Posts Tagged ‘AVM’

Dangers of medications

I miss writing—writing about fun and interesting things-not about health or politics. Last week I had a reaction to my medications. It took me about 3 days to get back to earth so to say and another 2 days to get back to clear thought. I’m still dealing with some of the side effects.


Dilantin is a quirky medicine. It has a very narrow therapeutic threshold (I’ve written about this before) and causes several side effects but my problems have always been that it doesn’t play nicely with other medicines. This is why in the past that I took very few medications with Dilantin. I like to know what to expect before it happens but that isn’t always the case—I need to up my game because the pharmacists and doctors haven’t been paying attention.


One medication that I take for my stomach and colon (let’s call it med A) increases the effects of another medication I am taking for my urticaria (let’s call that one med B).

So we have med A increasing the effects of med B which in turn increases the effects of Dilantin causing a very dangerous mixture. The effects are minimal as long as the dosages are small but when they are increased it becomes scary because I didn’t know what was going on. I can’t even think when it happens as in draw conclusions.


Anyway, I’m better. I can actually walk and not fall down and I’m not sleeping for 48+ hours at a time. I rearranged my dosage times and left off one of the urticaria doses. It’s working so far. I had to give up driving for a while until this settles down. We will wait and see.


Sometimes we don’t know how our bodies will react to certain medications given that each of us is different. Often we play the game of trial and error until something happens. In my lifetime, I have had at least 4 overdoses and at least 2 underdoses-that is what I can recall at this moment. These were not my fault as in there was nothing I could do to prevent them. The overdoses usually happened because an increase of medication. Sometimes it is hit and miss and misses can have consequences. With the underdoses-we can have changes in the way our bodies metabolize so we have to closely monitor what is happening which usually results in blood tests but they aren’t as simple as checking for blood sugar.


I hope to write about something that is more fun next time. Happy Gardening! 🙂



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Are we having fun yet?

I have been suffering from an autoimmune issue where I am allergic to myself—really. I have had an awful itchy rash from head to toe since July. It is called chronic urticaria and it takes all of my energy just trying to deal with it. My allergist is a really nice lady. She is confident that I will go into remission soon…lol…even if she has a patient that hasn’t been in remission for over 10 years.


I never knew I had this but evidently I have had it all my adult life just never to this extent. Usually a shot and series of prednisone and I’m good to go but not this time and I can’t find what triggered it—as in what I am allergic to. So…my life has been miserable to say the least.


Some days are pretty good and some are downright awful. I have tried everything including a new medicine that is used to treat leprosy—no kidding. I had to go off my blood pressure meds for this and I was taking so much antihistamine—a double dose plus 2 doses of Benadryl and nothing made it better. I tried meditation and other things and then I began to bleed under the skin—bruising for no reason other than my veins began to leak. I was concerned that my AVM might rupture so we dropped off the Benadryl and all pain relievers…eeeeeeeekkk!!!! 😦


Then I began to notice that I felt like I was producing more adrenaline than I should. I feel like the hair on my body is standing on end all of the time. I can’t control it. I did some reading. Mostly in men if there is an increase in adrenaline then there is a drop in testosterone. Hmmm. That’s interesting. While the two don’t really work together they affect each other. So I began to wonder if I bring up my testosterone level if the adrenaline will ease up. It is worth a try.


I added some magnesium, zinc, and calcium along with some B12 to my daily routine. It’s best to get vitamins and minerals from foods but I need to experiment to get this stopped. I’m able to exercise more and I actually had a decent day for a change—not great but decent. I found that there have been suggestions that excess adrenaline can lead to autoimmune dysfunction but usually it isn’t caught before people begin to suffer from rheumatoid arthritis for one but there are many other things out there in the autoimmune disease category.


Someone suggested the Paleo diet plan and I looked into it. It’s pretty good. I tried the AIP diet but my doctor said she would rather me just to eat healthy so I stopped—it is a little difficult to just jump in if one is used to eating about anything. So, I’m trying to get good nutrition. One thing that is important is to get enough probiotics in my colon and then feeding the good bacteria. So often we take in probiotics but we forget that the bacteria need certain foods to sustain itself and there are better foods than others. Sounds complicated and it has been.


I just know that I’m tired of the itching and discomfort and everything I have been going through. I have been at the end of my rope, crying with pain and itching. The next stop if this medicine doesn’t work is a drug that costs a lot of money and my insurance may not pay for it. We will see. Fingers crossed that this will go into remission with this medicine that I am on. Oh, and I have to carry an epipen around—are we having fun yet? 🙂 I hope everyone is doing better than I am.


May your garden grow full of love and goodness. 🙂

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Enter 2014, May 1, and I went straight to the emergency room after finding out my serum Dilantin/Phenytoin level was 50 mcg/mL. My daughter drove. Actually, it was higher than 50—probably more like 64 or higher. Just take my word for it. I was toxic. I remember the guy/doctor/intern…someone saying, “You were right.”

Yeah. I knew that. Now, just fix me was my response. 🙂


Normally, your system if working properly will flush out the toxins in due time but there was something more than just my meds being out of whack. I have been taking the same dosage for years. I needed an IV drip right away.


After getting back down into the normal range and beginning to wean off this stuff I have taken for so long, I came home on a new seizure medicine. Oh, goody. I was better but having side effects and withdrawals. I was also taking Phenytoin from the same manufacturer as I was before I went to the hospital (clears throat)… My serum Dilantin/Phenytoin level began to rise again and I didn’t understand what was happening.


After arriving home, I had sense enough to get a new prescription but not enough sense to know I should have taken it a step further. You have to remember that I still didn’t know for sure what had happened to put me in the hospital. No one did. I was being treated for symptoms. The cause wasn’t being treated because no one knew what it was.


I called around and found a pharmacy that had the same generic Phenytoin as I was taking in the hospital—the same manufacturer. I began to take it and the level dropped again—back to where it should have been. So, my conclusion… what made my level spike to the toxic range was the manufacturer. Something was not right with that batch of drug I received. It was what I was taking before I went to the hospital and after I came home. Both times it caused my level to spike. I have been on this other Phenytoin since a week out of the hospital and the level has not spiked but has remained where it should be.


It was a new manufacturer my local pharmacy is using to save money. I do not know why there is a difference only that I could be dead today. I could have died from the toxicity (which is not common but can happen) or something else. I am very lucky and I shudder to think of people this may happen to and they not know it. Perhaps it will not affect others as it did me but I know this type of thing happens. I have been searching the internet trying to find answers. The only thing I know is that not all generics are the same and they should be.


Do you know how many people take it for granted — that what is in the pill they take is ok for them? We all do it. We take so much for granted. We put our trust in our doctors and nurses and our pharmacists but there is truly no one who is responsible for myself other than me and that is a very scary thought. When I am almost comatose I cannot make those decisions for myself and yes, I do question doctors and their decisions. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t take this seriously.


There is so much I want to talk about. I know everyone has something they have experienced. There are people who are dying who cannot get meds that will save their lives and I’m not talking about cutting edge technology. I will be one of those people one day. What do I do then? (In all honesty, I am closer to that time today than I was when I wrote this yesterday. 😦 )


We fight about all types of things but healthcare…simple healthcare…it’s a right to have healthcare. Fight about guns and other trivial stuff (sorry but I look at things differently) but healthcare…we should all agree and it should not ever be political — NEVER!


If you care for or have a loved one, think of that loved one in a situation where he or she cannot look after herself or himself and there is no one else. We all should shoulder the responsibility for others. That might sting but I believe it. Along with it comes responsibility for all of us.


I never want to worry about what I put in my mouth or body—if it will damage me. I would love to have someone I can trust with my life but I don’t feel that I can, not from what I have experienced these last few months.


Mom, I’m broken.

Can you please help me?



Amy planting seeds. 🙂

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What is a therapeutic index and why should I care?


If you take any drugs, you need to know what this means. In simple terms, the therapeutic index is the window in which the drug is reaching its targeted amount in the bloodstream to treat whatever it is designed for. That is my simpleton explanation from my standpoint. You can read about therapeutic index here  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Therapeutic_index  or in medical journals, etc.


Dilantin/Phenytoin (generic) has a therapeutic index of 10 to 20 mcg/mL. Many drugs do not have such a small window meaning that there is less leeway with Dilantin. Other drugs are more forgiving—the target isn’t so small. This particular one is used for seizure control. It was the “go to” drug of choice back when I was diagnosed in the early 1970s but there are probably better drugs today with fewer side effects. Each of us is different and we react to medicines in varying ways so many times it becomes a tradeoff.


I personally am at my best when the serum Dilantin level is about 17 mcg/mL—on the high end. It doesn’t take much to make it swing one way or the other but at 17, my seizures were well-controlled. To measure how much is in my system, a blood test is performed. Usually this is done twice a year when I show no problems and more if I have issues. There have been times where my level went down to 0.02 (yes, below 1). That is when I would pass out because I was not getting oxygen to my brain. That’s not a fun time either.


Anything ranging outside the bubble (so to say) is bad 🙂 . Anything above 20 is considered toxic. Toxic doesn’t necessarily mean lethal. Lethal doses are usually not referred to in the literature quite so much with humans but lethal means dead if you get my drift. Dead is definitely bad news (humor for the moment). So… toxic is an indicator that something is wrong and in my case it had nothing to do with changes of dosage—not in 2014.


Back in graduate school, my serum Dilantin level dropped and had to be reregulated…it had to be readjusted to get it back between 10 and 20. Sometimes it is hit and miss until you get it right and many times it takes a while. With me, I do better with a larger dose in the morning and smaller one at night but there are so many factors that can affect the level. Over the years I have learned what works and what doesn’t—well, usually I know when it is off.


One of my many counselor experiences during graduate school.


All this basically boils down to is how the liver breaks down the drugs. We really should treat our livers better but that’s another story, too. The highest level I ever had measured until this year was 40 mcg/mL and that was hell, to put it lightly. My gums turned white and I could not tell you who I was basically. I could not walk/balance—a host of problems. That was the graduate school lesson and the only time I ever knew when I was toxic.


If you take medication, even illegal drugs, you need to know what you are doing to your body. There is a consequence for everything we do. Choose wisely, please.


Next:  “Mom, I’m broken.”

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It took courage on my part to open up about my brain a few years ago—the part about my abnormality—all joking aside. I figured maybe someone might come across something that might help them whether it is dealing with something health related or what … or possibly just so others can understand from another’s perspective…my perspective. I know I would have loved to read about someone with a similar brain buggar when I was young (I am referring to my AVM, of course).


I continue to have more setbacks lately and that’s unfortunate but not insurmountable. Long ago, I fought to be “normal” but I am losing that battle. I think people shouldn’t have to fight to appear that way. There is a lot of baggage I carry with me because of various circumstances I found myself in but no one wants to read about how bad someone has it day in and day out. We all have problems of our own and don’t need to attend every pity party so I tried to bring out the parts that I had hoped would help others.



Making faces while waiting for the doctor

Lately—I can’t seem to get my life jump-started again and I need for my own sake to tell what has happened. Again, this is in hopes that these words might help someone else. Bear with me please as I try to set a course–I would probably be really bad at sailing, you know. 🙂


First, my brain buggar isn’t going away and I have known that for decades. It is a part of me just as my foot and hand are a part of me but more like a piece of my heart that cannot be touched. There is no “fix” … no balloon stint or repair kit. A new inner tube will not do even if I had such.


I try my best to laugh at things—use humor rather than seeing things so dismal. It is my coping mechanism and yes, there are times where I cry with my arms wrapped around my legs, my body in a ball…me just wishing the pain would stop or the numbness would quit spreading and that I would regain feeling so that I can walk or feel or hear … or be somewhat normal. With that said, I can’t complain and I know people who will read this that are so much worse than me. Right now, life is ok…pretty ok for me. I can walk with little help but that is today. Who knows what I will be like in several hours? I can still hear some things and I can still see and for these things and so much else, I am so very grateful. I appreciate all that is given to me. I am blessed beyond measure.


Breathe… I am embarking on something that will probably not go the way I want (seems that it rarely does) but I desperately need to shed some light on things—this is not a one-post type of situation. I could sit here and complain but that won’t do any of us any good, so…


I want to talk medical. I want to begin with drugs—prescription medicines. At the forefront will be what we know (and I say “we” because this isn’t about me). What will — I hope — become apparent is how much we do not know about the drugs we consume and how much we assume there is someone watching out for our best interests. I will tell you what I have encountered and I hope with all of my heart that this helps someone besides me. I can tell you now that it is a very serious topic and at times there is no humor but only tears.


I am not sure where this will lead but it needs to be said. I’m not trying to lead a revolution only to talk about things I have encountered and I’m sure there is much to add that I do not know. People need to talk about it–medical care. We–people–families–communities need to discuss some things. The only person that has our best interest at heart is us and as sad as it pains me to say that…it is the truth. This is NOT about politics and I will not discuss political dealings. This is not a soapbox for the political arena. It is about what happens when we don’t know the questions to ask our doctors and pharmacists. It is about what happens when there is no one to intervene and consequences of our actions or inactions. I hope you find something here that can help you if not today, maybe down the road. 🙂

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Death—it surrounded me when I was 3, tried to grab hold when I was 11, held hands at 16, wrapped its arms around me at 19 but death took a piece of my soul at 21.

 Dungeon Prompts (Season 2, week 8):  When did death become real for you? 


When I was three, I didn’t say goodbye to my grandmother at the hospital before her death. My great aunt tried to sneak me in—I wouldn’t go. I didn’t see her body afterwards and was not allowed to attend the funeral. I knew she was sick but where did she go? I was told, “to heaven,” but where is heaven?


At eleven, I met a boy a little older than me. I was being diagnosed with my AVM and he was being treated for a malignant brain tumor. I didn’t know the severity of it and I sure didn’t understand mine. He later died and I carry a piece of him with me to this day. I didn’t know death then but this is part of the ribbon that binds us all together.


Peach. It was the color I liked. It reminded me of her. I remember it like yesterday. Caskets are elaborate boxes that I would love to nap in if they were not for the “ever after.” They look so comfortable. I picked out the first one when I was 16. My great aunt had just died. She was my best friend and filled in the role of grandmother. Never having children of her own or marrying, I spent much of my childhood with her. I expected her to die one day—it was the natural order of things. She was old…she was 84 but it wasn’t easy saying goodbye.


Death was getting closer. Death asked me to dance.


On my dad’s shoulders.

Going to funerals became an activity for the family for a few years. Some relatives I knew, some I had met, and some I had never seen. I got accustomed to the routine of saying goodbye, shedding tears, and packing those memories up in a box to put aside. That was how I dealt with death. I didn’t know how to grieve—to go through the motions and the stages of recovery. You see, we never get over death—not if we really care for someone. We only learn to deal with our feelings of loss. We learn how to prevent it from hurting us so deeply. The pain is always there but we usually learn how to cover it up and disguise it. I didn’t have a clue of what death was when I was 16. I pretended to know.


A distant cousin flirted with death all of his life. My grandmother that died when I was 3 … he took her car and fixed it up but then one night he was drag racing and drove into a tree. I was small—young. He was messed up and I wondered if he would live. Memories haunt me from that night. One, I remember his blood. It seemed to be everywhere. The racing did not stop and neither did the wrecking. He went through a few cars and always promised he would never do it again but he was thrilled with speed and he loved to race. He loved other things, but racing was his downfall.


I was at college when my parents called to tell me he passed away. I was 19. It was a wreck he wouldn’t survive. It took the life of a young mother, too. He had been my mentor, my hero, and my protector–the big brother I never had. Death quit dancing with me and became a part of me at 19. The innocence was gone. I never forgot that night he almost died so many years before and after this, I never looked at things the same again. I had talked with my cousin not long before he died. He sought me out yet he was much older. He said that he wanted to patch up his marriage and go into the ministry. He wanted to make things right. I didn’t know why he would talk to me about such private matters. I was a kid but I was also the innocence of life. Sometimes we want to see the past in order to find our future.


I wish I could say death and I parted ways for a while but my life was forever changed at 21 when my dad died of cancer. He was my biggest fan. He loved me … called me ‘Monkey’… I don’t know. He would do anything for me if I needed it. He almost died of a heart attack when I was diagnosed with the AVM. He didn’t want this for me. He wanted life to be better. I loved him so much.


He taught me most of what I know from roofing a house to planting a garden to so many things. He taught me to think for myself and to not take ‘no’ for an answer. The closeness between us caused death to take part of me—part of my soul. I never allowed myself to grieve. I had to be strong for my mom and to show others that I wasn’t weak. I could not understand how my dad could be taken away at such a young age. I thought he was invincible. I believed he would be healed but it doesn’t matter what we want to happen. Sometimes things are going to happen no matter what. Death became real that night I answered the phone from the hospital. Life stopped for me in some ways and never returned. I carry that pain with me. It goes deep, very deep. I wasn’t prepared for my dad to die.


Death did not stop there, of course. I have said goodbye and had to bury all of my family except my girls. It hurts. I learned how to grieve finally … a little late but I learned. When my mom passed away, the tears wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t cry for my dad until she died. I kept family at a distance–scared that the next person close to me would die. I wanted to protect everyone I knew. Later, my mom’s mom died here in the house when the girls were little. I was her caregiver just like I was for my mom. I hope the girls don’t have bad memories later or that they cannot grieve. I worry about that—a lot.


Oh dear, sometimes we know someone who dies and we ask ourselves how it was them and not us. There have been other deaths—a lot of them along the way—but there is one that touched my heart and my family—my youngest daughter’s best friend’s mother, “Mom Number 2.” The girls had been friends for much of their school years. They were a lot alike—more tomboyish than girly. Both were in high school when the best friend’s mom had an aneurysm burst. She was medevac’d to a place that could safely remove it but it turned out she had two of the dang things. Everything seemed to go OK but then she took a turn. No one ever dreamed this could happen. I always thought she might need to care for my girls if/when I died. She wasn’t supposed to die but infection set in and she passed away. I still can’t believe it. That was six years ago this month. I have watched my daughter deal with grief while remembering my own inadequacies. We talk about feelings and loss … and memories. I hope it will help as well as her participating in some rituals with her friend each year.


Finally … When I was young, I remember seeing a TV movie called, “Death Takes a Holiday” (not the 1934 version). My mom was watching it and for some reason, it intrigued me. It’s been an awful long time but the movie was about ‘death’ becoming human. Death stopped—no one was dying. In this particular family, a certain member was to die but another family member made a deal with death so that he/she (not to give away the ending) could die and spare the one that death came for. A silly notion that we could trade a life … but I sometimes daydream asking myself if it were possible how I would act.


I used to dread the possibility of experiencing another death so close—I said I couldn’t take it. I think I would gladly trade my life for another if I was the only one who would be affected. I watched my mother struggle after my dad died. I never wanted to lose my mate to death but I think death is sometimes an easier reality than what happened in my marriage. My mom knew my dad loved her. Sure, they had problems along the way but they loved each other. She could not put her arms around him nor his around her but she knew. In many ways, I have experienced the death of a spouse without going through death—someone I trusted my life with, someone I sacrificed so much for—but no love in return.


We have walked closely, Death and I, because of the people I have lost—so many I have known who are gone. No one thought I would live this long so Death and I have walked in the same footsteps at times. I have never feared death for me. I have been afraid of losing those around me but I am learning that we cannot hold on to the ones we love. We have to let go. That’s not easy for me. Death becomes more real to me with each death.


So, where is heaven? (small snicker) Heaven is on the other side of death … of course. 🙂


* Note:  Thanks to Sreejit for this prompt (dungeon prompts-link). I write about death fairly frequently but this is the first time I have put all of these stories together in one writing. It was extremely cathartic but I can’t stay here in this thought. I find that if I remain too long, I forget the sun rises and sets only to rise again the next morning. 😀

Blessings …

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Story… A boy lies in bed with tubes everywhere. His mother is sitting by his side holding his hand. She won’t let go. His father just left the room. Tears are rolling down his face. The scene has been ongoing for months now. The prognosis…not good. The boy has a malignant brain tumor. They were just told nothing more can be done. Even with the advances of technology and medicine, the rest of the tumor cannot be removed. His mom just wants to hold onto him—touching him. Every moment is special. His dad is trying to say goodbye, trying to separate himself. Their hearts are broken. The boy is suffering but pain meds are being given. He is in and out of consciousness. He knows everyone around him.   STOP!


This is not an uncommon sight. We hate to see loved ones suffer but we expect to go through it with them, some of us do. It’s part of life. Make a note about this… I am speaking about our travel with the one who is “dying” because it is not their journey alone. Please remember, no matter how alone someone is when they pass away they aren’t alone because they are part of humanity. We walk with them because we are all part of One and hopefully we are there for the other on their journey.


  • Some say we should allow people to have the ‘right to die’ if they choose. I have not been totally against this thought but it is one of those gray areas where one size does not fit all and it never will.


Depending on how I tell the story above is how I make you feel sympathy (and empathy) for this person and situation—how much I can play on your emotions. I can tell you that this child is ready to die and does not fear death—that his parents are ready to let go or I can tell you that they are not ready to let go and they will do anything to preserve life with him not at the cost of their feelings but for their family.



You see, it isn’t a single argument and if we think it is, we have become much too callous for me. Life is precious. Advocating ‘right to die’ because we are too scared to look at suffering is just plain wrong. Putting someone out of his or her misery isn’t the answer we are seeking. It’s just like when people would hide the crazy aunt upstairs away from visitors. We can’t deal with it so we do away with it. I hope you understand what I am saying.


What if the child wants the ‘right to die’… to have a lethal injection to put him out of his misery? Think long and hard about this. This is not an adult. There are no do-overs. Fini is what it is—final. Think if it were your child or maybe someone you don’t know. Consider all of the ramifications of helping a child to die, consenting, preparing…cleaning up afterwards—the memories and how we adjust to making it “right.” It is more than just saying good-bye. How would you go about it? What would you do? Could you prepare? And, yes, I know what it is like to watch a child suffer and us as parents not able to do anything—oh, I do! There is nothing a loving parent wouldn’t do for their child who is sick.


So, my question is…

  • Are we attempting to give power to those who want to help their child because they can’t deal with it or are we giving power to the child?

These are two very different things.


Childhood euthanasia…I can’t even believe I am writing those words. I read an article talking about the ‘right to die’ argument and including those with anorexia. What? I don’t mean to make light of this but where do you draw the line? Who gets to die and who doesn’t? Who gets to decide? “Honey, Joey is having a hard time—pain wise—he wants to die. I think we need to allow him to do so.” Switch out the word ‘pain’ for ‘depression’ or so many other words. We get angry at the child who commits suicide and yet we want to help those who have a disease or pain or whatever to die? No, it’s not the same but where do you stop? Where is the journey the family makes with the person who is sick nevermind considering the consequences this could have comparing it to natural selection/survival of the fittest? I have long considered dying with dignity more important than us keeping our loved ones around for us because it is selfish but there is more to it—lots more.


My brain does not allow me to think this way. I understand perfectly what is at stake. I cannot say this is ok. Where does it stop? I talked to a friend about this—the friend wasn’t aware of how bad my pain is at times. It’s worse than childbirth, not always, but it’s also not bad enough to die—I know that pain also. Just because it is bad now doesn’t mean I should throw in the towel. He asked about my children—didn’t I want to spare them—he wasn’t advocating me dying by any means. We were exploring this topic. My children.. seeing me suffer has been one of the biggest fears I have had and I don’t want that. I also understand the need to take the walk. If you have never done that, if you have never walked with someone who is dying, you will not understand until you do. It is tough. Difficult. But, it is also rewarding because you learn from others and from yourself. 


  • The walk is not for sissies, pardon the expression. It takes a strong person and if you aren’t strong to begin with and you are willing to stick with it, it can make you strong before it is over. It can also break you.


Joni Eareckson Tada did an op-ed piece for the Wall Street Journal where she criticizes this thought of ‘right to die’ for children of any age because we have become accepting of people with disabilities but we are quickly becoming unaccepting of the disease or disability. It’s true. If you can find it online, I encourage you to read the article. You will have a better understanding of where I am coming from.


I know people who have been struggling with disability, pain, all types of suffering and they keep pushing on. I applaud them. They are my inspiration 🙂 because they are not giving up but what it is to stop people in the future from giving up? It could easily happen. Elderly who feel they are a burden on their family/society will just want to die. Who wants to keep fighting when there is an easy out? How many will be encouraged at any age to take a lethal injection? I want to scream and say, “WAKE UP!” This is coming whether we want it or not. It is already legal in other countries. Only the age is the limiting factor. We have to decide what the parameters are going to be. We have to decide what the message is going to be. Is life valuable? I know adults who can’t make decisions. Do you think their children can do better?


‘Right to die’ no matter the age is going to happen one day but it depends on our attitude of how we handle this—so important. Can you imagine a family suing because they were not able to abort their child? The child was born with a birth defect and the mother wasn’t told her baby had it. Imagine suing because you were not able to abort your child. This is not the only perspective for this situation but they have been awarded tens of millions of dollars by the court because of this. This is real. Will they be able to help this child die later on? Do you see where I am going? We have cheapened life and we continue to do so. We need to wake up and we need to take some responsibility.


  • Think about it. There is not a quick fix or simple answer. This cannot be shoved under the rug or ignored. Death. It’s time to talk about it and not treat it so carelessly because it isn’t about death but about LIFE. 🙂


All of this that I have written is real even the child at the beginning of the post. He was the boy I knew so many years ago but his family went with him on the journey—they took the walk—to the end. He suffered but his memory lives on.


May God search our hearts and help us to know that every life is precious and that no one should ever be discarded.


Happy Gardening! 🙂

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I had a reaction to the medicine I began taking yesterday. It is called Flagyl or the generic, Metronidazole. Sometimes being short has its advantages like when I fell last night. I didn’t have very far to go but I hit my head and some other great things happened. I also started to experience numbness like when I have a seizure.. twice.. earlier. I spent some time on the floor but luckily my daughter was here at the time.

Last year it was Cipro. I took one pill and I was on the floor within 30 minutes and remained there all day and part of the night. My BP began dropping, more like nose-diving. I could not raise my head. That is some nasty stuff. 😦
Whether it is because I have an AVM or other vascular issues or due to my taking Phenytoin nearly 85% of my life (I began to say 90% but did the calculation 🙂 ), I have no idea. I found warnings for people with seizures and who take Phenytoin. Hello, (hand wave)… that’s me. The seizures are usually controlled but the warning is there so this will not happen.
  • I am not the bacteria. 😀
Happy Gardening and may you have no problems with any medications! 😀

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While I was in the hospital being diagnosed for my AVM, I met a boy who had a brain tumor—he was a couple of years older than me. The boy, he was cute by the way. 🙂 While we were in the hospital, we played games, talked like kids–like what preteens talk about, just tried to have fun.


He was really nice…as far as boys go 😉 . I was at the age I could take them or leave them. I think he was about the same but maybe more interested in girls than I was aware. He was very considerate. His mom knew he was a treasure and she remained by his side.


You know, parents don’t tell children everything. Since I was an only child I was rather selfish at times. I didn’t mean to be that way. I was spoiled. I wasn’t always like that. I have huge amounts of compassion for people and this story is probably a big reason why.


The boy was not going to live according to my mom or that is what she said later on. In fact, I remember looking through the obituaries for his death a few times. The doctors had cut out as much tumor as they could but they could not save him. As my mom and I were packing up to leave for home, she asked me if I wanted to leave a game or puzzle or something with the “the boy next door.” I didn’t understand. The item in question was a gift to me while in the hospital so I said no.


I have regretted that decision for more than 40 years because I was not aware of his prognosis at the time. How selfish we are sometimes. I wasn’t a selfish child all of the time. I tried to see things from different points of view—perspectives. I credit my mom with this. She helped me to see a bigger picture. I sure miss that about her.


I remember he told me that I was lucky to be leaving the hospital or more like jail. We joked about that…like we were inmates. 😀 I was innocent back then believing all things were good–that people would be healed. I had no idea. I believe he knew about my condition but I did not know about his—not the severity. I was greatly disappointed when it was time to be discharged and he was not in his room for me to say my final goodbye. I remember passing by and seeing his empty bed. He was out having more tests. He told me how he had asked the doctors not to cut on him anymore so it was just a matter of time. 😦


Those few days and he had touched my heart–very deeply. 🙂 I remember him to this day. I miss him as strange as that sounds and I did not get to say my last goodbye. 😐


May we all take time to spend with others–to give when we should–to care…

and the part that I really like is to give a hug and…to take one, too. 🙂

Happy Gardening! 😀

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I am a child of God. I was born with a deformity that I never liked to discuss and now it has made itself the focus of my life—it is a thorn in my side—my head—and everything else. I have dealt with it pretty well over the years but God has taken care of me—always. My dad was my true guardian for many years. That task was handed over to a couple of people afterwards. I am to be cared for as strange as that sounds and as independent as I may be. I worried about it for a while but always God has provided.


I asked for Him to provide last year in specifics and God did 🙂 . I didn’t even realize it until later and I laughed because it was so evident when I looked back. I needed help to get through some hard times. I have had that help in several ways. I still need help. I have been having some health issues I haven’t been comfortable discussing in public and I withdrew into a shell the past several weeks. I also had to face my husband not long ago with courage and determination but he managed to take away everything I had worked so hard for—integrity and respect as he tore me down in order to build himself up.


It wasn’t until last week that I realized God removed him from my life because he was not the one to continue to care for me. Wow! He made the choice and God took care of me just like He said He would. Faith… Faith that moves mountains. It is what we hold on to. It is what connects us to God. Without faith, we are nothing just as we are nothing without God. I have spent many posts saying how I am just a normal person—not better than anyone—not special…but truth is…I am…we all are 😀 .


If you have need to have enough faith to move mountains—do not believe it cannot be done–BELIEVE. I am proof that faith moves mountains…from my birth to my life in school to my family—my daughters—and even until today—it continues. 😀 Faith… 😀 😀 😀 … I began to doubt—not in God but that I will be ok. Praise God.


Happy Gardening! 😀 Take care!!!! 🙂


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