all my training programs.

Glimpses of a future husband floated through my mind. How many children would we have? Where would we live?

The future was limitless. Excitement pulled at every fiber of my being...

As I look back to this ceremony 15 years ago, my heart is rather shattered. Not a single dream has come true. Instead of becoming a physician, I am perpetually the patient. Instead of helping medically complex patients, I am the medically complex patient. Instead of working tirelessly, I am always exhausted from fighting chronic illness. Instead of saving lives, I am on life support.

I am glad the future is veiled to us. If someone would have told me 15 years ago I would be severely hampered by my health, I would have thought you were crazy. Nothing was going to stop me...nothing except my health and God.

The Fight to Keep Going...

Exhaustion pulls my body into a heap on the bed.
I fight to keep my eyes open.
I scream out to God, “I am tired! I do not want to do this anymore! I just want to live out my days watching mindless videos.”

Messages come to me via Facebook, YouTube and email.
People want help.
People are confused.
People are begging for guidance.

I sigh, and begin another long night of correspondence.
My eyes are bleary.
It’s hard to make my thoughts coherent.

I try to be polite.
I try to be nice.

One comment reads, “Thank you for making your videos. One a very dark night, you saved me from ending my life.”

The tears of fatigue which were ebbing at the corners of my eyes come rushing down my cheeks as tears of sadness.
I saved someone’s life? No. God directed this person to my video and helped the person realize suicide is not the answer.

Pushing the tears from my face, I thank God for His kindness.
I sigh and say, “I guess I will make more videos. If You can use my channels to save lives, who am I to discontinue Your work.”

I finish my correspondence and collapse onto my pillow.
As sleep tugs at my eyelids, I begin thinking of new YouTube video ideas.
And soon, sleep overtakes me.

One thing after another…What a long day!

Yesterday I had to travel 45 minutes to the city to get blood work done and have a doctor’s appointment. It should have been a relatively short visit. However, challenge after challenge seemed to pave the way.

When I arrived at the doctor’s office, it was PACKED! I have never seen the waiting room so full…and full of sick people—coughing and sniffling. I had to spend an hour and half in the waiting room. I tried to isolate myself from everyone, but it was difficult since there were so many people.

When I got to a room, the nurse quickly took my vitals, and she was gone. The doctor arrived shortly thereafter. He stepped into the room and then left. His laptop was dead. He had to go find a charger. Twenty minutes later, he returned. The appointment was not productive. The doctor would not give me a medicine for a common medical issue. Instead, he referred me to a specialist.

After spending 2.5 hours at the clinic, I was able to leave.

 Next, I went to get my blood drawn. Praise be to God, there was no one waiting at the lab!

When the technician looked at my arms, the obvious blood vessel to draw from she would not use. She said the vein was too hard. She said she might hit a nerve. Instead, she went for a really difficult to access vein. She missed. She dug around in my arm and found a nerve which she tried to draw blood from several times. I nearly jumped through the roof from the pain.

She finally gave up and withdrew the needle. She then used a different needle and easily got blood from the large vein which was bulging in my arm.

After the blood draw, my arm felt as though it was being electrocuted. Pain radiated up and down my arm.

When I got home, my pharmacy called me. I missed the call, but they left a voicemail. I dialed my voicemail and tried to put the phone on speaker phone. Instead of speaker phone, the key pad appeared on the screen. Since I could not hear my phone, I put the phone up to my ear. My cheek bumped the screen and hit the number 7. My voicemail told me the message was marked for deletion. But I never heard the message!

Next, I was called and informed of my appointment with the specialist my physician referred me to. I am unable to go to the appointment. I have tried calling the specialist’s clinic over and over again, but I cannot get anyone to pick up the phone.

That was my day yesterday. But God did richly enrich my evening. I am grateful for God’s tender mercies!