We all need hugs

[baddhabbitt]

THE HUG I RECEIVED.  I have an understanding that all people no matter what level or position in life has heartaches.  It is the particular life in each person that looks upon something in their life that they may have the "whoa is me" outlook.  With that said, then also I know that my situation could be worse; but more than likely be less that another's, if I were to just apply myself to their mind-think instead of mine.

On March 28, 2007 I took my wife to the VA ER and throughout the day of their mind-think, it was just another usual day. But, in my mind-think I only recognized salvation and rescue well into  2:00am the next morning right after emergency surgery.  I was told that she sometime in the past week or longer had developed constipation and she had actually in her attempts to pass it out she blew a hole in her colon 3" to 4" big.  Throughout the week as she continually strained because of the constipation she was filling her body cavity with pooh.  The surgeon stated to me that they first started were dipping out the pooh with their hands cupped together, then turning to suction pumps and irrigating it with water until they could only hope all bacteria was out.  They also had to milk her colon of that constipated material and flush the colon until it was clean.

Only then were they able to cut away at least three areas that had developed gangrene and attach her colon to her stomach wall for an colostomy bag.

The surgery alone was just over 6 1/2 hrs, the surgeon that did the the job had put in a full day with more surgeries before he got to her.

She the went to recovery and then on to ICU on a ventilator, they had to give her three units of blood to fight the bacteria there.  She was in ICU over three weeks until she was ready for another operation, this one was to close a gaping hole that was left due to the removal of other skin that the gangrene had destroyed.

The only way to close it was to sew in a new type graft material that had human blood cells that would promote new growth of skin.  It had been introduced to repair the skin damage of severe burn victims.  The surgeon said this one sheet of material measuring approximately 7" by 13"  would cost the government over $10,600.  My wife laughingly said "they must think I am worth something."

This is when I got the hug of a life time!  This Surgeon suddenly stood tall, as if at attention and said, "You served your country, and now your country is to serve you." (By the way my wife and I served in the USAF in the mid to late 1970's.

What I really want all to understand is this man was born in India and educated in the USA.  What he said and the way he said it gave me back something within that I had some how lost way back when through the disrespect that I had felt over 20 yrs. ago.

I want to also say thanks America for taking care of my wife and I when we really needed your help.

And to all men and women that are serving our country, we send you a verbal and spiritual hug.

[lunarcraft]

It's true that what you give you get returned three-fold - I would say that you and your wife deserved the payback ... just a shame you both had to go through the ordeal to get the return.

I am sending you one of my HUGE hugs each - thanks for sharing your experience with us.

Brightest Blessings

Sarah

[baddhabbitt]

Thank you! I will pass it on to others.

Goodness and Mercy be upon you.

[Nicole]

Amazing,
Hugs to you both~!!  :)

[wiccan_goddess2002]

wow.... Hugs to you both. What a touching story. I am sitting with tears in my eyes.

Blessings to you both,
Angel

[suzisco]

A hug to you.  I wish your wife a steady and uneventful recovery.  I wish for you a time of calm and serenity.

Suzi

[Samson]

baddhabbitt you and your wife deserve a very big HUG for what you both went through, so I'm sending one from me.

Samson.

[taraprincess]

what an amazing story, u and your wife are true heroes, here is a huge hug

[baddhabbitt]

My thoughts this morning went to the blood transfusions that my wife had to have, that was very important in fighting the pneumonia that had set in because of the need of the respirator and her blood being so contaminated with bacteria that it alone could not battle all infection within her system.

My wife and I have not ever been able to donate blood because she has hepatitis C within her blood that she developed a year or so before I met her when she was giving birth to her first child, the child died a day after being born.  That infection came into her system through a blood transfusion.

The reason I can't donate is because I had TB when I was 4 yrs old through exposure to a relative that was not just a carrier but a spreader too.  These are permanent fixtures in our life.

Thank all that is good and wondrous that it was these events in the medical histories that forced changes of microscopic screening to prevent the spread of these and other diseases.

Now to my thoughts of this morn.  My wife and I in deed served our country many years ago.  But my tugs of heart and mind go out to those people who have served and do serve their country through what most consider a simple act in the donating blood.

To me this procedure is not so simple.

In the last few years I have finally began to come to grips with my own PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) which normally when most hear of it they consider the veterans that have gone through trauma of some type while serving their country.

I have a deep, uncontrollable fear of needles.  The reason?  In the 1950's the tuberculosis epidemic was so dangerous that the government made it law that those infected would be put into sanitariums to be treated (the real truth is experimented on).

I, my friends, am one of those that was torn from their family at the age of 4 yrs old.  Daily shots with needles that to me seemed a foot long, and almost daily forced to swallow tubes (they were made of rubber then and did not taste as good as today's plastic ones).  It got to the point that because of the fear I would organize the other children of the ward to help push all beds into a corner of the room and we all would crawl way in to the back to escape our tormentors.  I learned to manipulate elevators to the point of hanging up between floors so that it would delay them, all the while giggling in the corner of that little six by six box.  (I think that is one reason that during my POW school training many years later I was able to simply go to sleep when our "captures" put us in 4 by 4 boxes and such.)

Dang John, get to the point will ya?

Hugs to all you that willingly give your blood for others.

Oh!, by the way?  Those experiments worked, after six months in that santitarium in St. Paul, MN I was sent home, now just a carrier that would always have a  TB Tine test of positive, and not a spreader which would have meant I would not be here today to say "HUGS TO ALL YOU GIVERS"

[symulhaque]

A worm hug to all of my friends.