Wednesday, August 25, 2010

The Visit

Tuesday, August 24, 2010


I haven’t written in a few days, well, maybe more than a few days at this point. I’ve been in a very deeply private and thoughtful frame of mind and wasn’t ready to share.

For you see, I went to visit my baby’s grave for the first time this past Friday evening.

I took a deep breath, swallowed a morsel of courage, and told Jeff I wanted to go. I’d maneuvered around the idea for these few weeks I’ve been home because physically, I wasn’t ready, and emotionally, I just didn’t think I’d hold up.

After we put the children to bed, I headed over to the grave. A very sweet couple in our church allowed us to bury the baby on their land, in a field, under a shade tree. The couple, Mike and Carolyn, were outside when I drove up alone.For some reason, when I asked them if it would be okay to go see the baby, I felt the emotion well up, along with that tell-tale lump and the hot tears which prickled against my eyes.

Carolyn told me to go ahead and that their new donkey had had a baby, but wouldn’t bother me. Normally, I would shy away from being alone in a field with animals who were much larger than me, but at the time, I barely heard her words. I was too focused on keeping my emotions under control.

Our music minister had fashioned a pretty little wooden cross with the words “Baby Medina” on it, and as I went through the gate and tromped through the wild Texas wilderness, I kept my eyes on that cross and barely even felt the stickers attack my bare legs or smelled the giant plops of horse manure.Mike and Carolyn, on top of the freshly dug grave, had placed a solid layer of pretty bricks. I don’t know what I felt as I stood there for the longest time and just stared. I just seemed to empty of everything but the moment. My mind finally rewound to that sorrowful place before I went in for surgery, and the emotion surged out of my body.

I knelt down, blinded by my own torrent of tears, and cried out to God, “Why this one? Why this one? Why couldn’t I have had just one day, just one day?”I then noticed dirt and bugs lounged and crawling across the bricks and I frantically began to swipe them clean, furiously whisking the unwelcome intruders away, telling them testily to “get off my baby.” My TPN backpack kept sliding down (for I was “hooked up” for the night already) and was getting in the way.

I guess, in some way, this represented my frenzied attempt to control, protect, even guard my vulnerable baby snuggled beneath that fresh sod. That’s what we mothers do. We watch with eagle’s eyes, we care, we protect, we nurture, we guard; we even fight for our children. We take a silent, solemn vow when they are placed within our arms for the first time. We vow, before Holy God, that no harm will come to our child while we are in charge. We recognize, and accept, the heavy responsibility of becoming a mother, and we become fierce and frightful bears when our children are in danger or are crossed. Those feelings were raw and real as I lay there, even more so for my unborn baby.

That effort left me spent, and I lay almost prostrate across the tiny grave, finally releasing all the pent-up emotion that had been pushed aside during my post-operative recovery phase.

Finally, I grieved, alone with naught but my child and my God. And then, in silent salute, as the sun began to set, and the evening began to quiet, I said my farewells.I don’t pretend that visit is the end of the story, for I know I will be reminded, again and again, of that precious little life, as the years go by. I will mark birthdays and graduations, soccer games and summer swimming. I will imagine, as all mothers who’ve lost babies, what my child would have looked like, who he/she would have acted like, and what calling to which God would have called him.

All in all, it was, admittedly, another very sad day. I anticipate more, but I also anticipate hopeful acceptance of God’s decision and better days, acknowledging that He ultimately knows best.



"Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you..." Jeremiah 1:5

Friday, August 20, 2010

While I'm Waiting...

While I'm Waiting...
by Audrea Vann Medina on Thursday, August 19, 2010 at 10:08pm

There are three words that come to mind every day lately; I've even written about them. Waiting, control, and faith.

Every day that passes where we don't hear something about the coming transplant, I feel impatient, for I dislike WAITING, especially when we were told to expect news within a week or two of leaving the hospital. I've been home exactly two weeks today, and I feel like a race horse 'chomping at the bit' except I have no CONTROL over when the gates open for the derby. That's in someone else's hands.

Control, for most of us, is a daily struggle. We aim for control in our work environment, home life, and especially in our relationships...perhaps even without realizing it. I am reminded of the arguments Jeff and I have, and they're usually a result over an issue where we both want to exert our control and conflict ensues when we want different things and neither of us will humbly give up our desires for the other. A very wise man once told Jeff that arguments/fights/marital discourse arise when one person wants something so bad, he/she is willing to sin to get it. That really resonated with me when Jeff shared it, and often, when I feel tension arising between us or I snap out an ungodly response, I try to stop and ask myself "what is it that I want so bad I'm willing to sin, even against the man I am sworn to love forever, to get it?" Now, honestly, that doesn't happen all the time, but when I remember WHO is in control of my life (Jesus Christ) and that I am a Spirit-controlled person, I am usually very easily shamed by my own behavior and able to be quickly reconciled with my husband.

In this waiting-game instance, I can't even sin against the parties involved because I'm too far removed from them. But, the tension I feel and the impatience that's teasing my mind, tells me I need to start asking myself if I want a transplant so badly that I'd be willing to sin to get it. My flesh cries out "yes, I want it and I want it bad and I want it now because I'm so sick of having diarrhea every time I turn around and I'm sick of the nausea I've started feeling..." and on and on with my physical complaints. But the Holy Spirit, (and since I am a Christian, I am bound to listen) tells me to be patient and to TRUST the one who brought me back from an early grave. He's already proved faithful. It is natural, for those of us who are Christians, to respond in a way that honors God; it is unnatural not to. I am weak, though, and my flesh and spirit do battle daily.

Therein lies the crux of the matter. I am a spiritual being trapped in flesh, and the Devil seeks to destroy me. He is intimately acquainted with my weaknesses, and Scripture tells us he is wily and crafty and will stop at nothing to destroy me because of his hatred for God. Destroying each of us by way of unreconcilable rifts with spouses which lead to divorce, bitterness toward another, selfishness, rage, sexual immorality, envy, and all the other things found in Galatians 5:19-21 merely serve to give God a bad name among those who do not believe.

The antidote: God's Word steeped in our hearts so that we have the ability to break those enslaving chains from our lives. I need more of God's Word to combat these daily mental battles I'm struggling with, and I would dare to suggest that you do, too.

I want to live freely, unhindered by sin and being a slave to it. Galatians 5:1 tells us that "it is for freedom that Christ has set us free...and do not let yourselves be burdened again by the yoke of slavery" so that tells us that Christ himself already understood our battle and addresses it. I want to live unhindered by my sin so that I can concentrate on others, helping others, and ultimately bearing fruit for God's kingdom. I don't want to dishonor God's name, since I bear it; I want to bring him the most honor that I can.

So now I can wait knowing the control I desire rests in God's hands, and he will be faithful to provide my transplant in His time (as some of you have already reminded me) and not my own. Grant me patience, Lord, in this time of waiting.



******

(Note from Alex: Check out John Waller's "I'm Waiting" http://s0.ilike.com/play#John+Waller:While+I'm+Waiting:27366956:s4108002.11496333.5960458.0.2.117%2Cstd_07a3480b0e944f348a7ca3d0995db75c)

Interestingly enough, John is from Fayetteville, Georgia and worked at the Chick-fil-A Dwarf House. Audrea also worked there. See http://www.johnwallermusic.com/index.php.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

GI Doctor Visit

Audrea Vann Medina

Quick update to let you know that I had a great visit withmy GI doctor this afternoon. I have a sneaking suspicion he's seeing me withoutcost, and further raises him in my already high esteem.

Anyway, he asked about my diet, and was surprised that I've had solid stool, and was also surprised that I've managed to keep anything inat all. He said most people just give up trying to eat and let the TPN do it's job. Not me. I love to eat. But, my scrambled egg with cheese and lightlybuttered toast (a sure fire stay in) might get old eating 3 times a day. My doctor told me to eat what stays and slowly add other foods in after 2-3 weeks.That's hard. Everything looks SOOOO good.

Baby steps, Audrea. Baby steps.

So, after that great visit, mom took me shopping at Kohl's, our favorite place to browse the clearance racks. She treated me to a newwallet and new outfit. Thanks, mom (err...and dad)! I felt normal browsing,except for the time we had to dash to the bathroom. Mom kindly made a lot ofnoise washing her hands, drying them, etc. since she knows how I dislike #2 in public. Considering it's either #2 in a public bathroom, or #2 on myself, I think I'll swallow my pride.

All in all, despite the frequent potty breaks, it's been an okay day.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Porcelain Life Lessons

Porcelain Life Lessons
by Audrea Vann Medina on Friday, August 13, 2010 at 10:13pm

I'm the type of person who looks for lessons in every situation. I know God has some major branches to prune from my life, and none of us are perfected or complete until the day we're called home to heaven if our names are in the Lamb's Book of Life. My physical body, though, longs for that day, the day where, perhaps, I'll not need a small bowel.

I think about lessons in light of today where nothing I put in my mouth stayed. After running to the bathroom for about the 10th (or more) time today, I'm exhausted. My stomach is still churning, my rear end, as you can well imagine, is rawer than a newborn baby's raw, the gas seeping out is so toxic we've all resorted to plugging our noses and counting to 10 before we breathe, and my spirits are less than ecstatic.

What lesson(s) can I take from all these potty trips that will get my mind back on things above?

• The first one I think of is that God's design for the human body is flawless. I never knew much about the human body or how things work (you'll remember back to my brother, Elliott, sending me diagrams about the female cycle, etc. when I was pregnant for the 3rd time in 3 years), but now, I'm intrigued. I see why so many are so fascinated by the medical field. God's design of each of us is perfect and faultless (even if something in our body doesn't work quite right when we're born), and it boggles my mind that anyone could memorize all of the body organs/functions and think we happened by accident or evolved from some big booming bang of matter. I've got more respect for myself than that. Our human, and finite minds, even the most brilliant and intellectual, could not have created anything more ideal. Even the great scientific minds of today, bursting with knowledge, can only attempt to replicate, or clone, what already exists. And that, on a completely other subject, is treading very dangerous ground.
• This brings me to my second lesson. Science and technology are wonderful tools of the human mind (gifted from God) when used to advance and protect life. I'm so thankful to be living during this time because had this trauma happened even 50 years ago, I probably would have died. TPN, the stuff I gripe and complain about because it chains me to itself and is my master for 14 hours a day, is sustaining the very breath I breathe. If I'd had to rely solely on what I could feed myself, I'd wither away in a matter of weeks. Because of medical advances, medicine, and a careful combination of surgery and care, I'm alive to testify to the positive side of medicine.
So, I guess what I'm telling myself tonight, is that the next time I let out a gas bomb which sends us all running for cover, I should stop and take a big gagging whiff and tell my family we should all be thankful I'm still here to blow! Ha.

Well, on a serious and less elementary note, I find myself, once again, ending cheerfully, now that I've put things into eternal perspective. And, I must apologize if I've offended any delicate sensibilities with my potty talk, though it is hard not to when all of my issues stem from what's missing from my small bowel!
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Thursday, August 12, 2010

Truly Trusting

Truly Trusting
by Audrea Vann Medina on Wednesday, August 11, 2010 at 10:24pm

I find myself feeling incredibly frustrated today. I feel helpless, as if every single thing and every single decision is out of my control. I feel all a jumble,feeble, powerless, and weak. And I don't like it.

I'm not a good patient. Well, I was in the hospital because I was truly unable to care for myself, but now that I'm home, that "new normal" I talked about the other day is not happening fast enough. I'm impatient for it because every day presents a new series of frustrations.

This (referring to my new condition) sucks. Excuse the lack of a better and more genteel term. And don't tell my parents I said it. Even though I'm 31, I'll still feel guilty for the chastisement I know I'll receive since that word was not allowed in our house while growing up!

Already I'm tired of being hooked up to an i.v., tripping over the pole, running over my own feet, and unable to bathe (the only thing I can do alone) until it finishes. I can't pick up my children and hug them when they're hurt, or just pick up the baby when she needs some mommy love. I can't put her in her crib at night. I can't sweep or mop my floors or carry a load of laundry. Who'd have thought I'd miss THAT??!!???

I haven' teven been able to see my baby's grave yet, and though I hesitate to go too soon, my heart needs to see it.

Why am I so cranky tonight? I don't like it. Jeff is staying away, clear on the other side of the room writing the thank you notes I should be helping him with. Maybe it's because I'm feeling overwhelmed by all of the changes, all of which are completely out of my hands.

If that is true, this, then, becomes a true test of my faith. When I'm not in control,do I really trust God, Jeff, and all the others to make the best choices for me? I think that's where my frustration lies. I want to make some decisions for myself and because I can't, I'm barky. I've not practiced being thankful today,so I might as well get to it. In fact, I've not spent any time with Holy God today and it's showing as I bare my teeth and furrow my brow(s).

I'm weak and frail and incapable of handling regular routine tasks. I don't like beingin such a vulnerable position.

I am reminded of what my brother shared on Facebook yesterday. It was from his Oswald Chambers devotional: "Jesus never measured His life by how or where He was the greatest use. God places His saints where they will bring the most glory to Him, and we are totally incapable of judging where that will be."

I feel unequal to the task of being used, in this way, for His glory, even though that's been my heart's desire for the longest time. I start thinking back to 3 weeks ago and wonder if I could have made any changes which would have protected my bowel or even my baby. I don't know. Maybe or maybe not. But then I have to pull myself out of that train of thought and realize I can't change anything now and neither can anyone else. My personal judgment asks if God could have used me in another way, as in writing a novel (my other heart's desire) and eventually teaching SouthernLiterature in a college setting.

I sit here now, looking inside and thinking that perhaps, just perhaps,Omniscient God has a better plan for my life than I do. The question is: Will I trust Him in my daily life struggles as I claim to trust His providence in the grand scheme of my life? Will I sit here and continue to gripe and whine about my daily trials, or will I take an eternal perspective and thank Him that I'm allowed another day to learn how to live my " new normal."

Hmmph.I already know, and I feel at ease again.

This is why I write. My mind is clear and I feel hope wrapped around me. I can look at my heavy i.v. back pack, listen to the gentle whirring of the pump, and thank the Lord that it's working properly and nourishing me for another day with my loved ones.

Sorry for the moaning and groaning session, but at least I don't end that way.


Sunday, August 8, 2010

Strength for Today, Bright Hope for Tomorrow

Strength for Today and Bright Hope for TomorrowShare
Today at 8:21am


It’s my first Sunday back at home in two weeks. Jeff had his first full night’s sleep in two weeks (he just woke up and told me) so I praise God for that.

The children are still asleep, and yet, I’ve been lying awake thinking for the past 30 minutes.I’ve been thinking about strength and the fact that many of you have written to me admiring my strength. It occurred to me that I’m not strong. I’m as weak as the children in “Jesus Loves Me” but it’s my faith that’s strong.

My faith in Christ Jesus is an unbendable steel rod.

It may be bumped, banged, bruised, or beaten but I will not relinquish it. I asked Jesus Christ to be my Lord and Savior when I was 8 years old. As some of you, I did have a curious stage where I wanted to know what the world had to offer in terms of the enticing nightlife, but even then, it took but a moment to realize there was no real satisfaction to be found. My conscience was my Holy Spirit. And He wouldn’t let me fully engage, since I was betrothed elsewhere.I was (and am) a child of Holy God.

I know there are many of you out there reading my posts, hooked to this horrible (yet fully amazing) tragedy. If you have an ounce of feeling, your hearts are full of compassion. I want more for you as I want for myself, especially if you don’t know my Jesus, the reason for my faith.

When you hear the name of Jesus Christ, what do you think? Do you smile because you know you belong to Him? Do you cringe because it makes you uncomfortable? Do you scoff because you think of it as a farce or a fairy tale?Have you ever pulled out a Bible and read about this man?

Even if you are a believer, do you really understand the sacrifice Jesus made for you when he willingly carried his own cross down the streets to Golgotha while being spit upon and mocked? He was innocent, his only charge being that He claimed to be the Son of God. And He was the Son of God. He never spat back at his tormentors.

Do you understand that the penalty for your sin must be atoned for? In Old Testament times, there had to be a blood sacrifice to atone for sin, thus the killing of an animal. When Christ came down and offered his life, his blood covered once and for all the future sins of mankind…that means yours and mine.

He offers eternal life as a gift and how many toss it back in his face with disdain or mockery? It’s a GIFT for goodness sake and He desires for all of man to come to know Him in a real and personal way.

I could not have made it through the past two weeks if I didn’t believe these simple truths.If you don’t know Christ and want to, find a Bible, and turn to any of the Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke or John). He will reveal Himself to you through these testimonies of his life. Dig in and investigate whether or not it’s real. Don’t look to people who’ve failed you; we’re incredibly fallible. Look to the man who lived a perfect sinless life.

Today is Sunday, and I am ready to join my church family in worshiping, celebrating, and fellowshipping. I don’t know if I’ll have the energy or ability to sit through the whole service, but I’m going to try. If I have to run out to the bathroom, at least I know everyone already knows why.

I am so very thankful to be alive, to be allowed to open my mouth to say “I will not die but live, and will proclaim what the Lord has done.” That’s my new life verse.

And now the children are awake, so I must run for the day.

All my love to each of you.

Friday, August 6, 2010

Being Home...

From Audrea...

Being Home
Today at 8:25am

After being told I was going home yesterday, I was up, packed, and ready to go by 10:00 a.m.
We didn’t leave until after 4:00.

Almost as soon as we got home, my TPN arrived, as did my Angel of Mercy, the nurse who came to show us how to hook everything up.

My first attempt to stick a needle full of vitamins into the TPN bag resulted in a contaminated bag and my finger bleeding. Jeff took over after that because we had to throw the TPN bag away. Each one of them costs about 1000 dollars. I was horrified that I’d messed it up and I refused to touch anything else.Once the nurse left and Jeff stuck my bag and pump on my personal i.v. pole, I just stopped thinking.

I felt so overwhelmed.

He took the bag/pump off the pole and put them in the back pack, especially made for this stuff. I couldn’t get the bag situated where it didn’t hurt my new central line (below my right collarbone) and I just lost it. I cried and cried and said, “I don’t want to wear it. I don’t want to wear it.”Jeff tried to comfort me, saying that it was just temporary, but I still cried my heart out.

Home is where life is supposed to be the most normal and most comfortable, and yet, even that has changed for me. It was (and will be) so hard to wrap my mind around.When I finally managed to pull myself together and remind myself that the TPN was keeping me alive and I should be grateful, I felt a little less overwhelmed and could focus on the 3 little reasons I was glad to be home.

I can’t pick up the children and that’s so hard. But, Jeff picked up Lexi put her in my lap. I rocked her while she drank her last cup of milk for the day, and then my mom came in and put her in her crib.The older two were much harder to put down. They cried for me, they cried for Jeff, and it was well past 9:00 before they were settled and sleeping.In the middle of the night I woke up to find Jeff gone and a little replacement (Gideon) in bed with me. It was rather nice to have that snuggly little guy near me. He’d been skittish of me and my bandages and boo-boo’s for awhile, and wouldn’t come near me when I got home yesterday.

I know this journey will get easier, but right now, just pray for a me to be able to create a home routine for myself that doesn’t seem so overwhelming.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

TIME to GIVE! Fund Active on Monday Aug 9th

August 4th, 10:25pm

I’ve received some very good news today. I get to go home tomorrow and I’ve been accepted into the Univ. of Pittsburgh’s transplant program.

I’ve been assured of the funding for the transplant, but with future medical needs and current/future living expenses, there has been no guarantee.

Many of you have been asking how you can help, even in the financial realm.

I do not enjoy asking for help, but want to make a way available to you. If you feel the Lord leading you to assist us on this very expensive journey (which will be for the remainder of my life), we will thankfully accept your help knowing you’ve added a jewel in your heavenly crown.

Jeff has set up a tax-deductible non-profit project through Helping Hands Ministry.If you feel led to help us in this endeavor, or know somebody who wants to, then please follow these directions: (IT WILL NOT BE UP AND RUNNING UNTIL MONDAY, AUGUST 9th)

1. Go to the website: www.hhmin.org
2. Click on the tab to the right called "Make a Donation"
3. Click on the tab to the far left called "Donate to Helping Hands Ministries Approved Projects"
4. Click on where it asks for "project type" and we are a “MEDICAL PROJECT”
5. Click on "project" and our project name is: Medina, Jeff and Audrea

You can also send a check to:
Helping Hands Ministries, Inc.
125 Main StreetPO Box 337
Tallulah Falls, GA 30573

Checks are made payable to Helping Hands Ministries, Inc. with recommendation to the Jeff and Audrea Medina Medical Project and that may be written in the memo of the check or on a separate sheet of paper to accompany the check.

You each have aided us so much already on this journey through your constant prayers. We are so very grateful and indebted to you already. Praise be to God for his children who lovingly care for one another.

For His Glory,Jeff and Audrea

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

I just want to live, it burns inside

Today will be a very busy day of meeting with people, possibly getting a Hickman port put in under my collar bone (TPN feeding port), learning how to hook myself up to the TPN, and how to care for myself at home.There are still many details to iron out before they’ll let me go, and honestly, I don’t want to leave until I know exactly how to care for myself.

So I’m excited about being home with my babies, but uncomfortable with the idea that I’m not going home to “normal” life.

This life of mine is forever changed and it’s pretty daunting. I don’t know what to expect, what I’ll have energy for, or how I’ll balance it all since I’m less than 100%.I’m a little bummed (well, to be honest, it’s more like quite disappointed) that I’m not headed straight to the transplant center, and this is where I detest money.

Gone are the days of good faith, good will, and assistance because people genuinely want to help or genuinely want to do what’s right. Money, greed, and power drive so many…Christians even. The tagline that it’s “just business” is a load of junk because it’s not just business to me. This is personal because this is my life, and a terribly important organ was accidentally destroyed. I want to live.

I want to be as close to whole as possible and I want to live longer than the 5-year expectancy with TPN. I want to see my children graduate high school and college. I want to see them walk the aisles with the spouse God is now preparing for them. I want to watch football games, ballet recitals, and church musicals. But most of all, I want to see my children come to know Christ in a very real and tangible way, giving over their lives to his direction. I want to see Jeff baptize them. I want to teach my children to invest in others, so that every choice they make brings honor to holy God.

I know that none of us are promised any day beyond what we have seen, and yet, I want that to be God’s decision, not man’s and I want to be in a position where it’s possible to have a longer life.

I just want to live. It burns inside.

Friday, July 30, 2010

Don't Ever Take Your Bowels for Granted, and Obey the Lord in the Early Hours

From Audrea
4am

Once again I am up early in the 4:00 hour because my poor stomach is just a churnin’ and a turnin’ and I’m awaiting my sweet nurse to bring me my small portion of pain medicine. That stuff, I think, has morphine in it, and I sure have been grateful, considering the pain I’ve been in when trying to (for the sake of being polite) “eliminate” waste. That part of the story, however, is for a little later.

I didn’t write yesterday because I’d had a bad night previous. I couldn’t go to sleep. I tossed and turned and by 1 a.m. I was cranky. I felt the Lord telling that I might as well get up, push my i.v. pole down the hall and pray for every single person on this floor.Well you know me, I had to make a fuss about that.

An argument ensued because all I wanted to do was fall asleep and stay asleep. I told the Lord people would think I was weird if I did that, and then I heard this voice (probably my own) say “people already think you’re weird, so get up and pray.” I realized this argument would continue until I obeyed, and with no hope of winning, I got up, unplugged my i.v. pole, and entered the bright hallway.No one was about, so I started on my end and slowly prayed for each patient, by name (since it’s written outside all the doors).

I figured out that about half of the patients were still awake, and most of them were well into their senior years. So I prayed for these special people who, like me, were recovering from surgery. I prayed for healing and I prayed they’d get some of the sleep I’d been deprived of.One or two of the nurses asked me if I was okay or sleepy, and I simply said I was praying. They asked me to include them, so I did.Once I finished my round, I headed back to bed and finally, around 2 a.m.

I fell asleep.

I “slept in” until 8 when the nurses came in, blinded me with the lights, took my vitals, and stuffed me full of medicine.Yesterday was a mixture of the good and the bad. I was able to find some independence by bathing myself all by myself. Oh glorious privacy.I was released from my TPM (the nutritional life support) to freely roam, unattached to my i.v. pole, for about 10 hours.

They have me on a new cyclical 14 hour intake of that stuff.So, when Jeff came in, bringing the children from getting their shots, we all took a little trip down to the “meditation garden” (guess that’s the politically correct way to call something a prayer garden). I somehow forgot it was Texas in the dead of summer. I lasted all of 3 minutes outside before calling it quits due to the extreme heat.We came back into the atrium, where I happily watched my children throwing pennies into the fountain and hopping from chair to chair.

Besides the fact that I was still in a dressing gown and sitting in a wheelchair, I felt normal watching them play unhindered.The rest of the day was a little rough. I was so very tired, but unable to sleep. And the “bowel issues” hit with full force.Because I only have the 4 inches to my small intestine my bowel functions are basically out of control. I cried sitting on the toilet as liquid streamed painfully from both ends. This is the way I’ll use the bathroom from now on, though the pain is supposed to eventually subside.

Don’t ever take your bowels for granted. I have to go a lot, too.Because I’m doing so well, I was given the go ahead to begin a “clear liquids diet”—I got to drink my first sip of water in over a week ( I have been so parched and crunching ice just doesn’t do the trick sometimes). I ate a cube of red jello, and I drank part of a glass of cranberry juice. I’m glad I didn’t overly indulge because those things, as expected, slid right through me, another bout of potty time blues.In light of everything that’s occurred, struggling with bathroom issues shouldn’t cause me as much angst as it is, but it is. I can’t get too far from a toilet, though the doctors have started me on some high powered, terrible tasting form of morphine that’s supposed to dull the pain (it does) and decrease the frequency at which I run into the bathroom. I never know when it’s going to hit, so pray for that.

I’m really struggling with this adjustment.· Pray for the next step.

We were basically accepted into a transplant program and given the green light to head up there as soon as the hospital cleared me, but we’re running into financial problems. The nature of how this occurred necessitated legal intervention and I hate that, but that’s the way the system is set up – like dealing with auto insurance after a car accident. I may wind up having to go home for awhile (learning to live on this TPN and hook myself up to the i.v. etc.) while the administrators and others work through the sticky details. I am a little worried about where it all will come from, but mostly the timing.

As you can well imagine, I’m ready for my transplant TODAY!

But, I have to trust that though this may present a big concrete roadblock, God is still in control and it will all be in His timing.

Prayer Requests:
· Pray for my mind and Jeff’s stress. Pray that we’ll truly learn to trust in God’s timing and provision for our every need.· Pray for my “movement” issues (and thank God the next time you go!!!) because I’m really struggling through this.

· Pray for my family and Jeff’s family to stay strong and united during this time.Once again, thank you for your love and support. Today is my oldest brother’s birthday (Aaron), so if you know him, give him a shout out. He’s supposed to share his birthday with me tonight, by coming by the hospital to play games.I’ve been trying to think of a clever poem or something to write about him, but the last time I did that I equated him to Chicken Little and I realized I should be encouraging/uplifting him instead.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

First Drink of Water after Eight Days

Have you ever been really, really thirsty? I remember once when I had some stomach thing, you know, we've all had them, the kind that whatever you put in comes up or down almost as fast and certainly more violently than the way it went in. I remember probably needing to be in the hospital, after not being able to keep anything down for two days, and my wife brought me a cold glass of water. Water, that simple, unobtrusive element that sustains life, never tasted so good.

So, I could not believe it when I was on the phone with my sister, who has had all but 23 inches of her small intestine removed from her body through no choice of her own, tells me that she had just had her first drink of water in eight days.

Duck took her first drink of water after eight days today. I just happened to be on the phone with her, and she said, "hold on", well since I was driving this was no small task, but to what she pleasured my eardrums with was something quite...well. I heard, gasps, chokes, grunts, and then something that sounded like...well, it's hard to explain, that "ahhhh" sound when something totally satisfies you.

I said, "Duck, what's going on over there?" She said, "well, I'm having to take my medicine and it's really nasty morphine that I have to stick under my tongue, it is the most disgusting tasting thing ever, and I have to wash it down." So, I thought, I was hearing the nasty medicine, in the mouth (gag), under the tongue (grunt), water (ahhhh), medicine going down (choke), more water (ahhh, more choke), more water (gulp), then satisfaction (more ahhhh's).

"Al, she said, that was my first drink of water since I've been in here. Jeff eats in front of me all the time, it doesn't bother me, but when he has that large, delicious looking cup of Coca-Cola, I start to salivate like the dog of Pavlov."

I think of a story from the Bible (John 4), where Jesus meets a woman who was at the well to acquire water. Jesus asks her for a drink. She looks at Jesus, doesn't give him a drink, suspiciously and without reservation, either through inquiry or chastisement says, "why do you ask me for a drink?" He gently then tells her that if she only knew who had asked her for a drink, she would've immediately asked Him for "living water."

Jesus then tells her that whoever drinks His water, His life, they will never thirst again, and "it will be a fountain of water springing up to everlasting life."

So, when I think of Audrea who hadn't had a drink in 8 days, suddenly getting to drink water, knowing that she, and you, and I will all thirst again. But Jesus Christ, has the ability to quench the thrist of our souls so that we will say "ahhhh" in him. It might take some grunting, gasping, choking, and gaping, but in the end, Jesus promises to those He gives His water/His life, they will continually say, "ahhhh".

As, you drink this day, this week, think of a young 31-year old mother, who laid in a hospital bed for 8 days before she sipped down some of the sweetest, most refreshing water she had ever tasted.

What do you take for granted? What fills your life?

Alex V

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Wednesday Morning Dawns

From Audrea:

I am up incredibly early in the morning. There’s an electric spark in the air and after Jeff helped me to the bathroom at 4:00 a.m., my mind was wide awake, grateful, and energized.

I slept 4 hours in a row, after a terrible coughing/choking fit from the NG tube, where my nurse had to rush in and save the day by pulling it out (through my nose). I guess that’s one way to get rid of something that’s caused so much pain in my ear.The tube was scheduled to come out later this morning, anyway, but I told Jeff they were going to think I choked on purpose to get it out.

Naturally, true to Jeff form, he said, “anybody who knows you knows you’re the chokingest fool alive.” It’s true and that’s our joke about me. I choke on anything.

On our first anniversary date, I choked so hard on a bread crumb that the entire restaurant basically stopped eating to turn and watch me. That was slightly embarrassing.This morning though, the electric charge I feel is the same as when you know good change is coming, like the first breath of cool air after a hot Texas summer. Change is coming, and I’m getting ready.I’m walking everywhere…well, everywhere they’ll allow me to on my floor. I’m ready to get out and explore the rest of the hospital. God is so amazing in that I have this drive--this energy-- that’s been missing.

Today is Wednesday; I entered the hospital exactly one week ago, where my life hung delicately waiting to see if my Holy Father would bring me to my eternal home.Even though I’m a Christian, there’s still been this earthly fear settled within me about heaven. I usually fear the unknown, and though I know what Scripture says about heaven, and I know it will be much more glorious than I can even imagine, heaven represents a change, an unknown “x” factor to after –life. Now, though, when I was almost there, I do feel just a little bit of regret that I missed it this time. I almost saw Jesus and I was ready.The fear is gone, though. Praise God, the fear is gone.

I’ve been thinking about the wonderful people who’ve come to visit. Thank you. You’ve been an encouragement to me. If you want to come see me, please do. I try to reserve the mornings for my exercise, bath, quiet time, and time for my children’s visits…afternoons for more exercise and rest (if it comes), and after 4 or 5 for visitors.

I was also thinking of all the offers for help, and I’ve thought of a way that you can help me in the immediate days ahead. I miss music. I miss worship music, praise music, lovin’ on the Father music, hymns…whatever. I want to see if Jeff will buy me a cheap little cd player, and if you would be so kind, send me your favorite Christian artist. You can send it to my house and Jeff will pick it up and bring it to me. I would be most grateful. 303 West Barron Avenue, Everman, TX 76140.

My usual favorite past-time is to read, and I’ve already received quite a collection. I’m not there yet, but I am ready to hear some uplifting words in the musical form.On another note, you’ve all been so gracious to write me. I haven’t even had time to check out my “Praying for Audrea” page since I’ve had a few moments online myself.

When my brother, Alex, was here, and I was still in ICU, he’d come back with his laptop and read me your beautiful words of prayer and encouragement. Thank you. I wish I could respond to every person who writes in. It honestly has been wearing me out trying to keep up, so please don’t shoot me dirty thoughts if I don’t respond.

My energy levels (though sparking with electricity this morning) don’t give me hours at a time to invest in one thing. I do one “task” and then rest, another one and then rest. Pretty soon, my endurance will be built up, but right now, rest must come after every little thing. And I MUST continue to heal

•Add my Jeff to your prayer list. He’s balancing so much right now. I want him to be able to find peace in all of his running back and forth, and to remain as stress free as possible, finding patience with the children, and the supernatural ability to get it all done.

•Pray for our next step. We think we have settled on a transplant center, but all of the small details that go into that require time and attention. Pray for the center, the doctors, and most of all the life that has to be lost so I may receive a new small bowel. And there is a waiting list, but we’ll find out soon what that all entails.Blessings on your Wednesday, and now I’m off, back to bed to rest.

From Alex:
We always knew my sister, the Duck, was a special girl, woman, wife, etc., but she continues to astound us all with her ability to be tenacious. Tenacity has always described her, but it is evident through the words that she pens, that she is both tired and driven. These juxtaposing ideas, are clashing in, over, and around her body. She is a woman whose mind is probably stronger than ever, her spirit is being renewed, yet her body is in a perilous way. She is the picture of the Christ-like life.

As you follow her story, please share it with others. She told our mother shortly after it happened, when she was more coherent and awake, "when people think of my name, I want them to think of God's glory." Point others to this blog, to her blog, to the Facebook pages, to the Bible, and ultimately to Christ. Audrea's life is about directing others to Christ. It is a narrow path that she is on, but the Word says, "narrow is the path to life, and there are few who find it."

We love you Duck!

Monday, July 26, 2010

The Meaning of "One Pink Duck"

Tom and Marta Vann on a cold day in Colorado, February 5th, 1979 to be exact, welcomed into life, one little, pink "ducky". The name ascribed to the birth certificate was not "Ducky" in fact, it was Audrea. Not many of the hearers of her name upon the initial sound in their ears is quite sure how to spell Audrea. Is it Audrey, is it Andrea, is it Audra? "No" it is A-U-D-R-E-A, like "ahh-dree-uh", oh, how interesting.

How interesting she truly is, and certainly would become. She, was later welcomed home by three rough, voracious, wild-eyed and wild-haired brothers: Aaron, Elliott, and Alex(ander). They did not quite now what to make of a little pink-skinned, pink-bowed, brown-eyed, tender, tiny little creature that was neither rough, rash, brash, or crass. Then, their "Faah-ther" (from Tom Vann's own Tidewater accent), kept referring to her as his little "Ducky". What? the boys would later think? Duck-ee? rhymes with Yuck-ee...and other cruel things that little brothers do to little sisters, but at least initially, they were enamored with her. Her father was so happy, a little, baby girl. Her mother, finally...not a boy.

The Family of three boys and a girl, a mom and a dad, quickly grew to five boys and a girl. A regular basketball team, 5 players, and a cheerleader. Duck, has always been our cheerleader. She has always checked-in, and checked-up on all her five brothers, their wives, and their children. She has been a perfect sister, despite, having no sister and all brothers.

Having five brothers will do something to you. I'm not sure what it is, but perhaps that is for another time, but what it did was draw her mother and father's hearts very close indeed. How could it not, a rose among so many thorns. Dad called her Ducky, it is derived from some expression our friends from across the Atlantic say to a little, cute girl--"ducky". She wasn't our little cute girl, she was our sister, so we dropped the "y" and just called her Duck. It never seemed strange to me that I was calling my sister a feathered, fowls name or that someone might have thought she resemebled a webbed-footed, flat-billed, swimming, honking cast of nature. No, without thinking, we would say, "where's Duck?", "hey, Duck, how's it going?", "what you reading these days, Duck?"

She is precious. She is kind. She is caring. She is honest. She is witty. She is funny. She can be cross. She can cause you to laugh at yourself or herself. She is very much her Father's daughter in many ways (but, she should be). Daddy's girl was Duck to her brothers.

We love our duck. Pink represents her femminity. My parents helped her protect her God-given, femminity. She wasn't the girliest of girls, but she was no tom-boy. However, she could match wits, jokes, stories, or brains with any of us. She, by conditioning, developed a fighting spirit, but she's not fighter. She developed a sharp, confident, and witty mind, but she's humble and unassuming.

One, because she was the only girl. She was one among five. One out of six.

Thus, One-Pink-Duck describes My sister Audrea Vann Medina.

what think you?