Tuesday, June 11, 2013
As a follow up to my surgery, I have to say that so far it has been an amazing thing! I feel so much better, I can't even begin to start. And the good folks at University of Pennsylvania Hospital deserve some serious props because they took very good care of me. My surgeon, Dr. Daniel Dempsey, head of the Gastro-Intestinal Department and Chief Surgeon, I'm sure had more important people to slice and dice on, but instead was taking care of me and even gave me and my husband his personal cell number in case I had any questions, concerns or issues.
The procedure was a bit more involved than initially planned, but I am getting stronger every day.
Thank you all for prayers and good thoughts. They all paid off.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
I met with the surgeon. He seemed fairly confident that all would be fine regarding my upcoming procedure.
Like many educators, I am postponing surgery until school is out, even though this is a ticking time bomb. However, both the GI doc and the surgeon think I will be fine waiting for another month to have surgery.
Let's keep our fingers crossed!
Wednesday, February 06, 2013
You will note this is not a question. Like "WHAT is wrong with me??" It is a statement. What is wrong with me . . .
I have always been a vomiter. No, not bulimic. I just throw up. A lot. Always have. My parents used to arch an eyebrow at me and explain to other people whose children were not vomiters, "Well you just can't take her ANYWHERE." We even had to have supplies in the car for my eminent episodes of car sickness. My best friend looks at me with envy, "I so wish I weren't puke impaired."
You'd think I would lose weight, but alas not really. Which I guess is a blessing.
However, I started vomiting in November. And I have not been able to stop. Only here and there, have I had a day without throwing up. No matter what I eat, what I don't eat, what time I eat, how slow I eat or whether I drink water or don't drink water, I have been throwing up everywhere between the Jersey Shore at the Bering Sea.
And I started losing weight. Although I have been giving minimal lip service to the Sparking way of life, I knew the 10 pounds in one month wasn't due to my commitment to aerobics, my weighing and measuring of everything passing my lips or my gulping of 64 oz of water daily. Clearly not since I only manage one or two of those key points per day at best.
Two endoscopies of my stomach and esophagus later, I have discovered that I have a hiatal hernia. Ordinarily these are mildly annoying causing some heartburn. Mine is of the tragic variety requiring surgery in order to be corrected. It is almost like a second stomach formed at the side of my esophagus.
I am very grateful for the wonderful doctor (affectionately known to me as Boris the Doctor) who through his incredulity at my way of life, managed to finally figure out why I throw up so much. I will have the surgery in the late spring/early summer and maybe be well. Finally.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
It has been four years since I was in the plane crash. Every year, I honor that day with another section from what I refer to as "my Alaskan Adventures". I am again adding another segment:
It really wasn't until I was in a car accident in Bethel that I became aware of the caste system. The Korean cab drivers were, I discovered, the bottom rung of the social strata. I always tried to treat those who drive for me with the utmost courtesy. I don't like to drive much and to not have to drive in bethel was a relief. On this day I was particularly exhausted having slept unprepared for the overnight stay in a school on a wooden bench. Grateful to get out the following morning, I arrived in Bethel optimistic for an office day. But my plans were quickly altered when as the cab driver was dropping off a passenger, the cab was plowed in the side of the car by a large truck. The tiny native woman leapt out hollering at the driver screaming it was his fault. Sitting in the front passenger side I'd seen and felt it all. I stepped up saying right away oh no honey we were parked here. You hit us. The cab driver appeared relieved I'd spoken up. After the police were summoned, he turned to me you stay? He pleaded. Your English helpful? I cringed. I then called my office explaining where I was and what had happened. The secretary said oh Christy! What damn cab were you in? I told her and we laughed a little. The cab driver had some money stashed in the visor, counted it and jammed it in his pants. About a hundred dollars in twenties and ones, I was a little miffed he thought I'd steal his money. The police came, taking statements and collecting phone numbers. Finally we had the go ahead to leave. I asked the driver if he was ok to take me or should I call another cab? He said he would deliver me to my apartment. He refused my offer of payment. I thanked him and settled back. When we arrived at my hovel, I got out to collect my bags and it was then he shoved the sweaty wad of cash in my hand. Surprised I gave it back and said I'm not taking your money. He explained I'd helped. I said no again. He tried again to give me the money. I shook my head grabbed my bags and went up the steps to my apartment. I glanced back to see him standing and crying. It was then I realized how they must feel, lost trying to make money to send home. Not knowing the language or customs must be so hard for them. I am ashamed to say that I went inside, I did not have the strength to comfort him. I left him alone to figure it out for himself.
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