Hello Hello!
Why the great attitude? Well, I'm typing this with one hand as the other was operated on and is weak, I went back to work 4 days after having extensive surgery, run around all day looking/working for patients, fought with a collision center on the status of my car (apparently the men are still stuck on the idea that females are dainty folk that don't understand cars - until they met me), and can't tie my shoes or perform everyday activities without extra help/time. Again, why the great attitude? I AM CANCER FREE, RADIATION SHRUNK MY CANCER ENOUGH TO SAVE THE MAIN NERVE IN MY HAND, I'M ALIVE, AND CAN HELP BRING SMILES/HOPE TO OTHERS!
I am so excited to be done (as of now) with all of this cancer junk. Honestly, I have never been so happy to have this operation over with. Let's start with the night before surgery on November 17th. I will be completely honest when I say that I cried enough tears out of the fear of potentially losing function of my left hand....forever and for the shear thought that I was going through another procedure to correct this cancer without my dad. Let me further explain that the day my dad passed away he asked me to come the following day to show him my hand. He, at that point, passed away knowing that I had surgery to remove a tumor and never knew, on this living earth, that I subsequently was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, have been through 6 weeks of radiation, or that I had cancer excision this past Friday. Yes, I was mad and upset; However, I had an overwhelming since of comfort that he was with me, holding my hand, the entire time this past Friday. It's hard to explain but I would have an overwhelming sense of peace and strength that would impact me at any time I became hopeless.
Ok so the surgery, let's just say in true "Jenna" fashion, I said many inappropriate and straight forward things that I don't regret and hey, even had a resident call me the following day on his personal cell phone. Seriously. Then again, I am who I am and am refusing to change myself for others...but those comments and conversations are for another post (don't worry I've shared them with those who've wanted to know and am not bashful!!). The one thing I will share is the only question that had been infecting my thought process for a long time, "Will I be able to move my hand again?"
Out of my deep and medicated stupor, I hear "Jenna don't move". I was trying to get up in a panic as I always do if I'm woken from a deep sleep. I immediately calmed down and allowed my nurse to roll me into post-op. Within a couple of minutes, the "hand" worry, consumed my thoughts and I immediately asked what was taken during surgery (ok, I lied and asked for ice since my throat was dry and can COMPLETELY empathized with my NPO patients). At first the nurse told me that the doctor would speak with my mom as "I was incoherent and confused" and that I should rest until I felt able to sit up. Boy did I shoot up fast and repeat myself, not once but six times, with the same answer. I immediately got my stubborn attitude (thanks dad) and said, "listen, my mom is a smart woman but she does not understand the medical terminology that I deal with so if you can't help me then I'll find someone who can," again a pat on the back and sweet smile from the nurse. <<As a side note, if you don't know me or my demeanor, I am extremely stubborn and hard headed. I get this straight from my dad and, like him, will not take no for an answer or walk away dissatisfied.>> So I found a resident that was not in during my surgery but resides under my surgeon as well as someone I had met at pre-op visits so I knew he would be my closest source (plus, he was cute). I simply looked his way and with a cat-call finger gave him (Dr. Black) my "come-hither" signal. Initially he looked around in which I called out, "yes you!" ( did I mention I have a semi-filter naturally and absolutely no filter when medicated??). He slyly made his way over (ok, I was the only one under 65 in the post-op unit so I was a treat) and I asked him, "so, was my nerve saved or what??" in which he replied, "well, I wasn't in the OR" cutting him off I stated "I know but no one will give me answers and know you work with Dr. Monson." He then straightened up and gave me the answer I wanted (sound the trumpets) and said, "radiation shrunk your cancer and they were able to save all of your nerve. Mainly they cut out extra scar tissue from your first surgery and some muscle." Dr. Black not only are you hot, single, and wear those scrubs so well but also made my entire life!! I thanked him with tears welling up in my eyes and shook his hand with confidence to help my stamina for many moons to come. At that point I thanked the Lord for blessing me with such an amazing gift and also thanked my dad for being my rock who taught me to be strong, confident, and show no mercy.
Needless to say, when my mom was called back to see me post-op, she was surprised to see that I was the one cutting up with jokes and sitting in a chair, sipping on ginger ale as opposed to those still knocked out from much earlier surgeries. My nurse instructed "no irrational decisions" and I looked at my mom saying that I guess I could't run and get married or buy the Lambo I was eyeing, that I needed to eat blandly (we headed straight to Chick-Fil-A), and that I didn't need to operate heavy machinery (do I look like a fork lift kinda lady?), and off we went! Ok, I know that I went against procedures but what I see in my profession as well as with my dad I know that we've got to have substance and quality of life. Can I get an Amen? Long story short my belly was happy with my fast food purchase, my mind serene with the news I was told, and my body being taken care of by the pain killers I was allergic to (which was quickly followed heavily by Benedryl. Bless the man's heart that wants to marry me :)!
Fast forward to today, Tuesday exactly 3 1/2 days post-op, and myself bouncing around at work in all pink and sporting a sling. Insert "What happened?" times 50, "Did you break your hand?", "I saw you the other day and you were fine!", and "Why are you here?" I gladly told everyone that I had surgery and allotted them their own opportunity to probe for more information which frankly made me feel like a broken record by the end of the day and had me saying, "I had surgery for cancer on my hand. (insert shock) Don't worry it's rare and I'm only 1 of 3 in the world." To be quite honest the best lessons and conversations were had with each of my patients and had solidified the rationale of why God gave me cancer to ultimately help others. Yes, this is an answer that you either weren't expecting or think I am lying which I am not.
Example 1: My patient asked where I was for the past couple of days (we are working on memory) in which I told her to look around (my sling) to see if something sparked her memory. Ah Ha! She then stated that I had had surgery on my hand which left her ultimately feeling good about herself.
Example 2: My patient was ultimately down on herself stating that her right side wasn't quick like it had been (left sided stroke means right sided weakness and vice versa). After making her wheel herself down to another floor and hearing the same, repetitive statement I told her that, "Well, if your left side isn't working and my left side isn't working then we'd make the perfect pair". I received not only a smile and laugh but also a, "I've missed you'.
Example 3: A family member took her frustration out on me stating that "I didn't know what it felt to on the other side of the system and I was just dismissing problems within the system". After relentlessly telling her that I understood, would be happy to help, and will notify the proper people, I asked her (especially after saying that I was dismissing the situation) if she thought I would be lying if I told her that within a 12 hour time frame that not only did I witness my dad take his last breathe that I was also told I had a rare form of malignant cancer. Not only did her jaw drop but her entire demeanor change in entirety. As a defense for myself, I did not tell this individual to "shut her up" or obtain pity rather it was an opportunity for me to show that I am also a person with feelings, which was quickly respected.
This is a lot to read in one blog post and honestly can guarantee that some might not make sense (due to the painkiller taken). I promise to clear all of this up as this was a large, life changing even that has occurred and honestly can't be explained as the gratification is far too large for words.
The main message I am trying to convey (especially right before Thanksgiving) is that no matter what life hands you, the attitude you choose to adhere to not only helps with the healing process but also makes you recognize that situations could be worse and life is too short to dwell on the negative.
On this Thanksgiving, I am forever thankful this year to have fantastic family and friends who love me entirely for who I am, insurance that gives me that ability to have a roof over my head, a career that enables me to work with individuals who make me want to be a better person, and a functioning left radial nerve that will enable me to carry out every day activities such as brushing my hair, making my bad, and opening jars independently. What are you truly thankful for this Thanksgiving? <3
November 22, 2011
November 18, 2011
Deals, Deals, Deals!
I am going to admit that I am a bargain addict. Groupon, Living Social, Half Off Depot, Sweet Jack, you name it and my e-mail is registered with the company. I just found a new one called "No More Rack" and it's awesome! Check it out :)
No More Rack
No More Rack
November 14, 2011
Wordless
I am so glad that the Gabby Gifford special on ABC tonight shed light on the rehabilitative therapists and the functionality/goals that provide individuals with hope, independence, and life. Let me first start with my own personal experience. A lot of people ask what I do/what exactly a Speech-Language Pathologist does in which I simply reply with "I teach you talk and eat". Yes, that might seem easy enough or somewhat confusing but if anyone caught the Gabrielle Gifford special on ABC tonight, then you were able to see that answering simple questions as "Are you a girl?" to "What is the year?" are extremely difficult to comprehend and even answer correctly.
Let me tell you what I do: I am a speech teacher, speech-language pathologist, and someone who gives a person a voice...something we all take for granted every single day. To put it into perspective, imagine being 65 years old, had a full life of working, marriage, children, and memories to suddenly have your ability to express simple things, such as your name, knowing where you are, or unable to eat without food going into your lungs to ultimately cause pneumonia? Pretty devastating if you ask me. However, I have had the ultimate blessing to go to school and learn how to reteach all of those things to people who've had that independence stripped away from them.
Not only do I teach my patients how to say their name, I also have to reteach them how to ask questions, ask for basic needs/wants, and remember how to chew food so that they do not become malnourished. Just like in the Gabby Gifford special, I also sing songs and phrases to help teach my patients to compensate with the right side of the brain while the left side (where language is housed) is no longer as strong as it once used to be. I am not bragging about myself rather I am so proud to be apart of a monument in each of my patient's lives. Personally, the one thing I expect out of every single one of my patients is a smile. Reason being? Happiness, hope, courage, and laughter are the best medicine to drive you to become stronger and in better health. Like Gabby Gifford, I use singing to teach a certain patient, in particular, basic activities within their environment as well as releasing frustrations encountered while that blonde girl is singing :)
To be completely honest, I've been struggling with the thought of losing function of my left hand after surgery on Friday. However, I realize that all of the grief and pity I place on myself is ultimately silenced with the simple phrase "thank you" through broken speech or with a hard earned smile. Here goes my 'bragging" statement: I am whole heartedly in love with my career, know that I can go home and sleep at night believing that I helped someone, and look forward to going to work every morning.
We
Let me tell you what I do: I am a speech teacher, speech-language pathologist, and someone who gives a person a voice...something we all take for granted every single day. To put it into perspective, imagine being 65 years old, had a full life of working, marriage, children, and memories to suddenly have your ability to express simple things, such as your name, knowing where you are, or unable to eat without food going into your lungs to ultimately cause pneumonia? Pretty devastating if you ask me. However, I have had the ultimate blessing to go to school and learn how to reteach all of those things to people who've had that independence stripped away from them.
Not only do I teach my patients how to say their name, I also have to reteach them how to ask questions, ask for basic needs/wants, and remember how to chew food so that they do not become malnourished. Just like in the Gabby Gifford special, I also sing songs and phrases to help teach my patients to compensate with the right side of the brain while the left side (where language is housed) is no longer as strong as it once used to be. I am not bragging about myself rather I am so proud to be apart of a monument in each of my patient's lives. Personally, the one thing I expect out of every single one of my patients is a smile. Reason being? Happiness, hope, courage, and laughter are the best medicine to drive you to become stronger and in better health. Like Gabby Gifford, I use singing to teach a certain patient, in particular, basic activities within their environment as well as releasing frustrations encountered while that blonde girl is singing :)
To be completely honest, I've been struggling with the thought of losing function of my left hand after surgery on Friday. However, I realize that all of the grief and pity I place on myself is ultimately silenced with the simple phrase "thank you" through broken speech or with a hard earned smile. Here goes my 'bragging" statement: I am whole heartedly in love with my career, know that I can go home and sleep at night believing that I helped someone, and look forward to going to work every morning.
We
November 8, 2011
Simple Requests
Wow! I apologize for such a long delay in my blogging adventures! I've been busy with my tearful good byes from AVC and tearful hellos at my new position at Golden Living Centers! I have to take a minute and gloat about my career and how fortunate I am to be able to meet so many wonderful, inspiring, and life changing individuals. I honestly would never change what I do, no matter how emotionally and physically challenging as it may be, for anything in the entire world! Not including my internship days, I've been privileged to have met so many mothers, daughters, fathers, sons, uncles, aunts, caregivers, friends, and other loved ones that've made me realize we are always loved and cared for no matter what!
I began my new position in rehab over a week ago working with adults. Of course in my same old dork-like fashion, I arrived with all my binders marked, pencils sharpened, and smile in tact waiting on my first patients to encounter. Well, the first two days were filled with computer training (the stuff I did not want to do for a 9-5 job) with the occasional "slipping away" to observe fellow SLP's doing therapy. As soon as I walked into Golden Living I knew that I was placed there for a reason and that God was showing me yet another path to follow. I eagerly requested a patient, as the computer was not my kind of satisfaction, and was given an 80 + male with a diagnosis of Alzheimer's. No problem, I'll do my best as he'll do his. Needless to say, over the past week, he has told me that we were being watched by the mob, his wife's name was "fantastic", that I was grown physically-not mentally, and today he thought that I needed to be home with a baby and waiting for my husband. Did I mention that I love my job? :) Anyway, over the past week I've met those aged 50-98 (!!) assisting in relearning memory, word finding, safe eating/swallowing techniques, teaching them their wife/husband/son/daughter's names and have had many true smiles as well as well earned belly laughs. Once again, how blessed am I to meet so many people with such amazing life stories that I am helping to glue back together?!
I always am so touched by everyone I've treated, however, there is one lady that has truly pulled at my heartstrings over the past week. She is a woman who met me with a guard up as tall as the Great Wall of China with no chisel for me to start working with. This woman in particular was one that was not interested in interacting or accepting help from others. After our first meeting, I felt a void and a sense of emptiness that I wasn't able to explain. It bogged me down the entire ride home from work constantly picking at my brain as I did not know what I could've done differently. It was not until I finally put myself inside her shoes, or as much as I could - as a family member of one being treated - that I grasped that sense of vulnerability and insecurity. It is hard to explain but I do remember that as my dad was being treated there were specific providers that treated him as a person...not a medical record. As my own experience, I know how it feels to be pushed and shoveled as if I were in a pig pen rather than Jenna being treated for Myofibroblastic Sarcoma. Thus arises my "AH HA" moment.
The following day, I tried to break the barriers with this specific patient asking about her personal interests which she took as me being too personally invasive. Shot down yet again. Bummed yet eager to build this patient's trust, I marched back into her room, big smile in tow, and threw out all of the "therapy material" crap. "What's your favorite food, Ms. T?' She immediately replied with fried chicken. Playing dumb, I asked her how she made fried chicken, step by step. With a confused look, Ms. T excitedly shouted, "You don't know how to make fried chicken?" I immediately replied that I did not and had never attempted to do so. This patient laughed and proceeded to ask me how old I was and if I was married (side note-I am asked this on a daily basis and apparently I am over the hill and my eggs are fried at 26). I was honest with her and she quickly replied by stating that she was married by 22 and was able to make friend chicken. Ok, I get it, yet I was still trying anything to make therapy meaningful at this point (regardless at the personal stabs). She began to talk all about fried chicken and 45 minutes later we were still talking about fried chicken. By the time I had left, both Ms. T and I were laughing and smiling. Mission accomplished!
Over the next couple of days the joking and laughing with Ms. T had become minimal. It was not until yesterday that I, once again, threw out the predetermined therapy material and spoke with her on a personal level. It was at that time that Ms. T began to well up with tears and slowly bring her hands out from her pockets. I looked down, in silence, and saw swollen and stationary fingers filled with arthritis. Her fun loving, joyful demeanor was stripped from her by the excruciating pain within her most useful extremities. She had told me that she felt hopeless and did not understand why. Ms. T explained that she had been fighting rheumatoid arthritis for awhile and had been extremely isolated while in rehab. As I always do, I probed for more....did she want company, a specific tv show, music? That was until she interrupted me with a simple prayer. As she recited it from memory her beautiful hazel eyes welled up with tears as mine did the same. Ms. T began to explain that she had missed having her bible around and that her hands had given her trouble turning the pages. I then asked her about the verse that she had just recited had meant to her. She looked at me with the greatest sympathy and told me, "a specific verse is meant and interpreted by each individual". For a couple of minutes I reflected on what she had said and agreed with her observation. I then shared a verse that has meant a lot to me (Psalm 119:105) in which she told me to hold that meaning within my heart.
I rode home that day and reflected on what I had witnessed and been a part of during that therapy session. It made me realize that the most effective and motivating tool for Ms. T was the bible. As soon as I got home for the night, I packed my personal bible in my purse (since Ms. T didn't have her own at the rehab center) and reflected on what we had discussed earlier that day.
Today, I excitedly popped in to see if she was ready for therapy. I had missed her 5 times that day to finally catch her at around 3pm. I woke her from her sleep, with my excited yet eager smile, telling her that I have something fun to work on. I pulled out my bible and saw her eyes began to immediately glow with happiness and solitude. I told her that for therapy we would work on finding specific verses that would help her through the day. Those that I had pre picked focused on courage and love. At one point Ms. T began to become tearful with self doubt and told me that "these hurting hands are unable to turn the pages" and that she was in too much pain to do anymore. Seeing the passion and excitement I saw within the past 20 minutes, I looked at her firmly and displayed my left palm that is red and peeling from radiation. She immediately asked what had happened in which I replied, "I have cancer. The peeling and redness is from 6 weeks of radiation and I will probably be limited in movement after my surgery next week." Ms. T, wide-eyed, asked me if I was in pain and how I was able to be so happy and with a big smile. I immediately told her that "I refuse to let small setbacks control my life. Like we had just discussed with the passages that were read, God gave me cancer to show my strength and to make me a better person overall." Ms. T immediately squeezed my hand (the one with cancer) and told me that God had placed me in her life for a wonderful reason.
I am not going to tell you that I did not shed a couple tears when I got home because I proudly shed my fare share tonight. I am proud to have an innate ability to connect with those I work with although it might've caused grief within my life. Today was officially one of the most blessed days of my career in the sense that I was able to reach someone within a personal level rather a strictly professional level. What a wonderful experience I given to help me ultimately pay it forward. It's the little requests in life that can mean the world to others :)
I began my new position in rehab over a week ago working with adults. Of course in my same old dork-like fashion, I arrived with all my binders marked, pencils sharpened, and smile in tact waiting on my first patients to encounter. Well, the first two days were filled with computer training (the stuff I did not want to do for a 9-5 job) with the occasional "slipping away" to observe fellow SLP's doing therapy. As soon as I walked into Golden Living I knew that I was placed there for a reason and that God was showing me yet another path to follow. I eagerly requested a patient, as the computer was not my kind of satisfaction, and was given an 80 + male with a diagnosis of Alzheimer's. No problem, I'll do my best as he'll do his. Needless to say, over the past week, he has told me that we were being watched by the mob, his wife's name was "fantastic", that I was grown physically-not mentally, and today he thought that I needed to be home with a baby and waiting for my husband. Did I mention that I love my job? :) Anyway, over the past week I've met those aged 50-98 (!!) assisting in relearning memory, word finding, safe eating/swallowing techniques, teaching them their wife/husband/son/daughter's names and have had many true smiles as well as well earned belly laughs. Once again, how blessed am I to meet so many people with such amazing life stories that I am helping to glue back together?!
I always am so touched by everyone I've treated, however, there is one lady that has truly pulled at my heartstrings over the past week. She is a woman who met me with a guard up as tall as the Great Wall of China with no chisel for me to start working with. This woman in particular was one that was not interested in interacting or accepting help from others. After our first meeting, I felt a void and a sense of emptiness that I wasn't able to explain. It bogged me down the entire ride home from work constantly picking at my brain as I did not know what I could've done differently. It was not until I finally put myself inside her shoes, or as much as I could - as a family member of one being treated - that I grasped that sense of vulnerability and insecurity. It is hard to explain but I do remember that as my dad was being treated there were specific providers that treated him as a person...not a medical record. As my own experience, I know how it feels to be pushed and shoveled as if I were in a pig pen rather than Jenna being treated for Myofibroblastic Sarcoma. Thus arises my "AH HA" moment.
The following day, I tried to break the barriers with this specific patient asking about her personal interests which she took as me being too personally invasive. Shot down yet again. Bummed yet eager to build this patient's trust, I marched back into her room, big smile in tow, and threw out all of the "therapy material" crap. "What's your favorite food, Ms. T?' She immediately replied with fried chicken. Playing dumb, I asked her how she made fried chicken, step by step. With a confused look, Ms. T excitedly shouted, "You don't know how to make fried chicken?" I immediately replied that I did not and had never attempted to do so. This patient laughed and proceeded to ask me how old I was and if I was married (side note-I am asked this on a daily basis and apparently I am over the hill and my eggs are fried at 26). I was honest with her and she quickly replied by stating that she was married by 22 and was able to make friend chicken. Ok, I get it, yet I was still trying anything to make therapy meaningful at this point (regardless at the personal stabs). She began to talk all about fried chicken and 45 minutes later we were still talking about fried chicken. By the time I had left, both Ms. T and I were laughing and smiling. Mission accomplished!
Over the next couple of days the joking and laughing with Ms. T had become minimal. It was not until yesterday that I, once again, threw out the predetermined therapy material and spoke with her on a personal level. It was at that time that Ms. T began to well up with tears and slowly bring her hands out from her pockets. I looked down, in silence, and saw swollen and stationary fingers filled with arthritis. Her fun loving, joyful demeanor was stripped from her by the excruciating pain within her most useful extremities. She had told me that she felt hopeless and did not understand why. Ms. T explained that she had been fighting rheumatoid arthritis for awhile and had been extremely isolated while in rehab. As I always do, I probed for more....did she want company, a specific tv show, music? That was until she interrupted me with a simple prayer. As she recited it from memory her beautiful hazel eyes welled up with tears as mine did the same. Ms. T began to explain that she had missed having her bible around and that her hands had given her trouble turning the pages. I then asked her about the verse that she had just recited had meant to her. She looked at me with the greatest sympathy and told me, "a specific verse is meant and interpreted by each individual". For a couple of minutes I reflected on what she had said and agreed with her observation. I then shared a verse that has meant a lot to me (Psalm 119:105) in which she told me to hold that meaning within my heart.
I rode home that day and reflected on what I had witnessed and been a part of during that therapy session. It made me realize that the most effective and motivating tool for Ms. T was the bible. As soon as I got home for the night, I packed my personal bible in my purse (since Ms. T didn't have her own at the rehab center) and reflected on what we had discussed earlier that day.
Today, I excitedly popped in to see if she was ready for therapy. I had missed her 5 times that day to finally catch her at around 3pm. I woke her from her sleep, with my excited yet eager smile, telling her that I have something fun to work on. I pulled out my bible and saw her eyes began to immediately glow with happiness and solitude. I told her that for therapy we would work on finding specific verses that would help her through the day. Those that I had pre picked focused on courage and love. At one point Ms. T began to become tearful with self doubt and told me that "these hurting hands are unable to turn the pages" and that she was in too much pain to do anymore. Seeing the passion and excitement I saw within the past 20 minutes, I looked at her firmly and displayed my left palm that is red and peeling from radiation. She immediately asked what had happened in which I replied, "I have cancer. The peeling and redness is from 6 weeks of radiation and I will probably be limited in movement after my surgery next week." Ms. T, wide-eyed, asked me if I was in pain and how I was able to be so happy and with a big smile. I immediately told her that "I refuse to let small setbacks control my life. Like we had just discussed with the passages that were read, God gave me cancer to show my strength and to make me a better person overall." Ms. T immediately squeezed my hand (the one with cancer) and told me that God had placed me in her life for a wonderful reason.
I am not going to tell you that I did not shed a couple tears when I got home because I proudly shed my fare share tonight. I am proud to have an innate ability to connect with those I work with although it might've caused grief within my life. Today was officially one of the most blessed days of my career in the sense that I was able to reach someone within a personal level rather a strictly professional level. What a wonderful experience I given to help me ultimately pay it forward. It's the little requests in life that can mean the world to others :)
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