Keeping the Faith

You know that feeling when you leave a big test knowing you totally aced it, only to have it returned to you covered in red pen?

Or when you stay up late and don't do your homework because the weatherman literally promised that there would be a snow day, and not a flake of snow falls from the sky?

Or maybe when you were super excited because you had the most votes on your scholarship essay, and when you see an envelope in your mailbox from the Mayo Clinic, you tear it open because you are absolutely convinced that it is a letter declaring that you won...and then it's just a giant bill?

Yea, I'm there.

Friends, the truth is, you did your part and then some. As I said in my last post, you shared and emailed and liked and commented. You blew me away with your support and faith and thanks to you, on the last day of voting, I had the most votes by a landslide.

But the judges didn't pick me.

It's like being voted captain of the team and never leaving the bench.

I'd like to tell you that I brushed it off easily.
I'd like to tell you that I really didn't care that much.
I'd like to tell you that I hadn't already started a list of questions and specific items to address at the conference.

But I can't.

I was crushed. I might still be a little bit crushed.

[Ok fine, guilty as charged.]

Something inside of me was so sure that this was my chance to do something big. I just knew it.

Turns out digestion isn't the only area where my gut is lacking.

So it's certainly not the first time I've been kicked down a mountain I hoped to climb. And it's certainly not the first time I've been disappointed. But somehow this one dug just a little bit deeper and is taking a little bit longer to heal.

But if I have learned only one thing throughout this whole journey, it is that every kick down the mountain is an opportunity to learn. I have to have faith that my cards are playing out in a way that opens the doors for growth and experience.

I just have to.

Faith is a big word.
It means so many different things to so many people, and in my opinion, none of them are wrong. Faith is an extremely personal and reflective piece of our lives and it manifests itself differently in all of us.

And that's ok.

But for me, right now at this moment, faith is the foundation on which I stand. It is the hope in the unseen. It is my confident belief that though I may be disappointed, this is a chance for me to grow and learn and dive a little bit deeper into who I am. After all, unexpected as it may be, nothing can be lost by an opportunity to look a little farther into your inner workings and find out what really and truly lies at your core.

And although there are some days when it is really hard to keep the faith and it is really hard to breathe deep and know that greater things are ahead...I do my best.

Ironically, one of my favorite movie quotes is from the 2000 rom-com "Keeping the Faith," a true VHS classic. "The truth is you can never tell yourself there is only one thing you could be. You cannot make a real commitment unless you accept that it's a choice that you keep making again and again and again."

I was surprised.
And crushed.
And yes, maybe even a little bit bitter. [insert sheepish face here]

But what I do with those feelings is up to me, and I want to make the choice again and again and again to keep the faith. I want to be open to new experiences. I want to let the feeling of your amazing support rise above the stab of disappointment and pave a path towards opportunity.

So I'll do my best.

After all, I hear it's pretty chilly in Minnesota.

This Story is Not Over

Do you ever have those moments where you wonder how on earth you are going to describe a feeling, when you already know an adequate adjective doesn't even exist in the first place?

No?

Well I'm having one of those moments right now.

Friends, in short, I am blown away. 

Voting closes in a few hours (see my last post for details!) and there are goosebumps on my arms when I tell you that I never, in my wildest dreams, could have imagined the support that has come from every corner of the globe. I am beyond humbled and moved by your unwavering belief in me and regardless of the outcome, I will carry the warmth of your thoughts with me for many years to come.

And just so we're clear, I'm writing this post while under a blanket and wearing sweatpants, a fleece, and fuzzy slippers in August...so you can have it on good authority that those are 100% authentic emotional goosebumps.

Just in case you were skeptical of my rock-star status circulation. 

In other news, two weeks ago I cleaned out my classroom.

I had been dreading it for weeks. 

And there may or may not have been sappy country music songs on repeat during the drive to school, because you can't exactly prepare yourself to see seven years of teaching packed into brown boxes in a corner office.

But, truth be told?

It was kind of fun.

Ok fine. 

After a good friend arrived, and after I put on my Finding Nemo hat that just happened to be on the top of the pile, and after I started finding hilarious photos of my amazing students...then it was fun.

That really surprised me.

Over these last few months, I have spent so much time pondering how I would find closure and how I would really move on and how I would take the next step in my life...that I missed the fact that I already did.

The truth is that this story is not over.

Yes, I was forced to leave a career that I love, but I have a new one that continues to stretch and challenge me with each passing day.

Yes, I had to fight back tears when I ran into students who hugged me and asked when I could come back to school, but now I have clients who are showing me how to teach in a new way.

And yes, this is so very far from the life I imagined, but what a privilege it is to be part of this most unexpected journey.

So friends, from the very bottom of my heart, please accept my most sincere gratitude. Thank you for lifting my spirits, thank you for your unwavering support and dedication, and thank you for believing in me. 

Contest or no contest, I won't let you down.

Vote for me! Pretty please?

Greetings friends!

Recently I entered a scholarship contest at my home-away-from-home, The Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Freeze-Your-Buns-Off Minnesota. Mayo is hosting a Social Media Week in October where patient advocates have the opportunity to collaborate with doctors, administrators and other health professionals on using social media tools and making healthcare more patient-centered. Double win!

As both a patient and a health coach, this is certainly a golden opportunity and I would be thrilled to participate! There is only one catch...I need to win!

SO friends...[prepare for the shameless plug], if you feel that I would be a good candidate for this scholarship and agree that I have a strong commitment to enhancing patient healthcare, please vote!

(and if you don't, maybe call me so I can bribe you with cookies convince you otherwise?)

**Please note, there are TWO ways to vote, so please read carefully!**

No really, please read VERY carefully. 

Smooches?

1. Follow this link to my entry: 

http://network.socialmedia.mayoclinic.org/discussion/lydia-buschenfeldt-patientcaregiver-scholarship-2013

2. After you read my essay, if you like it, you will be prompted to register for an account at the bottom of the page. FEAR NOT - this is simply so they know how to count the votes as it prevents one person from voting 234029384082 times. You will NOT have an inbox filled with junk mail!

(But I would love the person who voted 234029384082 times. Just sayin')

3. After you have registered for an account, you will be able to vote! There are three ways to do this...a) leave a positive comment that briefly explains why I would be a good candidate in the comment box below the essay, b) "like" the essay by clicking the like button underneath the essay and c) BOTH!

Please note, "liking" this essay on Facebook, or even with the Facebook "like" tab that comes up on the upper right-hand screen does not count as a vote!

The icing on the cake? Voting will continue through August 9th, so you even have time to tell your friends all over the world! Score!

I would really love to go and can't do so without your support...so please vote! And tell your pals!

Cheers to health and happiness, my friends!

A Belated Cheers

Long lost friends! Remember when I wrote a heartfelt introduction to my new business, released my website to the blogosphere, and then disappeared off the face of the earth?

Yea, sorry about that.

Truth be told, it has been an interesting couple of weeks.

("Interesting" is clearly a code word for extraordinarily medically ridiculous. Duh.)

Ya see, instead of celebrating the release of my business with green juice cocktails and sparkly shoes, I celebrated with a night in the emergency room and a saline drip. Coincidentally, this grand celebration coincided with Mr. Restarting My Hard Drive's 30th birthday...and nothing says party time quite like ringing in your big birthday on the horribly uncomfortable plastic chairs in the ER (Yes, I'm accepting nominations for Wife of the Year 2013).

My tribe at Mayo thought I had an infection in my bone marrow biopsy sites. The ER determined that I had a virus. Two and a half weeks of a high fever later, it was determined that I actually had a sinus infection and pneumonia. Details.

In the midst of all of this respiratory loveliness, I "treated" myself to my very first MRSA scare (check that puppy off the bucket list!). Turns out I don't have MRSA, I'm just allergic to my feeding tube.

Yep. The one I've had for years.

I mean, why not?

So when life hands you fake-MRSA, pneumonia and a sinus infection, you are supposed to rest. A lot. (Ya know, the whole lungs are compromised but you need them to breathe thing).

But if, hypothetically of course, your levels from your non-existent thyroid decide to skyrocket up at the same time as said infections, let me assure you that there will be no resting. Yes, there is a reason it is called hyperthyroidism.

Purely hypothetically, of course.

(But just so we're clear, I'm still baffled that an organ that I no longer possess can turn me into an insomniac robot. A robot with frizzy hair. Because the organ I no longer possess can also change my hair texture. Clearly.)

On the plus side, my file cabinet has never been so organized.

Needless to say, recovery was a wee-bit delayed and may or may not have taken more than one round of gluten-dairy-yellow dye-sulfa-penicillin-free antibiotics. Short of losing my mind, I did what anyone would do to save their sanity.

I cleared my schedule and got out of dodge.

For a week, I disappeared with my family to the Pocono Mountains in Pennsylvania...the home of my cherished yearly family vacation for the past 30 years (34 years for Ma and Pa!). I replaced doctor's appointments with bike rides and disability paperwork with long naps. I played cards with my hubby and read three books and even got my parents to start their day with green juice shots.

I slowed down. I breathed (thank you antibiotics!). It was glorious.

I recommend a good dose of "escape from reality" for any ailment. Except beware of that whole "have to come home eventually" thing. It's a dagger.

But now that I'm home, and no longer an emphysemic robot, I'd like to finally raise a proverbial glass of green juice - to summer,  to hair elastics, the dawn of a new medical month, and most importantly to you. Thank you for allowing me to share my new adventure with your unparalleled love and support.

Cheers to health and happiness, my friends!

Hatching Hatch

Greetings, friends!

Quick housekeeping note - by popular demand, you can now receive blog updates via email! Simply enter your email in the white box on the right side of the screen that says "Follow By Email" and voila, the blog posts will magically appear in your inbox.

It's magic, really! Right up there with unicorns and wizards.

Anyway, onto more important things - hatching.

Two Mays ago I ran my first half-marathon. My body was literally falling apart, but I didn't know or understand it yet. Somehow, by the power of my pride on the line and the knowledge that my mother was holding her breath for the entire 13.1 miles, I crossed the finish line.

Don't get me wrong, I was thrilled to have finished and my medal is still proudly hanging in my home. However, I really beat myself up mentally about how I did. At the time I had absolutely no concept of the chaos within and couldn't understand why it had been such a struggle (now I look back and haven't the foggiest clue how I finished at all). I immediately started plotting for my next race and thought about what I could change to perform better (read: make it look a little bit less like I was dying whilst running). I started looking at races right about the time that my body really and truly broke down and I was swept off into a whirlwind of hospitals, tests, traveling, learning and growing that has yet to stop.

Exactly a year later, I received an official letter congratulating me for qualifying for long-term disability. It rocked me to the core and took me several days and a lot of self reflection to accept the fact that a body could go from running 13.1 miles to being declared as legally disabled in a matter of 365 days. As a way of coping, I shared that I was going to set a new milestone in May of 2013. I didn't know what I would do - I thought I would walk a 5K or start painting again or write a big, special blog post.

Instead, I started a business.

Friends, I'd like to formally introduce you to the new love of my life: Hatch Health and Happiness!

My business is up and running - I already work with clients all over the United States and have a real-deal fancy business card to prove it!

The name Hatch was originally an acronym - Help Adapting To Changing Health- but it has morphed into the concept that we are never really starting from scratch. When you are diagnosed with an allergy or disease, discover a food sensitivity, become frustrated with your endless weight loss battle or throw your hands up and surrender to stress, it can feel like you have to completely start again to feel better. Change is scary, and even more so when you do it alone. I help my clients learn to hatch from within and make lifestyle and dietary changes to reclaim their health and happiness.

I've been in that dark and terrifying bottom of the barrel. It wasn't fun. Couldn't find a darn unicorn anywhere.

So I made a choice to make a change.

I chose to re-focus my life's purpose.
I chose to pay my journey forward.
I chose to go back to school and become a health coach.

And now, with first-day-of-school-jitters, I'm ready to share it all with you.

So, friends.

Deep breath

Without further ado, allow me to formally introduce you to my business:

www.hatchhealthhappiness.com

Hurry up and Wait

Hurry up and wait.

Anyone who has ever spent any time in a hospital, or really any medical setting at all, understands the concept of hurry up and wait.

You wait for appointments. And tests. And results. And then for the appointment with a new specialty area that occurs because of the results from the test that was ordered by the doctor for whom you waited months for an appointment in the first place.

Hurry, skedaddle, rush.
Wait.
Wait.
Wait.

In the medical world, you also wait for answers.

I'm still waiting.

Earlier this week I had a bilateral bone marrow biopsy. A procedure which involved 9 IV holes in my arms, 1 hole in my finger and 2 giant holes in my hip bones. Then I had an endoscopy, which involved 3 chunks removed from my esophagus and, frankly, a pretty sweet anesthesia induced nap.

In short, I look a bit like a road full of potholes.

Potholes which showed absolutely nothing.

I feel a bit like my disappointment can't be warranted. After all, I knew there was a high probability for negative test results.

But warranted or not, I was still hoping. Not even for a diagnosis, but at least for a clue. Something to lead me in the right direction. To reopen my proverbial case and reorient my compass.

Zilch.

Where's Dr. House when you need him?
[I'd be ok with waking up from anesthesia to Hugh Laurie. Just saying.]

So now I'm back to waiting. I'll wait the necessary off-medicine 10 weeks before I have my blood drawn again to see if it will show anything fabulous and exciting. And I'll go through the grand dog and pony show of acquiring dry ice again for said blood extraction. And then, just for a change of pace, I'll wait.

It's funny how the moments you want to get here seem to take waiting to a new level, and the moments you want nothing to do with seem to appear out of thin air.

This morning I woke up and realized it was May 16th. Two days past May 14th.

Um, just how much anesthesia did they give her this week??

May 14th, 2013 seemed like a day that was SO far away when it was first mentioned to me as a deadline. It was a deadline that I never thought I would need to know, because never in my wildest dreams did I think it would apply to me.

May 14th, 2013 is the day that I lost my position at my beloved elementary school.

When I first transitioned into long term disability, I never thought I would stay on it through the deadline. It was supposed to be temporary, just a time to rest and heal. I never thought that I wouldn't return to my home and school family of 7 years. It never even crossed my mind.

I never thought there would be a day when someone would ask me what I do and I would have to pause...because I'm not entirely sure of the answer.

I have to believe that my body is guiding me on a journey that will ultimately lead to new discoveries - both for myself and others in my field of medical mysteries. I have to believe that my decision to go back to school and pursue the field of holistic health was my opportunity to make a change in the midst of chaos and use my experience to help others follow their own path.

As tough as these past few weeks have been, both physically and mentally, I have to believe that this journey is leading me somewhere, as long as I have the patience and perseverance enough to follow.

So I'm going to hurry up and help my body heal the potholes.
I'm going to pack up my bags and head home to hug my husband, my bed and my juicer.
And then with open ears and a battle-worn heart, I will wait.

Consistency

Ya know friends, if nothing else, at least I'm consistent.

I fly to Minnesota for a few appointments, and end up with several. 

I book a return flight, and I move it. Sometimes two times. Or five.

This trip has proven to be no different.

I arrived in Minnesota on Tuesday and technically speaking, should have flown home yesterday.

Shocker, I'm still here.

(I know, I know...didn't see that one coming, did you??)

After a three hour appointment with my immunologist on Wednesday, it has now been officially stated that Mayo has never seen anyone quite like me, they have no idea of a cause and my diagnosis is now recorded as a "complex and obscure multi-system illness."

Personally I think "hot mess" has a better ring to it, but what do I know?

As my doctor stated, "we are in unchartered waters."

I think he expected me to be shocked by this. 

Instead, I laughed.

Let's be honest - I have known I've been in unchartered waters for quite awhile, I just needed everyone else to get on board.

The medical nerd part of me is more than a little fascinated by the fact that I may be in possession of a disease or viral response that has yet to be discovered.

The practical side, on the other hand, is a wee bit unsettled. Details.

It should, however, be noted that I am extraordinarily lucky to have the most brilliant doctor ever to roam the earth. I can practically feel my IQ rising every time I meet with him. 

And most importantly when I asked him if he would vote for me for mayor of Rochester, he promised to give me serious consideration.

Smart man. Clearly.

At this point, we are at a bit of a crossroads. I have clearly defined and increasing symptoms in several systems of my body. I have exhausted countless pharmacological and holistic treatment options. I could write a Fodor's guide to medical testing. And I'm in unchartered waters.

Good thing I like to swim. 

I'll start next week with a bone marrow biopsy in not one, but both of my hips (ya know, just to really double the fun). Turns out mast cells are finicky little fellows that often flee with great haste at the sight of a giant hollow needle (for the record, can't say that I really blame them?) so the test is done on both sides in order to increase your chances of finding the results you need. And even if I get a negative result after completing the test bilaterally, we still can't completely rule out a mastocytosis diagnosis, because my little mast cell friends are just THAT picky.

So to give us a little bit more information, sometime next week I'll also have another upper GI endoscopy. You would think with the number of neck organs I have lost in the last few years that I would have a recent endoscopy on file, but it has actually been over 2 years since a camera was jammed down my throat purely to examine my esophagus and stomach. Plus it turns out that eosinophils, a type of white blood cell, can sometimes be drawn out when you have too many mast cells, and can cause difficulty swallowing. So there's that.

I was supposed to have some other testing to use as a second option for route of treatment. It was supposed to be a very easy and clear-cut decision on whether or not to proceed with the bone marrow exam and endoscopy or head in an entirely new direction. I completed some simple blood work on Wednesday and when the results came back astoundingly out of the normal range, there was a brief 48 hour period where it looked like after 3 years of this journey, I might finally have results. Or at the very least, I might finally have known the direction that we are headed.

But, at the end of the day, we are all human, and it turns out those results were not actually indicative of any clinical findings in the slightest. 

Somehow my doctor, the administrative assistant and the laboratory all missed that I take a medicine for reflux. This medicine completely skews the test results and renders all of them inconclusive.

Ready for the kicker?

You have to be off of the medicine for 8-10 weeks prior to re-testing.

Minnesota road trip in August anyone?

There is a strong likelihood that both the bone marrow biopsy and endoscopy will come back with negative results. The invariable nature of both tests, combined with my all star achievement career in false negatives yields a very high chance that I will get holes drilled in my hips and a tube jammed down my throat, just for kicks. 

But at the least, I will leave knowing that I turned every stone possible and maybe even narrowed the playing field ever so slightly. And, let's be honest, what would the world do if I suddenly stopped coming to the Mayo Clinic?

Allow me to quote my buddy at Carroll's Cup Frozen Yogurt:

"Where have you been? Don't you live in Rochester?"

Consistency my friends. I am nothing if not consistent.