The Turning Point 5

  I was sleeping in our den that we converted into a room, Demba was next to me, as we slept, in my dream I saw a man wearing a white gown. The man put his lips together and blew air from his mouth and the air was strong enough that my hair on my head was shifted I then turned and looked at Demba his face was covered with black flies and I smelled something rotten in the air. I was shortly awakened by my husband entering the room.

  I left work on Friday June 13, to pick up Demba from his sitter. I arrived and saw that his left testicle was the size of a baseball; when this takes place it is described as an inguinal hernia. I rushed Demba to the emergency room at Children’s Hospital in DC. The hours passed and a doctor finally came to see us; we explained and he told us that it was nothing for us to be concerned about; he stated that Demba will have a laparoscopic surgery to repair his hernia; he then literally pushed his testicle in place.

  

            Demba had the surgery on Saturday and he came home on Tuesday. He seemed tired upon discharge and I noticed that the shirt the nurse was wearing had Dembas vomit all over but she dismissed it as reflux. The vomiting started again when we came home and as it stopped we thought nothing of it. We were first time parents and after all he was just released from the hospital. In the morning Demba had a temperature and he did not look well my mother came over just to visit Demba and at first glance she asked that my husband and her should take Demba to the hospital. I left for work.

 

The events that took place in the hospital where relayed to me as such: in the emergency room the doctors gave Demba a sweet substance to taste and he refused so he was rushed into surgery and an incision was made to open up his stomach; upon opening his stomach they discovered 80% of Dembas small intestine was twisted. The small intestine has a greater function than the large intestine because it is a vital organ that helps with the digestive flow as it processes the body’s nutrients.  By the time I arrived at the hospital Demba was ready for surgery, the doctor came out and told us that he had a 50% rate of survival. The prayers, tears and question commenced all at once.

After the surgery, Demba was taken to a recovery room and what I saw is to this day, the most disturbing sight in my life. My son laid in the bed with all of his intestines hung on something that looked like a close line and it was covered in plastic, his insides were suspended in air it seemed. The color of his skin that was once mocha turned into charcoal and his eyes were rolled back in his head and but his eyelids were twitching and I smelled that smell that I dreamt about, like something was rotting. I passed out.

            Demba was officially diagnosed with short bowel-syndrome, the hospital provided no answers. In the history of Children’s Hospital Dembas case is one of its kind, we never pursed his case with the legal force as most people advised us to do because only God can be the judge of all human beings. Demba does not eat by mouth yet; he feeds from a g-tube and has a central line where he gets his supplemental nutrition. He is five years old now and if your see him you would never guess he was a sick child. He is extremely intelligent and is only delayed in the areas of social adaptive behavior.

  

The Turning Point Part 4

 

A hospital for me is more than doctors, operating rooms, over priced food in the cafeteria and the sirens or, depending where you are the helicopter landing on the roof. I see the hospitals for its sleep rooms, developing friendly relationships with the cafeteria staff because on a good day they may offer you free lunch. Familiarizing yourself with the security officers is a must in order for you to have access to most parts of the hospital e.g. (softer chairs to nap on during the day or breaking the rules of how many visitors at one time without being reprimanded.)

            My son developed NEC a very common disease in pre-term babies. Demba was induced into a coma by his doctors. NEC attacks the intestines so an ileostomy was performed. Most people are familiar with an ostomy; an incision is made in the stomach is made so one can excrete in a bag. Demba had two incisions on each side of his stomach. I was trained by the hospital staff to care change and clean the site and the bag. I recall seeing my son use the restroom through is stomach and in a bag and it was all liquid, sometimes green but most time yellow but if at any time there was a foul odor, it was not a good sign. Demba resembled the Michelin man with tubes going in and out of him. The swelling takes place when the blood is infected.

            I lived inside The Children’s Hospital in Pittsburgh for three month. My days included sleeping in the sleep rooms, or waiting room when there was not enough rooms, freshening up in the restrooms before going to be by Dembas side until visiting hours are over. I developed relationships with other families and kept the chaplains number really close. The plan was for Demba to get well enough to reconnect his bowels, heal and then come home.

            The distance took a financial toll and emotional toll on my marriage. I struggled to keep my emotions at bay. My family was a big support system and came to visit me every week. We decided to have Demba transferred to the children’s hospital in D.C. whilst awaiting the reconnection surgery, in mid February 2007 Demba was finally transferred via ambulance. Upon arrival he thrived and he was able to undergo surgery during the first week of April.  He was released from the hospital in mid April.

            Dembas was six months old by the time he came home but he only weighed five pounds, which may not seem much to most people but for us it was a relief. I followed up with all of  his appointments from his team of doctors who performed the surgery to his pediatrician. Demba had a hernia which his pediatrician bought to my attention but the hospital staff asked me to wait until he was a year old.

            Life was great, I was able to find work as an office manager and my husband received a promotion a work, everything was going well until one day when I picked Demba up from his babysitter… To be continued….

Sources For My final Analysis Paper

         My sources for my final analysis paper will include data and ratio from the health facilities that are relevant to my post. I will also use sources from the internet about women's health.

The Turning Point part 3

The ability to adapt to any situation or circumstance is a skill that many strive to achieve. I cannot for certain say that I adapted to or accepted that I bared a son who was born pre-term, I can say that I was literally just going with the punches and with every punch the more my depression worsen. I questioned God every single day about the path that my life had taken. I was oblivious to the fact that I was in deep denial about my situation, a phase that I went through and until two years ago, I am thankful that I have now come to terms with my destiny. I loathed waiting and letting for fate to take its course because in my mind my son needed to get healthy promptly. The time frame of a normal full-term pregnancy is nine months or 39 to 40 weeks. I gave birth at 26 ½ weeks about six months in. The NICU team of doctors made it clear that we understood that our child could not go home earlier than three months in order to receive proper medical care and ensure healthy continual weight gain.

I drove back to Virginia with my husband so that I could pack and go back to my son’s side. I spent Christmas and New Years Eve  in Virginia with my  husband and my family and lurking in my heart was the feeling of  resentment of  having to  leave my luxury apartment, my comfortable bed with the post card view of the monument in the background that I also saw when I stepped onto the balcony. I hated parting from my haven and go stay in the hospital to be my son’s side. Please don’t judge me until you have been in the situation, this was the denial stage of my life. I believe all of us go through this stage during different circumstances in our lives but most importantly we should not get stuck in denial.

I cried all the way to Pittsburgh. I stayed my brother’s house for the most part but not wanting to impose on him and his wife I opted to find ulterior means of accommodation at the hospital. The sin that I can’t shake is my sense of pride. The thought of asking someone that knew me for assistance was not an option for me. Growing up with three older brothers and me being the last child and the only girl I acquired a thickness to my skin and a set of social skills that assists me in many situations that

I quickly settled in with the flow and pace of the hospital. I made sure I was among the first people in line for the free never changing turkey sandwich that tasted like fillet mignone on the days where I had no money. The nights when I couldn’t get a sleep room at the hospital because of the over population, I slept in the waiting room, my back pack consisted of toothbrushes, undergarments, perfume, lotion and a change of clothes that I washed every other week on the seventh floor where the laundry room was located.

To be continued.

The Turning point part 2

I was only six months pregnant yet I was in the ER at Magees Women Hospital in Pittsburgh vomiting as the doctor explained to my mother and me that I was four centimeters dilated. Life as it was in this moment seemed surreal to me. I was sure this was nothing but a nightmare that would end any minute now not knowing that the nightmare had just begun.

I was in a trance; everything seemed slow and fast all at once I looked at my mom who is a RN, BSN looking for answers. My mother constantly caressed my hand and told me that all is well she had no signs of panic in her face; she just kept on praying in whispers. I cannot recall everything that transpired from the ER to the labor room but I can tell you is that I heard words like Indomethacin, not working, check, epidural, amniotic fluid.

I later understood that the doctors tried their best to keep me from delivering but the Indomethacin was not working so they felt that it was an infection and then had to use the epidural which I had initially opted not to use but now it was a must because it was a necessity my axiomatic fluid was extracted to check of any pending infection. The results later reveled that I had E. coli in my amniotic fluid and if swallowed by my baby it could lead to severe medical issues and even death. The doctors made a choice to deliver my son as soon as possible he was out in three pushes.

I only saw something that looked like a furry rat. My son weighed 1Ibs 4oz. I was scared of it and I could remember looking and my mother as she was saying how cute he was and in my head thinking that her prescription glasses needed to me checked out. The ordeal was over as soon as it started and my son was rushed down to the NICU.  My mother had already called my husband during my contractions. He did his best to make it by driving form Arlington VA but arrived after the birth of our son.

My thoughts were still all over the place. I was worried about what people would think because of my cultural background, most people who are different are shunned. I did not even shed a tear at the time. I put on my game face assuring everyone around me that I was fine, I still had no emotion that I could tap into I just felt blank.

 

My husband wheeled me down to the NICU to see our son. The blue light was on him to cure him of his jaundice. I had never seen anything so tiny in my life and I felt upset and angry because I had already gained a considerable amount of weight and yet he was so little. My husband just stood there in shock because this was our first child and now we were faced with many uncertainties. I was unsure if my son would survive and if he did what was the quality of life would he have.

The Turning Point Part 1

I planned to drive to my brother’s home in Pittsburg in the morning with my mother. I was six months pregnant and feeling a little feverish but I was still unwilling to disappoint my mother even though I knew that she would understand.

My mother picked me up at six am on December 19, 2007 and we set off to take the four to five hour drive. The sun was not out yet and it was cold, my mother had the car radio on her Christian station and was just praying nonstop to the point where I was a bit irritated. I was popping a low dose of Tylenol as my fever was just not letting go. I slept to the sounds of gospel and praying until we arrived in Allegheny County,Pittsburgh.

There is a feeling I get whenever I enter Pittsburgh now but then it was the feeling of love and hate because I lived in Pittsburgh for a year with my brother and his wife while I was attending school. Pittsburgh is not as fast paced as the DMV and if I had to pick a color that best describes it for me I would choose grey for the vibe I feel and yellow and black because you cannot talk about Pittsburg with thinking of the Steelers. One would not believe that after looking at brochures  trying to incite people to migrate to . I believe that it’s due to the old infrastructure and deserted manufacturing plants. The majority of the residents in Pittsburgh are students, senior citizens, people whose families have been there for generations and foreigners who settled after attaining some sort of higher education from one of the many prestigious university the state has to offer.

My brother and his wife were really excited to see us. We talked, watched television and ate. I eat a lot while pregnant and after eating the next must on my agenda is sleeping so I left my family downstairs and headed for bed. I started to get the sensation of wanting to use the restroom as I was making my way my mom ran up and stood in front of the bathroom door, startled, I asked her if she was okay and why she was blocking me. She looked at me and let me know that she had an intuition that I should not use the restroom.  She stood in front of the bathroom and said you are going to have to hold it or go to the hospital and have your B.M. there. I was laughing at how adamant she was about the fact that I could not use the restroom in my own brother’s house. I walked away went back into the room and  lay down by my mother. My mother was a half inch behind me every step of the way. I started to feel an uncomfortable pain and the worst it got the higher my mother shouted at my brother to get and ambulance.

My mother stutters , thus my brothers and me have the same speech impediment and my oldest brothers stuttering is really bad, any stutterer that is in a high anxiety situation has added difficulty in relaying a message through speech. He could hardly get the sentence our so his wife had to ask for assistance from the 811 dispatcher.I was placed in the back of the ambulance and transported to Magee Women’s Hospital. Upon arrival I vomited and the test indicated at six months pregnant I was already four centimeters dialated .

To Be Continued...

Faith

I remember as a child growing up in Sierra Leone, I use to have long talks with my paternal grandfather about faith. I grew up with a Muslim father and  Christian mother. Imagine going studying the Koran on Fridays and going to church on Sundays. I was never pressured by my family to choose a  particular path. I am the last child and only girl out of four children. My brothers decided to follow  my fathers religion, but I decided to explore both until I could figure it out on my own. The only requirement in my fathers home was before sunrise everyone must arise and pray to whomever or whatever it was you believed in as long as you prayed.

I am a  liberal Christian now and I ended up marrying a Muslim.  I believe that faith can be  connected to religion but having faith does not require any religious support.  I know the first question you may have is why I chose to become a  Christian, I refuse to answer that because I am not into talking about religion, I prefer to talk about a subject that we can all connect with.I have studied the Koran, the Bible and as an adult the doctrines of Hindus, Buddhists and Sikhism. The ultimate goal for each religion is gain enlightenment of or eternal life.

Faith is when you have ultimate belief of confidence in one thing or person.Humans whom are ultimately happy believe in a higher power and trust in that being bigger than themselves to handle any tribulation that they are faced with as was discussed in my last post. Faith is the belief that one day your thoughts and your hopes will manifest itself. Positive thinking ends in positive results and vice verse. We are responsible for our own aura but  may need assistance in dealing with the lows that life may deal us.

Faith is often tested, for example not getting a promotion or failing by one point. The question is religion or no religion can you look inside yourself and trust that there is something better awaiting you or on the next test your performance will be better? This task is not an easy one but if you practice it eventually you start to believe and your circumstances will change.



work cited:
http://www.progressivehumanism.com/progressive-humanism/the-nature-of-faith/

Train To Be Happy

The journey that I am taking via this blog in discovering myself is not a journey that started today. I lost some part of myself in my family life because in any relationship you must compromise, whether it's respecting your partners space or giving up what use favorite show to spend  time with your children.The truth is when one gives up simple pleasures resentment may settle in and one day you may find yourself asking yourself who am I?

I felt so lost for years because of my child's illness all I could think about was medications and medical terms. The rare moments that I would get away from home, I could  still hear my son's machines beeping though I was miles away. The mental toll of caring for a child with special needs and submerging myself  into  it made me ever so thirsty for finding my own happiness regardless of the situation.

I set a goal of earning a degree in International Affairs. I started taking courses last Spring and for the the first time I felt good about doing something for myself. The opportunity to remove myself from my situation for a couple of hours was refreshing. I would be late for class numerous times because my son's nurses would call out or come late to work but my lecturers understood. My life was on track until one day,  my brother called me and said that my father was ill. I look at the school calendar and planned to visit him in Sierra Leone in December. The following week I was feel horribly sick, I could not keep anything down, I had fevers at night . I found out that I was pregnant again with severe morning sickness that kept me in bed thus enabled me to keep up with my grades,then to make matters worst my brother confided in me and said he does not think my father will make it to December.

I felt like it was just one blow after the other . I was in a dark place, I then asked myself what can I do to stay afloat. I started to read the Dhammapada, a book that was a required text in one of my classes. I am Christian so even opening this book that  laid out the doctrine of Bhuddah was sacrilegious in many ways. I read the book and was in awe of how we can train our minds to accept our circumstances yet be in peace with it. The process is not one that happens overnight it takes years to master.I wanted to be happy now!

In the quest of finding a happiness regardless of the circumstances I found out that; our human ability to be happy does not lye in our own hands, in fact research shows that the happiest people in the world surrender to a force bigger than themselves, thus, trusting in the force to fix whatever problems that they may be faced with. Joel Olsten, The Dalai Lama are among those who have trained themselves to surrender through prayer and meditation.

I am faced with a situation that I have no control over that exits in my everyday life routine, so I am training my self not to have any person or circumstances affect my emotions because I am learning to let go and let my faith handle the rest.

I ended up traveling to Sierra Leone in the middle of finals while I was four months pregnant. I received Ds in most of my classes and when I came back from seeing my father he died ten days later.I am back in school re tacking most my classes and still pursing my dream because I trust in a power grater than myself.

Take time out to check this link out:
http://www.businessinsider.com/how-to-be-a-happier-person-2012-10?op=1

Work Cited:
Can being religious make you happier?
Taking responsibility of your own happiness

Two Sources

   I am having difficulties figuring out what I would like my subject to be for the Analysis paper. My thoughts are completely all over the place. I feel insecure in my ability to write this paper. I have a tendency to rant so I want to be cautious in picking my topic.
    I will spend this week closing in and focusing on one particular topic.

True Beauty?

I had my third child on November 13, 2012. I weighed between 140 and 135 pounds prior to the pregnancy and by the time I was nine months I ballooned to 213 pounds. I use pregnancy as an opportunity to indulge myself with various culinary delights. I usually gain too much weight with each pregnancy and I accompany it with at least one craving that usually has me regurgitating when I reflect on what I use to devour, during the last pregnancy I ate raw rice flower, this is a secret I dared not even disclose this pica activity to my team of doctors.

I fatten myself up only to do into a string of healthy and unhealthy methods in an attempt to lose all of the weight and save my husband from the economic burden of having to buy an entire wardrobe that caters to my new figure. My reality is that I do like to look good and I have a perception of what beautiful is to me, which usually does not consist of me being overweight. I believe that most humans share that same thought whether they would like to admit it or not.

Every time I go through this process I drill my husband on how much he loves me an what would he prefer, even though I always know the answer will always stay the same;” I love you no matter what size you are”, in my head though I know that’s a whole lot of malarkey. Most human beings are attracted to their communities’ conception of beauty being that different societies admire different features in women. I am African, so for the most part, men love women with a nice shape (big but) and big eyes, with a small waist. In other parts of East Africa, enlarged ear lobes are looked upon as beautiful that women go through a lengthy and painful process of stretching out their ear lobes with heavy earrings as the Masai women tribe of Kenya do.

       The moral of the story is that women all over the world from New York to desolate villages are v

ictims of their society’s perception of beauty. I get offended when most people try to down play the fact that their choices in regard to personal appearance is not connected to the pressures of what is promoted m the media. I applaud and admire the few that dance to there on tune. I feel guilty but denying the fact that I am a bit vein would be a lie.

I remember being overcome with anger and betrayal when the news broke about general Petraeus was cheating on his wife; I mean after all, he was voted most fascinating person by Barbara Walters in 2012. I am ashamed to also admit that I was a bit understanding after seeing a picture of his wife. Please don’t judge me. I felt like her husband is one of the most admired men in America, with a lot of power and extremely handsome. I know it does not justify what he did but all I could think of how much lypo-suction and teeth whitening I would have done if I was his Mrs.

Beauty is mostly based on what our society has created for us; it is up to you if you will become the beholder of your own.

 

Work Cited:

Barbara Walters's Most Fascinating People List Revealed : People.com

Her Looks, Your Status: Why Men’s Claims Not to Care About Beauty Ring Hollow — The Good Men Project

Myanmar Visa » The Maasai People of Selenkay

Eating for Two When Over/ or Under Weight - American Pregnancy Association

 

 

Accept your life

In this path of discovering myself, I made a conscious choice not to let my son’s illness define me or allow it to be the focus of my blog. The truth is that I am affected by it day in and day out. Life has just not been the same and even when he does get better the traumatic memories will forever be embedded in me in the form of anxiety. I have to work hard at motivating myself to perform the simplest task. I loved writing in the past and I would never get writers block, my ideas use to flow easy, I could read a book in a day, but things have completely changed.

Research shows that one out of three parents is afraid of losing their jobs due to an ill child. The honest, I was definitely the one of the three. I was more than delighted when my husband concurred with my decision to leave my company. My paranoia of getting fired was so intense that I wanted to beat my general manager to the “punch”. I turned in my resignation letter to the shock of everyone in the company, because I second in charge and worked hard to acquire that position, I wanted to leave at the top of my game. I have a hard time loosing and trying to juggle a full-time job and a child who constantly needs medical attention, was definitely a losing battle. The irony is that, though I know that I may suffer from some type of depression, I don’t even have the time to wallow in any kind of negative thoughts, as the primary care giver for my son, I have to stay focused and be the central support system for him.

           The fear does not only stop at the work place it also transcends into personal relationships.

 I lost a lot of friends as well. I now realize that I use to hang around some very shallow people.  The

chances of being misunderstood by people is high because they  may not don’t understand why you

cannot make it to their birthday party for the third year in a row because your child coincidentally has

to be admitted in the hospital for something that is beyond your control. I have am not into the whole group therapy or support group idea (yet), so at times the feeling of isolation surfaces now and then.
             I handle it all on day at a time, I think of my child as my salvation, thus, If  I think of lying I think of him and I don’t. I try to inspire myself and deal with the fact that this is what my life is and it is up to me to decide if I want to laugh one day or cry the other and sometimes maybe both.”There is nothing good or bad but thinking makes it so.”

Work cited:

Staying Home with Sick Kids Raises Job, Pay Fears | BusinessNewsDaily.com

Caring for a Seriously Ill Child

25 Ways to Be a True Friend | Tiny Buddha

Hamlet by William Shakespeare

 

The real house wife?

The word "housewife" was almost extinct in the early 70's, but thanks to a popular series on the Bravo television network, the word is in full circulation all over the world. This phenomenon is so popular that when my sister in-law, who leaves in Paris, France and is a non-English speaker became so hooked to the show, as she was on vacation last year, still calls me to discuss the   show. The reality is most these women are not real housewives or even married and their portrayal of reality is not far from reality itself, with that being said, I am in the accordance with the show that a housewife is not literally a house wife.

Four years ago, I held a high paying position at a cooperate housing firm, that catered to the Government. I resided in Crystal City with my husband in a high-rise that had all the amenities anyone will desire. I worked long days but I made it home in time to care for my eldest son who had acquired an illness, which I like to refer to the unexplained. I persevered for a year and a half but, with my son's health declining and another baby on the way, I gave in to the very thing I never wanted to become...a "housewife".

           In   the 1900s, prior to industrial development, men and women took care of the home because there was no real separation between home and work. In present times the definition of a housewife is dependent on ones culture and personal preference. I personally believe that taking care of the home requires a lot more effort than going to work, yet after being the primary care taker of my children for the past four years, the reward is priceless. Statistics show that women are attaining higher education than men.

Many decisions that we make in life come with some degree of regret, nostalgia and doubt. I battle with my decision to stay at home, though, I am aware of the fact that it is of the interest of my child. The irony is that I day dream of what could have been and I pray that my daughters get to live their lives without much regret. I get solace in the fact that not I was able to learn, peruse a career, raise a family and made sure not to lose myself completely in the process.

Happiness can only be achieved when you discover the good in every person and situation.

 work cited:http://www.census.gov/hhes/socdemo/education/data/cps/historical/index.html,
The Unfished Revolution by Kathleen Gerson

 

Blogging about blogging

My heart is pounding and I am filled with adrenalin. I have less than ten minutes to write about anything and it must be in an academic context. I wish I was given a topic because now I'm stuck. I wish I did not have to wait until the last minute to open the instructors notes because now I'm confused.

A blog, I thought was more for casual writing. The rush really is exciting because here I am, blogging about blogging. I feel like I'm old because this is what I consider  excitement. I hope to be better prepared next time.

 

Say No to Cliche

I always imagined myself living in New York with some high paying job, preferably in the fashion and beauty industry, penthouse living, skinny and with the best extensions money can buy, in short shallow but luxurious.The reality is my life is a far cry from that. I still dream of that sometimes and lead me into choosing  Discovering Me as the topic of my blog.

I do not intend to bore you with recipes and challenges of motherhood...instead my goal is to try and make myself and maybe other people  understand and accept that what we plan for our lives, most times, is not what will be.

How can we as humans come to terms? I do not know, but after sixteen weeks I may have a better idea.Follow my journey.