Update

I am on day 23 since being admitted to Yale Hospital for a third time. I am dealing with the ravages of HA-MRSA, after my original surgery on August 5.

Presently, I have a NG tube in place and am receiving 24 hour nutrition through my veins via TPN. I have not had food or water in over two weeks as we let my abdomen slowly heal. Due to the pain meds, etc. it is very difficult to write.

I look forward to writing again soon when I am better.

Peace to all of you.
Kim

I Don't feel Good Today

This is not the blog I had wanted to write today.
I am getting sicker.
We made the 45 minute trip to Yale to meet my surgeon first thing this morning. I have a real bad case of HA-MRSA and the antibiotics are struggling to fight it. Add my compromised immune system due to continuous chemo for so long and you have the potential for a disaster. Potential is quite scary.

When I was rushed to the ER less than two weeks ago with raging fever and terrible pain in my belly, a CT scan showed a build up of fluid under the original incision. I very small slit was made to let all of the fluid drain out. Three days of IV antibiotics and packing of the small wound with medicated material, allowed me to go home  on Aug. 18. on oral antibiotics, visiting nurse and twice a day dressing change.
A good plan.
That has not worked.

The MRSA is winning right now. The wound has opened up the complete length of the 7 inch incision and is deep. It is still growing and draining. Today, the big guns, Infectious Disease Docs, were added to my team. My case is so complicated due to my challenging medical history of past infections and blood clots. We are all in agreement that we want me to stay at home as long as possible because the hospital is WHERE I GOT THE INFECTION. (I have a little bit of resentment). Today, we are still awaiting the results from a culture that was done on Monday, to make sure that we are only dealing with the MRSA.

The packing material has been changed to a different brand and we are going to try to hold the course, day by day. Right now, the infection is growing and spreading. We are praying for the antibiotics to get the upper hand and start winning this match instead of just holding its' own.  In our arsenal, we have several plans that can be implemented at a moments notice, unfortunately the majority involve hospitalization in an isolation ward.

Ken and I held hands most of the drive home while each of our minds were swirling with different thoughts.  He has been so strong. Today broke him though. Tears flowed and they needed to flow. We are on a very slippery slope right now; we cannot allow the MRSA to get into my bloodstream. He feels so helpless, yet he has done so much for me and makes me feel so well taken care of. We prayed together and our conviction to getting through this became even stronger.

We are literally going hour by hour right now. I am trying my best to rest, stay positive, stay hydrated and get the vitamins in. I have absolutely no appetite, but I do have a large protein, veggie, fruit smoothie every day. Greek yogurt and cottage cheese are a daily must, too.

All of your kind, supportive words, notes and cards have meant the world to me. I know a lot of people have strong opinions about what or what not I should be doing right now, but I have 100 percent confidence in my team at Yale.

Thank you so much for your prayers.
Peace.
Kim

I'm Following Your Lead, God.

I am home. In a bed, not my bed, but a real-deal hospital bed that is smack in the middle of my living room. I have actually grown quite fond of it, as have both Brutus, Bella and the two cats. My family helped me by surrounding me with books and journals and many other comforts, and I am peaceful. And healing...hopefully.

Reading back over my last post before my operation, I could almost feel a sense of excitement and challenge about the upcoming surgery and the eventual relief from the pain I have endured over the past year. I trained as I trained years ago for the Marathon that I ran. I knew it would be hard, challenging, tortuous, but the finish line would hold so much promise. I was prepared as any patient could be. Everything that I could do physically, emotionally and spiritually had been done. My army of supporters and volunteers had been amassed and I was ready. Just do it.

I felt so confident and peaceful as I was prepped for surgery. I had a terrific discussion with the anesthesiologist about pain relief and management and then spoke with both surgeons about all of the details of the surgery, signed the consent forms and then kissed my sweet Ken, good night.

And then I woke up. All of the feelings I had prior to anesthesia were now replaced with vulnerability and a terrible feeling of actually loosing control of myself. There was disorientation, fear, desperation and pain, all rolled up together into one of the worst sensations I have ever felt. I have felt that way two other times: after emergency open heart surgery several years ago, and after the ginormous hernia surgery fiasco last year. I hope to never feel it again.

As I became more stable and responsive, I was able to begin to gather my thoughts and start using my breathing techniques to help calm and reorient myself to being conscious. But then, PAIN. Can't describe it, don't even want to think about it, but lots of it. And a critical oversight. They did not hook me to a Dilaudid pump for pain management as we had discussed. It took hours to correct that and even longer to try to get on top of the pain, rather than having it drag me down.

Both surgeons were amazed with how much destruction, scarring and stranding of infection was present in my abdomen from the defective mesh. It is truly a miracle that over the past year, that I did not succumb to a massive infection. Go green juicing!! It was cetainly the Pandora's Box we had all been waiting to open, but the contents were much worse than what was expected. I was told that the breaking down of the fascia in my belly was a chronic, incurable immunio ailment. If I do not change my lifetyle completely, the hernias will keep on coming. Right now there are nine.

Unless the hernias become enstrangulated, twisted or something else that I don't even want to think about, they will be left as is. The decision to try to repair them with fascia from my hips and thights is completely off the table; we just want to protect what is there now.

So my visions of enduring whatever I had to, to bring myself to a version of as close to the old, athletic me, forget athletic..just my old self... have been swept away. The only thing I can do now is ACCEPT and change my life and even the lives of Ken and the kids in a very dramatic way.

Accept: Thy will, not mine, be done. I say this so many times a day that I lose count. I am now to treat my body as though there were layers of bubblewrap wrapped around me to protect my belly. This will be so hard for me. I love my independence and have been so blessed to still have it after all of the years of fighting cancer. I love to do things like rearrange furniture to suit my moods, haul stuff up and down stair cases at the time I may need them, or even go to the grocery, fill a cart, bag it up, bring it home and unload it - by myself, on my schedule. No more. Nope. Notta. Finito. Basically, not lifting, pulling or pushing anything that weighs more than little Bella. Forever. Whether I think I can or not, never again.

Of course, with all of this we will have to make some really big decisions about the house very soon. Can I manage when Ken is out of town? Torrie will be leaving this time next year for college, too. Too overwhelming when looked at all at one time, so I let the Scarlett in me come out and "I'll think about that tomorrow."

I came home from surgery on August 14 and was directly admitted again less than 36 hours later with a temp of 103.8 and a new raging infection in my belly. I was reopened, cleaned out and big guns of antibiotics were administered. There is now a large, deep wound which must heal from the inside out. Insurance pays for a nurse to come once a day to to come and unpack, clean out and repack the wound. It is nasty and excruciating. It needs to be done twice a so I have counted on a few volunteers to help me until I can do this myself. This will take a long time. It turned out that this was an aggressive hospital borne staph infection, but fortunately rthe antibiotics are fighting it... and I am home.

Thank you to all of you for your notes of ecouragement and love, they sustain me.

I know I have something big to do; my meditation, my writing, something. I can feel it pulling me and I am ready to move forward. I trust God implicitly and I know He will carry the load for me that I no longer can. And I will share His miracles that He has blessed me with, to anyone that will listen.

Thy will, not mine, be done.

Blue Moon and out of the blue!

Last night there was an incredible, full Blue Moon. The whole night had an amazing blue hue to it. And now, it's a beautiful Saturday morning... the kind that invigorates and causes energy to rise within you to do something out of the ordinary. Or maybe it is even something ordinary, but the task becomes lighter and more enjoyable because the morning is just sparkling. I love these kind of days...

I haven't written a new post to my blog in a couple of weeks. My life has been "overflowingly" busy these past several days, but in a wonderful way. I have been doing lots to get ready for surgery on Wednesday. It has been so amazing to me the people and things that God has put in front of me to help get ready for what is to come - out of the blue.

At the beginning of July, I was looking around to find places to meditate so that I could keep practicing all that I had learned in my 8 week Mindfulness course. Out of the blue, I had a very strong feeling that said to me - I can do this! So very quickly I secured a location and created an event: Meditation with Kim. At first, I thought to myself that maybe I could convince one or two of my friends to join me. To my delight at the first session, there were twelve willingly minds. By the second week, I was feeling much more confident and the group continued to grow by word of mouth. Amazingly, for the last session this past Thursday, there were 32 people. All of us together meditating for the happiness and peace for others and for ourselves. I was more than humbled that in some small way, I was able to bring some quiet reflection time into the lives of people in my community. I have such a motivation to heal quickly, so that I may return in the fall to this wonderful group of people and our practice. I am also so blessed to have found this practice to carry me through surgery and all of the stresses that come along with it before and after.

In addition to meditation, I have completely revamped my diet in the past several weeks to get as nutritionally fit as possible for strength and healing. I underwent a 10 day sugar detox, eliminating all sugar from my diet. It is unbelievable in how many unsuspecting places you find sugar! The first two days, I was irritable and head achy, but with lots of water and lemon added, I began to feel so good. My daily diet now is almost completely refined sugar free; I still use fruits in my diet, but in limited amounts.

After I completed the sugar detox, out of the blue, the benefits of green smoothies was presented to me. THIS has changed my life. Every day, in my good ole blender, I make a green smoothie, out of kale, spinach and other greens. Fruit is also added. I have done this as a meal replacement and cannot begin to tell you all of the differences I feel. (Please get in touch with me through Facebook - Kim Green Community Page, if you want to hear more!). My hair, nails and skin have changed dramatically, which means healthy new cell growth, which means for me Healing! Not to mention, all of the other antioxidant benefits.

I have also found the wonderful healing and relaxation benefits of essential oils applied directly to the skin and into the air through a diffuser. This has helped me tremendously with tension, sleep and pain.

My suitcase for my hospital stay at Yale looks quite different than in the past. I am bringing my diffuser and oils, my blender (I am keeping my fruits and veggies in the frig on the hospital floor), my own lamp instead of those awful overhead lights, my tapes, CD's and headphones. My living room will be transformed into my bedroom while I am away, with a hospital bed being delivered. My goal is to leave the hospital as quickly as possible (about a week or so) to begin my healing at home with my family, friends, Brutus and Bella.

I will be posting a lot on Facebook - Kim Green Community Page, as a way to journal for the book I am working on.

Thank you so much for all of your prayers.

I will see you all on the flipside of this surgery.
Namaste.
Kim

And the Countdown Begins...

Sunday night and it is the end of an idyllic weekend. I have spent the weekend immersed in the beautiful teachings of Buddhism at Hartford Karma Thegsum Choling with Lama Kathy Wesley.
From early evening Friday night until late this afternoon, I sat on my little zafu and was gently led through wonderful meditation practices focused upon love, kindness and compassion. A door to a beautiful world of peace and calm was opened for me and I most willingly walked through it. A weekend I will never forget...

Spending my weekend this way was not how I originally envisioned it. You see, I only have three weekends left before my surgery. This weekend was to be filled with painting (I decided to expose the wood under the carpet on our staircase this week) the backs of the staircase, heavy baseboard cleaning and mulching. Yes, we still have mulch! I am beginning to think the pile is growing rather than shrinking!

I have a very organized list of all of the big tasks that I need to complete before surgery on Aug. 5. Tasks that I will not be able to do in the months immediately after surgery; tasks that I may not be able to do again, period.

But God has a way of rearranging my schedules and lists. Through a new and dear friend, I was informed of this unique opportunity, and very much unlike my usual self, I dropped everything and went. It is so cool that on Saturday morning, one of my readings was about hearing God's Word in unconventional manners and through others. Once again, I felt the assurance that God has me in his palm and is giving me every tool possible to reamin calm and peaceful through the journey that I am getting ready to embark on.

In 23 days, I'll check into Yale and have my PIC line inserted. At the crack of dawn, the next morning, the surgeons will make the first of many large incisions to remove the infected mesh and all of the surrounding tissue and muscle. They will then repair each of the five hernias in my abdomen using tissue from another source. Finally, a new abdominal wall will be basically rebuilt from fascia and muscle from my thighs. An enormous surgery, with way too many opportunities for complications. So, the countdown has begun...

I am so grateful that God has rearranged my to do list. "Let's put finding ways to relieve pain and stress and promote healing and love, ahead of mulch."

 Thank Goodness one of us is thinking straight!!

The Sport of Gardening

One of my most favorite things to do is to putz around my yard and garden. I use the term putz around, because I have yet to really claim the title of gardener. To me,  the word 'gardener' means someone who actually knows (and can remember) the name of flowers and various plants. They know cool things like the acidity of soil and the benefits of different fertilizers and pest controls. They have books about gardening on their coffee tables and always have a cute hat and pretty gardening gloves close by. They wear adorable loose fitting clothes that just scream "I am relaxed, I am a gardener", and somehow never seem to get dirty after a morning of toiling.
That is most definitely not me, not whatsoever. My gardening attire consists of one of my husband's or son's beat up t-shirts and a ball cap. I can never find a PAIR of gardening gloves, and if by some miracle I do, they are hard like cement, because of the caked mud. And I get dirty. Really dirty and most times, just outright filthy. Even if I just stop to pull a few weeds, I somehow find myself in need of a shower afterwards. My flowers and plants have learned to grow in spite of me, not because of me.

Even though the actual term 'gardener', might not suit me in the definition I have created, the love that I have for the practice is exactly the same. I find such relaxation when I am in my yard, especially in the early morning. I love the sounds of the birds and the way the early morning sun lights up my backyard. I find it both calming to be outside and yet it also fills me with a sense of purpose and motivation. So when I was told that I was going to have to be operated on and the complexity of the surgery, one of the first things that I was concerned about was my garden. Mainly, what I would be capable of doing in my garden. Would I be able to bend over (and hopefully get back up!) to snip a flower or prune a bush? Heck, would I even be able to walk around my yard?

I have such fond memories of times that I spent playing outside, while my mom "putzed" around our yard. She loved to swap cuttings of plants with neighbors and especially with my grandmother who lived in Florida. There were many trips in the car to visit Grandma that on the return trip would include a trunk full of plants and cuttings that she would then place lovingly in our yard. My son, Torrie remarked to me not so long ago, how much he used to enjoy walking around our yard with me in the early spring when he was young, looking at all of our plants that were pushing their little heads up through the soil. He once pointed out to me that the hosta looked just like asparagus, as it was starting to come up.

It has taken me a long time and a lot of muscle to nurture my yard to the shape it is in now. When we first moved into our house many years ago, the yard was very neglected. It included overgrown, nasty bushes (don't know what kind), scrub trees and out of control ground cover and poison ivy. There was once a compost area that smelled to high heaven and even a homemade fountain that was actually an old sunken tub. Really nasty. All of those things and hundreds more were removed, cleaned out, hauled away and cleared up... by me.  I have learned how to relocate plants, bushes and trees, the way someone rearranges furniture. My garden now contains and consists of mainly plants that I have split or was given clippings of. I actually have not invested very much money at all into my yard.. just muscle and love.

Unfortunately, last spring and early summer I was not able to work in my garden.  The abdominal surgery that  I had in May and the resulting infection prevented any hopes of gardening. Plants weren't trimmed, weeds weren't pulled and mulch was not put down. It is unbelievable how quickly things get can out of control if not regularly checked. Now that's profound, huh?! Understandably, I was full of ideas at the end of last year, to implement into my yard and garden this year. I even kept a small notebook with ideas and tips so that I would not forget them over the long winter.

Spring finally came this year after the winter that would never end, but unfortunately, I was looking at another surgery and I was in a boatload of pain. But I was determined to be out there. I have had to completely rethink and remodel the way I approach working in my yard. Many things are completely off limits and a big no no, such as digging with a shovel, raking, pushing a wheelbarrow, bending and pulling, etc. For a while, it looked as though there was really nothing that I could do. (That's the whiny "oh woe is me' voice in my head). But actually, I found that there is still so much that I am able to do.

I am now the "putzer and picker". I slowly walk the circumference and look and pluck and occasionally pull...shush. I am followed by the "clean up crew" - Ken. He quietly comes behind me and rakes, gathers and bundles. He basically cleans up my mess, and I love it. Himself...not so much I'm sure, but thankfully he doesn't say it. I point out to him what I would like moved or cut back and for the most part, we are in agreement. Basically, my solitary event has become a team sport, and that's just fine with me.

As my surgery date of August 5 approaches, I am in a manic like state of getting everything done in the next five weeks, that which would normally take all summer. So my big event this week is to relocate the three cubic yards of mulch which now occupies half of my driveway, to the backyard. I will show Ken which weeds need to be dug out and where I want the mulch.

Hopefully, he will not 'accidentally' knock my sweet self out with the shovel!

Things My Father Taught Me

I just came across one of the most profound sentences a few moments ago:

     "The way we initially think about God has much to do with how we were parented - especially by our Father...".

How have I missed that all of these years?

Is that why I kept searching for that 'something' that everyone seemed to have besides me, in regards to their relationship with God?

I'll tell you what... I have just had a true epiphany.

After my mom died, my father's dance with alcohol became a full blown fight. Meeting for 'Happy Hour' was not a special event, but a daily necessity. Happy hour often began around 3 in the afternoon and last until closing. My sisters and I were not something to come home for, but to come home to - reluctantly.

I became afraid of my father. I would fear his rages after coming home from drinking and finding the house not in perfect order, or heaven forbid, us watching television or in our rooms. Lazy, of no help, ungrateful on and on... we were 13, 11 and 8.

I saw my friend's fathers and I took keen notice as the way they were with their kids. Rides home from school and events, family cookouts and dinners, a car parked in the driveway after work - for the entire night. Countless nights that I laid in my bed well into the late hours on a school night, waiting for my father to come home safely after hours in a bar. I knew that he loved me...
I knew he was supposed to love me...
does he love me...?
what can I do to make you love me?...daddy where are you? Don't leave me dad!

And then he was dead.
I saw him on his bedroom floor.
He left me. Love was not enough.

Is this why I have dug so furiously to find God?
I knew that His love was supposed to be there. Did I have to earn it? Did I have to be perfect? Was I worthy? If I wasn't good enough would He leave me, too?

I can now see how and why I have been so desperate and so confused. It makes 'perfect' sense.

As I continue with ACA, I am learning that my father did the best he could with what he knew. He, too, was raised by dysfunctional parents. Don't most of us come from some sort of dysfunction? It doesn't even have to involve alcohol.

I have learned that my father was a very sick and suffering man. I have learned that the alcohol took hold of him in ways that it would never take hold of another because he was an alcoholic. I have learned that my father's pride and dysfunctional upbringing prevented him from asking for the help that would have surely saved his life. I have learned a lot about my father. I have forgiven my father. I feel great sadness for my father. I hope that I am finally making him proud.

I am learning to let go of the grip that my past has had on me for so long. I am learning to embrace that frightened child inside of me and praise her strength and courage. I am learning to forgive myself for choices I have made.

And most importantly, I now know that I have a loving, nurturing wonderful relationship with God... the Father.

www.adultchildren.org

Daytona Beach, Florida

Orlando, Florida