Yoga Revelations 3

I went to a new class in Yoga today ... Deep Stretch. (interesting to say the least)

A lot went on, I'll just hit the highlights of the meditative ending. As I was laying there and I contemplated all she'd said during the class (different instructor, the studio owner) ... about body image and acceptance ..about ability ..about pushing to the limit, but not beyond .. etc
It struck me how much Yoga is like Phillipians 4.

Accept where you are .. how you are ..

Phillipeans 4:11 I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. 12 I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.

About focusing on the hear and now and what the word Namaste encompases
7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. 8 Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things


About Being willing to push through the anxiety/fear/lack of confidence to the edge of ability

6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus
13 I can do everything through him who gives me strength.


She gave me a lot to think about.


There is more churning in my head ...


just not sure I can put it to words yet

It's Official

Enrolled, student ID, all paper work turned in, set to start classes August 16 ... Abnormal Psych; Intro to Counseling; Sensory &Perception... Plus that dadgum intermediate algebra ... BUT as of this fall College Algebra is no longer required .. Math for Critical Thinking instead!

Profound Self Acceptance

I'm listening to a CD on Profound Self Acceptance by Mary NurrieSterns

In the CD, there are many gems ...

"if you find a diamond in the dung, wash it off, and never forget it's a diamond"

But the one that keeps ringing in my ears

" Memories and stories are not the truth of who we are. But they can have great power over our lives. They are untruths that prevent us from knowing ourselves. They snuff out life and inhibit the unfolding of our innate potential. Repititious and immature they do not evolve in response to later life events. Instead they interpret on going life events through their filters, for example an innner theme: “ I’m not competent” may result in the need to be perfect to prove competency. Mistakes are seen as evidence of not being ok and result in ever greater pressure to get it right. Although people under the influence of a perfectionistic theme may be accomplished in their careers their ability to relax and enjoy is be inhibited by the endless pressure they do not know their innate worthiness. The thoughts and themes that make up our sense of identity are immature, they are literally interpretations of a childs thinking having arrived in our heads when we lacked the intellectual capacity to know that our conditioning is not who we are. They mirror the trauma’s events and attitudes that surrounded us in early life."

There is also the simple sentence:

We do not have to remain captive to our stories.

And then there is:

Our task is to remember that
Our Worthiness is our birthright, We are inherently worthy and precious. Just as a diamond is always a diamond.

and

We deserve to be here, just because we are here.

In Today's Email

NSU-BA Application
From: Patty Kitchen

To: pearlsofaneagle
Date: Thu, Jul 8, 2010 9:48 am

ACCEPTANCE FOR FALL 2010
Congratulations on your admission and welcome to the Broken Arrow Campus of Northeastern State University. You will be receiving your printed acceptance letter by mail.
Academic Advisors work on an appointment basis only. Please call 918.449.6134 to set up your advisement appointment. We look forward to your phone call and seeing you on our campus.
Best Wishes,

Patty Kitchen
Admissions & Enrollment Specialist
Northeastern State University-Broken Arrow
www.nsuok.edu

The Child in Me

Let’s go for a walk, while we share our heart,
Lessons for life, things in which you’ll take part.

Life can get hard; I know it doesn’t seem so
Let me tell you the things that you should know.

When darkness comes, and trust me it will,
Remember your faith, darkness can’t kill.

When loss and terror strike out of thin air,
Keep your heart open, remember to care.

Things will happen you can’t even dream,
Not in the darkest nightmare scream.

But you’ll come out fine, stronger and bright,
You’re so young now,some day you'll need insight,

You won’t deserve to live in that cage.
You'll need help to turn the page.

Destruction will happen, by you and by others,
You need to separate, yours from another’s.

The Grace of God, you’ll depend on often,
But it will take a while for your heart to soften.

In time you’ll understand what you need,
To breathe, to love, to hear your own plea.

But for now, let’s suffice it to say,
You’ll learn very early just how to pray.

Lessons you’ll learn, you’ll stand proud,
Even when you hear the voices a crowd.

You will find peace over and over again,
Even when all around you is dim.

If I could stop it, I promise I would,
Many times you will think that I should.

Someday, maybe not too far away,
Our hearts, together again to stay.

Listen up; you’re me, thirty years ago,
This path that we walk is not just for show.

A heart that is wounded, heals even stronger,
You can bear this all, just a little bit longer.

When in the future, I forget you’re me,
Remind me together the future we see.

A young girls dreams, I do treasure them alway,
I’ll lose the path, but come back some day.

Together we’ll face this … the adult in your eyes
The child in me, no more fright in the lies.

No longer, I promise, to ignore you inside,
No more will you worry that I too have lied.

It’s time to come play with me in the sand,
Swing high, climb low, play in the band.

Time to move forward, with one heart aligned,
It’s our future that we have yet to sign.




© Peggikaye Eagler

SEIZE THE DAY!

Because I'm in school at this stage in life, I've developed friendships with people who are the ages of my sons. 18 to 25 year olds (my sons are 18 and 20) who have their entire lives in front of them.

Some of them are irresponsible, lackadasical and carefree.

Some are hard working, have a goal and working toward that goal, but love life, have fun with their friends and enjoy each moment of every day.

Other's are so focused on their futures that they have no time for the here and now.
Each grade, each class, each decision made, on a daily basis, impacts their future. (or so they think).
They spend their days fretting about how they are going to get there, what they are going to do when they get there, what job they will have, where they will do that job, what city they will or will not live in, who they will or will not be married to and how many kids they will or will not have.

They worry about if they will have kids, how they will balance their career with those kids and they worry about choosing a career NOW.

They spend so much time in the future that they are not experiencing life at it's fullest. They are missing out on the joys of early adulthood. They spend most of thier time with the older students like me, asking questions and basing decisions on choices that my peers and I did or did not make. They mistakenly see me as a peer, when in fact, my peers are the non traditional students going back to school in middle age.

Asking for our wisdom ..that's one thing, but balancing their lives on our answers ...seems to me to be a way to miss out on some important experiences.

I so wish that I could tell them ... for this night, put down the books (unless there is a test or a paper due tomorrow) and go to that pool party you were invited to. Go shopping with your girlfriend. Go watch that 4th of July fireworks display. Sit in awe at the meteorshower display with your friends ..while all those whose bodies have long since decided that midnight was too late to be up have gone to bed. Enjoy this moment of your life. It WILL pass too soon and when it is gone, you cannot retrieve it.

You cannot relive it. You cannot have these days back ... they are yours for the grabbing ...so grab them! SEIZE THE DAY!

The time for careers and choices is coming all too soon.
When you're 45 and you're in college and you have no degree ...that clock is truly ticking ...when you're 20 and you're in collge ...do your best ...get the grades, but live this life ... your clock is ticking too ..but not the same clock ... it's a different one .. one of freedom and fun and fearlessness ...

Please .. please put down the goals for tonight and pick up the beach towel ... enjoy yourself while you can. Your career will be there ... I promise you ..tomorrow will be here all too soon and you'll wish these days were here again.

More Revelations

He Knows My Name (Tommy Walker)
I have a maker He formed my heart
Before even time began
My life was in his hand
Chorus
He knows my name
He knows my every thought
He sees each tear that falls
And hears me when I call
I have a Father
He calls me his own
He'll never leave me
No matter where I go
Chorus
He knows my name
He knows my every thought
He sees each tear that falls
And hears me when I call.

My name, something I've blogged about a few times. It was a source of irritation to me on many occassions but the one thing that God used to get my attention.

Recently, it has been brought to my attention,by God that he wants more from me ... for me to do more than serve him ...but to rely on HIM instead of me. To break down the walls that I've had up and to allow not only Him, but others in as well.

So, this morning, I go to church and we sing a couple of songs that have really hit home over the years and then ...we sang the one above ...

He knows your name

...

He sees each tear that falls

...and there I was, again, in public with tears falling down my face.

I wish I could see where this journey is taking me.

800 and counting

In November 2004 I began my journey into the blog world. I had no earthly idea of what I was getting into, the people I'd 'meet' and the things that were in my head just aching to get out.

As I pondered this 800th post, I thought about doing a review of my favorite posts. A review of the different type of posts. A review of ... and I worked on one and wound up feeling rather tangled in the mess that is my blog. I started to blog with the idea of it being a medical blog. Though, honestly I didn't know what that was at the time. It wasn't very long before I found Grand Rounds and participated.

I also found that I have little tolerance for blogging much about my health issues. Most of the posts have been done because I was emailed a question. That was the other odd thing I found. People not commenting but emailing me. In an attempt to get more commenters, for a while I removed my email ...but all it did was reduce the feedback. Commenters that did comment were still commenting, but those that had communicated through emai, stopped. So I put it back.

One of the most important aspects of my blog, for me, was the ones I posted on my eating disorder. It brought a very secret habit to the open ... honest and sometimes raw ... it left very little room for me to ignore the self destructive nature of the habits I'd worked my way into participating. I wonder, at times, had I not come out with the eating disorder if I'd not have retreated fully into that until it took my life.

I posted about my journey to get a house through Habitat for Humanity. I posted about my health. I posted about my issues with my sons education. I posted about my family issues. I've posted about many different area's of my life. The one I've enjoyed the most ... my choice to go back to school and the journey that has taken me on.

When I started to post, I was a mother of young boys, I was fighting Lupus and Myasthenia Gravis. I was the wife of someone who had a significant battle with polio and post polio syndrome. I did not see into the future ... I was too busy fighting today. Through many processes, including being successful at the difficult process of getting a house through Habitat for Humanity, learning I had more to offer a church than wishing I could do more .. I learned to find a dream ...and I learned I had what it takes to make those dreams come true.

Probably more importantly, I learned that I value my health ... and will do anything to be the healthiest I can be ... including learning to eat right and to not participate in the slow self destruction that I'd done since I was 14. I wish I'd learned before I developed gastroperesis, lost my teeth and developed polyps on my throat ...but I have learned.

I have learned that I can stand on my own. I've learned I can do things that are hard. I've learned I can be what I never dreamed I could be. I've learned that I am a person.

While I've made quite a few strides in the treatment for the eating disorder, my therapist has decided it's time to address some of the peripheral issues. Some, I agree with (my perfectionism) some ... not quite so sure (body image). I honestly don't see the point of working on body image while I'm on prednisone. While I'm the weight/size that I am ...what good will it do to try to appreciate what is not appreciable? I'm willing to work on it..but it does seem a bit of a waste of time/energy. *shrugs* I will possibly post about it as time goes by.

So, here I am ... finishing up the 800th post having said not much of anything, except that my blog has been a journey that I'm glad I have taken. I appreciate those that I've 'met' through this blog and have enjoyed reading many blogs out there of many different styles. Thank you, the few readers I have left, for sticking with me. Thanks for the encouragement that you've offered, particularly when Don was in the hospital 3 years ago and as I've headed back to school.

I looked at him ...and it didn't make sense.

Benjamin was not even 3 yet. The Sunday paper had a great big article on autism. Coming from a family of special education teachers, it caught my eye. I became alarmed as I read the check off list.

Delayed speech ...check
Little to no eye contact ...check
Little or no response to name ...check
Appears deaf at times ...check (he'd had his hearing checked 6 times before his 2nd birthday because of this trait)
Plays alone in a group of kids ...double check ...unless he can hide in a closet ..then he won't even parrallel play
Robotic speech ...check

by this time, I was terrified. We'd already had so much going on with him ... starting at less than a week old.

Self stimulating behavior ...check ..but that was the first time I could put a label on his constant spinning, banging into walls and hand flapping.
Inflexibility (routine oriented) ... CHECK
Moves constantly ...check, double check and triple check ... this was one way he earned his nickname Tazmanian Devil
Reactive to sounds, lights, textures, smells and flavors ...HUGE CHECK
He had all that and then some. He threw up daily because of his sense of smell, taste and reaction to textures of food in his mouth. He would not ..could not ..mix textures. No casseroles, no sausage biscuit, no biscuits and gravy, hamburgers were taken apart to eat .an if food was mixed ... there was no way in God's green earth it was going to be eaten by him.
He could only wear clothes of certain textures and socks were pulled over the toes on top of them because the seam of the sock was unbearable.

The next morning I called the family doctor for an appt. I couldn't talk. I handed him the newspaper and this giant, gentle man had been standing and suddenly was sitting down ...with a bit of color lost in his face.

He said it was all too possible. He would make an appointment for him to see the neurologist (Benjamin had been with a neuro since he was 2.5 months old)

We got into the neuro the next day.Again, I couldn't talk. I showed him the article and he looked at me, looked at Benjamin and said he'd be referrring us to a pediatric psychologist and a developmental pediatrician. The Developmental Pediatrician, just down the hall from the neuro (in Children's Medical Center) just happened to have an opening right then because of a cancelation. The neuro went with us to her exam room. We gave her a history ..thank goodness he was there, I was rather stunned.

The neuro left and she started to exam my son.

She said to keep the appointment with the pediatric psychologist. She'd do a full developmental eval, but, yes, the diagnosis is Pervasive Developmental Disorder -NOS. I had no idea how familiar I'd become with the new letters in our family's alphabet soup.

The developmental pediatrician gave us the CARS ...Childhood Autistic Rating Scale.

One of the most alarming symptoms that we'd found odd was his lack of response to pain. None ... he'd grab my hot curling iron and never react .. a few days later I'd find an infected burn. He'd try to reach his hand into boiling water to get at the potatoes or into an oven to get at the chicken. Thankfully he never succeeded at those, I was on constant alert if he was awake ...but, one time I did get a rather uncomfortable and nasty break to one of the bones in my feet when I realized he'd gotten a chair to the stove and spaghetti was being boiled. I tripped and down I went, which distracted him

When the evaluation was done ... which was a full 8 hours, done over 4 days in 2 hour segments ... she sat my husband and I down. She explained that the CARS had a scale of 1 to 60. 30 to 60 was autistic, and 20 to 29 was autistic characteristics. Benjamin scored a 39. Well into the autism range.

We then went into high gear. No internet in those days, but I stillmanaged to learn probably more than I could learn now. I joined the Autism Society, a mom's group and they increased his speech therapy to 2 times a week and OT to 3 times, and PT from 2 times a month to 1 time a week.

We learned about ABA and Sensory integration therapy in OT .. we worked hard.


After several years ... he was in the first grade (without an IEP but that's a story for another day) I realized that everytime I brought up the Sensory integration therapy his OT changed the subject. Frustrated, I decided to find out more. I was angry and frustrated that for 6 years we thought we were getting SID therapy in addition to regular therapy and he was only getting standard OT.

I was frustrated, angry and scared .. I went to my physical therapy for a post operative session and the therapist was asking about Benjamin. He then asked me if I'd talk to the pediatrician about moving his therapy to that place. I did, he did and so ...we did.

SID therapy was 2 times a week, standard OT (including using handwriting without tears).

We saw remarkable improvements. One of my main desires for this child would be his sensitive stomach ... any strong smell, good or bad, resulted in his throwing up. Daily he threw up. All I could think of was that no one should have to throw up every day. And we were dealing with Barrett's Esophogus with my husband and I couldn't help but wonder if he was not at risk for that as an adult.

During this time I was a very frustrated (and scared) mother. I'd go to the autism chapter meetings and the autism diagnosis made sense. I'd read books about it and it would make sense. I'd talk with other mom's of children with autism,and it would make sense. I'd talk with the doctor's and it made sense, and I'd look at Benjamin and it didn't make sense. (I'd said this to friends on many occassions)

We did so much in the sensory stuff, but the brushing that my friends had found sooo benificial, I was unable to do. My own health issues left me with the inability to do it. Brushing with the wrong pressure could backfire and make things worse.

My OT heard about an addition to the brushing therapy and given Benjamin's oral issues, was facinated. His boss sent him to Denver to a workshop to learn the method from the same woman who came up with the brushing therapy.

He came back to Tulsa, and his first day back we tried it with Benjamin. It was the same principal as brushing, but for tastes, textures and smells ... OT had been told theoretically it could effect all his sensory systems, but it was only really going to be effective on the mouth/nose.

So, we did it.
That night I had one very angry little boy. He hit me, he bit me (he'd never bit anyone before and here he was at 9, biting someone!) The next morning, I did the therapy and he bit my finger ... HARD. A few minutes later, he poured a mountain dew down my back. Frustrated I was going to tell the OT the next day that it didn't help ... in fact it made things worse, my child had changed personalities overnight!!

We got up to go to therapy and my husband went with me to help figure out the new plan. We took Benjamin to a diner for breakfast. We got him the standard breakfast and then became almost angry when he mixed the whole plate and poured gravy over the buiscuts, eggs and sausage mess. Then he did something that still sense shivers up my spine ..he sat there, still ...and ate it and did not throw up. It dawned on me that he'd not thrown up even once since before therapy on monday. This is a child that started throwing up (projectile, not spit up) before he was 10 hours old and had continued to do so without missing a single day .. sometimes several times a day. He'd gone 2 days ... he was eating mixed foods.


The change was remarkable ...and fast ... he, to this day, has not thrown up because of smell or texture. The only time he has has been when he has a migraine or stomach flu.

Time went on, the therapy continued and this child started to emerge from what we'd always known as Benjamin. Eye contact ... self stimming all but extinguished ... interactions with other children ... one by one the autistic characteristics disappated.

We recieved a letter that the developmental pediatrician was moving and wanted a final appt with Benjamin. She'd not seen him in a year and we walked in, he held out her hand, made eye contact and initiated a conversation (he had to, Dr. R was too stunned). She pulled out a CARS form ...and his new score ....


14.

From a 39 to a 14.

I've spent years saying that what we had was a 'proper misdiagnosis' ... he'd fit the profile/diagnostic criteria ...but his real diagnosis was Sensory Integration Disorder (along with TS/OCD/IQ of 80/Auditor & Visual Processing Disorders)


Thankfully, the pediatric neuro had been firm about any diagnosis could be 'fluid' ... just because we say A today, doesn't mean tomorrow with changes ... in Benjamin or in medical science ...and tomorrow could be a P and the next day an H.

Today, his IEP lists popularity and above average social skills as his strength.

Sensory issues crop up now and again and I remind him to do the oral therapy. Usually 2 or 3 days of it and the SID gets back under control for several months.

Our journey into the world of autism lasted from age 2 to age 11. 9 very long, painful, and terribly frightening years.

But I learned sooo much ...about perseverance, about determination, about coping and most of all ..about change.

THYMECTOMY

June 2, 1992 … A day neither I, nor my family are likely to ever forget. It is the day a saw was taken to have my breast bone and was opened wide to remove my thymus gland. This had the hoped for potential of putting me into remission.

October 13, 1989 I was a healthy, strong and active woman expecting (13 days past due date) her first child. October 14, 1989 I was a new mother and had been ushered into the world of medicine, medication, diagnosis processes, surgeries and the chronically ill. I had been a full time student, waitressing full time and walking 5 miles a day. Within 3 days I had double vision, my arms would fall when I’d try to do my hair or make up, swallowing and chewing had become an issue and I’d fallen several times.

It wasn’t until the second week in March, 1992 that I was diagnosed with Myasthenia Gravis. (that, is and of itself another story ) The treatment, they said, was a drug called Mestinon (I call it my little white miracle pill); Steroids; Imuran; and a thymectomy.
Because of my family situation it was decided that the thymectomy would take place in June after school was out. (Husband was a full time student, Mom was a teacher). I became more and more nervous in the intervening 3 months time. The idea of having my chest cut open was not my idea of a good time. However, by this point, I was willing to do anything to get rid of the overwhelming weakness and fatigue. Ironically, 18 years later, I’m still willing to do anything to get rid of it.


June 1, 1992 I checked into my local hospital, and was prepared, again for the surgery I’d have first thing in the morning. They had me shower and cover my chest in beta dine. I went to sleep and woke up as they were giving me a pre-surgical medication. I got down to the surgery area and was already getting a bit groggy. All I remember is that my sister in law was on duty (as a surgical nurse) and she was there making sure I was being well cared for. The anesthesiologist came up to talk to me and all I could think was “those eyes! They’re beautiful!” To which, I announced to him and everyone else around. (Not in my normal behavior!)
I was taken into the operating room where I remember the surgeon saying hi, and the beeping of the machines and then I was in recovery demanding to know if my babies were OK. My sister in law leaned over me to say that they were fine, I’d had surgery and the babies were not involved. (I must have thought there was an accident or something). The pain was unreal. The one thing my sister in law said was nice is that I’d not remember flirting with the anesthesiologist or the demands to know my children were ok. Um … nope, remember both clearly!

I had been told that morphine would not be used because of it’s associated risks with myasthenia gravis. I do not remember the medication that they said they’d used. In the operating room they gave me my first dose and apparently, I started to crash. They gave me IV Mestinon to help and then gave me morphine because worst case scenario I’d need a respirator that was going to be needed if they used the substitute medication. Ironically, the Morphine *didn’t* effect my MG. Later that day, there was a nurse that was talking to me, telling me that I would be unable to remember most of what happened due to the morphine and to not let that bother me too much. Ironically, I was probably as clear headed on the morphine as I am now (which is kind of scary if you think about it too much!).

About 6 hours into the ICU stay, a nurse came walking into my room, assuming I was asleep (MG was causing my eyelids significant drooping, it was easier to keep them closed) she told the nurse that there was this guy who claimed to be my brother, but there was no way … blond hair, significantly lighter skin and blond mustache … I grinned a myasthnic snarl and said “That’s my brother in law, Terry!” The nurse looked at me a bit sheepishly and said “boy am I glad morphine won’t allow you to remember me.” (WRONG AGAIN!)


My brother in law came in and joked with me. He told me some ridiculous joke about a llama and a camel that for the life of me I can’t remember. (Go figure)
That evening, the pain started to worsen. I asked for some pain relief and the male nurse said he’d get some morphine. No one had told me or my husband that they were using morphine. All we knew is that morphine could be cause for need for respirator. We both went into panic demanding something else. The nurse rather callously said that the only thing on his orders was morphine and he was not going to call the doctor at 9:30 pm to ask for pain relief for anyone.


My husband, became upset (understandably) and demanded a solution. My chest had been cut open and he (nurse) was going to wait till the 9 am rounds? Almost 12 hours without pain relief was unacceptable. They argued for several minutes rather loudly till the nurse slammed the door and came back in and shoved my chart at my husband to show him that they’d be using Morphine. My husband took a few deep breaths and explained to him that no one had *told* us I was getting morphine, just that it would never be used on me.

The nurse got the morphine for me, then I didn’t see anyone till the next morning. I woke up to the surgeon saying “What do you mean you’ve not checked on her since 10 pm? What is ICU FOR?” (I’ve had 15 surgeries, and 27 stays in the hospital, I’ve had 3 bad experiences, and 2 of them were in this same ICU. But when Don spent a week there, it showed no evidence of being what I’d experienced.)


A day or two after surgery I learned that respiratory therapy was going to come in about every 3 hours. They would put some liquid into this little cup, plug the tube into the wall and I’d breathe and I’d feel better. They’d have me cough and I’d wonder how someone could go from savior to torturer in 5 minutes time!


They said I’d be in the hospital for about 5 to 7 days. That came and went and neither my blood tests nor my breathing tests were where they felt they could send me home. By the 9th day, they said I was getting close. The 10th day I received a call from home, my 3 year old had stopped talking …all together. This child who was using complete sentences at 1 year old had stopped talking and stopped communicating. I spent 2 hours crying over it … afraid, worried and desperate to get home. I heard my surgeon’s voice in the hallway. I got up out of bed and walked to the nurses station and demanded to be let loose so I could go home to take care of my child. He said that anyone that could stand that straight, walk that fast and be that determined, could go home.

It would be 15 years before I realized the importance of some of the short term relationships I'd built. I was a flexible patient. Understanding, and kind. I was not demanding and was, for the most part, complient (and if I understood the importance, I was totally complient) I asked the doctors, nurses, nurses aids and respiratory therapists how their day was going. I thanked them. I tried to never take advantage of my role as patient. When my husband went into critical condition 3 years ago ... I dealt with many of the same people. They remembered me, they remembered what kind of a patient I was ..and they bent over backwards in their patient care of my husband. (While I realize most people might not be remembered, having such a rare illness as Myasthenia Gravis, married to someone with SEVERE effects of polio .. that patient kind of sticks out in ones mind)


They let me go and a week later I was in the surgeon’s office … my baby (6 months old and 18 pounds) had been hospitalized with pneumonia. He’d gotten hungry and the nurses weren’t coming to pick him up to give to me to feed him. Time went on and he was becoming hysterical and I picked him up … a bit more than the 5lb limit I’d been given. My breastbone immediately let me know that I’d made a drastic mistake. The surgeon said I should have just given him the bottle in bed … the problem was, his reflex was so severe that he’d throw up if he wasn’t at just the right angle, he’d throw up (which was the suspected cause of the pneumonia, aspiration). It wasn’t that easy … so the surgeon called the pediatric floor and said that they MUST do the lifting of this child in a timely manner that did not risk his patients health in the process. He also put in a call to the family doc who was caring for both myself post surgery and my baby.


At the time, I was sure that the thymectomy would be my ‘miracle’ heal from the surgery and sometime in the next 3 years the MG would magically go away. It didn’t work that way. It’s been 18 and while MG is no longer the prominent focus of my life that it once was … it is still there, daily as a reminder that I must put my health in the forefront.


I have been asked, since the surgery did not work, would I do it again if given the chance, knowing what I know now (about the chances of it working). Yeah, I would, I’d have done anything to rid myself of the feeling in my muscles that it gives. The reality is, if I went to my neuro tomorrow (I have an appt at 9 am) and he said “there is evidence that we missed a bit in your thymectomy, if we go in and remove the remaining cells, there is a 10% chance of total remission” I’d do it .. it’s 18 years and I’m significantly better …but the weakness is uncomfortable and undesirable and again .. I’d probably do anything to rid myself of the symptoms of the MG.

Yoga is more than I'd expected

Letter to my therapist (I've been on a month break, I see her next week)

I don't expect you to read this before I see you next Wednesday, but I almost emailed you last week and spent the whole week talking myself out of it. I thought if I continued to talk myself out of it, I might not even bring it up next week so, for accountability sake, I'm emailing it now. It also helps that I've just finished with my class and it's all fresh in my mind.
I've been interested in Yoga for years, but wasn't healthy enough to do so, so when I got the scholarship to do this AND the doctor's approval and I knew you were all for it, I went for it. As you said "in typical Peggikaye style."
I was excited and caught quite off guard by the pain relief ... that alone makes this journey worth it. If I can get 6 hours a week of pain free, it's golden!
Last week, when we got to the end, the meditative portion, I became almost tearful and had no idea why. Tuesday, I realized that the tearfulness started when Sunny said to 'let the earth support you' I think the feeling of being supported, not having to do it myself was a bit more than I'd expected.
an
I've been praying about this for a while, and was asking God to give me a scripture in particular to meditate on. I sat on my mat today and immediately a couple of scriptures popped into my mind that I usually don't think about in relation to me, but have used frequently when trying to encourage a friend Psalm 139:14 I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Marvelous are Your works, And that my soul knows very well; and Jerimiah 29:11 For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

I didn't expect that and as hard as I tried to think of some other verse to focus on, throughout the whole work out if I wasn't concentrating on breathing and poses ..those were the words running through my mind.

Tuesday, I made the drastic mistake of letting my perfectionism come through and wound up sooo very sore ... I didn't try to make accomodations, I tried to do what the instructor was doing ... part of it was frustration at knowing that there was a time in my life that my muscles and joints could do those things, part was frustration at my weight and my long time frustration with my legs being too long for my short body and my arms being too short. Not a good combo when you're trying to do certain things, add to the mix the weight getting in the way, I became competative with my teenage self and frustrated at my middle aged self ... and determined to do it 'right'. lesson learned.

So, today, I spoke with Sunny before class and she said she was somewhat surprised at what I could do, having never taken yoga before, but I was doing it, so she let me be. She promised to either verbally hint that the pose could be accomodated or to show me a beginning pose. My soreness disappeared as class went on. Which, hit me that I'm working so hard to be perfect that ... I usually wind up hurting myself in the process.
She's been talking about some of the philosophy of yoga ...today she talked about not being greedy. I can't remember the terms she used, but the way she phrased it included trying to gain skills that are unnecessary .. and at times may not be what God has planned for me. I may be over philosophizing there, but not sure. I'm going to think on that.

When we reached the meditative part of the class and as I started to relax the tears started up again. I tensed up in an attempt to stop them (which worked) and as I breathed to relax again, the tears started ... oddly enough, I've been so afraid that if I cried I'd be a bumbling mess, but it wasn't like that, it was simply tears rolling down the sides of my face. It struck me that since I was supposed to be perfectly still, I couldn't wipe them away. Tensed up again and the realization that I've spent years fighting tears ...and the energy it was taking to fight those tears ... suddenly seemed as wasteful as the oil spilling into the gulf. (crude analogy, but it was what came to mind.)

As I relaxed, the tears came again and Psalm 56:8 came to mind
You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.If I am hanging onto them …how can God collect them? So, I laid there with tears falling down my face and not able to particpate in the exercise if I fought them and unable to wipe them away to hide them … and so they rolled down my cheeks. They were gentle and easy and no one seemed the wiser as we packed up to go.

I’m a bit overwhelmed … I know you mentioned the yoga effecting emotions, but I’m not sure how, or why or if I even am supposed to understand it at this point. I got in the car and turned on my CD and a song came on called “Remember Surrender” (same CD as the one that has Less like Scars that I shared with you a while back)
Remember surrender
Remember the rest
Remember that weight lifting off of your chest
And realizing that it's not up to you and it never was
Remember surrender
Remember relief
Remember how tears rolled down both of your cheeks
As the warmth of a heavenly father came closing in

I want to do that again
Why can't I live there
And make my home
In sweet surrender
I want to do so much more than remember

Remember surrender
Remember peace
Remember how soundly you fell fast asleep
In the face of your troubles your future still shone like the morning sun
Remember surrender
Remember that sound
Of all of those voices dying down
But one who speaks clearly of helping and healing you deep within
I want to do that again
Why can't I live there
And make my home
In sweet surrender
I want to do so much more than remember
Remember
Oh surrender.


Anyway, those are the thoughts that have been going through my mind. I’m feeling a bit out of control because I have no idea where God is going to lead me with all of this and well, I kind of like knowing what I’m doing, why I’m doing it, where I’m going and how I’m going to get there.

See you Wednesday.
Peggikaye

How Great Thou Art, in Sign Language

Ignore the messy kitchen. I signed this a couple of months ago (then couldn't get it to upload on my desk top computer, but this little laptop did it with no problem) for Medi Medi Mary (M3)

About half way through I get this funky expression on my face ... as I realized that I should have listened to the full version of the song before signing (for timing as well as lyrics) and maybe, just maybe practicing it a time or two ...and maybe brush the hair, a tad of make up and not in Pj's .... but by the time I realized all that I was half way done ..so I just kept going. I don't think I've signed this hymn before, even though it's one of my favorites.

Summer's Adventure

In 1997 I asked my doctor if I could do yoga. I wore AFO's (Ankle Foot Orthotics, they are the brace that goes from just below the toe, to just below the knee with a hinge at the ankle). I had had many issues with tendonitis, joint injuries ... several of which required surgery ...3 knee surgeries and shoulder. Countless steroid shots.

I needed help to walk up the stairs and down the stairs resulted more often than not in a tumble down the stairs. A gallon of milk was as likely as not to land on the floor. I dislocated my shoulder by slapping a friend in the shoulder as part of the musical we were in.

My ankles would twist in a heart beat, every single joint would hyper extend. I was born with hypermobile joint syndrome, but the weakness of the myasthenia gravis intensified the joint instability.

My doctor said that yoga was a very bad idea. Weak muscles, that only get weaker with use and unstable joints ... yoga was not likely, at that time, to make me stronger and the flexabilty would worsen .. in my case a bad idea.

Here I am 12 years later with lupus having effected so many joints ...the hyper extention is no longer an issue for almost any joint. My thumb can ALMOST still touch my arm, where I used to be able to lay it flat on my arm. My knees don't hyper extend, neither does my ankle, shoulders toes or knees. A few have gotten tight beyond what's normal.

I can walk up and then down a flight of stairs (although there are times I still fall). I no longer wear leg braces. In short, I'm healthier than I was 12 years ago. So, I asked again about Yoga, same doctor thought it was a GREAT idea and gave me the go ahead.

I'm not a person who breaks the ice easy. I don't like going to strange places and if I try something new, I'm likely to need a friend to do it with me.

But this summer, my determination to do something new and different ...and healthy ...drove me to seek out a yoga class. I found one, signed up and went to my first session on Tuesday.

I had trouble with a few of the poses, but mostly because of my weight, not ability. I LOVED the session. When I got home I wrote the following to my therapist:

I just came from my first yoga class. I absolutely loved it! I was afraid ... something new ...new people ... expectations ...and then the ever present fear of rejection ..for whatever reason, but in this situation, specifically my weight.
I also was afraid I'd be fairly miserable at being physically able to do anything.
I had a chance to talk beforehand to the instructor when I signed up. She asked me about my health issues (she was familiar with most of them) and said she knew how to help me make the appropriate modifications.
She also said she'd let the class know that it would be a bit longer to allow time to help me.

I showed up, everyone was incredibly nice and I felt absolutely no judgment. Lots of encouragement and hints for 'survival'. We started and the extra time turned out to be unncessary. She didn't need to help me with much. After class she said that my own instincts to modify appropriately were remarkable. She also asked me "Are you SURE you've never taken yoga before? ever?"

That made me feel good. I could do a large part of what we did, some, my weight is an issue, but most I could do. Balance has always been a particularly bad issue for me, i've spent WEEKS and hours in PT on balance ...until they gave up and said that I just needed to be careful. I was able to do the balance pose, at least the beginning pose.

She told me that my phase one was 'beautiful' and after class I got a lot of encouragement from the other class members. One guy said I'd be teaching before too long (a bit of an exaggeration,but his intent was very kind!)

Dr. Holt said I could go up to 3 times a week, the package I bought was 12 classes in 100 days, so I figure 2 times a week to start probably good. I can take it next fall at TCC for free if my classes don't conflict with the yoga classes.

Peggikaye

It was amazing. I walked out of the class completely pain free for the first time in 15 years. The pain relief lasted for 3 hours and I'm still in less pain than I've been in a long time. I go again to my class tomorrow. I'm looking forward to this new adventure ... self discovery ... healthy ... mindfulness ...

poetic take on MG

I have plans today.
I'm going to sweep and mop,
I'm going to put things away.

I have plans for tomorrow
The play I've been dying to see is playing
I'll shop for a dress or maybe I'll borrow.

I have plans for next week,
There is a parade down mainstreet,
That is ... if i don't get too weak.

I'd planned on cleaning,
but my arms were too tired,
My legs made sure on the wall I was leaning.

I'd planned to go and see a play,
But my eyes went double and eyelids droop,
So once again, home in bed I will stay.

This Myasthenic Monster crops up unwanted,
When chores or fun or adventure comes,
Whatever it says, I refuse to be daunted!

When Myasthenia roars, I will roar back,
I will push forward, and rest if need be,
Rest, regroup, till the muscles don't lack.

Disappointment has come once to often,
But I know that I'm stronger than the disease,
No matter the goal, my resolve won't soften.

I sometimes have to say no,for sure,
But as often as no, I will stand and succeed,
Push forward and back, but I will endure!

Amy Grant - Better Than A Hallelujah (Slideshow With Lyrics)

God loves a lullaby
In a mothers tears in the dead of night
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes.
God loves the drunkards cry,
The soldiers plea not to let him die
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes.

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah.

The woman holding on for life,
The dying man giving up the fight
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes
The tears of shame for what's been done,
The silence when the words won't come
Find More lyrics at www.sweetslyrics.com
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes.

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah
Better than a church bell ringing,
Better than a choir singing out,singing out.

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

Better than a church bell ringing
better than a choir singin' loud
singin' loud
Repeat Chorus

JUNIOR

The spring semester of 2010 is under my belt.
I took Intermediate Algebra
Adult Psychology
Child Psychology
and Women's Studies.

The intermediate algebra, like beginning algebra, took the wind out of me. My professor reminded me that most students in the class have A) had algebra before B) they haven't been out of school as long (although most out at least 5 years) and therefore for them, it's a review. I never took Algebra at all, so for me, this is new information. AND it's been so many years since I had pre algebra (almost 33 years now) and most people take it in high school and have a full year to take what I took in 1 semester .. and adding to that, I managed to accidently get into an 8 week class ...so I had 36 weeks worth of information jammed into 8 ... and for me, it's not a review.

That made me feel better ...that and the fact that it's not a credit class, therefore it has no bearing on my GPA no matter what (not A nor F) So, I'll repeat these classes as necessary.

In Adult Psych I ended the semester with an average of
99.6%
Child Psych
95.7%
Women's Studies
98%


Between yet another semester on the President's Honor Roll and my induction into Phi Theta Kappa Honor Society as well as elected to Vice President of Service in Phi Theta Kappa ... I feel pretty good about the semester!

I'm also, as of now, a Junior. I went back to school 4 semesters ago feeling very anxious ...could I do this? Was I physically capable.
I rarely let onto how much doubt I felt ... but I was absolutely terrified.
I wanted my support system to know my passion and support that, not support my fear ... so I kept my fear to myself.

But this semester it has finally dawned on me that not only do I NEED to do this, but I, in fact, CAN do this and more importantly, SHOULD do this!

MAYBE I CAN?

A week from tomorrow I will have finished my last final for the semester. I will then have 63 hours ...which has me as a college Junior. When I started in August of 2008 I really had no idea if I could do this or not. I just knew I had to try.

I'm having odd feelings of "I can see the light at the end of the tunnel" and "oh my how far to go!"

But, in 5 semesters I should have my Bachelor's Degree. (probably a BS, but could be a BA, not sure at this point) Still have masters and Ph.D after that, but ...when I started I had a mere 23 hours and even getting to 60 hours seemed so far away ... I'm getting there ...slowly but surely!

April 19 .. then and now

15 years ago I was taking my children to a homeschool event. My sister in law called me as I was putting my sons shoes on and said a bomb had gone off in the federal building. I thanked her for letting me know. That time in our country's history pipe bombs seemed to happen as often as they didn't. True terrorism wasn't even on our radar. Not here in the US. US property outside of the Continental US ...yes, but not the US proper.

At the picnic, my young son, not even 4 yet, started to get ansy. He was tired and in need of a nap but the picnic wasn't over for about 4 more hours. I left my oldest with a friend and ran home to put my son to bed. (hubby was home) I waited till I knew he'd fallen asleep, because hubby was taking a nap, too.

I turned on the TV and saw that all hell had broken loose in OKC. It was not a pipe bomb. I was stunned. I gathered myself and ran back to the picnic. No longer in the mood for fun, I told my friends of the true devastation of the bomb and went home. I spent the next 3 days glued to the TV.

I had this uneasy feeling that someone I knew was in the bombing. I kept telling my husband I wondered where everyone from Proclamation was. (I'd been in singing ministry called Proclamation. We'd scattered all over the country when it was over).
It was an odd thought. I had no reason to think I might know someone, but it was nagging at me. It turned out to be nagging at several from our group.

The friday after the bombing, (was a wednesday morning) CBS released the first 6 names of the victims who had been identified. As I started to climb over the toddler gate between living room and kitchen I heard the name
TRUDY RIGNEY.

I sprawled out across the kitchen floor and became somewhat hysterical. My husband could not get what happened out of me and called my mom. Mom finally got the words "Trudy Rigney died"

When I finally settled down, I looked up the one person I knew was still in town and told her what I'd heard. She did some quick research to verify and we started to call the members of Proclamation as we talked to one person who knew where someone else was ...calling information, calling colleges for alumni information ...we contacted many of our group. I heard over and over again "I had the uneasy feeling that we'd lost someone from Proclamation in that blast."

It has been 15 years since McVeigh took Trudy's life. Her son thrived. Became baptized and married (and if I remember right, became a father).

Trudy will never be forgotten by me. She was a tremendous young woman who had the kind of compassion that everyone needs to experience. She will always keep a place in my heart and I will miss her terribly.

Tonight I'm being inducted into the Phi Theta Kappa Honor Society. They will be paying tribute to Trudy ...a former president ..not only for PTK, but at the college and campus I'm on. It's fitting.

I feel a bit closer to her being able to share this with her. I wish she was here to see me inducted, but I know that she knows and is proud. Not as proud of me as I was of her ...that'd be impossible.

Trudy, you're always in my heart. I miss you, I always will.

No, Really, I asked you to take care of it for the fun of it...

Well, intermediate algebra was an 8 week class, so I finished that a few weeks ago.
I did not take the final, because I knew that even if I could get a C in the class (very doubtful) I had in no way shape or form learned enough to move on to College algebra. Me, in an 8 week class wasn't the smartest move I ever made. However, I did get a good introduction to the material, and know what I need to know to retake it. So maybe it was better to be tortured for 8 weeks instead of 16 weeks.

The final is school wide and done on a computerized program. The program costs $84. I chose to not use the program that I'd spent $84 on, and save it for my retake. It made no sense to use the $84 for a final for a class I needed to retake. (There was also my instructors determination to give me the grade my work effort gave, which would have been an A, but without passing the final with at least 50% the most he could give was a C. So he planned on giving me a C. I kept telling him that to do that would mean financial aid would not allow me to retake the class.) My instructor either would not, or could not see my delimma. I get that he was trying to be nice, and helpful, but he was really complicating things.

About 10 days ago, I recieved notice from the school. I was being billed for $700 and until they got the $700 they were blocking my records. This meant I could nto register for next year and I could not get my transcripts to complete my application to NSU. I had no idea why they were billing me for $700. Since I'd gotten full financial aid, there was nothing that hadn't been covered.

I go in and find out that the algebra instructor had put my status in as a WNA ...Withrawl Never Attended. This meant Financial Aide wanted their $700 back for the class I never took that they paid for. Only, I DID take it. I emailed the instructor and he waited till today to get back to me.
His reasoning is that a withdrawl is better on the transcript than an F ... yeah, if you're not on financial aide probation for having dropped too many classes in your
20's and if you drop a single class you will loose all financial aide until the year 2099 (yes, that's what they've told me). An F on a 'developmental class' or zero level class has no bearing on grades. None. An A on a developmental class also has no bearing on grades. They are zero credit classes and while they appear on transcripts, they do not in anyway shape or form effect the GPA. An F shows that I took the class. I DID attend the class, I just didn't PASS the class.


So, he emails me back and says that it's April 16, and do I really still need him to change this. Um, I sent you an email YESTERDAY asking for you to please address this. Nothing has happened int he last 24 hours to change that.


Anyway ... hopefully that will be taken care of soon so I can get into the good intermediate algebra class before it fills. If I wind up with a cruddy instructor because of this, I'm going to be less than pleased!

This semester I took an Online Adult Psych class. A women's Studies class and a child psych class and the 8 week algebra class. Today, I sent in my final essay for Adult Psych. This leaves me with just 6 hours a week. Women's studies and Child Psych. Which is nice because both have me with quite the work load.
Although, Tuesday I will turn in one essay and give a presentation and then only 2 tests and a major paper left.

Last semester I was in class 18 hours a week (for 13 hours credit) and this semester I'm in all of 6. Odd.

I do not like going just on Tuesdays and thursdays. I've learned I prefer the rhythm of the M-F.

For almost 3 weeks now I have been dealing with a severe headache. I'm getting tired of it ... my patience for my health issues are wearing thin. I guess somehow I thought if I went back to school, that would be the cure for what ails me. Not sure how I came to that conclusion.

The year Tuesday, 2010

Tuesday is a day I'm not ever wanting to repeat.

I was sitting in my Women's Studies class, watching a very funny routine by Whoopi Goldberg about how women and their communication (about womanly things) had changed over the last 50 years. Teresa and I were laughing, sometimes so hard it was hard to breathe.
Suddenly, a classmate sitting in front of us turned her phone to me and showed me a text. Wilma Mankiller had past away.
I learned that her influence on me was greater than I'd thought and that my tear ducts not only still function but they can function in front of people. (I don't cry often, and rarely ever let anyone see me cry) I left the room to compose myself and came back feeling stunned and somewhat alone. My role model had just died.
There are supposed to be some existing pictures of me with her. I'm hoping the person who told me will follow through and send them to me. (I met her a handful of times)

I left class and went onto child psych. Somewhat subdued, along with my classmates that take both classes. We'd just paid tribute to her a month ago (today).

In Child Psych, the professor dropped a bomb on us. Extensive plagerizing. While I didn't plagerize, (as a writer, that would never happen! I've been plagerized and I know how it feels!) her definition of plagerism had me conscerned. I had a quote in my paper that was in quotation marks because it was a commonly used phrase ... however, not being a 20 year old, I should have given credit to one of them. Most people over 40 are well aware that Hillary Clinton first said "It takes a Village." I'm well over 40 so I have no excuse.

Long story short, after a sleepless night, a conversation with instructor and she did not consider what I did plagerizing. I was safe. Next time she said, use 'x' instead of "X" for catch phrases or at the very least put "(from unknown origin)".

Left school to go to my sons IEP. Anyone following this blog will know how difficult those meetings have always been for my family. (IEP is the annual meeting between families of children with special needs and the teachers and administrators responsible for giving him special ed services.)

For years, I've struggled with Benjamin's special education services. Whle this school district is significantly better than the previous, it is still falling far short of what is needed. (one teacher flat out said he would not make accomodations for him, and then gave him a hard time in class for not passing. Going so far as to one day saying "we have only one F on the test and we all know who that is." (um what happened to not discussing special ed students with others not a part of his team?) And no, as far as I know there were no consequences for this mans statements.

They've never given him appropriate services and I've tried to walk the tightrope between doing what is necessary to get my son the most I can without causing them to hate me. (so they did not take it out on my son.) When the doctors told us that he should be in special education classes, he was not quite 3 years old. We took him in for the evaulation and they said "no, he's just fine" and sent us out the door. He wasn't three yet, so we let it go. The next summer, we did the same. They again said "nope." Docs said "yes!" and we took them, successfully, to due process. Again,t he next year they did the same and back to due process we went. The next year, they did the same and this time we went to arbitration. Abitrator told us all that he was to be enrolled into Head Starts Accomodated Services at school expense.
The next year ... OASIS in the dangerous desert that is Public Schools Special Education Services and he was accepted to the highly successful The Little Light House.
The Little Light House is a non profit, special education, Christian school that is no cost whatsoever to the parents. At this school he recieved his OT,PT and speech therapy. So not only was this a break from the public school battle, but for a year, we had to take him to school. Not to school AND PT AND OT AND Speech. Support for the parents, education for the children, services for the children lead to a very safe place. Unfortunately, they only take birth to age 6 and he was 5, would be 6 during the school year. He'd only be elligible for 1 year.

That was ok, because I thought he'd be accepted for Special Education services the following year. (TLLH has such a reputation, schools RARELY go against the programs recommendations. However, the district we were in, made the exception on a regular basis) TLLH could have been his kindergarten and we couple place him into first grade or we could use it as pre k and place him in K. We didn't trust our district to provide appropriate services (any wonder why?) and chose kindergarten to give him the best chance possible. I often wonder if the battle would have been less if we'd place him in first grade.

Long story short, we didnt' get an IEP until 2nd grade. Even then, the placement was wrong and not enough or appropriate services. They were only doing it because I'd gotten fed up and called a congressman who ordered the special ed services to be audited. We have been fighting, to a lesser degree ever since. They've always tried to prove to me why he was just fine (he's delightful was their best excuse. Um, so you're going to remove every delightful child from special education? This is SpEd not education for the emotionally disturbed!
They have made me point out all his deficits, while they tell me what a terrific child I have. It always frustrated me and caused great pain to be put in the position of being the one to tell them what is wrong with my child. NO mother should have to be the one pointing out their childs faults to the school!
So, Tuesday, they tell me what's wrong, and what's right and place him with appropriate services. I learned something ... being told your childs faults really isn't easier than being the one to tell them. (I still firmly believe no mother should be placed in that position)
Benjamin however, took it great. Listened, took notes and plans on using what he learned to help him improve.

I get home and I'm sitting on the computer, reading blogs and the doorbell rings. It is the police wanting to know if my sons best friend is here. He was. His sister had called the police to do a wellness check. Clinton, who has a hard time with the police because he watched them TWICE take his father away, was less than thrilled. He also didn't feel that telling his sister "I'm tired of all this mess" was worthy of a suicide prevention call.

All of that took place between 12 noon and 5:30 pm.