Saturday, June 26, 2010

I've Become a Statistic!

Friday afternoon I got what was probably the most unusual phone call of my life. A woman who identified herself as being with the  Sacramento Center for Disease Control called and said based on test results from my stay in the hospital, she needed to ask me some follow up questions, the first being "Have you recently been around any pregnant or birthing goats?" HUH?!

It turns out one of the tests was positive for Q Fever (I have no idea if this is somehow related to the odd recurring character on Star Trek: The Next Generation). It is transmitted through contact with animals, especially pregnant ones (she also asked if any of our rabbits were pregnant). My first question for her was why was she telling me that a test came back positive but my doctor said everything was negative. Well, it turns out that these tests aren't like asking "Is this paper blank or does it have writing on it?" They are more like "When I need to do the dishes, there are often dishes scattered around the house where I left them. I'll check a couple of rooms and if I don't see any dishes, I probably don't need to do the dishes." That is, the tests are for signs of different symptoms that may (or may not) indicate various illnesses. Thus, she needed to follow up on a positive test for Q Fever, since it is required by law to be reported to the CDC, but the doctor had probably seen something else that ruled it out (but she said I should let him know that it would probably be a good idea to do a follow up test).

This method of testing also explains why that, although the blood marrow they extracted didn't show any signs of malignancy, they still want to do a biopsy of my lymph glands, with the current question being "Can we do it with a needle and cat scan as an out patient or do we need to go in surgically and extract the sample?" Yes, the fun just never stops. 

The good news is, Q Fever is treatable (but may develop into a long term infection, still treatable, but a major disruption to one's life) and that this test (A simple blood draw on my part. Good lord, I'm starting to feel like I'm stuck in a teenage vampire movie. Last time I saw the doc he ordered another 12 vials drawn to check for Lupus) should be done before they go forward with the lymph biopsy. In addition, I had a good day so far today (in spite of the US being knocked out of the World Cup). 

So, a little more on the inner side of this journey. Early on, during one of my 3:00 am wrestling with a fever sessions, I started asking, "What is the lesson in all this?" The answer that came (and continues to come) is "Let go, give in, surrender, all will become clear in the fullness of time." While I find it hard at times to follow this, there is not a lot else I can (or feel I need to) do. There is no diagnosis to rail against, no enemy to fight. I find myself surrounded by loving friends and family all praying and pulling for me. At last count I was being held in the prayers and thoughts of two Bible study groups, a Healing Touch group, a Native American Healing Circle, a Eucharist Community, and countless  individuals. I've been prayed over, ministered to, chanted around, anointed, and sent some wonderful cards. Far from feeling despair that nothing has "worked," I feel joy and great gratitude at the outpouring of care and concern from you all. Kahlil Gibran once wrote that "Sorrow carves the cup that holds our joy." I have come to see something of the same in that illness clears our eyes of the ordinariness of life. When in the hospital I was moved to tears by the sight on a screen of my heart beating in real time. I was struck how God had formed and placed one of these in each of us and set it the task to selflessly beat day and night to give us the gift of life. And what was more, at least from the angle that I was looking at, the valves, opening and closing together in rhythm, seemed to be a bird or butterfly constantly in flight in my chest.

Enough said for now. Please feel free to leave comments below. On a more practical note, my email is currently broken, so if you have written to me recently I may not have received it or, at least, am unable to reply. This should be cleared up on Monday. Also, if you follow rss feeds, there should be a tag somewhere on this page (maybe in the address bar?) where you can subscribe to this blog and it will let you know when I've posted something new. Finally, you may not have notices, but the video posts below are three years old. That is NOT what I'm doing at home right now.

3 comments:

  1. Peggy7:08 PM

    Dear Talib--
    Thank you for your informative blog!
    I just "wikipediaed" Q fever . . . Says: "It can be considered the most infectious disease in the world, as a human being can be infected by a single bacterium." Also, that at risk occupations include "people who cull and process kangaroos."
    No wonder the woman from the Sacramento Center for Disease Control wanted to talk to you . . . .

    ReplyDelete
  2. Anonymous7:34 PM

    Dave asks, What if Mr. T Was a Grief Counselor?
    You had best be prepared, because you are going to have to fight the 5 stages of grief or,
    as we professionals call it, the Kubler-Ross model. Or, as I call it, jive talk.

    The first stage is denial. This is when you act like a fool and pretend nothing is wrong.
    Don’t do that! Something is wrong, fool! Unless you got hit on the head, this gets you
    nowhere.

    The second stage is anger. Are you angry? Why? At who? I advise you not to raise your voice to me or I will be forced to put you back in your place. I do not have time to find out who. I am getting things done. When I starred in Rocky 3, I had to actually, literally beat the taste out of Sylvester Stallone’s mouth because he was a disgrace, do you hear me?

    The third stage will be bargaining and don’t even try to strike a deal with Mr. T. Have you
    seen all my gold chains? What on Earth do you have that I could want? Your friendship? A
    turkey sandwich? The ability to fly a homemade airplane? You have nothing I want and you should never forget that.

    The fourth stage is depression and this is where you truly become a disgrace. You wear your skinny jeans and put on eye liner and you think Mr. T is going to buy you a soda pop and say cheer up? Don’t be foolish.

    The final stage is acceptance and this is where Mr. T lives. Welcome to my house. Wipe your shoes. Once you accept acceptance you will no longer be quite as disgraceful and that’s good, because your family was probably getting sick of you.

    Listen up! I know this situation is hard. I know you feel like a sucka. I know all kinds of
    things. Things happen. That’s how things work. You need to know that. Tell me you know that.
    Say it. Louder!

    I know your sense of loss is going wild. You are confused and maybe damp. These are all
    normal feelings. These feelings should be felt. You will feel them and you will do so right
    now.

    Probably when you die, you’ll want to have a quote ready. I already have one. Just before
    you die, you're going to say “Rosebud” and it will mystify everyone in the room. Then you
    will die pitying those fools and it will mean your entire life was worthwhile.

    You need to pick your chin up and remember to keep moving. Like a shark, if you sit still
    for too long you will get eaten by another shark and you do not want that.

    Now you are properly adjusted and can go on with your life. I’m proud of you. You should be proud of you. Go on with your life, keep pitying fools and God bless.

    YES,thank you, take care of bb.

    ReplyDelete
  3. What if they got the alphabet letter wrong? Maybe it's W fever? (W for 'what the hell is wrong with me!?)
    hehehe.

    Hang in there big brother, I'm thinking of you every day!

    ReplyDelete