Christmas letter 2011

(This letter, which is copied and pasted here, was sent to family and friends. I hope to better keep this blog updated by next month.)

Happy Advent and Merry Christmas! As we aren’t always the best people in the world to keep in touch with loved ones, we thought that we would share the blessings in our lives from the past year through this Christmas letter.

In about two and a half years, Russ finished his accounting degree at Fairmont State University this past May. Then he studied for the next six months sitting for the CPA Exam, and we just found out that he passed! He’s looking forward to not having to study so much and to enjoying the opportunity to relax a bit on weekends.

Also in May, we finally took our honeymoon after two years of being married. We stayed at a cabin in the mountains of the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia for some rest and relaxation. We enjoyed the quiet and each other, whether we were sitting outside on the porch enjoying the beauty or watching our favorite movies on the rainy days. In the evenings, we would try a local restaurant in town and take evening walks, when the weather allowed it.

In the spring time, we moved from Fairmont to Bridgeport. We are grateful that the commute to work has been shorter for the both of us. Since graduating, Russ has started working full-time for T & B, a local accounting firm, doing taxes and auditing for health care organizations, non-profits, and other local businesses. Rochelle continues to work full-time as well, but as of recent, as the weekend charge nurse on one of the cardiac floors at UHC.

Also in the spring, we started a garden on our patio, which produced tomatoes, basil, and rosemary. Our rosemary plants are still going strong indoors. We continue to buy local produce and meat and support our farmers. Russ still enjoys cooking and finding new ways to make nutritious meals, because….

About five months ago, we found out with joy that we are pregnant! While Rochelle felt nauseated and exhausted all through the first trimester, she has regained her energy back and her baby bump is now evident. Recently, we had an ultrasound which the sonographer said with confidence that she was almost positive that our little one is a girl. We have since referred to our baby with female pronouns, though our modest little one never revealed her gender for certain. Our baby is kicking, punching, or head butting Rochelle daily. Russ has been lucky enough to feel her movements every now and again.

We hope this letter finds you doing well and enjoying the blessings of the Christmas season. Please know that while both time and distance may not allow us to see each other as often as we would like, you are often in our thoughts and prayers. Have a Merry Christmas!

With love,

Rochelle, Russ, and Baby P.

Second trimester

Last week, our 17 week appointment went much better than 4 weeks prior. I had lowered my expectations as a result of the last experience. We were fortunately greeted by a kind obstetrician who actually made us feel like we were worth his time. He walked in with the Doppler and my chart, which was the first promising sign. He took the time to answer questions. He gave us the shpeel of why an appointment is scheduled with each of the five WVU providers, as you never know which one would be there for the birthday party. I'm sure it wasn't the first time he has used that line, but what a joyful thought. His statement recognizes the literal birthday of our babe.

That day, Russ and I heard our baby's heartbeat for the first time together, going strong at 155. I was speechless once more, caught up in awe at this living being inside me. The obstetrician mentioned that it seemed as though the baby was doing back flips. Yet another pleasant thought of an active baby!

The obstetrician had asked me if I had felt the baby move. I told him I was uncertain if you could call what I was feeling the baby or my gut. When I was walking down the hall at work the week before, I did feel what I would call fluttering in my lower abdomen. I wanted to feel the baby. At times I am not sure when I am actually feeling the little one nor do I want to falsely tell people that I am feeling the babe when I am not. Toward the end of last week, I was feeling as though the baby was gently tapping my belly in sets of twos and threes. I mentioned it to Russ. He asked if he could feel it, but I didn't feel as though he could at that point.

Last night however, I could actively feel the baby kicking or punching. When I told Russ, he said it was because I just had coffee ice cream. Perhaps, but heck, I could feel the baby in action! I knew Russ was studying hard for the last part of the CPA exam, but I didn't want him to miss the obvious movement of our baby. He left his desk for a little while and sat next to me. I positioned his hand over my right lower abdomen, where I was feeling the baby kick pretty well. We waited for a couple minutes, then Russ felt the baby! I was so excited that he was able to feel what I was feeling! I think he was, too.

The heartbeat

During our first baby appointment at 9 weeks, our midwife attempted to hear the heartbeat in my lower abdomen with a Doppler, though unsuccessful. She told us not to worry, assuring me and my husband that by the next appointment in 4 weeks, we will definitely hear it. Because we chose to go with a group of OB providers, I would be scheduled with a different provider each time, even though I already made it clear that I preferred midwifery, as long as I remained at low risk. The midwife said she would note my preference in my chart.

Our 13 week appointment started out as expected: check my weight, leave a urine sample, take my blood pressure. But Russ and I were most looking forward to hearing the heartbeat. The OB, who I had heard good things about, said that we probably wouldn't hear the heartbeat, that it's too early. I sat there surprised and in silent shock. I didn't buy his words. He seemed to be in a rush. I left the appointment feeling disappointed and bitter. I felt like it was a waste of time for all. I forget how different the outlook of each provider can and will be.

That following weekend, I shared my experience with my co-workers. Stephanie, one of the nurses, volunteered to use the Doppler to hear the baby's heartbeat for ourselves. She, Elizabeth, also in the pregnancy club, and myself snuck discreetly into our last empty room. We collectively guessed at placing the Doppler in the general abdominal area that the midwife tried weeks prior. We heard my own strong heartbeat pretty easily.

But within minutes, I listened in awe as the faster heartbeat was detected. The baby's heartbeat. I only wish that Russ could have heard.

Charge nursing, bedside nursing, and meralgia paresthetica

Prior to becoming pregnant, my husband and I had discussed the necessity of childcare as we were and still are both planning on working either part or full-time. Now, with Russ working Monday to Friday, I jumped at the opportunity to leave my Monday to Thursday afternoon shifts as charge nurse and work on weekends from Friday to Sunday on the floor as a staff nurse. Working the afternoon shift, I was unable to have quality time and conversation with my love, as I didn’t come home until midnight, at which time he should already be fast asleep. It has been nice to share dinner daily with Russ. I am looking forward to spending four days a week with the baby and husband versus at work. It may sound crazy to anyone who enjoys their weekends off, but in terms of childcare, the only day we would need someone to care for the little one would be Fridays as of right now. Not to mention, working as a weekend premium nurse earns a few bucks more an hour.

Others may question, why would I want to leave my position as charge nurse? I had become jaded with my position as the job priorities are discharge planning, auditing, and of course maintaining order on the floor. While I have been honored to be in this position, I didn’t become a nurse to be a “desk” nurse. I became a nurse to care for those who are sick. I was enthusiastic when my new manager officially offered the job as a weekend premium nurse to me. Dave mentioned that our weekend charge nurse might be leaving to work on another floor soon. He asked me if I would be interested in still being charge. I told him no pretty quickly and easily because I miss bedside nursing.

But perhaps a week or two later, our day charge nurse, our clinical supervisor, and myself requested a meeting with Dave to discuss challenging issues on our floor. I remember becoming almost tearful as he discussed his plans for 6 North and for resolving these issues. It’s been a long time since I had been so encouraged by management. I believe that he will bring positive change to the floor. As I left that meeting, I began to ponder, maybe I should stay as charge nurse on the weekends? That night, I went to bed prayerfully discerning over how I could best be utilized on the floor. In what way was I being called?

A couple days later, Jodi, the main preceptor for the graduate nurses, came to me and questioned why I suddenly decided to go from charge to bedside nursing with this being my first pregnancy. She called me “frail.” I rebutted that label in a good-natured way. She was concerned about the health of the baby and me. I told her the reasons why I didn’t care to be charge anymore, but maybe I should reconsider? Perhaps this was a nudge from the Holy Spirit? I talked to Dave later that afternoon and told him about this conversation I had with Jodi. I had a minor breakdown in his office. I told him the reasons why I did and didn’t want to be a charge nurse. He has told me before that I am management material, not that I care to be in his role at all. He said that if I wanted the weekend charge position that I could have it. This time around, I told him yes pretty easily and quickly. I feel privileged to still be a part of the leadership team.

Weeks go by and I just finished working my first weekend as a staff nurse for now. Thankfully, I was blessed with a good set of patients and their families. On my first 12 hour day shift last week, my right leg started to bother me, but I knew it was because I had spent the majority of those 12 hours either standing or walking. As charge nurse, you do spend a lot of time at the desk, keeping the floor organized and communicating with physicians. If I would stand or take a walk, it would be a short one! But as I played staff nurse that day, I was feeling the pain!

I went home that night, fearing the worst. The pain was in my right thigh. As a cardiac nurse, I feared a blood clot, even though I knew it normally starts in the lower leg. They surely couldn’t do a CT to rule out a pulmonary embolism with iodine in pregnant women? Could they? Do they give heparin to pregnant women? Should I go to the ER that night? Would they have an ultrasound tech available to scan my leg? I couldn’t remember what the midwife told me to do if I had any problems. Maybe call the OB office the next morning? Maybe call my primary physician? I don't like seeing doctors unless absolutely necessary. Could this be one of those times? I didn’t want to tell Russ because I didn’t want him to worry for now. Behind my husband’s back, I immediately began googling what this could possibly be, other than a clot. When I found enough links of pregnant who complained of leg pain problems, I was able to sleep for a few hours.

When I woke up the next morning, my outer right thigh felt numb. Great. Now it's neurological. Could this be an MS flare-up? My gut told me it wasn’t, but I still questioned what it could be. When I googled the problem that morning, I found more promising links of what the numbness could be. I had officially diagnosed myself with meralgia paresthetica, which can be caused by all that walking and standing I was doing as a pregnant staff nurse the previous day. I read that it could best be relieved by rest and certain exercises.

When I saw my primary physician on the floor, I told her about my latest affliction. She listened thoroughly and patiently. She told me that it is something called meralgia paresthetica, that it was normal during pregnancy, and that it would go away eventually. I was so excited that I assumed the correct diagnosis, you know, being only a nurse. As my physician agreed on the diagnosis, I was fully reassured. Not a clot. Not MS. Just another pregnancy symptom.

Symptoms

I don't feel as though I was properly warned about all this fatigue and exhaustion that comes with pregnancy. It began on week 4 and continues daily. When I voiced to a fellow nurse that I was feeling very tired that week, she immediately guessed that I was pregnant. I told her I wasn't sure, though I hadn't started my period either. I left out the part that I had taken a home pregnancy test that morning, and that it did show a faint line to indicate pregnancy.

By week 5, I was growing increasingly moodier. I noticed myself becoming short with the secretary. I started to feel guilty for being so moody. Another co-workers also noticed that something was different about me, but I wouldn't admit what quite yet. I was urinating frequently and the breasts were starting to feel tender.

At the start of the 6th week, waves of queasiness hit. My voracious appetite decreased greatly, though my unhealthy cravings set in. I was grateful to my ever loving husband, who gave in to my cravings for pizza one night and of General Tso's chicken and french fries another night. I told him that I didn't care to eat any of the healthy food he was always cooking. I was craving all things fried and unhealthy. I've shocked myself by turning my nose away from shiitake mushrooms from the farmer's market, which have been a favorite for me.

By the 7th week, I was still craving french fries, now fried chicken, and buttered toast. I was desiring blander foods to manage my queasy/nauseated self. Every time I felt as if I was going to vomit, I mentally coached myself with the mantra, "mind over matter, mind over matter." I preferred hovering over the bathroom sink than the toilet. We ate at our favorite Mexican restaurant. I was disappointed in myself for barely eating my favorite dish of quesadilla de chorizo. Certainly not the blandest item on the menu.

Today is the beginning of week 8. I am still feeling all of the aforementioned symptoms. Due to the nausea, I decided to cut back on my million and one supplements this past weekend, keeping only the prenatal vitamin for the baby's own good. I continue to take frequent naps on my off days from work.

Close friends know that I have been obsessed with all that I can learn about this baby growing inside me. Here are a couple of my favorite baby sites:

Baby Center

What to Expect

I have also always enjoyed hearing other people's stories. NPR did an excellent piece this summer on mothers and their baby stories. Here's the link to catch all the interesting, intriguing stories of these mothers.

Hospital visit

One of my fellow nurses was admitted to the hospital yet again yesterday. I stopped by to visit after my daily 4:30 PM huddle meeting this afternoon.

My co-worker told me her story of how this admission is due to chest pain, of which she does have a legit cardiac history. She is in her 30's. She is a smoker. She is a mother, daughter, and wife. As a cardiac nurse, she admittedly does know better. This hospital visit is hopefully a wake up call to make some changes in her life.

She quietly then told me that she's been meaning to ask me something personal. She suggested that perhaps the string of unfortunate events (ie her health, marriage, finances, family) was happening to her due to her lack of a spiritual life. She was wanting to know how she could talk to a priest. I advised her how she could simply call a parish and request to speak with one. I personally recommended Fr Harry.

I asked her how her own faith, her own prayer life was. She shared how her mother committed suicide and that she was angry with God for a time. But she has realized that it was her own mother's poor choice, her own free will to make such a decision.

I, in turn, shared the gospel with her from this past weekend.
Jesus asks his disciples, "Who do people say I am?"
They reply, "John the Baptist, one of the prophets..."
Jesus then asks them, "Who do you say that I am?"
Peter replied, "You are Christ, son of God."

Fr Harry challenged us this weekend. If Jesus were to ask us, "Who do you say I am?" What would be your answer? My immediate answer this past weekend and what I shared with my fellow nurse this evening is that Jesus is my friend.

I talk with Jesus as I would speak with a close friend. I'm honest. I tell him I'm tired and weak. I told her my prayer that carries me before going to work every time is for love and patience for all those I encounter and/or any situation I will face.

She expressed feeling desolate. I of course had to share Ignatian spirituality with her. I touched on the key point of "finding God in all things." Finding God in each person I encounter, those you love, those who annoy you or who you may struggle to love.

As I have come to know by heart, I shared with her the Falling in Love reflection by Pedro Arrupe, SJ.

“Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in a love in a quite absolute, final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the mornings, what you will do with your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.”

I encouraged her to find the good, our God in everything.

I couldn't help but feel honored to share my faith, to share Christ with her.

A secret

A secret that brings peace and joy to my heart.

I wanted to shout this secret from the rooftops! But my cautious side had me acting otherwise. I went about my work day as if nothing had happened, but I was certainly quietly joy-filled. I soon had to tell the chosen few to start! I hesitated posting about this until I shared this "secret" with close family and friends.

The joyful secret is that my husband and I are finally pregnant. Not that we were trying to conceive for that long, though it felt like it at times!

It was no secret that we were trying to conceive. I jokingly told some co-workers and friends that our honeymoon, which we took two years after our wedding date, could actually be called our "conception-moon." I knew the dates were off to actually conceive at the time, but it was fun to think and joke around about. A fellow nurse asked if I had ever heard of Kokopelli. She told me of this fertility god, which her sister had believed in and eventually had a son. We googled this Native American deity and found out more for ourselves. She still has yet to lend this Kokopelli doll to me. Not that I need it anymore.

Being Catholic, my husband and I have been followers of Natural Family Planning. I have been charting (on and off) my temperatures and cervical mucus since well before we were married. I was pretty confident when I was fertile and not so fertile. We had the avoiding pregnancy thing down!

On my off days from work, I was pretty obsessed in finding out how we could best improve our chances at trying to conceive. But we were already avoiding alcohol, we are non-smokers, and we generally were following a good diet. It was assuring to read the statistics that only 25% of couples get pregnant during the first month of trying, but over half get it right in the next six months.

As we are barely at six weeks now, my greatest fear in sharing our "secret" is the risk of miscarriage. Russ and I talked about this. We decided that we wouldn't want to keep it a secret should we happen to miscarry the little one. And it sure would be nice if our faith-filled family and friends are offering their prayers up for the health of the baby.

Perhaps the part of me that doesn't care to be the center of attention is also setting in, to keep this good news quiet for now. Because the few essential people know now, maybe I wouldn't mind if this secret was leaked.

Tomatoes

Have you ever watched a tomato grow?

It's pretty fascinating.

Russ and I first bought three tomato plants from the farmer's market back in May. There were no blooms, no tomatoes. Hope of a single tomato was yet to be seen.

But ever so slowly, the yellow blooms appeared. Maybe it was the sunlight, the water, more soil, the transferring of plants to larger pots, placing the stakes. Perhaps we were doing something right!

I became hopeful. But soon the small yellow flowers began to wither. They appeared as though they had died so quickly. I almost wanted to prick them off the little branch, but since I barely knew a thing about plants, I had the inkling to let the shriveled up flowers just be for now.

So we continued to water, to monitor for growth. One morning before work, I carefully examined the dead blossoms. Lo and behold! The beginnings of a tomato!

Picture it with me. The shriveled up looking part was actually the bottom portion of a tomato. A tiny green tomato was already beginning to form. Imagine my happiness! It's as if I had a eureka moment in discovering what I thought was dead had come back to life. It was kind of a resurrection moment.

On the recent TEC retreat, a quote supposedly by St Ignatius (not sure if it was of Loyola or Antioch) goes "little deaths, little resurrections." In my eyes, he almost meant this quote to be for the tomatoes.

Over the past couple weeks, the tomatoes have grown larger and ripened into beautiful red tomatoes right before our eyes. Perhaps the growth of tomatoes could be a reflection of what happens when we attempt to cultivate our faith, just as we have tried cultivating our precious little tomato plants.

TEC

Teens Encounter Christ

I made my first TEC retreat when I was 17 as a junior in high school.

12 years later, I was asked to lead as an adult on this retreat for teens, even though my patients and co-workers often point out that I look like a teenager myself. Since hearing it in college, I have often passed along the Dorothy Day quote, "Comfort the afflicted; afflict the comfortable." Being 29 and rarely interacting with teens these days, I was asked to step out of my comfort zone as I became part of the TEC retreat team. I felt a slight discomfort at each of the planning meetings beforehand. There was a woman whom the others refer to as Mama Beth. Beth and I had worked together on the wheat team on a previous TEC. She always greeted me with a hug and made me feel comfortable. It is clear why they call her mama. To me, she personifies Christ.

Prior to the arrival of the candidates, the directors of this TEC retreat reminded us that this retreat was about the teenagers. We were encouraged to show and speak of the love God has for each one of them, each one of us. It was no mistake that they were present on the TEC weekend. It was somehow all a part of God's plan.

Reflecting back to my first TEC as a teen, I recall being most touched by the wheat letter my mother wrote to me. Being raised by filipino parents, the words "I love you" weren't often spoken so much as shown in action versus literal word. My mom wrote that she loved me very much, even though she didn't verbalize it frankly. The tears poured upon reading her letter.

But I digress.

While the TEC retreat this time around wasn't about me, I couldn't help but be touched by the talks shared by the team. In our brokenness and in our joys, God is so apparently alive and with us. I found myself tearful more than a few times, as I listened to the hopes, the hurts, the honesty, the desire to return to God, the fears, the failures, the faith, the love. We share Christ in our human stories. It is quite the beautiful thing.

I forget what a powerful weekend TEC can be, as long as one enters with an open mind and heart.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

I am copying and pasting this old email/reflection below from three years ago, when I was still in Chicago and in the midst of many transitions. I will type a short note at the end for updates/changes mentioned in the email since then. This email is sprinkled with bits of gratitude.


Hi people I love!!

I hope you are all well! I have not-so-good, good, and great news to share! Ready for a long email??

Shall we start from the bottom? :) In relation to my health, only a small number of you are aware that I have lupus and fibromyalgia, that I've managed it seemingly well since I was diagnosed two years ago, and that I was hospitalized the past two days. Just this past week, I experienced a rather scary symptom of right sided numbness that started last Sunday, which I wrote off as sleeping on it for too long the previous night, then thought it to be Bells palsy the next two days, was soon advised by my sweetie to get it checked out... then I finally freaked and thought that I suffered a stroke. Those of you who know me well know that I'm rather resistant to see an MD. I called an RN hotline, broke down and cried over the possible seriousness of it, and received the final push to hit the ER sooner rather than later, being this past Thursday night. The RN suggested I call an ambulance right away. Being perfectly ambulatory though in tears, I walked to the local hospital two blocks away, while talking with my sweetie. I was immediately placed on a cardiac monitor because of the possibility of a stroke or bleed and my risk of clots with the lupus then moved pretty quickly to be watched by the nurse's station. My labs and vital signs were stable and the CT of the head was negative, so they wanted to observe me overnight and have an MRI of the brain the next day. The MRI suggested possible multiple sclerosis, so I had more testing done today and I'll follow up in clinic with both a neurologist and rheumatologist. I'm on steroids to help with the facial numbness and I'm almost able to feel my face again. :) So thank God!

I'll split the "good" news into two pieces, regarding being an RN. First off, so this hospitalization caused me to better place myself in the shoes of my patients... the daily blood draws, the waiting for lab results, for the nurse's aid to bring ice water, scans to be completed, attempting to sleep comfortably with a telemetry monitor attached to my chest and an IV in the bend of my arm, different people coming into your room with not so much warning but a quick knock on the door, for the news of the unknown and not knowing how to best treat it initially... Loss of control in so many aspects. But you also find out just how many people care about you. I received phone calls from friends and families and visits from locals, realizing yet again just how blessed I am. :) And my sweetie spent hours on the road to come be with me. :) The second piece of good news in relation to RN status, is that three months ago, I took the Oncology Certified Nursing exam. I was pleasantly surprised at the end of the test when the four beautiful letters P-A-S-S popped up on the screen. My mouth did indeed drop open, as I struggled through that exam. I guess I could add three more letters to the end of my signature if I so choose. But again, thanks be to God!

And of course we save the best for last of the most exciting news ever. :) I have met and fallen for Russ, the love of my life. He proposed last month in the chapel (in the presence of Christ!) at Bethlehem Farm in southern WV and I of course said yes. :) ( please email if interested in details of the proposal story) We'll be married on May 2, 2009 at Wheeling Jesuit's chapel. He lives and works at the farm, hosting volunteer groups to do home repair and other service projects, promoting sustainability, leading them in prayer and reflection throughout their week here. His work gives him so much energy and adds a lot of meaning to life. He lives in community with 5 amazing people, and we are planning to live in community after we are married. I hit on him at the Bethlehem Farm fundraiser here in Chicago a year ago. While I was initially resistant to long distance dating, a couple months after meeting, we were crazy about each other and fell deeply in love with one another. I have dreamed this kind of love, this kind of gentleman into being. He is all this and more. And again, I am filled with gratitude to God.

In summary, two things have hit me in relation to my faith. First, so when the neurologist called Friday night and shared the MRI result of white spots on my brain, I was okay with it. I already had it in my head that whether it shows to be normal or abnormal, to accept it, knowing that I'd have no power to change it. The first principle and foundation of Ignatian spirituality has been resonating in my heart and mind for awhile... the whole concept of not fixing our desires on the good or the bad, health or sickness, wealth or poverty, a long life or short one, for all things have the potential of calling us into deeper relationship with God. Being hospitalized, I was recently struck once again by the many ways God comes to nurture our faith in any situation. The second piece is just on love. I touched on it a bit earlier, but I've never felt such unconditional concrete love for/from another until there was and is Russ. His love still blows me away and I find myself in tears at times by his incredible love for me and for others. While inpatient, I couldn't help but find myself looking ahead to the future particularly on our wedding day, when we'll profess that we'll be true to each other "in sickness or in health." He's been so supportive with my chronic illnesses and I find myself in disbelief that this amazing guy would drive hundreds of miles, spending hours on the road just to spend time with me post my hospitalization. How did I end up being this lucky, this blessed?? God. :)

Anyhoo, enough for now. I would love to hear updates from each of you!! Hope life is treating you well!!

Love and prayers,
Rochelle

Addendum: So the lupus was actually ruled out. I believe the fibromyalgia to be false, or maybe I just have a high pain tolerance and this ongoing tendency to be in denial. I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in February 2008 and took Copaxone shots to help treat it for about three years. Now, the MS is being managed by alternative, more holistic ways. I will give endless kudos to my husband, who reminds me "that he saved my life. " ;) I do admit that he is my godsend.

Russ and I didn't actually live in community at the farm, which still worked out for the best. A good friend once told me, "We make plans, and God laughs." We recently celebrated our two year anniversary and will finally be going on our honeymoon in a little over a week. I will add pieces to the story sometime in the future.

"Being Fat in America"

I've been meaning to post this link for some time now. For those of you who know me, I enjoy promoting a healthy lifestyle, whether it be with friends, family, co-workers, patients. Working on a cardiac step down unit, I half joke that I too follow the diet most of our patients are on, the Cardiac Diet, which generally consists of low salt, low fat, no caffeine. I make it known that everyone should attempt to follow this diet, if not an even more specialized diet if a person happens to have diabetes, renal issues, immune system problems, like myself, etc. They all know that I keep a small stash of walnuts and dark chocolates nearby as my snack. And the majority of the staff know that my wonderful chef of a husband cooks very well for me. Food that is organic and local and yummy! While we do cheat and eat non-organic foods when we go to a restaurant, we make a pretty good attempt at eating healthy most of the time.

Knowing that I am a nurse and that following a good diet is essential for us all, Russ shared this article entitled "Being Fat in America" with me. John Robbins, the author, contrasts the stories of two obese young people our age. At first, I was appalled that a restaurant called the Heart Attack Grill could even be in existence. The poster child for that restaurant died early last month. While not from a heart attack, he died of complications from pneumonia, one being the obvious co-morbidity of being obese. The second part of the article shares the story of a young obese woman, who followed a diet quite the opposite of what is offered at the Heart Attack Grill. She provides redemption and hope for all those who struggle with obesity. How could one not be inspired?

The flu details

Enduring the flu was a significant cross this Lent, which gave me an early glimpse into Easter.

About three weeks ago, I thought I was coming down with the classic cold, with my sniffles and sneezes after working my usual 4 ten hour shifts. I always complain of fatigue on Friday, though in retrospect, the fatigue did seem to weigh on me more than my typical Friday fatigue. Russ, my husband, and I have started to make Friday evenings our "date night." Instead of going out that evening as usual, I made a special request for takeout from the Mexican restaurant in town.

Those who are close to me know that I am cold-natured. Even in the summertime, I keep a blanket nearby. I complained of feeling much "colder" than usual at bedtime. My doting husband of course draped my favorite blanket over me that night. Two hours later, I woke up sweating. It did occur to me that I actually had chills, and just sweated out my unacknowledged fever. But I was in denial and only cared to sleep.

That Saturday, a dry cough was added to my growing list of symptoms. In the morning, I found a tussin gel cap in our medicine drawer and popped in the last one. I talked to a couple girlfriends on the phone, attempted sleep, and drank plenty of orange juice, water, and green tea. Russ and I were planning on going to a close friend's birthday gathering that night, but I didn't want to expose my sick self to friends. We decided to skip out on mass that night also. Feeling as sick as I did, I would not have wanted to sit beside me at church.

Russ made our weekly Kroger run without me that evening. I made a couple requests to pick up chicken broth and more tussin caps for this annoying cough. My ever-loving husband was clearly concerned about me. He asked the Kroger pharmacist if his wife was pregnant, is Robitussin safe to take? He was told not so much. He called to notify me. I rolled my eyes and grudgingly agreed. While we were no longer avoiding pregnancy, it was too early to tell if there could be a little bun in the oven.

I struggled to take a nap with this constant cough and general achiness while he was away. I began feeling pretty cold again. I finally used the thermometer for the official fever read of 102.1. I groaned and went back to the medicine drawer for Tylenol this time. My heart rate is normally in the 60's, but when I checked my own vitals, my pulse was in the high 90's. I could no longer say it was just a cold.

Russ offered to take me to the ER, but I used the excuse of feeling too sick to go (where sick people should go), but I would be open to going to an urgent care clinic the next day. So we went that Sunday morning. The dry cough was as annoying as ever and the rapid flu swab showed that I had influenza A. Because of the possibility of being pregnant, I was denied Tamiflu, the drug of choice for the flu. The nurse practitioner recommended drinking plenty of fluids, getting lots of rest, and taking Tylenol should I spike another fever.

I did take my flu shot in the fall and will continue to every year, no matter what the doubters say. The shot doesn't catch every string of the flu unfortunately. But I take it to protect the patients and myself. And with this so-called diagnosis of multiple sclerosis, I will take it yearly to decrease the risk of relapses.

With spiking fevers twice a day, the never-ending cough, fatigue, and achiness, I did feel hopelessly miserable. I wondered if I would ever feel better and pick myself off the couch. Perhaps I should have gone to the ER and received a liter bolus for my dehydration. I was truly sick. I also felt guilty for not being at work, but had to remind myself why I shouldn't expose my flu to healthy co-workers nor the already sick patients on the floor. My self-quarantine was doing my immediate world a favor, except my husband, who was exposed to my germs daily in our small apartment.

I regretted not asking the nurse practitioner for a prophylactic Tamiflu prescription for Russ. I did not want Russ to feel what I was experiencing. I couldn't help but think how easy it would be to obtain a prescription for him from almost any one of the doctors at work. I called into my husband's doctor's office and made my plea on the answering machine. I was pleasantly surprised to hear back directly from his doctor that afternoon. I was more than grateful for his genuine kindness and concern.

I can't pinpoint the exact moment when I started to be lifted out of my misery either by late Wednesday or Thursday. Knowing that Russ would be better protected by taking Tamiflu certainly helped. My temperatures were not so high. I was gaining some energy back. The West Wing and Everybody Loves Raymond had me smiling. A couple friends were checking in to see how I was doing. Russ had set up the humidifier daily. I couldn't believe how grateful I was for a productive cough toward the end of this bout of flu and the eventual reality that this sickness would end.

By that following Monday, I went to work with a renewed sense of a blessed life and gratitude for good health and a husband who genuinely loves me. As if I had risen to new life, I felt like a brand new person and shared it with whoever I encountered. I actually realized and admitted that I love my job. While some days are challenging, what job doesn't have its graces and challenges? I could not stop expressing the love and appreciation I felt toward my co-workers. That Monday was my Easter.

Too good not to watch

Last week, my spirits soared when I came across this NPR article prior to going into work. I could not stop smiling and singing the catchy tune all day to myself, and soon shared it with others. I proceeded to obsessively watch the YouTube video a few times a day for the next couple days. Basically, it is the most refreshing response to racism that I have ever seen. How often is hate overcome by humor, wit, and creativity?

Please read the article, watch the YouTube video, and judge for yourself. And here is a follow-up, if you happen to become as obsessed as me.

I would like to close this post with a very special ching chong to my dear husband. :)

We Are Called

This statement has popped up in the last week at least three times.

The first time occurred at work when I was speaking with a PCA (patient care assistant) early last week. I could not stop verbally appreciating the apparent hard work and dedication of a few co-workers in caring for the patients. In front of the nurse's station, I told this PCA, "We are called to greatness!" He smiled and thought otherwise. I also smiled and stood firm by my statement. Whether we answer that call or not is up to each of us. I was quietly reminded by my Catholic side that we are called to be saints.

This past weekend at mass, the closing hymn was "We Are Called" by David Haas. Sing it with me now! It was seemingly the most frequent song we sang at the Wheeling Jesuit masses. Ah, the memories. While I used to roll my eyes with my girlfriends in the choir back then, I can't deny that this song will forever bring joy to me.

The last time this key phrase was mentioned happened yet again at work by the same PCA at the same place at the nurse's station, where the first conversation took place exactly a week prior. He was the one that now said to me, "Didn't you say that we are all called to greatness?" I was quietly surprised that he remembered this short conversation last week, but grateful that he realizes the importance to go beyond being good. To go the extra mile. To give it our 110%. To treat each patient as if they were our own spouse, mother, father, grandmother, brother, best friend. To be great caregivers for these sick patients.

I like to frequently recognize and thank my co-workers for their hard work and excellent patient care when it's apparent. It's part of my own call.

The first post

Once upon a time, I used to keep a daily "Dear God" journal written in my left-handed chicken scratch. But thanks to computers and the beauty of backspace, it seems as though I can better chart my thoughts via online journal. I have pondered starting a blog for sometime. Why not tonight, mid-Lent? I have given up my addiction to Facebook and have found worthier places to spend my time on the internet, ie NPR and The Huffington Post.

An article I came across this past weekend touches on gratitude, which is the constant state I feel I am in, especially after my miserable bout of influenza A recently. I do hope and plan to share that which has touched me and affected my life thus far, big and small things. Nothing spectacular with this first post, just simply grateful for a blessed life.