Life Happened

“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next.
Delicious Ambiguity.” -Gilda Radnar


Oh there is so much to say... And all this time I thought I had nothing to say. The neck surgery went really well. My neck is healing great, much of the pain is gone and I haven't even had a headache since the surgery. My family and friends were awesome at taking care of me and having fun with me. Holly even came and stayed with me for a week.

But as seems to happen after my major physical journeys, my mental health crashed within weeks of the surgery and within days of coming off the pain killers. I once again spent a couple of days in the hospital for help with my depression. I came out with new hope and having connected with new Doctors and new education for my family. I felt we were really on a path back up.

This lasted for about 2 weeks when all the sudden I started having seizures. After a trip to the ER and being told to go see my psychiatrist about my medication, the psychiatrist told me that one of my medicines that I was on was known to cause seizures. I was immediately taken off that medicine and told never to take it again. Finally, I thought, now we can get on with life.

Wrong again! On March 8 I woke up with my lips looking like a lip job gone bad.

We went to instacare I was given some steroids and antihistamines and told to go to the ER if it happened again and my throat started to close off. Two days later, I woke up looking like I had been beat and I was having a hard time breathing so I called my friend and off we went to the ER.

They were shocked to look at me and see my whole body covered in hives.

No one knew what was causing this reaction- I hadn't tried anything new and the only unusual exposure I was having was the finishing of my basement. 

A few days later and another visit to the ER (that lasted 8+ hours) I was admitted to the hospital. I was treated for a few days and sent home. I was home for about 2 days and I ended up back in the ER. This time they decided that I needed to go down to Intermountain Medical Center so that I could be treated by an allergist and see if they could get to the bottom of this. Another long ambulance ride was in store. IMC is an amazing hospital! They know what they are doing and are used to treating bad things. Alesa met me at the hospital that night- even though it was late and my mom came down and spent the next couple of days with me. These two sure made this hospital stay easier since Doug couldn't be there because of work. While there the hospitalist consulted with an allergist/immunoligist and although I left the hospital with no more answers than I went in with, I was set up with an appointment with an amazing allergist. 

Dr Kelly, she is my hero. She looks like she's about 20 and a super model but has been in practice for 11 years so she must be about my age. She is kind and compassionate and smart and caring and thoughtful. She said that I was indeed experiencing true anaphylaxis. And she had me change some medications and went through anything else that could cause an allergic reaction. Because of my family history and my history she wanted me to see my GI Dr because there is an intestinal cancer that can cause anaphylaxis. I have had a pill camera endoscopy and indeed there was a growth found. No one is very sure what it is so I am waiting to go see another GI Dr who has the equipment to be able to go look at my intestines. Dr Kelly has diagnosed me with Mast Cell Activation. It is a disease that basically means an unknown reason for Mast Cell activation. Mast Cells are the cells that are activated when one has allergies. My body is activating them and sending them out for no reason and it is causing me to go into anaphlyaxis. She also told me that I have asthma, I've known for a while I had exercise induced asthma but didn't know I had it all the time. 

I take many anti-histamines everyday so I don't ever get hives on the out side of my body- although she says my insides are probably covered. Dr Kelly has tried to treat me with a shot but it twice sent me into anaphylaxis and landed me in the ER. So, now, I take a high dose of aspirin everyday with the hope that the Mast Cells will calm down. It has helped some, overall I feel better. But I have still had "episodes" and even a couple of stays in the ICU. 

This is a scary time of life and out of all my trials, I do believe this is the hardest I've ever been through. During my last ICU stay the Dr told me that he hopes the growth in my stomach is cancer- it can be removed.  The Mast Cell disease I will have to deal with for the rest of my life and "the rest of your life may not be too far". 

Through this all, if has been shown to me over and over again that I have a loving Heavenly Father who has never forsaken me. He has sent angels, both heavenly and earthly to watch over me. He is allowing this to happen for MY growth, so that I can become a stronger, better person. 

More Tender Mercies Helped Me Survive... and thrive

The Lord’s tender mercies are the very personal and individualized blessings, strength, protection, assurances, guidance, loving-kindnesses, consolation, support, and spiritual gifts which we receive from and because of and through the Lord Jesus Christ….

The first 24 hours in the BHU were so tough, I think my body was kind of shutting down. All day I couldn't pee. I finally told the night nurse and he called the Dr. The Dr told the nurse to do an ultrasound and check my bladder levels, if it was over 300 ml go ahead and cath me. The scan came back between 450-500 ml. Luckily there was an experienced female nurse working too and the student nurse did the cath to make us all feel more comfortable. Over 580 ml came out! No wonder I was so uncomfortable! There were also some other physical reactions. It's amazing how stressed our bodies can get!

During the day we would have an individual therapy session with the social worker, meet with the psychiatrist, group therapy and recreation therapy. We were also given assessments every morning and night by the nurses, it was often a more comfortable place for me to talk- but don't worry, they all told each other every thing we said. :) Every person who talked to us would ask if I had suicidal thought, if I had plans and if I hope for the future. It took me until my last day there to say I had hope. When asked what that hope was all I could say was I hoped that I could get better.

In group therapy they would ask us to introduce ourselves. The first day I said; "I'm Stephanie, I'm here for the weekend." The third day I said; "I'm Stephanie, I'm here for depression." Finally by the last day I could say; "I'm Stephanie, I'm here because I wanted to kill myself." It was amazing to watch me grow and be braver and it became easier and easier to admit how I'd been feeling.

On the first day of group the only other person had been called out and the Social Worker said "imagine yourself as an old, healthy lady." As soon as she said this the tears started flowing because I couldn't picture myself as an old lady. I later told my night nurse that I couldn't imagine myself in one year let alone 30 years.

Rec therapy was a life saver for me. I'd forgotten how much I love to "create". The first day we modge podged little wooden boxes. It was so relaxing to me to make this cute little box. At first when I knew I'd have to make crafts I though for sure I'd throw it awas as I walked out the door. Instead they became things that were very calming and healing to me. And now that box sits on my bathroom counter and when I look at it I feel calm and am reminded that was my first step to healing. It also reminds me that I need to continue to create. We also covered notebooks and wrote down anti-anxiety play lists. And we made collages of things that were "self care" items for us. It was so therapeutic to cat and paste- kind of like kindergarten.

Each day as we did these activities we'd talk and sometimes share experiences. This was for sure where I did my best talking. It's much easier to talk when the hands are busy.

My last day, just minutes before I was to leave, we were asked to share what happened in our crisis situation. This was the first time I really opened up about what those couple of days before I came into the hospital had been like and how scary it was. I felt like a huge load was lifted off my shoulders.

While there I met some interesting people- ordinary people facing extraordinary experiences. Anna was my favorite. She came in the middle of the night after me and stayed until Monday morning. She came in addicted to heroin/cocaine combo. The first morning she looked like a shell of a person. It was so hopeful to watch her eyes brighten as she came alive. She was a 23 year old single mom of 2. She loved her babies and missed them dearly. She left to go to a rehab in California. I think of her constantly and hope the she can get better and show the world who she truly is! There were others- all impacted me somehow.

I am grateful for the lessons I learned while in the hospital the tender mercies I felt and the angels who were put in my path.

Hoping...

“Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering 'it will be happier'...” 
― Alfred Tennyson

Tomorrow, Monday, I am going in for a herniated disc surgery. It's in the very bottom of my neck. I am hoping this will provide some physical relief that I've been searching for for a long time. If the physical relief comes I feel the mental will follow. It's nice to feel some hope...

The Worst of Times with Some Tender Mercies to Get Us Through

“I testify that the tender mercies of the Lord are real and that they do not occur randomly or merely by coincidence. Often, the Lord’s timing of his tender mercies helps us to both discern and acknowledge them…." -David Bednar

As Doug and I drove to the hospital we held hands tightly. We were both scared to death; not knowing what to expect but knowing it was going to be hard. We had to go through the ER first. I was so nervous, I didn't want to be treated rudely and questioned a whole lot. As I checked in all I told the clerk was that my counselor had sent me. She nodded and got me checked in. The nurse who came to take me back was so kind and understanding and made light conversation with me.

Within minutes of being in my room the Physician's Assistant came in and said; "Stephanie, I've had two phone calls about you." He said Dr Redd (Psychiatrist on call- Dr F had called and talked to him) and Dr F had both called and talked to him about me but he said "before we talk about that I want to talk to you about your surgery in Indiana." He had been my PA on a couple of my visits and remembered me and wanted to be updated. I felt like it was such a blessing for him to be my PA because he understood part of what had got me to this point. 

The PA told me that he'd been told him no matter what I needed to be admitted and asked Doug and me how we felt about that. I tearfully told him that I wouldn't be here if I didn't think that was what needed to happen. The tears were streaming down my face this entire time, he gave me a box of tissues and for some reason that was very comforting to me that he cared enough to do that. After he left, the nurse finished her questions and the social worker came in.

The social worker asked lots of questions. Wanted to know my thoughts and my plans. She was kind, helpful and at times even held my hand. The whole time I was in the ER I was treated with respect and dignity. It took about four hours in the ER to get all the paper work, insurance approvals, ekg and and drug tests completed so I could be admitted to the Behavioral Health Unit (BHU). 

I had to tell Doug good bye in the ER; this was so heart breaking for both of us! I knew that if he were with me I could get through anything so it was hard to leave on my own.  Two security guards wheeled me down to the BHU- the tears were still streaming- but they tried so hard to be kind and talk and joke with me.

I arrived in the BHU trying to control the tears but there was no stopping them. I was the only one right in the unit (two were in the ICU part). A sweet, young tech had to stay with me while I changed into their scrubs. She also had to take my necklace and bracelet. This young woman was amazing and would end up being a huge blessing in both visits to the hospital.

After she left a nurse came into talk to me. I recognized him immediately, he had been my nurse during my nine hour visit to the ER in June. I was so appreciative of his kindness then, I knew I  could trust him now. He asked a lot of questions and talked to me for a while to find out where I was mentally. He gave me paper work and a rubber pencil. That pencil about did me in! I decided if you could survive the rubber pencils you could survive anything!

That night was one of the hardest night I've ever had. I was given medication to help with sleeping but I only slept until about 1:30, the rest of the night I spent pacing my very small room and staring out the window. All I could think about was how I could kill myself. Believe me, there's nothing in those rooms you could even hurt yourself with, but I was so sick, so damaged that night. I was scared being alone. I wanted my Doug there to hold me, I wanted to go to my own comfortable bed not the slabs of wood with a piece of foam on it they offered me. What had I done to myself??? What was wrong with me??? I felt broken. So broken.

The next morning my nurse came in, she was a little overbearing and loud, I wasn't thrilled with her at first, but she quickly became one of my angels I met during my time there. She took me under her wing. She encouraged me to call my Bishop and get a blessing, she talked religion (even though she wasn't suppose to) and encouraged me constantly. She played music and tried to get me to dance. I don't dance but I told her if she could find "Compass" I'd dance with her, and she did, and I did- a little. I  had been dealing with a migraine on top of everything else so dancing was even more difficult than normal for me. She treated me with utmost respect and tried to give me as much freedom as possible. After her 2nd shift and knowing I'd be gone before she came back, she came and gave me a half hug ("we don't do this here either") and told me that I was an outstanding person and she knew I could beat this. 

Another angel/tender mercy was my night nurse, I was lucky to have him for my three other nights that I was there. Nights were particularly rough for me. Every night I'd go to sleep then I'd wake up a few hours later in a panic. He was so kind to get me meds, meditation cds or to sit and talk with me for a bit. One evening while he was doing my assessment he asked me about my marathon. I told him my story and he got all excited be he'd heard part of the story already- his wife is in my running group (I didn't know her) and she's friends with Joanna and heard part of it from her.

He was a happy, positive person who would help me smile. The 3rd night he came to me concerned that I was worried about us having mutual friends. He assured me he never talked about work. He then got me one of his person movies; "The Straight Line" and sat and watched it with me when he could. He felt like an old friend and I think having him there all three nights was a huge help.

The sweet tech who was on Fri night was also on Sun and Mon night. She was relaxed and so, so kind. When I first got to the unit they offered me something to eat because they knew I'd been in the ER for hours. I had absolutely no appetite and I for sure wasn't hungry. I needed to order food for the next day but I just didn't care about doing it. So, unknow to me, she ordered it for me, all her favorites hoping I'd like them too. I was grateful the next day to at least have some food to "pick" at. She also was very open and caring with us. She shared her own experience with a family member and mental health. One night I was being bugged by a piece of meat stuck in my tooth so she snuck me a piece of dental floss. This girl holds a VERY tender place in my heart for so many reasons!

These were some of the angels I feel a great gratitude to. I'll share more in another post.

In the trenches

"In the depths of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer." -Albert Camus

The morning after my day in the closet, Friday, September 26, 2014, a day that is forever etched in my mind. I got up with more energy and feeling determined with a decision made of what I was going to do. Unfortunately the determination and decision were both wrong ideas.

September 26 is the anniversary of my Dad's death 24 years ago. I don't know if that date had anything to do with my feelings but  I know I was having tender feelings about my dad. It is amazing to me that I can miss him as badly as I do even 24 years later. This was my FaceBook post that day:

24 years is a long time. It's a lot of missing someone. A lot of wondering what advice he would give. A lot of wishing I could have a Father's blessing. A lot of missing "leap years & reindeer stew". A lot of wishing my kids had a grandpa and my mom had a companion. But it's also a lot of times the veil has been thin. And a lot of times I can understand someone else's pain. And a lot of faith that life is eternal.

I felt those feelings so strongly. I felt that faith and the understanding that I'd learned from this trial of missing my dad since I was 15.

I knew that things in my brain weren't right, but I didn't know what to do. I called my counselor, there was no answer so I left a message. I decided to go on with my plan. He called me back within 30 minutes or so but I knew by then what I was doing so I led him to believe everything was fine (I really think I was so resigned to what was going to happen that everything WAS fine) and told him I was at a friend's house, because I was. The truth was everything I needed to end my life was in my van and I had a, hopefully, fail proof plan.

I had my day planned out. I went and got my nails done, zoned and visited with a friend. Then I went to lunch with two other very good, old friends. I said good-bye thinking in my heart that I would not see them again here on this earth. I had arranged a baby sitter to drop Mick off with but I wanted to play with him at the park one more time. We stopped at a park in Hyde Park and I let him play and play. As I watched and interacted with him it all the sudden hit me "You can't do this, this is wrong." It was as if a person was right there talking to me, looking back, I'm almost certain it was my dad protecting me from my terrible decisions.

I started to cry (and I don't think I quit crying for about 9 hours) I didn't know what to do. I knew if I called Dr F I would be sent to the hospital, and quite honestly, I think I knew that's where I needed to be. But boy was that a scary thought. As I sat and cried and wondered what to do, my friend's, who is a social worker at the hospital, name came to me. Through a series of small miracles I was able to get in touch with her. I told her a little what was going on and asked her to help explain what was going to happen. She was so kind, she talked me through it and made sure I could be safe until I could get help. She told me that this was a healthy, brave decision.

I put Mick in the car and then as I was driving home I called Dr F. I told him what was up (well little bits of it) and we agreed it was time for the hospital. I drove home and knew that I would wait until Doug got home to go. Doug walked in the door about 5 minutes after I did. He said he just had a feeling he needed to come home from work early.

All of these things working together were just the beginning of the tender mercies that I was going to experience over the next few hours and days. As I've thought back on this day the thought occurred to me; Even when you think there is no hope, there is always a glimmer. You only need to be brave for 20 seconds for everything to change.

I was only brave long enough to call my friend and Dr F- two 20 second times, after that it was out of my hands. I just had to go along for the ride.

Hurdles

"Life's problems wouldn't be called "hurdles" if there were no way to get over them."

Last Spring my 14 year old daughter decided to do track. She didn't just do something easy like the 200 m dash like most of the other Freshman. She decided to do the hurdles, both the 100 m and the 300 m. The hurdles look scary to me, I don't think I'd ever even try them. But she tried them and she practiced and she worked hard and she fell down and got scraped up. But EVERY SINGLE TIME she stood back up and either started the practice run over or finished the race. She was such an inspiration to me at the time and she still is today.

I feel like this depression and anxiety disease is much the same way. I fall down often. I get scraped up and hurt. And EVERY SINGLE TIME I have got up and continued my fight. Sometimes getting up is hard. Sometimes it's harder than what I can do on my own. So, what do I do during those times? Ask for help.

Asking for help is a hard thing and often I don't even know what it is that I need. But the last time I was in the hospital (yes, I've been hospitalized for my depression- that story will be coming) I came up with an easier way to ask for help. I made a list of my "people", the people I trust, people who are physically close, people who aren't relatives (relatives deal with me a lot anyway) and people who I know, without a doubt, love me. I set up a group text and when I need something I just shoot out one text. Whoever is available responds and offers what they can. Sometimes just getting a text back is helpful, sometimes a walk is suggested and sometimes it's a talk. This has been a great thing for me, I don't have to worry that the person might be busy or not want to deal with me that day. Plus by having a group text the others know that I've been taken care of. I'll admit this isn't fool proof, how can it be when a fool is on this end??? But it's pretty good, I just have to have the energy or desire to type that text. Sometimes that takes a lot but if I do, I know there will be someone there. For those true friends I am grateful!

Speaking of energy- sometimes getting out of bed is an almost impossibility for me. I decided while I was in the hospital that everyday I would get myself out of bed and get dressed for the day. I'll admit, some days that's all I have. Some days getting out of bed and dressed is an accomplishment. But I've noticed that if I'm dressed for the day, even if I'm laying back in my bed, things are better. If someone needs me I can respond. If someone drops by I don't feel stupid. Getting dressed helps just that tiny bit. And if I put on a really fabulous necklace, life feels that much better!

Running Didn't Solve Everything

After that marathon I felt so good! I thought I was on top of the world! I had conquered my demons and I could move forward with anything. I'm sure glad I recorded all those feelings while I was still on the "high" of conquering those 26.2 miles because less than 3 weeks after finishing those miles my life took a drastic change because that's what life and mental illness do.

June 6th my mom was leaving the country for a couple of weeks. I took a nice, short, wonderful run to pick up her car for her but something didn't seem quite right. I got home and within a couple of hours I was throwing up and in tons of pain. I assumed it was a kidney stone so I drove myself to the hospital. Nine hours later when they got the throwing up a little more under control they sent me home. This was the first of three ER visits in six days and the start of a very, very miserable summer full of tests, pain and nausea. Not to mention Doug was working in Wyoming. Finally it was decided that it was once again my sphincter of Oddi and I needed to go back to Indiana. Through the summer there was some depression and anxiety but mostly I was sick and sleepy and felt so alone. At the first of September after having the surgery and getting off the pain medicine I'd been on for months I was excited to get back into life! I think I thought I would pick up where I left off in May. It didn't work out quite that way. My physical health didn't come back as quickly as before and actually still isn't back. And my mental health took a major CRASH!

Through September I went to counseling and took my anti depressants. I wasn't sleeping and sleeping for me is a MAJOR trigger for my depression to rear its ugly head. Things were not pretty. I was retreating more and more. I didn't have the energy to reach out and ask for help and I definitely didn't have the energy to help myself. I continued to go to counseling and I know that Dr F was concerned about me. He basically warned me that going to the hospital was an option that was getting more and more real. Dr F's biggest concern was that I could stay safe.

One day I finally reached the end. I got up and got my kids off to school and climbed back into bed. I didn't get out of bed again until I had to go to the bathroom. Then when I got out of bed I made it as far as my closet and spent the next 4-5 hours lying on the floor until Doug got home. I know Doug was terrified seeing me there but in reality this day was much better than the next day would prove to be, I had no energy to do anything, I was safe.