Reminder Tuesday 5 February Year 11 Parents Evening 4: Fill & Download for Free

This answer I am answering for my husband since he is no longer here to answer it. Not that he would have anyways, he never wanted to talk about the cancer he didn’t even want people to know he was sick. But He was diagnosed in October of 2013 with colon cancer .But he had been having symptoms for at least 2 years.He was an attorney. And he supported our family. I think he knew something was wrong but he was in denial. One of the things he would tell me all the time is that he felt the constant need to go to the bathroom (number 2). But when he got to bathroom, nothing happened. He was a courthouse attorney. He once told me he knew every decent bathroom in every courthouse in Louisiana.He was the most positive person I ever met. I knew he was in pain, and wanted him to get a colonoscopy. But him being stubborn, he kept saying if I wait til I am 50, the colonoscopy will be free… don’t know if hat was true or if he was just scared of what the results were.The major thing that finally initiated him to schedule a colonoscopy was when we went to Vegas. And he was ok but the 2nd night there he had major stomach and side pain. He felt he had to go the bathroom and if he could he would feel better. Needless to stay, we spent the rest of the time in Vegas in our lovely room at the Wynn hotel. He spent the rest of the time in the bahroom. I was truly worried. And I said we are going to get this checked out - I said “Dude we are going to get this checked out, see a doctor and get a referral to a colonoscopy dr. This was all in the month of April.He finally got that colonoscopy scheduled in September. They couldnt finish the colonoscopy because they saw something almost immediately and did not want to examine further, as not to disturb the thing they saw.Dr called us in a few days later and said it was cancer. We were referred to a gastroenterologist. This dr was awesome. He really seemed to care. He did not make my husband feel like just another cancer patient. And being a Gastrointestinal dr., it is not a glamorous job. You’ve got to be examining butts and rectums all day. But I am so grateful for these doctors who choose this field because they do save lives .Dr wanted to schedule surgery ASAP. Of course steve was like I can’t do it that soon, I have clients and work. I said dr., he will do whatever you recommend. Steve never wanted anyone to know he was sick but he had to tell ron the other attorney in the office, so ron could help him while he was out.Ok so had a colon resection. They removed 9 inches of his colon. And took out some lymph nodes to test for cancer. The dr took out 22 and out of those 3 has cancer.So after he healed from surgery, the chemo begin. They said the chemo was more a preventive measure. People with Colon cancer had a 85% chance of the cancer metastasizing without the chemo. And only a 35% chance if they did the 12 chemo treatments.The chemo was horrible he was sick. But he was determined to go to work. The only day he did not go to work was the day he got the chemo which was on a Tuesday. But Wednesday, Thursday he went to work. He had to have the chemo back that pumps the Chems in your body for 2 days. And he would have the bag removed on Thursday. By this point, on Friday he was drianed and tired and he could only work half a day.Finally all that was over. He got all the scans, blood work and he kind of beat it. He was in remission. It was great news. I tried to encourage him to get the intravenous vitamin transfusions or whatever. Since chemo drains you of everything. It depletes the good stuff, and kills the cancer. I think dr just hopes the in attempting to kill the cancer, the chemo doesn’t kill the patient instead.So Steve was good. He still had that port they installed and didn’t want to remove it. Because he came in every 3 months to have his levels checked. All was good. I thought we were done with this.We were not done with it at all. In September of 2016 his blood work came back - not so good. His tumor marker numbers were elevated. So here we go again…Scans, blood work, more scans. Doctor called us in and and the cancer metastasized to his liver and small area of his lung. I had no idea how serious this was. He started chemo again, was responding well (so I thought)He kept a lot of things from me, I think to protect me. He did not want me to know the truth. That’s why when i offered to go to his chemo spots, he would say “I don’t want you to go and have to sit in there with me, everyone getting chemo brings their whole family and it’s loud and sick people wberywhere, which would make me sad”. So I was like “ok steve”. I now wish I would have gone with him, but even going wouldn’t have saved his life.He really seemed to be responding. On the week off from chemo he played golf with his best friend on Sunday. He never missed the kids, soccer games, cross country runs, and cheer stuff. He attended Father’s Day mass at my daughters school, and we aren’t even catholic. She just goes to private school because it was the best fit for her, and the catholic one was the least expensive (but it was not cheap by far)He told me in December the dr told him “congratulations man you are beating this thing”I found it later the dr never said that. He only told me that so he could take the kids skiing in beaver creek Colorado in January. Then he wanted me and him to take a trip to Miami I. February. So we did that.In March he continued the chemo. But toward the end of March he just wasnt feeling good at all. I noticed his eyes were yellow, I felt concerned and insisted he call the dr. He said he would do it tomorrow at work. I knew better so made him text dr thst evening. Dr schedule him to come in the next day. Turns out the cancer had blocked his bile duct. So he set up appt with dr who would do a procedure that would put stents in the bile duct area so that it would drain. He went to the cancer doctor on Wednesday and then to the other doctor on Thursday. And the other doctor scheduled him for the procedure on Monday.I kept thinking that something just wasn’t right about that. The man’s eyes were yellow. How long could he go with these toxins building up in his system like this. Could he make it until Monday. I googled everything I could about it. I did not feel Monday was soon enough. I felt it was an emergency to get this stent procedure done as soon as possible. But I didn’t really say anything to the doctors. I regret that.So on April 7 I played in a weekend tennis tournament. Steve came home from work early at about 11:30 AM on Friday. Which was very odd because I’ve never seen the man come home earlier than 5 o’clock. Usually he came in about 630 or 7. When I got home from the tennis tournament that evening Steve was asleep in the bed. I asked my daughter if she had seen him get up or move. She had been in her room most the day and did not know. I try to wake him up to see what was going on and how he was feeling. He just said he was feeling tired and everyone had been telling him to take off work and rest, so he was and he did not understand why I was questioning him. Which I wasn’t questioning him about why he wasn’t at work, I was worried and questioning his sickness. So I went and played tennis in the morning at 8 am on Saturday, April 8 I had horrible anxiety playing. I was scheduled to play my next match at about 3 PM that day. I got killed in the match because my anxiety was so bad because I just kept thinking about Steve sleeping all day. Because when I checked on him after my first match he was still in bed. Soon as the match was over I could not get home fast enough. And when I got home he was still asleep. I ask him if he had gotten up any he said he didn’t know, but he thought he maybe did.So I decided to text the doctor. I told him what was going on about Steve sleeping for 48 hours. And I was worried. The doctor was worried as well and said I needed to take him to the emergency room ASAP, It was about 630 that evening. I’ve tried to talk him into going to the emergency room, he hates hospitals, he was fight me on it and refusing to go. So I just slept on the couch that night with my daughter and watched a movie and told her what was going on and how worried I was. She was worried too. She is 13 years old but she has been here with us throughout this entire journey.So that evening I started calling tennis people and letting them know what was going on, and I had found a sub to take my place in the tournament because I was very worried about my husband and needed to take him to the ER in the morning. Everyone was very sympathetic and concerned as well and said not to worry about anything just to take care of my husband.First thing that next the morning I woke up pretty early and I told Steve you need to get dressed and ready because we are going to the emergency room. I think the talk since I’ve gotten into his brain at this point, because the man was being so difficult about going. He was cussing at me and mad at me. He reminded me of my grandmother when she had all timers the last year of her life. Very mean and ungrateful and not able to see that I am trying to help because I love him I don’t want him to die . But I understood that the toxins were affecting his brain. He was refusing to go to the hospital still. So I had to make threats. I told him that if he did not go with me that I would call the ambulance and they would come in our nice quiet gated golf course neighborhood, and with their lights and sirens on and they will take him to the hospital. I told him so you can go the easy way or the hard way but either way you are going .So he’s decided he would go. He test and was mad at me the entire drive there. I didn’t care I knew he was not in his right mind and I don’t want him to die.We arrived at the hospital around 7:45 AM. I had told the doctor that we were going there and that the man could barely sit in a chair and there is no way he can wait in a waiting room that he would need a room ASAP. The doctor already had a room arranged for him. They ran all kinds of test hooked him up to IVs did all kinds of things. I was there with him until about 530 that evening. Because I needed to go home, because my daughter had been home alone all day and we didn’t have any food because I had not gone to the grocery store and I need you to check on her. I figured I would go to the house and get her and we will get something to eat and go back to the hospital and hang with Steve. At not one point did any hospital staff or anyone tell me his prognosis or diagnosis. I don’t know if I forgot to ask I could really can’t remember because I was so stressed and scared. Because he looked worse when I got back to the hospital. He was like purple and yellow.I needed to get my daughter back home because she had school in the morning. And at no point did I know the seriousness of his condition. I even asked the nurse how was he doing and she said he’s getting better he’s going to eat dinner minute .So it was about 830 or 9 o’clock. I texted his cancer doctor and ask him to please call me back at his soonest convenience because I just left the hospital and Steve left horrible. The doctor called me back immediately. I just ask him what is the condition of my husband he looked horrible when I left the hospital and I’m very worried. The first thing the doctor said to me was does he have any family that lives close or out of town. I said he only has his mom and dad because he is an only child and they live in Chicago ( we live in Louisiana ) The doctor told me that I needed to contact his parents and tell them to down Here ASAP. I was like why? His parents are almost 80 years old, and they don’t fly they only drive. Are you sure this is necessary ? Now you must remember I had no idea of the seriousness of his condition from the beginning. And no one told me at the hospital what was going on. So the doctor said yes it is necessary. He said these exact words “it’s gonna happen”I am not the type of person that takes hints very well. My good friends and family know this so they just have to be blunt about things with me. So of course I said “what’s gonna happen”. The doctor said I have seen many times, he is in for liver failure, and it’s going to happen, I’m so sorry Kelly but it is going to happen. He never said he was going to die, he just said it was going to happen ….But when I heard for liver failure I knew what he meant. And I was in shock to say the least. It was the strangest thing in the world. Because I was outside on the phone talking to the doctor so my daughter didn’t hear the conversation. And I physically dropped to my knees. It’s like my legs to spell out from under me. It didn’t hurt something just dropped me to my knees. And after I fell to my knees something else came behind me and really gently knocked the breath out of me and I gasped. It wasn’t a violent movie thing it was the weirdest feeling ever. After I caught my breath I felt like a part of me quietly left, it’s very hard to explain the feeling of what happened.I was so devastated and shocked I couldn’t cry. I didn’t know what to do. Should I really call his parents and upset them like this, because the doctor said there was a slight chance that he could survive if the stent procedure was successful. Which Dr said there was only like a 4% chance that it would be, but I was holding on to hope that that 4% chance would come through. I did call Steve’s very long time best friend and let him know what I was told and Mike went to visit him in the hospital. Mike was devastated by the way Steve looked. I also called Ron who was Steve’s law partner for 20 years and let him know and he went to visit Steve as well. Because I wasn’t sure if the stent procedure would be successful.I called my mother and I ask her what I should do. Should I call his parents and tell them to head this way. It will take them two days to drive, or should I hold out faith that the stent procedure will be successful and they will not have to come here. My mother said “kelly, you must call his parents! What if he doesn’t make it, and you did not let his parents know and they did not get to say goodbye”. I agreed with her but I think in my mind by calling his parents I felt that that was putting out there in the universe that he was going to die that it was finalizing things.But I did call them and they left immediately and got there pretty fast. So Steve was scheduled for the step procedure at 1 o’clock on Monday. Remember I took him in to the hospital on Sunday, April 9.But before I had called my mother and Ron and his friend Mike and his parents I let my daughter know what the doctor said. We were crying together. And then I made the phone calls. And my daughter and I fell sleep in the bed together feeling very afraid. The feelings of guilt were eating me alive. My amazing husband was at the hospital alone and dying and I was at the house. I should have left immediately to just go be there and sleep on the couch. But after telling the news to daughter she wanted to go with me if I went because she didn’t want to be aloneBut I woke up early that morning at 430. Couldn’t really sleep. I showered and headed to hospital. My daughter did not want to go to school. She wanted to be home so I could update her on his condition and she would have been miserable at school thinking that the procedure would be unsuccessful.The procedure was successful. His bilirubin was at a 28 when he went into hospital. But start dropping after procedure. But stopped stopping at about 10. Normal bilirubin should be like 0.5 (I think)He finally got to come home. I saw a man who is never going to recover. But he felt he was going to recover so I was not going to smash that help. But I knew he was not going to recover. He could not get his nutrition up every time we went to the doctor he lost 10 pounds. The man I married was 185 pounds and beautiful. The man I was looking at that day was 105 pounds and he looked 100 years old. He seem to have horrible anxiety, and he was in denial that he was dying. Even though we found a letter after he did die that the doctor sent to him in November 2016 and said that his condition was terminal and he had 4 to 6 months to live with treatment. He never told a soul. He never told anyone. I don’t know if he was in denial or if he didn’t want people to be sad over him and the last six months of his life would be sadness and people crying. But he told no one.Finally after the last doctor’s visit with the cancer doctor. He could see this Steve was in pain and suffering and he suggested hospice. That was a hard reality to except. My husband is going to do hospice, doesn’t Hospice mean you’re going to die! No! This cannot happen. This man is 49 years old and has a family! No! This cannot happen. This man is 49 years old and he has a daughter who is about to graduate high school and a 15-year-old son and a 13-year-old daughter who needs him. He has a wife who needs him. He can’t die. I don’t want him to die. I still held onto the tiny bit of hope that A miracle could happen just like with the stent procedure and he may live, maybe he will get better.But he did not. Because he hated hospitals, I would never put him in a hospice facility. I am only 36 years old but I am strong enough to take care of my husband at this time in his life where he needs me most. If he’s going to die he’s going to die at home because he loves his home and he loves his children and he loves cats, and he wants his wife by him. In a hospice facility he would be so scared. He was a very private man. So he did not want any extra help coming in and taking care of him. He only felt comfortable with me being his sole caretaker. And I planned on doing that and whatever else he needed me to do. It was very hard to watch him in pain every day. He hurt physically. He was so scared emotionally. The man I married never had any anxiety that I ever saw. But his anxiety was so bad. The hospice nurse came to CS twice a week but the first time she came she prescribed some medicine and Steve told her he was sure she was busy with other people and there is no need to come back in two days.On Thursday, May 26, 2017 Steve’s anxiety was very very bad he was gasping for air. He made to strange statements to me. Because he never acknowledged he was dying this was strange. He said “Kelly, I think I may be dying” I didn’t want him to be scared so I just told him “no you’re not dying your body is just fighting you it’s not going with the flow like it usually does. It’s fighting you and you have to fight back”. And he responded “yeah I guess you’re right”Then later on that day he told me he wanted to go home. Because he was so scared of the hospitals I thought he must be not in his right mind and think he is in the hospital. So I was trying to reassure him “Steve your home you’re here with me at home we are at home !!!”He said “no not this home but home home any kind of pointed up”He was not a religious man but he believed in God. I truly believe days before his death in his sleep he was in some sort of spirit world or afterlife making deals in having conversations and figuring things out. Because he did a lot of talking in his sleep and 10 years being married I never heard him talking to sleep. I feel that he had 1 foot in the physical world and 1 foot in the spiritual world.So I randomly woke up at 1:30 in the morning on Friday. And I did not hear his loud crackling breathing. I didn’t hear anything. The TV was on because we slept with it on all the time. That was the only light in the room. And I said “Steve!!” really loud. I said “Steve wake up it’s time for your medicine!” No response. I got up I bent over and looked at him and his eyes were open. And I looked into his eyes and I swear I thought I saw them move. But I guess they didn’t. I called the hospice people and they sent someone over to check on him and I guess pronounce him dead. Which I’m pretty sure he was. The hospice nurse was a man and he was so nice and compassionate. It made it much easier for me to deal with. He asked me if I wanted to leave the room so he could get Steve dressed. I said yes because Steve just didn’t have pants on and I wanted him to go to the funeral home with some pants on I mean that’s respectable, you know.The hospice nurse also close his eyes for me because I kept trying to close them but they just keep coming open. Which for the past week he had been actually sleeping with his eyes open so it was all so strange and disturbing but I was strong and I just did what I needed to do and what I had to do for myself and my husband and my childrenI miss my husband. He was too young to die. And he was a truly good person. Like truly good person, I’m not just saying that because he died and he’s my husband. He’s soul was so good.I am only 36 in learning to do things alone for the first time my life. I’m actually having to be an adult. But it is what it is. At this point I know for fact no one in this world will ever love me as much as Steve loved meSo I’m just fine with being alone in becoming crazy cat lady after my kids are all goneSorry for such a long post I need to get that off my chest

I was not the patient, it was my daughter who was 3 at the time, but as her advocate I feel answering this question is appropriate. This may be a long answer but I urge any parents/caregivers of little girls to please read it to the end. A little backstory: I live in a small-ish city in Upstate N.Y. We have one hospital here with very few specialists in the hospital for pediatric patients. They tend to send very sick children to one of the larger city hospitals (with better reputations & specialists) each of which are from 30 minutes to 2+ hours away.I was 20 when my daughter, Sophia, was born in February of 2007. I had a relatively easy pregnancy, a little morning sickness but nothing abnormal at all. I went to my scheduled 36 week ultrasound scan on a chilly Friday morning, not thinking much of it. I was excited to see her little face on that screen & get an approximation of how much she was going to weigh. The tech took her measurements and was friendly until midway through the scan when her face got a puzzled look.She quietly asked “Are you crampy at all? Are you in any pain?”I responded “not at all, why?”She called in another tech and they explained to me that I was contracting & dilating, so they were calling my doctor and had sent someone from L&D to come get me to take me to the floor.I was in labor and had no idea. My contractions became stronger, I progressed to 6cm with no problem. My doctor came in & broke my water around 7 p.m. & my labor completely stopped. The baby was fine but I was no longer contracting or dilating and at this point had a ruptured amniotic sac.At 9 p.m. after completely stumping the staff, including my doctor, they started pitocin which kicked everything back into high gear. I delivered a beautiful 7 lb 8 oz baby girl with a head full of thick black hair at 10:53 p.m. I tried to get her to latch on so I could nurse her within her first hour of life but she refused. Two different nurses tried different positions with us to no avail. Hours later she was wailing because she was hungry so I finally gave in and gave her formula.We were released from the hospital 2 days later and the first couple of nights at home were fine. She was spitting up a lot but I chalked it up to the bottles I was using. At her first week check up I told her pediatrician my concerns about her spitting up and he said its probably just the formula mixed with reflux. He prescribed meds for the reflux and switched to a formula with added rice starch in hopes she would be able to hold it down. It didn't work… at all.By the time she was 3 weeks old she hadn't put on any weight and had gone from spitting up to projectile vomiting at almost every feeding. She would cry from 6 p.m. to 10 p.m. every night. I was alone. I was exhausted. I was stressed. Over the next 5 months her pediatrician switched through every formula that “worked” for his other patients.. I pleaded with him to please just refer us to a pediatric gastroenterologist about a half hour away.. Something was wrong, I just knew it, she was a mere 11 pounds at almost 6 months old. She was not hitting the milestones she should have been.He obliged, finally, and off we went to the gastro doctor who got us in (surprisingly) within the week. They diagnosed her with failure to thrive at that appointment, but they were adamant they would figure out what was wrong. They sent us home with a ph monitor for the acid in her stomach. It was a little box on her side with a tube that ran from her nose to her stomach. I had to write down every time she fed, what happened afterwards (if she vomited, etc.), with very detailed times and descriptions.At the next appt they diagnosed her with a milk protein allergy (she was also allergic to wheat, and soy) & put her on an amino acid based prescription formula. Thank God for insurance because that stuff was $48 a can! She started gaining weight but developed constipation and severe eczema as a side effect of the formula; it was so bad her little toe nails even peeled off at one point. However, they told me that the formula was the only option. I could deal with yucky skin and a little constipation as long as it meant my little girl was going to be okay.When she was 1 we (the team of doctors and I) slowly introduced lactaid milk and weaned her off the formula. I spent the first 18 months of her life reading nutrition labels because seemingly everything made her sick -- it’s amazing how many products contain wheat, soy and milk! Cleaning up vomit, trying everything to get her bowel movements regulated, & constantly traveling for Doctors appointments.A rough start for her first couple of years but I felt she was finally okay! She was a lot smaller than most children her age, both height and weight wise, but she was alright. I personally called in an early intervention program to my home had her evaluated for autism when she was 2 years old. Mainly because she never spoke aside from her crying when her wails would occasionally sound like she was crying for “ma.” She was a little behind still on her milestones, but not by much, definitely not enough to concern them. They said she wasn't autistic and she would talk soon enough.When she was two and a half I said “Sophia I made spaghetti squash with tomato sauce lets get ready to eat!” She responded with “No mommy, I don't like that!” Clear as day, she spoke not only her first word but her first sentence! She hasn't stopped talking since! She spent the first 2.5 years of her life observing everything & everyone around her, including language and vocabulary.Fast forward to September of 2010, Sophia is now 3.5 years old. At 6 a.m. on a Friday I am woken up by a screaming child “Mommy my stomach hurts! It hurts so bad!” I rushed her into the bathroom thinking maybe she was constipated. Nothing. I gave her some ibuprofen, lots of mommy cuddles, and we relaxed most of the day. 3 hours after the second dose of ibuprofen she cries to me that her stomach still hurts.I called the doctor and he said “She’s probably constipated, so I'll send over a prescription laxative to the pharmacy. If she isn't better by Tuesday bring her in for an appointment.”I trusted that man & his judgement; especially because she had been so sick for her first 18 months of life, and he always did everything in his power to figure it out. I picked up her medicine that evening and gave it to her as instructed. That Sunday I was hosting my sister’s baby shower at our home, and Sophia still hadn't had a bowel movement, was drinking but barely eating and had laid around all weekend. She came out of bed long enough to watch my sister open gifts but then took her cup of Pedialyte and went back to her room.My mom and sister were concerned, saying Sophia looked like she didn't feel well. I knew that, but I was doing everything the doctor had told me to do! She was taking her laxative as prescribed, and I was alternating her ibuprofen and Tylenol for the pain. I finished up the baby shower and moved Sophia into my bed with me.Monday morning she started vomiting at 7 a.m. all over my bed and room. She was still so tired but she said her stomach pain wasn't as bad as it was before. At 2:30 p.m. I called my mom to let her know something was seriously wrong with Sophia. She was vomiting on and off all day, had a fever & was very lethargic. I was taking her to the ER here in my town & I was going now.We were in & triaged relatively quickly.. The ER doc came in and examined her. He said she probably was just constipated but he wanted to do an X-ray and ultrasound to see what they said. He came in after the X-ray while we were waiting for ultrasound and said it looked like she had a lot of trapped gas in her intestines but nothing too serious in his opinion.Sophia had IV fluids and torradol when we first arrived but she just laid in the same position on her left side crying. The doctor ordered morphine in an attempt to ease her pain while we were waiting. The ultrasound tech came in finally at 6 p.m. I tried to read her facial expressions during the scan but her straight face didn't allow me allow me to.Twenty-five long minutes later she’s done.The doctor came back in around 7 stating that the ultrasound showed some abnormality with her abdomen but it was inconclusive as to what. He wanted a CT scan done STAT even though he was concerned about the amount of radiation for her little body. I signed a ton of forms for them and off she went for the scan.My mom joined me at the hospital around 7:30 p.m. for moral support because I was a mess!Around 9 p.m. the doctor comes in again and says the CT scan was also inconclusive but she was probably just constipated and he would prepare the discharge paperwork. At this point I became irate! She was not constipated! Something was wrong! She was on a laxative for 4 days and still hadn’t had a bowel movement! You are giving her morphine for God sakes! I questioned his credentials while in crazy mama bear mode. I refused to leave until they figured out what was wrong.At 11 p.m. a new E.R. doc came in and listened to me for 20 minutes as I was crying and begging for her help. She ordered another CT scan STAT only with contrast this time, again warning of the risk of radiation. At 11:45 p.m. she re-enters the room and explains that my beautiful little baby girl had an “unidentified mass in her lower left abdomen, I don't know what it is, but I do know that there is no doctor here that will see her. She's too young and too little in general. We are transferring her to Upstate Children's hospital but I want to warn you this could be cancer…”Almost instantly my mind is blank, my chest is heavy and the walls are closing in on me. I hear nothing but I know this empathetic dark haired doctor is still talking. Thank God my mom was still there to listen and ask questions because my mind kept replaying the words “cancer, cancer, cancer, the big C, cancer, cancer, cancer. Within an hour Sophia and I were in the back of an ambulance on our way to the childrens hospital. My mom went home to get some rest and assured me she would be up to the hospital in the morning.Upon arrival we were put in a room, she was given more meds, another bag of fluids, & hooked up to different monitors. It was the middle of the night, and I was physically and mentally exhausted. Sophia slept peacefully and I dozed in and out until 8 a.m. rolls around.My dad comes in with a newspapaper and coffee, trying to comfort me. The children's hospital is also a teaching hospital which I think is great! Why not have 5 minds trying to figure something out instead of 1! The doctor and his team came in around 8:30; Sophia was awake but just watching cartoons.. They asked both Sophia and I questions about how she felt; what was going on, etc.Sophia was “officially” admitted and we were taken upstairs with an ultrasound scheduled at 12 noon. I questioned why they were doing ANOTHER ultrasound, and they explained they didn't “trust” the ultrasound from our previous hospital. During this time, I had sent my dad home (35 mins away) to get me another change of clothes and a few things from my house.We were back in our room after the ultrasound around 1 p.m. They had given Sophia some more meds and she was asleep again so I decided to rest for a little bit and then shower. At 1:30 p.m. as I was in the shower the doctor comes in, asks me to please get out of the shower and get dressed. He instructed me to call whoever I needed to call as they were taking Sophia in for surgery in 45 minutes. They didn't like the looks of the ultrasound, they needed to figure out what this mass was and figure it out now.My parents were back at the hospital 20 minutes after I called them. The surgeon was a white haired man, who had been practicing for 35 years. He explained that laparoscopic surgery was relatively routine and it would be about an hour and a half. He would come get us after it was completed. Four hours (and a lot of me freaking out) later the surgeon comes to get us and take us into this little room. He explains to me that my daughter had suffered from ovarian torsion (at 3). Her left ovary had twisted around the fallopian tube, cutting off the blood supply and dying. They had to remove her ovary as well the fallopian tube.He explained that the ovary itself likely started the twisting when she woke up Friday morning in such extreme pain. By Monday her body’s way of dealing with the pain and toxins from the dead organ inside of her was to vomit. Only once had he seen ovarian torsion in a child in his 35 years as a physician, and that was in a 9 year old. It typically happens to women in their 20s.He said that had I gone home like the first ER doc wanted me to, she would have gone septic and most likely have died. My daughter would have DIED if I didn’t argue with the doctor and refuse to leave that hospital! I knew something was wrong.Sophia spent 4 days in the hospital but made a full recovery. She is now almost 12 years old and healthy! She is STILL talking from the moment she wakes up in the morning until she goes to bed at night. She is able to eat almost everything now, only limiting the amount of dairy. She is an honor roll student, a competitive cheerleader, & reading at a 9th grade level (in 6th grade)! She has a contagious laugh and is always trying to brighten everyone's day!No one has been able to figure out WHY it happened, it just did. The only reminder of the whole ordeal is 3 little scars on her abdomen. Her most recent visit to the doctor was great! The only thing the doctor said was that she may have irregular periods when they start as her body adjusts to only one ovary but other than that all is well!Thank God for mama bear mode and my gut instinct. Please always urge for a second opinion as you never know what may happen if you don't.

It has been 35 years since the world was introduced to the first signs of HIV/AIDS. They came to us through the Centers for Disease Control (and Prevention) and their report, Morbidity & Mortality Weekly Report dated June 5, 1981. In the report it was revealed that five young men in California were diagnosed with a type of pneumonia typically reserved for people with severely compromised immune systems. Before people ever knew the name HIV disease, before we all heard about AIDS, and even before the blame-assigned term GRID (Gay Related Immune Deficiency) the most widely recognized term ‘Gay Plague’, was easily tossed around in newspapers and derogatorily discussed at water coolers when the effeminate male personal assistant, one of thousands who slaved away for Uncle Sam by serving the Supreme Court or somewhere down the halls of the U.S. Capitol and every other department in the U.S. government, was likely just on the edge of earshot.As the years, and the death toll mounted, the Reagan administration thought it was something of a laughing matter:It wasn’t until a reporter asked the President directly about AIDS, during a press conference in 1985, did Mr. Reagan mention the grave condition nor had he suggested that policy was being discussed. And then, it took two more years before a serious discussion was presented. By the time his speech arrived, more than 20,000 Americans had died. Mr. Reagan simply could not steel himself into making a speech about the epidemic. Wow, what a great communicator that represents (throaty with sarcasm is fully intended and should be included by the reader).There is much to be said, about the things left unsaid.Stigma and discrimination have the same affect upon all groups of people who are set apart from everyone else. Victimization occurs to those who are separated into the role of outcast; ‘the other’ who is not like us. The International Center for Research on Women has a few excellent paragraphs concisely summing up the topic when applied to HIV:Regardless of context, the causes and consequences of stigma and discrimination are the same worldwide. It happens whether you are a woman with HIV or a man who injects drugs; whether you live in a rural or urban community, and in countries as culturally different as Vietnam is to Zambia.Stigma happens when others devalue a person or a group of people because they are associated with a certain disease, behavior or practice. And like a one-two punch, those who are stigmatized often experience discrimination in some fashion. The effects of both can be even worse for groups who already are marginalized because of their gender, sexuality, ethnicity or substance abuse.Those who stigmatize people living with HIV falsely believe that the virus is highly contagious and that they could easily become infected. When that happens, others start to view HIV-positive women and men as a threat. Many become isolated – within their homes, in public, at their workplaces. They are further stigmatized by others' assumptions about their moral integrity – such as the belief that they became infected with HIV because they chose to take part in risky behaviors. And because in many countries women are held to a different moral standard than men, they often are disproportionately blamed for HIV in their communities.In the end, stigma and discrimination continue to undermine prevention, treatment and care of people living with the HIV and AIDS. It hinders those with the virus from telling their partners about their status. It threatens their access to health care. It increases their vulnerability to physical violence. And HIV-related stigma affects people’s ability to earn a living, making it even more difficult for them to lift themselves out of poverty.[1]Being born in 1961, raised by devout protestant Christian parents who never divorced living in the rust belt of America, educated in public school and sent off to University, I can tell you that coming to grips with being a homosexual was a difficult process and a ‘hard pill to swallow’. It was though I were walking in a city, then turned a corner around a tall building. There were no signs directly behind me that looked familiar any more. Where had I come from? Where was I going? How was I supposed to fix this? I felt completely unprepared for my life ahead, afraid to tell anyone who I was, and abandoned by the God in which I had been taught would always guide me and protect me. I didn’t trust any of that anymore. Nor, did I create those feelings out of fantasy. Those feelings came to me because of the environment in which I had developed. It was an environment steeped in anti-homosexual rhetoric and the hate created by people that do not share the same set of values. There is an innate response for people to vilify others, when values are questioned or challenged.In 1986 I had a duty to my Gay brothers and my feelings about my role in society. It was important for me to set a good example and seek out an anonymous HIV test. It had to be an anonymous test because the talk at that time was that gays with HIV were going to be rounded up by the government and taken to internment camps, any day now. It wasn’t a crazy thought generated out of persecution-fear either. After all, Japanese-Americans were stripped of all rights in accordance with an Executive Order signed by President Roosevelt, February 19, 1942. Some individuals in government tried to stop it. But if there were more who disagreed with the idea, they didn’t make any noise. Congress and public sentiment allowed for relocation to be an acceptable government practice, forcibly moving thousands of men, women and children. Red blooded, fair minded, God fearing, heterosexual Americans encouraged and mostly wanted the U.S. government to remove 70,000 other heterosexual American citizens from their homes, businesses , churches and schools. People stood by and approved while their heterosexual neighbors were mustered off to camps set-up specifically to detain them. That happened because of fear. There was no law stopping internment from happening in 1942, or 1986, or even today. Sacred American law, specifically the U.S. Constitution and the Fifth Amendment, didn’t deter the U.S. government in 1942. Don’t be foolish and believe that it is impossible to do it again. As it was in 1942 or 1986 and even now today, Law is only effective when citizens hold their government representatives accountable. The citizens of the United States were afraid in 1941 after the attack on Pearl Harbor. They were afraid in 1986 from death the inaccurately believed to be brought about by gays. The citizenry of 1942 heterosexual America, had more in common with their Japanese-American neighbor, than the heterosexuals of 1980’s America had with homosexual one. Those who would dare speak out against forcible relocation of homosexual men in the 1980’s, wouldn’t have been heard long enough to stop internment from happening again. The environment of fear would have prevailed as it had in the past.After waiting for several weeks on pins and needles, I kept my appointment with the social worker who gave me those results. She didn’t know my name or who I was, but I’m sure I had the same look on my face that every other man also had on his. We were all human to her, and there was compassion in the question, “are you sure you’re alright to drive?” But did she really fathom what it was that we faced when we walked out that door? The world was a place that would be forever changed and different. I exited the massive hospital and entered a place that had turned once again. I had gone around the corner of a tall building, never to go back.In the years that followed, while walking alone, I was petrified by a carload of boys shouting homosexual epithets. I have been shunned by ‘negative’ gays, sent packing by a fearful dentist’s staff, turned away by countless numbers of business clients. Even slandered on the wall of an employer’s men’s room and then fired because other employees had the perception that I was homosexual, or possibly from fear of disease. Take your pick. I don’t know to this day why I was let go. These are examples of expression through human action that say, “you do not belong here with us”. Those experiences take a toll on the a person’s psyche as they accumulate one upon the other.I doubt myself, my beliefs, my opinions, my worth, my ability to set and achieve goals, my human rights to be inalienable. Add onto that the stress of living life with the certainty that tomorrow’s health crisis looms ever closer. And although we have had 20 years pass since treatment for HIV became available, and for the newly diagnosed with HIV, they are no longer expected to swallow news of the same hopeless future that I faced, or the struggle that I’ve endured. But the stigma and discriminatory attitudes toward the LGBTQ people of this world are common. Fear of persecution is very real for gays and lesbians.[2]Even in 2016 in the good ‘ol U.S.A. The fact that those fears are justified is evident to anyone paying attention as the news reports. HIV criminalization is real and people are imprisoned using archaic laws. State governments are passing legislation controlling restroom access according to biological sex and fully disregarding gender expression. And then, June 12, 2016 where in the very early hours, a man uses two semi-automatic weapons to ultimately murder 49 men and women innocently enjoying their revelry inside an Orlando, FL nightclub. That event would force anyone in the LGBTQ community to reconsider going out of the house for an evening on the town.If it can happen in Orlando, it can happen in any city, in any state across America. But it doesn’t have to make worldwide headlines for LGBTQ Americans to feel the fear. The FBI reports that gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender Americans are the most likely target of hate crime.[3] But agreement to the facts that motivated the Orlando murders, isn’t an absolute. Nor is there agreement that this particular mass murder is both “hate crime”, the most basic form of persecution and “domestic terrorism”, designed to intimidate and coerce, either people or the government. Americans and others around the globe will never agree that this event was motivated by hate. Instead, there are many who will choose mental health and lax gun laws or radical Islamophobic rhetoric instead of standing with gays and lesbians and acknowledge that hate exists, hate motivates horrific actions with intent to terrorize the LGBTQ community.[4]Even seemingly intelligent people, and those elected to powerful positions, won’t acknowledge this tragedy for what it was. A prime example, U.S. Senator Mitch McConnell of Kentucky, the majority leader in the Senate. When speaking from the Senate floor, Monday June 13th, Senator McConnell didn’t associate that most patrons of the nightclub massacre to be ‘gay’ or ‘lesbian’ whatsoever. But instead chose to vilify the Islamic State as a group that “crucifies children and beheads women” and point to the shooter as being under the control of that twisted group. Then just eight days passed, and on Tuesday June 21, Senator McConnell pointed to the Orlando shootings as a reason that an expansion to FBI surveillance powers were necessary, and presented to the Senate amendment to existing law. The amendment modified rules pertaining to the limitations in place on government surveillance of U.S. citizens and rules for when and how the agency must go about obtaining Electronic Communication Transaction Records. The Senator had been discussing this amendment for a couple of weeks, but all of a sudden there was a sense of urgency and the imperative to attach the amendment to a Judiciary Appropriation bill. We have seen this common sleight-of-hand style move used by Senators and Congressmen of both parties to secure weak legislation, by attaching it to financially based legislation that is expected to pass without much objection or kindled fervor. However, after falling short by only two votes of the necessary number required to approve the addition of the amendment, the Senator immediately filed for a motion to reconsider it. This insistence on an immediate vote, was nothing more than political gamesmanship. Likely a ruse to assess the work that has yet to be completed to identify holdouts, thereby the Republican and his majority whip have narrowed the field to specific Senatorial support that is needed to achieve the requisite votes that will secure the amendment. Using tragic events to evoke sympathy, then linking that sympathy to a lie intended to further the acquisition of votes for pet legislation, is morally repugnant behavior far beneath the ethical standards expected from a U.S. Senator. It is extraordinarily disrespectful considering that the massacre would not have been thwarted even if that amendment had been put in place at a prior time and codified into law, before the shootings occurring June 12. The Senator was attempting to manipulate colleagues by calling on the senseless deaths of 49 Americans to fulfill his agenda. The crime and the amendment have nothing to do with each other. The two are only linked when they are used together by the disingenuous actions of Senator John McCain of Arizona and Senator McConnell. They see these losses as a personal tool to meet their agenda using fear to implement constriction on personal freedoms. This is what they say is as necessary action for protection of stateside U.S. citizens from ‘the other’. In this case, they are acting as Islamophobes. [5]To be fair, it should be stated that Senator McConnell nor Senator McCain are the only elected officials to have their heads firmly planted in a bucket full of denial or in the horse’s ass of self serving rhetoric. It was reported that Congressman Pete Sessions of Texas, went so far as to say that the Pulse nightclub in Orlando wasn’t a gay club.[6] Tell that to their Facebook page Congressman and likely to their rainbow themed website, which at this writing was not accepting traffic. [7][8] Following soon after the weekend, either on the 12th or 13th of June, the Republican National Committee (RNC) released an official statement on the nightclub shooting. Where initially the RNC statement posted to the committee website on Sunday June 12th, recognized that the largest shooting in U.S. history, had been an an attack on the LGBTQ community albeit brief and vague. Sources say that it read, “Violence against any group of people simply for their lifestyle or orientation has no place in America or anywhere else.” However, by the time the official statement released, the tide had turned and so had the sentiment and tone. In the official release came a statement that American’s are committed, “…to maintain a free, peaceful and democratic society in which all beliefs are tolerated.” Without question, the RNC representative defended the changes. When asked about the omitted reference to sexuality of nightclub patrons in an interview by Mashable, the spokeswoman for the RNC indicated that the original statement was erroneously posted and changes were designed to be more inclusive, invoking a “common humanity… instead of singling out LGBT people”.[9][10]The responses those with HIV have to disheartening facts, and just as powerfully their distortion, may be negatively compounded by disingenuous and hurtful rhetoric. Most surely the response is affected when accompanied with violent behavior. The effects of the response are further compounded when the criticism, or blame being directed toward that person, is for something outside of their control. These circumstances can re-traumatize that person. A blog was written by a physician who serves the LGBTQ community in his capacity as a medical doctor. His opinion appeared in the Huffington Post on June 19th. In his remarks, Dr. Gary Cohan drew very clear lines between events that happen, past and present, with the resulting symptoms commonly experienced by those involved, and by those who pay witness to traumatizing events.There are two triggers to the waves of renewed fear and despair we find ourselves experiencing, one rooted in the present and one in the past.In the present, we are again reminded of the unchecked homophobia rampant in some sectors of our society, driven by hatred, ignorance and religious “conservatism” and leveraged for political gain.I’m convinced that the far right’s cynical “God, Guns and Gays” divide-and-conquer messaging strategy to win church-going, rural and low-information citizens’ votes finally culminated in a perfect storm that made the Orlando massacre of LGBT innocents not only possible but inevitable.And then there’s the past, the cumulative abuse of decades of mistreatment of the LGBT community, of American citizens who have been pummeled by hate, shame, threats, violence, disease and death.This experience of layered trauma underlies a latent post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) syndrome in which we suddenly find ourselves immersed.PTSD is a condition that’s triggered by a terrifying event, either by experiencing it or witnessing it. Symptoms may include recurrent, unwanted distressing memories of the traumatic event(s), feeling emotionally numb, hopelessness about the future, always being on guard for danger, insomnia, irritability and difficulty concentrating.[11]Stigma and discrimination affect those who live with HIV and those at an elevated risk for acquiring HIV. But the existing research is by no means comprehensive in our understanding. The full scope that this issue has upon those who are a part of it has yet to be revealed. For now there is a reference to consequences which are possible, and believed to be linked to HIV stigma. The list was created by the Health Resources and Services Administration and George Washington University, and documented during a Consultation meeting on Stigma. May 22-23, 2003:Deterioration of interpersonal relationsNegative emotionsRejection of the HIV antibody testStress related to the hiding of the conditionAnxietyDepressionGuiltLoss of supportIsolationDifficulties with family dynamicsEmotional or physical violenceDeterioration of relations with health care providersFootnotes[1] Stigma & Discrimination[2] Why the Orlando Attack Will Not Be an Isolated Crime [3] L.G.B.T. People Are More Likely to Be Targets of Hate Crimes Than Any Other Minority Group[4] After Massacre at Orlando Gay Club, an Array of Opinions About the Motive and Meaning[5] Senate Narrowly Rejects Controversial FBI Surveillance Expansion—For Now[6] GOP lawmaker says Orlando shooting site wasn't a gay club[7] Search[8] Pulse Orlando Night Club & Ultra Lounge[9] Why the GOP won't even mention the LGBT community in its response to Orlando[10] National GOP Cut LGBT People From Its Response to Orlando Shooting[11] The 'Orlando Effect': Re-Traumatizing And Re-Energizing A Community Of Survivors