Mayo

The past week I have been spending time down at the Mayo clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. I have yet to go again next Monday and Wednesday. Will there be more? I am sure of it.

My time spent there has allowed me to be alone with my own thoughts while sitting between appointments. The days are exhausting, and emotionally trying.

As I sit waiting for my little pager, given to me by the doctor's receptionist, to vibrate I look around the lobby at the masses of other people waiting for their own answers.

I have seen many people walking and being pushed in wheelchairs wearing blue medical masks. I am assuming they either have cancer or some other autoimmune disease that makes them very much at risk of getting sick. I have also seen two little girls with a circular plastic piece and wires coming out of the back of their heads and going down to their ears. Hearing aids of some sort I am assuming.
The one that caught my attention the most: a little baby boy no more than six months of age wearing a feeding tubing running to his nose. My heart sank. His parents? A young couple with endearing looks of love for their baby upon their faces as the daddy struggled with the car seat straps in preparation to board the parking ramp's elevator.

Another; on Thursday after my last appointment, I was in the bathroom washing my hands when a lady walked in with a rush of urgency in her body language. continued to wash and dry as I talked with my cousin. I could hear her crying. I could hear her trying to hold her breath in hope she was being unheard from others. I felt frozen. My cousin inched for the doors, unnoticed by the weeps coming from the stall. I felt as if I couldn't just leave her in there to cry alone; but I did. When I walked out, I did see a woman standing there as if she were waiting for a friend to come out of the bathroom. I felt a small sense of relief knowing the weeping woman was not alone. I noticed as we readied ourselves to leave for home, the bathrooms were near the Breast Center. It dawned on me. She must have just been told moments prior she had cancer.

I wish I would have stayed back to give her a hug at least. But would that have been too much for her at the moment? Or perhaps just plain weird? Let's hope this is a situation for "it's the thought that counts", even though she is completely unaware of my thoughts.

The Mayo is an amazing place. For the most part, the employees, doctors and students finishing up their residencies, are all very pleasant and show they truly care and want to help. However I did have one doctor answer his cell phone and leave the room, twice, without an simple "excuse me". That was a little annoying.

So next week, Monday, I have three tests to complete. One is called a Thermoregulatory Sweat Test. The others are an EMG and Abdominal Fat Aspiration. On Wednesday I have one test called Autonomic Reflex Testing. I am very nervous about the EMG and Fat Aspiration tests. They do not sound pleasant at all.

All of these tests are related to nerves and the ability for my nerves to send messages to my brain; and for my brain to accurately translate those messages being sent. Well that is how I understood it anyways.

To give you a little insight, on Friday, the Neurologist tested parts of my body with two tools to see if I could tell the difference in temperature. One was cold, the other hot. Now this hot is very hot. As hot as a cattle prod, I am assuming of course. He first placed the scorching 'hot plate' as I call it, onto my left cheek and asked me what I felt. Unaware of anything he was about to do, I jumped and yelled out at him, that yes it's very hot and to not do that again. He laughed, certainly because he knew in his own mind he was about to do it again, and again. As he placed the two tools, I could feel the hot and cold, only thing was my legs and feet. Some spots it was just warm, some I did not feel it at all. That would explain why I am able to bathe in near boiling water yet my husband refuses to stick his hand in it.

I do not know why I feel, or don't feel in some circumstances, the way I do. This has been something I have been trying to get answers to for a long time. I just want to feel normal again and have the energy, without the pain of simply standing, to run around with my son. After one day of walking around the Mayo, my feet wouldn't even fit in my shoes. I drove back home shoeless that night.

Now that I am home for the weekend, I have been enjoying time with my little booger. Not the icky kind for your information! My little booger, almost a whole three years old, that reminds me every minute of the day of the fun he is having. He never misses a beat. He tells stories of his grandparents, stories of watering trees outside with daddy, and even reminds me of his bedtime routine making sure nothing is out of place.

This morning I heard him in the kitchen arguing with my husband about his breakfast choices. He kept repeating a two-syllable word neither of us could figure out. He then went on to explain his alien language by pulling my mom's name into the topic. Light bulb!

Last weekend was my nephew's fourth birthday and we had sloppy joes. My son insisted without backing down an inch that we have to go to grandma's for sloppy joes. We came to a compromised and made sloppy joes at home for lunch. He gleamed with joy at each bite. He even disciplined his daddy for making a mess. My husband's joe was very sloppy and kept falling out the bottom of his hamburger bun.

After lunch, we went out to St. Joseph to visit Thomsen's Greenhouse. It was very important for me to attend because there was a woman out there who had started something called "Baby Gardens" in memory of her daughter Libby who's heart had stopped beating at about 30 weeks. She was selling these "Baby Gardens" to pass on the proceeds to March of Dimes. How amazing, I had thought.

When we got there, I didn't see anything right away, so we just meandered looking at the plants. I attempted to get my son to smell some flowers, he just yelled out a big NO! He was more interested in the garden decorations and ornaments; not to mention we had already ignored the fact that it was past naptime.

I eventually found Libby's mom and her Baby Gardens. She had pictures of Libby displayed. As she talked with me, I got a little choked up. I couldn't steer my eyes away from Libby's tiny feet cradled in the hands of her parents. What stopped the flood gates from unleashing everything I have, was a woman from a women's' blog forum. She came up to say hi right as I was about to flee. I am just thankful I was able to pull out of it. I feel like such a dork sometimes, but seriously! I tear up at the smallest things! Sometimes I wonder if I even have a shut-off valve.

So we walked away with two Baby Gardens. One for Libby, and one for my Elijah.

Another thing I have, or will be doing, in honor of my sweet Elijah is going on with my life. Pushing to be greater than I am and to never stop. I do not have an end goal because I do not want to end. I am going back to school for starters. I started a double major in Accounting and Finance before my first son was born. I want to finish this. I do not like the feeling of things left undone. After school, who knows what is next? I want to create the best future for my son and any other children I may have. I want them to be great people.

Every day from now on, I am dedicating anything and all that I do in honor of my family; my husband and my sons.

Nothing else matters except the love we all have for each other. We do not need anything, or anyone, else.

Enough said.