God

Out with the old, in with the new

Suzy Taylor Oakley debt-proof living, God, money, volunteering, work

I left my extremely stressful job last week and started a new one Monday. I don’t have a lot of time for detail this morning (groceries to buy, lawn to mow, fall flowers to plant, football to watch, etc.) but did want to update those of you who still check my blog occasionally.

I don’t want to disparage my former employer, so I won’t mention the name, but just let me say that my new company is a breath of fresh air. Or maybe I should say I can actually breathe at my new job – and take lunch breaks, and go home after eight hours. I loved the people I worked with at the other place, and the new job is somewhat a career switch (going from publishing to investments), but the new company is an extremely efficient, well-organized place to work. They seem to know what they’re doing.

The main thing is that I want to serve people by helping them with their finances (and I want to work at a place that doesn’t cause me insomnia).

I have been a volunteer with Crown Financial Ministries for the past few years, and that’s a little different from what the investment firm does, and yet the same. It all boils down to being good stewards of what God has entrusted to us.

So here’s to my new employer and 40-hour weeks!

Same hospital, different patient

Suzy Taylor Oakley Crohn's disease, family, God, health, medical, work

After so many months visiting Bruce in the hospital and having to make trips back and forth, the shoe was on the other foot this week.

Monday morning I went to the ER after telling a co-worker, “I feel kinda funny.” After having a couple of weird little symptoms over the weekend (that I hadn’t told Bruce about) and the co-worker telling me I looked “really flushed,” I decided to get checked out.

After a few tests I was diagnosed with mitral valve prolapse with mitral valve regurgitation. They did some tests Monday and kept me overnight for observation, and today was the TEE (transesophogeal echocardiogram). That test was done after the cardiologist heard a heart murmur during the regular echocardiogram but decided to get a better view by making me swallow an ultrasound transducer. Let me tell you, that was not fun.

I didn’t tell the second doc (the one who explained the TEE yesterday and performed it today) until right before the procedure that I have a strong gag reflex (I can’t even clean wet hair out of the shower drain without gagging – it’s not pretty). He had mentioned that some people have trouble swallowing the transducer. You have to gargle this viscous numbing solution for a few minutes, then swallow the solution, and if that doesn’t quite do it, they spray more numbing stuff down your throat. After the third spray I threw up the viscous gel stuff (I’ll spare you the details – let’s just say there’s a reason they don’t let you eat for several hours before a procedure like that). The doc said he had had patients who had trouble with the stuff but the throwing up was a first for him.

So he had to put me under – or at least he tried, I was told later. (One thing I did forget to tell him is that not only did I inherit the gagging thing from my dad, I also inherited the need for stronger drugs than most people require – Dad once woke up on the operating table during back surgery.) They give you an amnesia-inducing sedative, so I don’t remember, but apparently I was alert throughout the rest of today’s procedure. Let me just say that I’m really glad I don’t remember, although my sore throat is a constant reminder albeit a really good excuse for frozen yogurt when we got home this afternoon.

The bottom line is that many people live with mitral valve prolapse with no problems. The TEE showed more damage to my valve than they were expecting, but after one doctor (the one who did the TEE) brought up the real possibility of surgery (the scary, crack-open-your-sternum kind of surgery), the original doc said he just wants to monitor it closely. I have another echocardiogram scheduled for December, then he’ll see me every six months. I intend to seek a third opinion, however, just to be sure.

One of the lessons here is that early detection is extremely important. I had ignored a couple of things going on with me over the weekend, but when I got to work Monday and had the strange lightheaded feeling, I decided not to ignore it any longer. Ironically, those symptoms don’t seem to be related to the heart valve problem. I don’t believe in coincidences, so the other symptoms, however minor, may have saved my life – maybe not this week but down the road. (The link I provided above says mitral valve prolapse isn’t dangerous, but I also have the “regurgitation” part, in which blood leaks back into the chamber and can cause other problems.)

Bruce was telling the doctors that with his Crohn’s disease we’ve learned a big lesson about ignoring symptoms. In 1998, he nearly died before I could get him to see a doctor. When I finally told him I was taking him to the hospital, they discovered the disease that has taken so much out of him these past 10 years, and especially the past 20 months.

But I told him it’s because I read too many magazine articles about people who ignore little things until it’s too late. Monday morning I just finally decided to stop ignoring the little signs, even though they turned out to be “merely” stress related. Bruce and I joked yesterday that my job, which has caused me an extreme amount of stress in the past 11 months, may have saved my life. Who knows? It may be true.

But as I often say, I think it was “my guardian angel working overtime.”

Thanks to all of you who have been praying for us.

Hate vs. Hate

Suzy Taylor Oakley God

This morning my co-worker was talking about the protesters on the street corner a block from our office. She had seen them on her way in.

Apparently they were serious about their “mission,” because they were still there when I drove home this evening. Traffic was heavy, so I inched up slowly over the course of three red lights. That gave me plenty of time to read their signs. Once I made it through the green light, I had to fight tears and nausea all the way home, after overcoming the urge to roll down my window and say something that might be perceived as equally hateful. I just couldn’t think of a loving and gentle way to say what I was thinking, especially because it would have had to be loud (so they could hear me) and fast (as I drove directly past them).

I turned on the radio, and they were the topic on the local talk show. These protesters are famous. They have come from a congregation in another state to spread their hate. I’m not going to be more specific because I don’t want anyone using a search engine to find them through my page. They have, in my opinion, received enough publicity by spreading their hateful, sickening messages.

Their signs listed many of the things God allegedly hates. Some of the lifestyles and particular acts mentioned on the signs are, yes, deplorable — things directly addressed in the Scriptures. But to make signs with these hateful words, to TRAVEL TO OTHER STATES with those signs, to stand on a busy metropolitan street corner and espouse these views … well, that takes a lot of hate. Most of these signs were professionally made, not something scribbled on a piece of poster board with a permanent marker. They spent good money on their signs.

These people are professional haters.

On the other side of the street were the people who hated the first haters, although it was a bit difficult to be sure that all of that side of the street was against the first group. They, too, talked about things God supposedly hates. Things you eat, things you wear (He hates polyester?), things the other people stood for. The people on that side wished, via their signage, that the people from the first group would cease producing offspring, among other things. The kindest thing the people in the second group said in their signs was, “Girl in purple shirt is cute.” This was a sign held by a boy who looked to be about 13. He was displaying his sign to the group across the street — the first group of haters. Yeah, he really understood what was going on. Who knows, he may have just stumbled upon the situation and decided to chime in with his own opinion; his sign was handwritten, as were most of the ones on his side of the street.

But the saddest part, I think, is that the people on the first side of the street had their CHILDREN out there holding those signs. Little children, much younger than 13. One little boy looked to be about 7. His sign not only talked about certain people God allegedly hates, but it depicted a particular act that God hates. Can you imagine making your child stand on a street corner and hold such a sign? To make him hold such a sign, wouldn’t you have had to explain to him what the sign depicted? Fortunately, the people on the sign were stick figures; maybe that helped a little.

Here are a few things I think God hates: self-righteousness, name calling, pretending we speak for Him when we haven’t a clue what we’re talking about (ironically, just writing this makes me vulnerable to the same accusations).

Jesus condemned self-righteousness. Here is a short commentary on some of the things He said in the Sermon on the Mount.

Even some of the words Jesus spoke in this sermon are misinterpreted by those of us who follow Him. We twist things to fit our view of the world, to make us more comfortable, to help us feel righteous. But as Paul said in Romans 3:10, “No one is righteous — not even one.” No human has the right to condemn or judge another. Only God, the Righteous Judge, holds that authority.

Freedom of speech is one of the greatest privileges we have in this country, but unfortunately it carries with it the freedom to spread hate and misinformation. This is abuse of that freedom, pure and simple.

Misrepresenting what He wrote to us has dire consequences. Heaven help us all if we fall into that trap.

The good news, even if we want to hate these haters, is that Jesus died for them just as he died for us. On our own, no one is righteous — not even one. We ALL need a Savior — every last, self-righteous one of us.

Thursday hospital update

Suzy Taylor Oakley Crohn's disease, God, health, medical

First, let me say that my prayers go out to the family of Bill Gwatney, who was murdered yesterday at his office at the Arkansas Democratic Party headquarters in Little Rock, and to the family of Timothy Dale Johnson, the man who killed him and was shot to death by police.

As for Bruce, here are a few random pieces of information:

My husband is so in tune with his body. He knows the difference between the lipids dripping down through the IV (the fats make his bottom parts more supple and less painful when he has to visit the potty) and the bag with sugar and insulin. He gets the lipids only every two days, so since they took that off last night, he is having more pain on his bathroom trips. With the non-lipid bag, his mouth is drier and he has more pressure in his abdomen. And, even though he’s getting carbs, he’s more lethargic. He usually can tell the difference quickly in a change in medication or nutrition. His body systems are a delicate balance, and it is amazing what he knows about it. Now, if only he could figure out the cure for Crohn’s disease.

He had a really low blood-sugar reading yesterday, but we are now convinced the test was done incorrectly. The pharmacist said Bruce would have been trembling and disoriented if the reading truly had been 56, yet he didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary.

The lowest the blood sugar has been this week on the IV fluids is 142. The high was 232 around 6 p.m. Wednesday. He has had several insulin shots this week. This is a new experience for us. He hasn’t had these issues on any previous hospitalization.

This is Bruce’s sixth hospitalization since he was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease in December 1998. It’s the fourth hospitalization since May 2007.

Last night, around the time of the staff’s shift change, we heard a bit of drama two doors down. First there was unintelligible yelling, followed by, “Security! Security!” and more yelling. I peeked out to see several nurses and a couple of visitors outside the room. Turns out, one patient was trying to sleep, his roommate’s visitors had had too much to drink and were being too loud, the sleepy patient asked them politely, then later a little more forcefully, to be quiet, and it escalated from there. They had to move one of the patients to a different room.

We hear and see a lot of funny and strange things here at Springhill. I could tell you some hospital tales. I’m debating about one in particular from last summer’s hospital stay. Not sure I can tell it in polite company, especially if you’re reading this while eating breakfast.

I’ll report more later. The surgeon is supposed to visit today, but the gastroenterologist doesn’t think he’ll want to cut on Bruce’s butt this time (he did in December). If no surgery is ordered, Bruce will probably go home Friday or Saturday loaded up with prescriptions for antibiotics and steroids.

Keep prayin’.

Tuesday hospital update

Suzy Taylor Oakley Crohn's disease, dogs, friends, God, health, inspiration, medical

The anticipated CT scan hasn’t happened yet. In fact, the doc hasn’t been in yet to order it (it’s nearly 11:30 a.m.).

With the big bag of “food” on his IV pole, Bruce’s blood sugar shot up last night and they had to give him insulin. The second time they checked it, it was OK, but the pharmacist was in a few minutes ago and said that if it shoots up again, they can inject the insulin directly into the bag. Oy.

What’s worse (in my opinion) is the pain when he goes to the bathroom. With all the undescribable things going on down there, he said that when waste tunnels through the fistula (yes, he has another fistula), it feels like acid being poured on his skin. Down there. The nurse was telling us about her hemorrhoid surgery several years ago and commented, “Can you imagine how painful it is to have a shot in your rectum?” And Bruce replied, “As a matter of fact, I can.” (Several times a day, he can.)

Yes, it is extremely painful. And it’s really scary. He also thinks another abscess has formed, and that’s not the same as a fistula. Different problems, both difficult to treat. And he has ulcers in his mouth, not to mention a yeast infection (also in his mouth — thick, furry coating on his tongue, causing him to eat less) brought on by antibiotics used to treat infections. Some of the medicines he takes are ones that counteract other ones. All a big fat hairy scary mess.

So please keeping lifting him up in prayer. We thank you for all the prayers you’ve already said for us.

On a side note, Bruce wanted me to say something we’ve been wanting to tell people for several months. We have thanked you face to face or by proxy at times when you’ve given us food, money, visits, lawn mowing, TLC to our dogs (Mike Tyler especially loved on our furbabies during his visits), etc. And we’ve e-mailed you in groups or individually to say thanks. But we haven’t done what Miss Manners would have us do, and that’s send actual thank-you notes — through the mail, not electronically.

It took us a long time just to get most of the notes written, but we still haven’t gotten to the next step and addressed the envelopes. They’re sitting on the table downstairs. It’s not just a matter of having the time to do it, it’s that anything nowadays is an emotional (and physical) drain. Both of us have fought low-grade depression, mental and physical exhaustion and the accompanying inertia, and have put off way too many things in the past several months, although I suppose that’s a subject for a post on another day.

But to those of you who have helped, in ways big and small, know that your thank-you has been expressed in our hearts — even written on a card — and someday we might actually mail it.

Suzy and Bruce.

Summing it up in the Psalms

Suzy Taylor Oakley God, inspiration, reading

This morning I did my reading online, in The Message. Since the month began I decided to start in Psalms and Proverbs, reading five Psalms a day and one Proverb.

Today, Psalm 22 sums up how I have been feeling the past few months: oppressed and forgotten. Fortunately it isn’t a short little psalm of lament — it goes on a bit and ends with hope, joy and praise.

And if that weren’t enough, Psalm 23, which is so familiar to many of us, continues the theme of trust, comfort and help. It’s refreshing to read it in a new way, in a paraphrase that really brings it home.

Goodbye to a good man

Suzy Taylor Oakley family, friends, God, health, inspiration, medical

My friend Donny died yesterday. Well, as an adult he was known as Don — by co-workers and others who haven’t known him as long as I have (more than 30 years). I think some of his co-workers probably still called him Donny, though. He had worked at the Kroger in Batesville since he was 16.

I tried to call him Don to his face. But to me he was still Donny, my brother’s buddy.

He was a good man.

Later I’ll write more, when I have permission from Don’s wife to publish a photo of him, plus maybe what the obituary said. She was devastated yesterday, and not at all sure how to tell their son, Josh.

Today is Josh’s 12th birthday.

Pray for them.

No complaints, Day 2

Suzy Taylor Oakley friends, God, humor, inspiration, work

Today is technically Day 2, because I started not complaining yesterday. So I have a day and a half under my belt already!

I did a pretty decent job today, but I want to ask you whether these count:

1. Observing, as I drove home from my job at 9 p.m., that the gas at the corner is 10 cents higher than it was this morning, while remembering that last week it rose 11 cents in a day. That’s a 21-cent increase in less than a week! Does making such observations count as complaining? If everyone complains about the price of gas, does it count?

2. Having the phrase “drama queen” leap to mind in reference to another person. Maybe that’s not complaining; maybe it’s judging.

We’ll work on judging next week, right after I’ve mastered the art of complaining without sounding like I’m complaining.