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Friday, December 25, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
Sublime Revelations From a Merciful God
Eventually there comes a time when one must decide who God is to them. We must also realize that, even as we do this, it does not change the nature of God. What we perceive God to be does not make Him so. God IS. This is why we are responsible for seeking Him out. Searching for Him in the little things, struggling with Him in the big. The marvelous thing about God, Yahweh, Jehovah... is that He meets us where we are, if we are only willing. That is, He shows Himself to us when we seek Him. Even if we are not looking for Him, or perhaps even if we wish Him to vanish, He remains. We cannot run from Him. We cannot hide. We cannot fool Him or run into darkness.
Depending on one's current disposition in life, that fact can be either comforting or frightening. I have felt both. I have had seasons when I pretended to believe that if I did not speak to God, He would not be in the very fiber of my being, my life, my soul. I have spent numerous days walking in ignorance, even as I still made the motions of a Christian life. I have chosen to hide from my Creator... out of shame, out of guilt, out of idle hands, out of stubbornness. But why do we hide when what we do does not matter? Yes, we can strive to be good people. We can contend to show the light of Christ, to treat humanity with unconditional love, to help the poor and needy. And all of those things should be the result and the outpouring of God's love of us and in us. But those things will not buy us an inheritance into heaven. Those things will not reserve a seat at the right hand of the Master. If we are His, we already have that promise. And what amazing news is that? To grasp that truth is the most beneficial step we can take once we accept the blood of Jesus. Christianity is about love! That's it... love is everything.
I am learning how to walk in this freedom. I am coming out of a spiritually dark and dry place, and God's grace and mercy is overwhelming! These words are not mere rhetoric; God's love is real! For those of you whom I have hurt, I am sorry. I am guilty of pride, slander, and selfishness. I have been slow to forgive. I have been faithless... and yet, God remained faithful. I love all of you. Thank you for being a light in my life.
"Is there anyplace I can go to avoid your Spirit? to be out of your sight? If I climb to the sky, you're there! If I go underground, you're there! If I flew on morning's wings to the far western horizon, You'd find me in a minute—you're already there waiting! Then I said to myself, "Oh, he even sees me in the dark! At night I'm immersed in the light!" It's a fact: darkness isn't dark to you; night and day, darkness and light, they're all the same to you." -Psalm 139 7-12 (The Message)
Depending on one's current disposition in life, that fact can be either comforting or frightening. I have felt both. I have had seasons when I pretended to believe that if I did not speak to God, He would not be in the very fiber of my being, my life, my soul. I have spent numerous days walking in ignorance, even as I still made the motions of a Christian life. I have chosen to hide from my Creator... out of shame, out of guilt, out of idle hands, out of stubbornness. But why do we hide when what we do does not matter? Yes, we can strive to be good people. We can contend to show the light of Christ, to treat humanity with unconditional love, to help the poor and needy. And all of those things should be the result and the outpouring of God's love of us and in us. But those things will not buy us an inheritance into heaven. Those things will not reserve a seat at the right hand of the Master. If we are His, we already have that promise. And what amazing news is that? To grasp that truth is the most beneficial step we can take once we accept the blood of Jesus. Christianity is about love! That's it... love is everything.
I am learning how to walk in this freedom. I am coming out of a spiritually dark and dry place, and God's grace and mercy is overwhelming! These words are not mere rhetoric; God's love is real! For those of you whom I have hurt, I am sorry. I am guilty of pride, slander, and selfishness. I have been slow to forgive. I have been faithless... and yet, God remained faithful. I love all of you. Thank you for being a light in my life.
Monday, September 21, 2009
BEWARE: Organ Transplant Awareness!
Organ Transplant Awareness is obviously a topic of acute interest to me. Don't get me wrong. I am an organ donor. In fact, I am one of organ donation's greatest advocates. However, I DO believe that this country's medical professionals have a less than accurate way of explaining the process to a potential recipient and their family. Call me uneducated; call me jaded... you may be correct in both cases. However, I believe there is MUCH room for improvement in this arena of health care education. As I discuss this topic, I will exclusively refer to liver transplant patients, since this is my only area of familiarity.
When you Google "liver transplant success rate", at first the results are encouraging. I got anywhere between 65-94% success rate. That's ok, right? Because any educated person knows that there are several factors to consider, including age of donor, age of recipient, severity of liver disease, and acceptance/rejection stats. But a closer look at some of these statistics reveals more:
Here's a quote from Reuters in June of 2009: "Ninety-four percent of people aged 50 to 64 live for at least three months." (My mom almost made it into that category. She survived for 78 days post-op.) It goes on to say, "70 percent of liver transplant patients are still alive three years later, according to UNOS."
Wonderful. But what about after those three years? If the percentage dropped from 94% to 70% after the first three years, what happens after that? Obviously, as time goes by, there is less of a chance for rejection. But what about all of the other risks?
The UK Transplant Website says, "After the first year, patients who consistently take their medication and visit their physician should continue to enjoy the benefits of transplant for a long time." But what does a "long time" mean? Where are the statistics there? During the course of the three months that my dad slept in a Pittsburgh hospital waiting room, there were countless families who came through after 5, 7, even 15 years after their loved one received a liver. And now, the liver was being rejected by their own body. So where are the statistics on people like this? You don't hear of these instances, but they are common!
Perhaps, even more than the success rates of liver transplantation, it is the lack of education about post-op quality of life that concerns me the most. If you search for information on post-liver transplant lifestyle, you will find a variety of results. Websites that are made public have almost all positive things to say about the recovery experience. Sites such as eHow.com, wellsphere.com, and instablogs.com boast of nothing but the return to a "normal" life. Read this example: "After a liver transplant, many recipients report a number of positive lifestyle changes. Frequent social drinkers or drug users often stop drinking or using just before the liver transplant, and this change may become a permanent adaptation. In addition, recipients generally maintain a low-salt, healthy diet, get their blood tested on a regular basis, and take greater care to avoid sick or infectious individuals. Overweight individuals often undergo weight loss attempts after liver transplants, and doctors encourage transplant recipients to receive treatment for any potential mental illnesses or behavioral issues. Finally, doctors strongly encourage tobacco users to stop smoking or chewing the product after receiving a liver transplant, and the absence of tobacco can, by itself, create a significantly healthier lifestyle."
However, when I get a result that reads: "expectation of normal lifestyle unmet for most liver transplant survivors", I'm relieved, thinking someone out there is telling the truth. Upon clicking the link, however, I am told I must pay a membership to get access to these medical journals. So... what exactly aren't they telling us? Why are we not allowed access to what is really happening in the medical world?
I understand that transplant units across the country want to protect their patients. They want the best for them, I'm sure. But there HAS to be a level of honesty when it comes to post-op lifestyle! Going into surgery, my mother had no idea of the implications that would have occurred had she survived. Would she have moved forward with the transplant anyway? I believe she would have; it became her last attempt at overcoming her disease. I do not hold grudges against those who cared for my mother, nor do I believe that anything would have changed the outcome of her situation. She wanted to live, but she wasn't scared to die. The day she found out she had a donor, she called me. Through her tears, she said, "Either way it'll be good. I'll get a new liver, or I'll get to be with Jesus." I propose that being with Jesus cannot be improved upon by any kind of living here on earth.
I simply make a small plea. If you, or anyone you know is on the road to a transplant, please ask your medical team if they would educate you as they would a member of their own family. And please, if you are an organ donor... God bless you! We all need to do whatever is in our own power to improve the lives of those around us.
Although I'm done with my rant, I have included two links that report on malpractice suits at UPMC in March of 2008.
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
Wall Street Journal
When you Google "liver transplant success rate", at first the results are encouraging. I got anywhere between 65-94% success rate. That's ok, right? Because any educated person knows that there are several factors to consider, including age of donor, age of recipient, severity of liver disease, and acceptance/rejection stats. But a closer look at some of these statistics reveals more:
Here's a quote from Reuters in June of 2009: "Ninety-four percent of people aged 50 to 64 live for at least three months." (My mom almost made it into that category. She survived for 78 days post-op.) It goes on to say, "70 percent of liver transplant patients are still alive three years later, according to UNOS."
Wonderful. But what about after those three years? If the percentage dropped from 94% to 70% after the first three years, what happens after that? Obviously, as time goes by, there is less of a chance for rejection. But what about all of the other risks?
The UK Transplant Website says, "After the first year, patients who consistently take their medication and visit their physician should continue to enjoy the benefits of transplant for a long time." But what does a "long time" mean? Where are the statistics there? During the course of the three months that my dad slept in a Pittsburgh hospital waiting room, there were countless families who came through after 5, 7, even 15 years after their loved one received a liver. And now, the liver was being rejected by their own body. So where are the statistics on people like this? You don't hear of these instances, but they are common!
Perhaps, even more than the success rates of liver transplantation, it is the lack of education about post-op quality of life that concerns me the most. If you search for information on post-liver transplant lifestyle, you will find a variety of results. Websites that are made public have almost all positive things to say about the recovery experience. Sites such as eHow.com, wellsphere.com, and instablogs.com boast of nothing but the return to a "normal" life. Read this example: "After a liver transplant, many recipients report a number of positive lifestyle changes. Frequent social drinkers or drug users often stop drinking or using just before the liver transplant, and this change may become a permanent adaptation. In addition, recipients generally maintain a low-salt, healthy diet, get their blood tested on a regular basis, and take greater care to avoid sick or infectious individuals. Overweight individuals often undergo weight loss attempts after liver transplants, and doctors encourage transplant recipients to receive treatment for any potential mental illnesses or behavioral issues. Finally, doctors strongly encourage tobacco users to stop smoking or chewing the product after receiving a liver transplant, and the absence of tobacco can, by itself, create a significantly healthier lifestyle."
However, when I get a result that reads: "expectation of normal lifestyle unmet for most liver transplant survivors", I'm relieved, thinking someone out there is telling the truth. Upon clicking the link, however, I am told I must pay a membership to get access to these medical journals. So... what exactly aren't they telling us? Why are we not allowed access to what is really happening in the medical world?
I understand that transplant units across the country want to protect their patients. They want the best for them, I'm sure. But there HAS to be a level of honesty when it comes to post-op lifestyle! Going into surgery, my mother had no idea of the implications that would have occurred had she survived. Would she have moved forward with the transplant anyway? I believe she would have; it became her last attempt at overcoming her disease. I do not hold grudges against those who cared for my mother, nor do I believe that anything would have changed the outcome of her situation. She wanted to live, but she wasn't scared to die. The day she found out she had a donor, she called me. Through her tears, she said, "Either way it'll be good. I'll get a new liver, or I'll get to be with Jesus." I propose that being with Jesus cannot be improved upon by any kind of living here on earth.
I simply make a small plea. If you, or anyone you know is on the road to a transplant, please ask your medical team if they would educate you as they would a member of their own family. And please, if you are an organ donor... God bless you! We all need to do whatever is in our own power to improve the lives of those around us.
Although I'm done with my rant, I have included two links that report on malpractice suits at UPMC in March of 2008.
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
Wall Street Journal
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Retrospect
It is abundantly important to spend a significant amount of time in retrospect. What has shaped your character? What events and which people? I am certain I have crossed into raw, jaded, tainted adulthood. However, when I will begin to truly feel like an adult is a mystery to me. I still need things. I still need people. And I most certainly still need my God. I suppose I've always known that I would still crave, and lean on, all of those things. But I never imagined that such true hurt could exist in the world, let alone the fact that I could be the source of that hurt for someone else. What a bubble I've lived in! I wonder if I will ever again feel the kind of comfort I once took for granted; the free-flowing emotions I reflect on in so many of my memories. I recall sitting in a classroom in my elementary school, bundled in my sweater, dangling my feet inches above the floor... and gazing out the window, knowing that I would always be taken care of. Not only to experience the absence of troubles, but to actually cherish my every moment. I was fortunate enough to experience that kind of childhood. Now that I realize it, not a day goes by that I'm not expressly grateful for that advantage.
Even as a young child, I feared growing older. I feared the day that I would graduate, the day I would move to college, the day I would begin work in the real world, the day I would lose my first parent. I look back and realize… all these things have come to pass. I did not change the outcome of any of these events by fearing them. As I'm sitting here pondering these facts, Jeremiah 29:11 comes to mind: "'For surely I know the plans I have for you', says the LORD, 'plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope'."
I am finished with worry, anxiety, and fear about the future. I will plan for the future, and look forward to it at times… but may I never be contained to it again. How many moments of joy have I missed out on by being mentally absent from the present? I wish to truly live, enjoy, and savor the time that is here now. Those times will be memories soon enough… and I will always have those to harbor and embrace.
For what it's worth, here's a plea for you to do the same.
Even as a young child, I feared growing older. I feared the day that I would graduate, the day I would move to college, the day I would begin work in the real world, the day I would lose my first parent. I look back and realize… all these things have come to pass. I did not change the outcome of any of these events by fearing them. As I'm sitting here pondering these facts, Jeremiah 29:11 comes to mind: "'For surely I know the plans I have for you', says the LORD, 'plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope'."
I am finished with worry, anxiety, and fear about the future. I will plan for the future, and look forward to it at times… but may I never be contained to it again. How many moments of joy have I missed out on by being mentally absent from the present? I wish to truly live, enjoy, and savor the time that is here now. Those times will be memories soon enough… and I will always have those to harbor and embrace.
For what it's worth, here's a plea for you to do the same.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Some things you may want to know about...
Labor Day weekend has officially begun! After a very busy week, I welcome it with open arms. I plan on blogging more at some point this weekend. But for now, I just wanted to update you guys on a few things.
First of all, The Acappella Company has launched a brand new online radio station. You can check it out here, at acappella.org!
Also, a friend of mine is going to be featured on the upcoming season of The Biggest Loser! Be sure to watch Sean Algaier and follow his progress. The new season is premiering on NBC on September 15th! Check out a sneak peek here!
And... I have a new website under construction. My hopes are that it will simply be a place to share some of my work. It will also be the new home for my blog, once it's done. It may take awhile, but stay tuned for mandywilsononline.com.
For now, I'm going to go enjoy this beautiful weather! Have a lovely day!
xxx :)
First of all, The Acappella Company has launched a brand new online radio station. You can check it out here, at acappella.org!
Also, a friend of mine is going to be featured on the upcoming season of The Biggest Loser! Be sure to watch Sean Algaier and follow his progress. The new season is premiering on NBC on September 15th! Check out a sneak peek here!
And... I have a new website under construction. My hopes are that it will simply be a place to share some of my work. It will also be the new home for my blog, once it's done. It may take awhile, but stay tuned for mandywilsononline.com.
For now, I'm going to go enjoy this beautiful weather! Have a lovely day!
xxx :)
Friday, August 7, 2009
Reawakening
Hello, all! This is my attempt at a brand new blog. To put it mildly, I had grown tired of posting solely through MySpace. I need a place reserved for my thoughts. I will gently place them here, and if you are so inclined to read them, then welcome!
One thing I have noticed about myself... I never complete a journal. I thought it wasteful at first; just a material example of never being satisfied. But then I realized I always begin a new journal when I am embarking on a new direction. Whenever my life was defined by the closing of one chapter, and the opening of another, then there was a book to symbolize that era of my life thus far. And I began to think, perhaps writing is actually that therapeutic for me. So here I am, beginning a new journal, of sorts. And it is certainly an adequate assumption to believe that I am once again discovering, healing, and finding a bit of a personal renaissance of my own.
The ordeal of losing my mother has been the most difficult event of my life, as one would imagine. The spectrum of emotions that I have been carried through over the past year and three months would have been quite unbelievable to me only two years ago. The memories are so sweet, and yet sometimes numbingly painful. I've gone between appreciating the transplant staff at UPMC, and loathing them without reason. I found that I was very capable of loathing quite a few things, in fact. Even now, I wonder at times how the world can keep turning; how the sun has the nerve to keep rising. I wonder why no one bothered to tell our family the REAL statistics of transplant success, or how miserable mom would have been even if it had worked.
I have included an excerpt from a blog I wrote last year, on July 18, 2008:
*************************
"'The first time someone said to me, "Sorry about your mom", was in a Pittsburgh convenient store. My dad and I were there getting a few small necessities for our very last overnight stay in that dreadful city. Among those products being thrown into our shopping basket was a box of Unisom sleeping pills. We knew it would be a night from hell; and I didn't want to feel any of it. We had each said our last goodbyes to the shell of a body that lay convulsing in the Transplant ICU. It wasn't my mother. She was already gone. I was convinced of that.
Rewind one week. Mom was on the road to recovery after her transplant, feeling better than she had since she got the new liver. Her sister came to visit. To prepare for her homecoming, she painted mom's fingernails. A bright red. Her favorite. I had an airline ticket to Pittsburgh for the following weekend. Mom called me at 1:30 in the morning on a Monday. The trach tube was still in place, to help with her breathing. Through raspy, broken syllables, I managed to filter out what she was saying. She wanted to know when the best weekend was to have her Welcome Home Party. That was her; always thinking. That was the last time I talked to my mother.
Looking back, I suppose I should have taken heed to the fact she called so late. I know she lost track of time a lot in the hospital. But she hadn't been able to talk on the phone much... she was always short of breath. She called and talked for about 3 minutes, then she hung up. They say people know when they're dying; maybe she did.
This year is going by in a blur... quite the opposite of what I expected. Someone said to me, "That's a good thing, right"? And maybe it is. I think it's going fast because I'm dreading the holidays. I vividly remember last Thanksgiving watching her stoop over the kitchen counter at my aunt's house. She sat in a chair because she was too weak to stand. She was determined to make at least one contribution to the meal... a pecan pie. That was also the last thing mom ever baked. Strange how I'll never see a pecan pie the same way again. I think of the hundreds of thousands of little things she did during those end months, never knowing it was the last time. I sit here and reminisce... and I can still remember her face. Every little line and every little freckle. And I'm afraid of the day those details will fade. All I have now are handfuls of pictures and a vial of her ashes hanging around my neck.'"
*************************
As I read that, I am somehow comforted. Comforted because of one vast, unchangeable truth. And that truth comes from Joshua 1:5... "I will never leave you nor forsake you". I can remember God's hand on me, even in Room #18 of the Pittsburgh TICU. As I spoke to my mother, I knew that it was not her physical ears hearing me. She was already with Jesus. She wasn't breathing... the machines were doing it for her. Yet somehow I knew she was listening with her spirit. It was a strange thing... knowing she was there, but yet knowing that she was no longer embodied. And I think at that point I realized the rest she must have felt. The freedom. The worship. The homecoming for which she had waited.
Now, over a year later, I still have the urge to pick up the phone and call her. And then, I remember...
But I know there is a day in the not so distant future when that long-awaited reunion will take place. I can't wait!
To love, life, healing, and rebirth!
One thing I have noticed about myself... I never complete a journal. I thought it wasteful at first; just a material example of never being satisfied. But then I realized I always begin a new journal when I am embarking on a new direction. Whenever my life was defined by the closing of one chapter, and the opening of another, then there was a book to symbolize that era of my life thus far. And I began to think, perhaps writing is actually that therapeutic for me. So here I am, beginning a new journal, of sorts. And it is certainly an adequate assumption to believe that I am once again discovering, healing, and finding a bit of a personal renaissance of my own.
The ordeal of losing my mother has been the most difficult event of my life, as one would imagine. The spectrum of emotions that I have been carried through over the past year and three months would have been quite unbelievable to me only two years ago. The memories are so sweet, and yet sometimes numbingly painful. I've gone between appreciating the transplant staff at UPMC, and loathing them without reason. I found that I was very capable of loathing quite a few things, in fact. Even now, I wonder at times how the world can keep turning; how the sun has the nerve to keep rising. I wonder why no one bothered to tell our family the REAL statistics of transplant success, or how miserable mom would have been even if it had worked.
I have included an excerpt from a blog I wrote last year, on July 18, 2008:
*************************
"'The first time someone said to me, "Sorry about your mom", was in a Pittsburgh convenient store. My dad and I were there getting a few small necessities for our very last overnight stay in that dreadful city. Among those products being thrown into our shopping basket was a box of Unisom sleeping pills. We knew it would be a night from hell; and I didn't want to feel any of it. We had each said our last goodbyes to the shell of a body that lay convulsing in the Transplant ICU. It wasn't my mother. She was already gone. I was convinced of that.
Rewind one week. Mom was on the road to recovery after her transplant, feeling better than she had since she got the new liver. Her sister came to visit. To prepare for her homecoming, she painted mom's fingernails. A bright red. Her favorite. I had an airline ticket to Pittsburgh for the following weekend. Mom called me at 1:30 in the morning on a Monday. The trach tube was still in place, to help with her breathing. Through raspy, broken syllables, I managed to filter out what she was saying. She wanted to know when the best weekend was to have her Welcome Home Party. That was her; always thinking. That was the last time I talked to my mother.
Looking back, I suppose I should have taken heed to the fact she called so late. I know she lost track of time a lot in the hospital. But she hadn't been able to talk on the phone much... she was always short of breath. She called and talked for about 3 minutes, then she hung up. They say people know when they're dying; maybe she did.
This year is going by in a blur... quite the opposite of what I expected. Someone said to me, "That's a good thing, right"? And maybe it is. I think it's going fast because I'm dreading the holidays. I vividly remember last Thanksgiving watching her stoop over the kitchen counter at my aunt's house. She sat in a chair because she was too weak to stand. She was determined to make at least one contribution to the meal... a pecan pie. That was also the last thing mom ever baked. Strange how I'll never see a pecan pie the same way again. I think of the hundreds of thousands of little things she did during those end months, never knowing it was the last time. I sit here and reminisce... and I can still remember her face. Every little line and every little freckle. And I'm afraid of the day those details will fade. All I have now are handfuls of pictures and a vial of her ashes hanging around my neck.'"
*************************
As I read that, I am somehow comforted. Comforted because of one vast, unchangeable truth. And that truth comes from Joshua 1:5... "I will never leave you nor forsake you". I can remember God's hand on me, even in Room #18 of the Pittsburgh TICU. As I spoke to my mother, I knew that it was not her physical ears hearing me. She was already with Jesus. She wasn't breathing... the machines were doing it for her. Yet somehow I knew she was listening with her spirit. It was a strange thing... knowing she was there, but yet knowing that she was no longer embodied. And I think at that point I realized the rest she must have felt. The freedom. The worship. The homecoming for which she had waited.
Now, over a year later, I still have the urge to pick up the phone and call her. And then, I remember...
But I know there is a day in the not so distant future when that long-awaited reunion will take place. I can't wait!
To love, life, healing, and rebirth!
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