The Grapefruit

The following story is an overly detailed account of my last 10 days in prison the hospital. 

To stick with the "overly detailed" theme, let me start waaay back, to the beginning of the year/late last year.

I, just like all of us, had gotten the "crud". I was congested and sick and dealt with it for a long time. But after several weeks of being so short of breath that I'd get winded walking from Keller Park Church to the Community House (literally, like 10 steps) I figured I'd go see the doctor. 

They diagnosed me with "probably walking pneumonia" and gave me a breathing treatment in office to help with the shortness of breath, and booked me a follow up appointment. At the follow up, when I was still short of breath, the gave me steroids and an inhaler saying I had probably developed asthma and the sickness just made it worse. Never have I ever been diagnosed with asthma.

I spent the next few months feeling a little better, but still would get dramatically winded. I'd walk down to church, and down the stairs and use my inhaler laughing at how I was now the ultimate nerd. I never thought too much more about it, assuming this was now my life. But also during this time, I felt as though I was gaining weight, specifically in my stomach. But the top and sides especially of my belly felt hard, like I remember it felt when I was pregnant and I kept thinking that was weird. I remember hating how all my shirts looked. That I looked pregnant in everything I put on, even though I definitly wasn't. I laughed often with Carrie about how I probably had one of those crazy hair/teeth tumor babies in there. Then thought, it's probably just all the pastry Tuesdays and maybe I should do the Whole 30, give up gluten, exercise more, buy new shirts. 

Then I got the stomach flu, and even me, seasoned puker that I am, felt as though I was going to die. This puke seemed different, like it was hurting my whole body. It only lasted a Thursday-Saturday, and I recovered for about a week. 

Until Sunday, February 19th. I had planned to see my BFF get officially commissioned as a Pastor of Keller Park Church, but woke up around 5am puking and couldn't stop until early afternoon. Jeff and I had planned on making the most of the long weekend and going away that night, but cancelled all our plans when not only I was sick, but Lucy woke up with a fever too.

I remember sitting in bed Monday morning, thinking I should just see if I could get both of us in the doctor, since we had the day off, and maybe they'd tell me I was bloated and give me water pills and something to help with nausea. So I made an appointment, and they were able to squeeze me in at 2:15.

I made Lucy an appointment at her doctor at 4, and we girls headed off for a day of doctor fun. She sat with me the exam room laughing and taking selfies. I was feeling fine, hoping we'd get done here quick enough to grab some food before her appointment at 4.

Everything seemed fine until they checked my heart rate, and it was over 100bpm. The doctor came in and was real concerned with that. She kept checking the little machine to make sure it was working right. She made me lay down, still high. She had me walk and it went up to 130. "I hate to see what happens to her on a treadmill!" A nurse said "Me too sister!" I laughed. Dr. Jordan listened to my breathing "I don't think this is asthma". She ran an EKG. She called for second opinions. Finally she said "I want you to go straight to the ER for some tests." So I traded Jeff kids, met my parents and went to the ER. (Lucy still had to go to the doctor!)

Have you ever waited in an ER? It's an interesting place. I kept going between feelings of love and interest in people, and a deep hatred of all people. They did chest xrays, took a million pints of blood. Finally after about 3 hours I saw a doctor who told my my right lung was so collapsed and filled with fluid that they needed to immediately put in a chest tube. I was still feeling fine up until then. Laughing and making friends with people who came in. Then they wheeled me into another room to put the tube in, dosed me up with medicine, and shoved a tube between my ribs to drain fluid. 

I was a little scared, but still able to laugh and make light of the situation. Until the fluid starting draining out. 2 liters immediately drained, and I could hear the doctor and nurses scrambling to handle that amount, and the shock in their voices "Is it on suction?!" "No! That's just gravity!" It felt gurgly in my chest and I suddenly couldn't catch my breath. I was having to lay on my side, and couldn't move and all I wanted to do was sit up to catch my breath and I couldn't, and I've never felt so much like I could actually be dying. Jeff had just walked back into the room, and a moment later, Carrie showed up and I was so happy to see them, but I was in this moment that I finally was feeling the weight of this situation. The seriousness of what was happening. It was painful, and scary and I was having a hard time pulling myself out of it. 

I finally got sat up, and was trying to breath slowly but it wasn't until a wise cracking doctor came in to talk for a little bit, awkwardly holding my hand, that I was finally able to pull my mind and body back to a place where I felt in control. He told me there was so much fluid, that it had pushed my lung and trachea over and if it hadn't been treated, would have collapsed my heart. "It's a good thing you came in!" I heard over and over. 

So then it was up to a room, to figure out why there was so much fluid. I spent Monday Night-Thursday with no idea why there was so much fluid draining. The nurses seemed to change the 2 liter container every shift change, and everyone commented on how it was an unusually high volume that just kept coming. I was in a fair amount of pain from the chest tube. The second night, I passed out on the way back from the bathroom and a nurse caught me. So then I got put on "Fall Risk" and wasn't allowed to get up from the bed at all without calling a nurse first. And I had to wear an especially giant ugly yellow gown. 

I had a million chest x rays, blood work, a CT scan and many other tests throughout the week with still no real answers. I believe it was the CT scan that caught some fluid in my belly, so they ordered an ultrasound early Friday morning to see what was going on. It all happened very fast after that. I was alone at the hospital (as I often was in the mornings). They told me they found a large orange sized mass in my stomach. They needed to run an MRI to see more. Shortly after Dr.O came in and said that she wanted to remove it. She said it's large, and hard, and whether it's cancerous or benign, it needed to go. She told me most likely, I'd lose one ovary and tube (it was either attached or very close to one) and depending on how things looked when she opened me, I could lose both, or the whole thing. I told her that I was quite happy to be done with birthing babies, and they only caused me quite literally head aches so I would be happy to see it all go. 

My fall risk bracelet, and just some of the bruising from all the needle sticks. (I'm a hard stick)

*Random side note. That morning, I was feeling a little nauseous, so I ordered breakfast later than usual, and it came in right when Dr.O got there, she told them to keep in the hall a moment. After talking for a moment and telling me she wanted to get it out, she asked if I'd eaten today, and when I said no, she was able to schedule the surgery for that day at 1pm. If the breakfast tray had come a few minutes earlier, I would have had to wait til Tuesday for the surgery*

It was 11 am, with surgery scheduled for 1pm, and I was all alone. I was not even freaking out. It's like I had a mental checklist in my head. "Call Jeff. Text Parents and Carrie. Remember what the doctor said so you can repeat it. Talk to Jesus."  Oh yeah. Jesus. Hey Jesus, I'm not freaking out yet. I probably will be. I don't like the feeling of going under. I should find a verse or something to repeat in my head. *opens bible app on phone* *scrolls through Verses of the Day* And then I found this. 

And it was perfect. I didn't feel overly scared or emotional. It was just that. You're my God. And I trust you. Whatever comes. We've been through enough for me to know that you have got this. Someone prayed with me at some point and said "God, you are much bigger than an orange". That was it. 

Eventually everyone got there. My pastor and his wife prayed over me before they wheeled me away. My kids gave me kisses and hugs and went off to play with grandma and grandpa. Carrie was in the waiting room to keep Jeff company. Jeff and I sat in the little room where they prep you for surgery. I kept asking nurses if they could add "Take out any fat you come across" to the surgery orders. I told Jeff if it was cancer to tell Carrie we were buying a beach house. "Can I come?" he asked. "You can visit." There was a student nurse that followed everything that day, and at one point she just said "Can I just say, your attitude during this is amazing. You are so brave." I laughed more and said "What other choice do you have?" 

Then they wheeled me away, and I was feeling fine. My favorite thing to do the many times I got wheeled around in my bed is to wave at people I passed. I don't know why. It's such an awkward thing to be laying there and see people walking around. On the way to the OR it smelled like popcorn so I cracked jokes about how I wanted someone to smuggle me some. The nurses in the OR where nice, and were going along with my probably unhealthy need to mask my insecurities with humor. Until one sweet nurse looked close in my face and said "I know this is scary and overwhelming but everything is going to be just fine blah blah" and then I started getting teary. Then a nurse asked about my kids so I started gabbing away about my littles and drifted off to sleep talking about how naughty 3 year olds are. 

I "woke up" in recovery a few hours later. I could hear people talking, and my brain slowly came out of the fog, but my eyes were so heavy I couldn't open them. I felt them wheeling me back to my room. I heard Jeff and Carrie chatting with nurses and I could tell it must have gone well, because they both sounded rather cheerful. I tried to peek through my eyes as Carrie told me "It went great! They got the whole mass, and only had to take one ovary and tube. So far all the tests have come back negative for cancer!" It was the first time in this whole crazy episode where the best case scenario had actually played out perfectly. Jeff stayed with me for a while, then Carrie took over and I was glad to have a friend who was happy to sit silently next to me, watching TV and shoving ice chips in my mouth. 

I recovered from surgery pretty easily. Turns out the mass was more the size of a GRAPEFRUIT. People kept asking how I was doing and I kept saying I was just really pumped to see how well my jeans fit after all this. The hardest part was being on a liquid diet, when all I wanted was Olive Garden breadsticks. I kept badgering my nurses that I felt great and they should let me have real food. When I finally hit all the benchmarks they wanted, Jeff brought in dozens of breadsticks and my nurses cheered for me. 

The second week in the hospital was easier than the first. They had figured out was was wrong, I was healing the way I needed to, and I felt more like myself. Now, I just had to wait for a doctor to take out the blasted chest tube. Finally, FINALLY he came, and like it was nothing yanked it out on Wednesday. I was discharged Thursday afternoon.

I now have about 6 weeks of recovery. But I am so glad to be home, in my clothes and not attached to machines. It turns out I had MEIGS syndrome. Which is a rare syndrome that mimics all the symptoms of Ovarian Cancer, but is not cancerous. There should be no long term effects, and no greater chance of any other issues in the future. 

A few final notes:

1.) There is something psychologically hard about sleeping alone for 10 nights after spending the last almost 10 years with someone. It's the longest I'd ever gone away from my family or at least friends. The view from my window was awesome, and I'd try and remember the good points of having a room to myself (like, I could watch Keeping up with the Kardashians all day with no judgement)

The view at night. From my bed. It was cooler if you could stand up.

Sunrise was pretty great. Although I'd be fine if I never was awake that early again.

2.) There is something even more psychologically hard about not having any independance in the midst of those 10 days and 10 nights. Since I was a "Fall Risk" I couldn't do anything for myself. I had to ask to go to the bathroom, I couldn't just grab a book or my computer or something if I wanted it. Not only was I depending on my family and friends to take care of my kids and other responsibilities, I had to ask a stranger to plug my phone in for me. But they never seemed to mind. They'd also ask "anything else you want or need?". 

3.) The whole experience was incredibly humbling. I couldn't wash my hair or shower or hardly sit up for a while. I remember sitting on the bed as a friend (who is also a chaplain) laughed with me and washed my hair. Another time, a sweet nurse did it for me while I sat on the toilet, and acted like we were in a salon, like it was totally normal for me to be sitting on the potty. When I was finally a bit more mobile, a nurse gave me a deep clean in a sink and it felt like I went to the most posh salon. I remember once being in so much pain that after I got to the bathroom, I couldn't move my arms enough to even wipe. And the nurses and PCAs every time stepped up with such kindness and grace that I never felt discouraged or depressed about it, just incredibly grateful for such wonderful people who do that everyday. 

4.) The Nurses and PCA's and many other staff I met during my stay, where some of the kindest people. Nurse Ginny was with me the day of my surgery, and helped me remember all the things the doctor said, and interpreted when I didn't understand. She was also there the day the chest tube finally came out, constantly checking in with the doctor so he wouldn't forget to come. Casey was a PCA that I had a few times who actually lives close to Keller Park Church. She's getting married in the summer and I felt like we chatted like friends as she took me to the bathroom and checked my vitals. Terry was the only male PCA I had, and at first I felt a little funny about having him help me in the bathroom but he was one of the most gentle souls I've ever met that he actually became my favorite. (He'd been doing it for 28 years! And actually went to school for nursing, but just loved taking care of people so much he stayed a PCA. When he left the last time I thanked him for taking care of me and he said "It's truly an honor")  I also loved sweet Evya who came around each day and cleaned and chatted with me about Keeping up with the Kardashions, and I can't believe they talk to their mama like that, and isn't it so addicting and ridiculous to watch? She's the one who told me I could take home the fan they brought me one night it was so hot in the room. I liked her alot. I'd follow her around all day just to listen to her stories. I had 3 different strong amazing women doctors that always looked so trendy and cute and 2 had super cute glasses and we'd always chat about the beautiful tulips my dear friend Kerrie Peterson brought me. These people have a hard job that is gross and weird sometimes but they all did it with such grace and love that it kept me sane and joyful.

5.) My Community is amazing. My husband rocked this thing. My family went above and beyond. My Carrie seemed to always know what and when I needed something. My church family surrounded me in prayer and support and visits. Never once did I feel like "What am I going to do? I can't do this!" because people took care of things before I even remembered they needed taking care of. They set up a meal train for me (Some have asked for that info, you can go HERE and search last name: Kreider password: leon)  I have a beautiful community of family and friends from so many different places that I can do anything, even take several weeks off of life to get a grapefruit removed. 

Carrie brought decorations for my room one of the first days. I like that people would laugh whenever they came in my room and noticed the Trolls poster. 

6.) My God is bigger than a grapefruit. He is my God. And I trust him. 

7.) Always go to the doctor all the time for everything. 

Stop it.

I try to stay quiet on most controversial issues on social media. For a few main reasons:

1.) Most controversial issues we deal with are so complex and personal that sharing a short blurb or meme seems in poor taste.

2.) Sharing those blurbs and memes only seems to get likes from those that agree, and at best, silent disgust from those that don't. People's minds aren't changed. Policies and not rewritten. Hearts are not softened.

3.) We should all be very careful of the things we decide are important. The issues in which we cross our arms, set our jaw and refuse to be moved. There are most definitely some issues like this, but when we grow, evolve and mature, things change, and while the issues may stay the same, we may feel very differently about how we talk about them.

But in the past few years I have realized that sometimes silence sounds like approval. And while I will probably not become a social media activist, I feel uncomfortable with silence in light of tragedy, so I'd like to say a few words on the worst mass shooting in US history.

But words are hard to find during such heartbreaking situations. I'll borrow someone else's

"We don’t have to agree on the meaning of marriage and sexuality to love one another and to see the murderous sin of terrorism....As the Body of Christ, though, we can love and serve and weep and mourn."

So can we please just stop posting angry things about how we need more guns, or more border control or anything Trump says and just take a moment to mourn, and weep, and care about the people? Please. Our society depends on it.


And let's discuss our political opinions to each other's faces. Do you want to know how I feel about the LGBTQ Community? Ask me. Want to know how I feel about the statistic I read that 244 guns used in mass shootings in the US, 140 of those were obtained legally? Well, you can probably tell how I feel about that one. But let's talk about it. Not comment on it. Not "like" it. Not angry emoji face it. Let's talk to each other. And more importantly let's LISTEN.


Also, equally importantly, let's check our sources, and our spelling. Seriously guys. I cannot even with your ridiculous memes.

 

Colossians 3:12-17

I've worked in different areas of ministry for most of my adult life. Which means I've worked with different people in ministry, and have come across some difficult ones. Because people in ministry are just people, and people are difficult. I've come to this verse so many times dealing with fellow Christians, to remind my self to be gracious and kind and love one another. It's a beautiful reminder of how God wants us to live with our brothers and sisters in Christ.

But what if, mom, what if we read this passage as a "how to" deal with our own children? How to view our role as moms (or Dad's, we're all on the same team)?

"Since God chose you to be the holy people he loves (parents), you must clothe yourselves with tender hearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. (and maybe yoga pants). Make allowance for each other's (your kids') faults, and forgive anyone who offends you (throws their vegetable at you at dinner). Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others (remember, you've acted like a spoiled brat to your heavenly father). Above all, clothe yourselves with LOVE, which binds us all together in perfect harmony. And let the PEACE that comes from Christ, in all it's richness, fill your lives. Teach and counsel each other with all the wisdom HE gives. SING psalms and hymns and spiritual songs (and that CD the Children's Director gave you, and maybe sometimes Megan Trainor's "I'm better when I'm dancing" at full blast) to God with thankful hearts. And whatever you do or say (or however you decide to punish), do it as a representative of the Lord Jesus giving thanks through him to God the father."

I'm not saying we become crazy 'free range' parents who don't offer limits and consequences and discipline. But what if in that, what if in the moments of, lets be real honest, total anger when our 6 year old gives you that sassy face and WHY CAN'T SHE BE MORE LIKE STELLA WHO IS SO SWEET TO GROWNUPS. What if in those moments we I  chose tender hearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. What if we stopped worrying about whether we where teaching our kid every character trait the need and took a moment to heap love and grace on them. What if we let a few sassy eye rolls slide, a few grunts, a few moments of childhood frustration go unpunished a few times, in exchange for a supernatural love and mercy. Maybe if we realized that we I  probably look just like this sassy 6 year old to my heavenly father sometimes. And he lets the eye rolls go unpunished because he loves us so much. Because he's teaching and guiding someone who doesn't know. Who doesn't have the capacity to understand all he does. So sometimes, he skips time outs to give an extra heap of gentleness and patience. He's a good dad. I think I'd like to be more like him.


But seriously guys, this girls sass is going to kill me....

tender hearted mercy...kindness...humility...gentleness and PATIENCE.

I'm praying it for you all myself today. And that we feel a hint of that PEACE that comes from Christ, in all it's richness, filling up our homes.

Carrie is Chuck Norris

I'd like to tell you a story.

Weave you a tale.

Of an ordinary women, 

who just cannot fail...

One evening, in the wet, gritty city, a gang of youths gather in the middle of road outside a small neighborhood church after a rousing service. Laughing and talking soon escalate into West Side Story style dance fighting. 

"She's the love of my life!" One youth shouts to another

"But I saw her first you scum!" 

As fists fly and youths circle up, out walks the heroine of our story.

Carrie Badertscher.

She strides calmly but determined towards the fight, removing her earrings as she walks. Without flinching she steps into the center of the fight circle.

"Gentleman, you need to calm down" She says with kindness but a look in her eye that says she means business.

These particular youths must not have seen that look in her eye, because they continued their fight and a stray punch landed on Carrie's body with a definite "thud". 

With one quick and controlled swing of her arm the youths where on the ground, her TOMs clad food atop one's chest. 

"I said, calm. down." 

The collective breath the crowd had been holding was let go in an audible "oooooooooohhh"

Carrie straightened her cardigan and replaced her small hoop earrings. 

"Now gentleman, I'd like you to follow me to my office. I have some lemonade and candy there and I'd like you to tell me why you felt the need to fight over the affections of this young women"

The youths followed, with embarrassment and regret on their faces. They knew they had disappointed this kind women, and that consequence was enough to make them rethink their poor life choices. One day these youths would grow to men, one a pediatrician and one the President of the United States and they'd owe it all to that one night, and one women.

Carrie Badertscher.

*Full disclose. I did not witness the actual events this story was based on so some facts may wildly exaggerated borderline untrue"

Letting go of the Mom Guilt. In 3 easy steps.

Every mom feels at least a little guilt when they have to leave their beautiful children for a significant amount of time. This weekend I was able to spend some time at a youth conference with my bestie. And good news friends, I believe I've perfected the art of letting go of the mom guilt. Here ya go:

Step One: 

Spend some time before you go really connecting with your kids. Like take them both out shopping at nap time and say "no" to everything they ask so they completely flip out. Take a lot of mental snap shots of this day. This is the day you will hold close to you the moment you start to feel the guilt creep in. Better yet, take actual snap shots and make them the caller ID for your husband. 

Step Two:

Sneak out of the house while your kids are distracted by something else. Good byes are hard. If you insist on being a "good mom" and "loving your children" go ahead and tell them goodbye. But eventually pry those little fingers off your legs and skip out the door.

Step Three:

 Laugh. Laugh with grown ups. Laugh 'til you can't breath. Laugh 'til another grown up scolds you. Laugh so hard people laugh at you just for laughing. Enjoy your time. You are fun. You are funny. 

The end. You're welcome. You are a guilt free mom who's just enjoyed a whole weekend away. Now go home and kiss your kiddos. They probably missed you or something. 

He or She? I can't wait to see!

Tomorrow is the big day!

Somehow I've made it a whole week knowing that someone else knows the gender of my baby, but I don't. It has NOT been easy! How do people do this the whole 9 months? I'll never know.

Well tomorrow my dear friend Carrie is coming over to reveal the surprise. Some friends and family are coming by for cupcakes and to share the news. Since I couldn't invite everyone I know to my home (because maybe I don't like you, and maybe my house is tiny), I thought I'd give y'all a chance to join in the fun!

Submit your guesses below for gender, and send us some suggestions for names! Jeff has decided he wants to create a "March Madness" type bracket of baby names and see which one wins. (Disclaimer: we may not actually name our baby this, but I've decided it will be it's "code name" until we reveal the real name at birth)

Here's some Old Wives tales to help you in your guessing:

Morning Sickness? GIRL
I STILL randomly gag at things, and spent many a morning throwing up in the shower. BUT I wasn't sick like this at all with Lucy...so...

Carrying high or Low? BOY
I feel like I'm carrying lower than I remember BUT it may just be that leftover (and always been there) chub on my "pooch" so...I don't really know.

Heart Rate: GIRL
Early on in pregnancy it was about 160, now it's been between 140-150. Which is in the "girl" range, but still lower than Lucy's.

Cravings, sweet or salty: GIRL
All I want is sugar. But let's be honest, all I ever want is sugar...

Side you sleep on: BOY
I always sleep on my left side, but more so I don't have to smell Neako's breath when he's laying next to me.

Balance: BOY
I'm all sorts of clumsy, and forgetful, and crazy. Whatever this kid is, I'm sure it will be a feisty one!

Ok now...GUESS!

So one time I passed out...

I'm a terrible blood giver. My veins are hard to find (for someone my size a nurse once said...what the what lady?! What's that supposed to mean?!) and once you do, they apparently roll and slip away.

Its one of the reasons I've decided not to do drugs. Way to much work.

And then there are times when I do give blood and apparently I'm a fragile women and I tend to faint. Well...pass out. Fainting sounds much more delicate than what I do.

Wellllll....this one time...yesterday...I was at the doctor, doing great, the nice nurse even found and poked my vein so fast! And then I said "Woah. I'm feeling a little dizzy" and she said "Just breath." And then I calmly informed her I was going to pass out.

The next thing I remember was waking up to one nurse aggressively fanning me with a piece of cardboard while the other force fed me a juice box.

Let me just say, if you are ever feeling like a tough, independent women, who can accomplish anything, just pass out in a public place and you'll get knocked right back down to earth.

Oh, did I mention this was my OB? And I was getting a glucose test?

Oh, and I'm pregnant. :)

You may remember that I went through a miscarriage just a few months ago. Which was terrible and painful and one of the hardest things I've ever dealt with. But I believe God is great, and big, and has a plan I don't understand. And so when the doctor gave us the go ahead to try again, we did. And we where quickly blessed with another little being growing inside of me.

I am currently 11 weeks along, and everything is looking good! I got an ultrasound at 7.5 weeks (which is when the last babe stopped growing) and I got to see a tiny weird blob with a beautiful little beating heart.

Before I passed out yesterday, I got to hear the heartbeat again. And Thursday, I get another ultrasound. 

Every time I need a nap at 3pm, or can't decide if I should throw up or eat pancakes, or I wake up and promptly puke up my guts, I feel blessed. I will be glad to be done with the 1st Trimester Ick, but I am glad to have it. I would take it a million times over compared to the alternative. 

Prayers would be greatly appreciated, even though I am continually reminded that "The Odds are in my favor" this time (Hunger Games is on netflix...), there is still moments of worry and doubt. 

Also, starting Thursday I am beginning my week at Prairie Camp's Teen Camp, which is physically straining for the most fit, let alone someone who literally has a life sucking being growing inside them. So prayers for super human strength would be awesome.

Thank you friends for prayers and support and reading my story of losing all my dignity at the doctor's office this week. Be prepared for lots of updates, and over sharing.