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	<title>WIRL Project &#187; Hell</title>
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	<description>What It&#039;s Really Like.</description>
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		<title>Should Coulda Woulda</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/should-coulda-woulda/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/should-coulda-woulda/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 19 Jun 2015 08:30:22 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Anne Bardsley]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love/Relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[AIDS]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Brother]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Death]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Die]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Friend]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Friendship]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Heaven]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Hell]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Journey]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Pray]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Sign]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Spirit]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=7123</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[“Dr. Mort, report to emergency. Dr. Mort, report to emergency STAT.” The operator’s nasal voice roared in my head as the odor of disinfectants crawled up my nostrils. It was suffocating. The “Bing” of the elevator was a welcome relief from the chaos in the hall and in my mind. One by one, floor by floor, they crammed me further into to the back. An intern with huge, dark circles under his eyes, played with his stethoscope to avoid my eyes. No words were meant to be spoken in this sterile place. The arrow pointed up to heaven, as we approached the fifteenth floor, yet my heart knew we were headed toward hell. I adjusted my sunglasses to shield my eyes and especially my heart. The heavy metal doors screeched open. My wobbly knee headed toward room 1512. The bright linoleum corridor ran the length of a football field.  At the twenty yard line, I passed a young man gripping his side rails of his bed. An older woman spoon fed him as tears streamed down her face. At the forty yard line, a man stared into space, hooked up to bottles that drip..drip…dripped life into his veins. His dark, glazed eyes stared past me. At the sixty yard line my heart sympathized with a running back. I couldn’t catch my breath. My clammy fingers reached for the already damp tissues in my pocket. I closed my eyes refusing to believe that my friend Tom’s room was approaching at the eighty yard line. There would be no touchdown today. I’d blocked out the four letters, AIDS. I prayed this was just a nightmare. Any minute I’d wake up and my friend would be his old self. Surely the blood test was mistaken. The doctors were wrong! Even now as the wall supported me, my heart tried to follow this path of denial. I pushed my sunglasses back into place and blinked my eyes toward the ceiling to keep the tears at bay. I met Tom five years prior to him getting sick. He was a business associate and we quickly became friends. My husband and I were very fond of him. I used to joke that if I could pick a brother, I would pick him. He would make a perfect uncle for our kids. His job as a sales rep was to convince us to sell more products. He did so by complaining that if we didn’t increase our sales, he’d be forced to replace his blazing red BMW with an olive green, used truck for his sales calls.  He would grimace and tug on the collar of his Polo shirt looking like a forlorn kid. “Come on, Anne. Please, I can’t drive a truck” he stuttered, like truck was a dirty word. My husband, Scott, suggested he get mag wheels. “You’d be great driving a nice truck.” Tom broke into one of his award winning laughs.  He was twenty- five then. He had it all: charm, a great sense of humor, self- confidence. He was tall with sun bleached streaks in his brown hair, tan and had the world in his hands. &#160; As I reached room 1512, I lifted my sunglasses, but closed my eyes and prayed. “Dear God, don’t let this be true.” Gently I pushed the door open. His eyes were so sunken that his eyebrows looked like caterpillars. He was sound asleep. His once trim body was a bag of bones. Little sticks poked out of the covers making his feet look gigantic in comparison. A thunder storm raged in my chest. I gulped for air. He opened his eyes and smiled. “Hey stranger,” he said softly as we hugged hello. And then the damn burst without warning. Tears rolled down my face. “It’s alright,” he lied to me, patting my back.  His backbones felt so fragile, I was afraid I’d squeeze him to death. “You’re my only visitor,” he said quietly. His family lived states away. His eyes, once full of spark, were dull and tired as he stared out the window. “I’m going home to my parent’s house. My mom is going to keep my dog. He’ll have a good home. But who will drive my beamer?” he grinned. He gulped when he asked, “Who will watch over my mom after I’m gone? I’m her favorite.” My heart was so heavy that he would be leaving this world so soon. I told him, “Tom, if I could ever choose a brother, I would pick you. I can’t imagine a better brother for me.” He laughed. Already I was missing my “pick a brother” choice. Hours later, we hugged farewell and we vowed to keep in touch. I promised to write him funny letters to cheer him up. Emotions and words were circling in my head. My heart was breaking. I wanted to ask him to send me a sign that he’d made it to heaven. Just the thought brought a sting to my eyes and the firing range blasted my heart. “No tears, No tears,” he insisted, raising his skinny arms in protest. His haggard face turned toward away to avoid my eyes.  He rubbed his chin nervously. Without tears, I couldn’t say, “I’m going to miss you. You are a kindred spirit and I’m glad our paths crossed. I wish you a sweet and painless journey. I hope the angels escort you on gentle wing, so swift that it feels smoother than a ride in your BMW&#8230;Only the best for you!” The words lodged in my throat. I wanted to tell him. I really did, but I put on my darkest shades and walked out the door.]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>When All Eyes Are On You and Your Story</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/when-all-eyes-are-on-you-and-your-story/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/when-all-eyes-are-on-you-and-your-story/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 17 Jun 2015 13:00:25 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Guest WIRL]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Technology/Web]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[WIRL Challenge]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Award]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[BlogU]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Brain Cancer]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Bring Back The Sunshine]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Cancer]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Hell]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Huffington Post]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Impossible]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Sorrow]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Survive]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[WIRL Challenge BlogU]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=7023</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I spent the majority of last week far from home &#8211; in the exotic land of Baltimore, at BlogU&#8217;15. It was a remarkable trip- I met dozens of new friends, caught up with even more old friends, learned, laughed, danced my ass off, and was beyond honored to be chosen by the Huffington Post for the Term Paper of the Year - an award to recognize the best of blogging over the past year. This award is something I almost didn&#8217;t accept, though. You see, the post I wrote, the one that Huffington Post named the best creative writing in a blog post for a whole calendar year, is something I can&#8217;t even describe without crying. I wrote it after Christmas, when we were in a sort of limbo with M&#8217;s cancer, and I was contemplating the idea that my husband might not live to see another Christmas. At the time it was something I could write, because we didn&#8217;t know anything at all. We didn&#8217;t know when it was going to happen, or if it was going to happen, or especially when it was going to happen, but I couldn&#8217;t begin to write something like that now. Because four months after I published that post, it did. My husband&#8217;s cancer was back, and I was thrown headlong into the chaos of scheduling surgeries and orchestrating chemotherapies. &#8220;Spinning the roulette wheel,&#8221; I believe I called it in that post. For about two and a half months, now, I&#8217;ve been living in the overwhelming uncertainty of brain cancer Hell. In a lot of ways, it&#8217;s not so bad. In a lot of ways, it&#8217;s very matter-of-fact and straightforward. Organize pills into the six or so segments in which they must be taken. Coordinate with physical and vocational and occupational and cognitive therapists for &#8220;return to work&#8221; plans and orthopedic testing. Write down everything. EVERYTHING. It&#8217;s not hard. It&#8217;s impossible. But I haven&#8217;t been able to even think about things like that post. Because you can&#8217;t function if you think about things like that. So I stood up in front of a crowd of amazing bloggers and human beings in general, and I read everything I haven&#8217;t been willing to say to myself, even in the quietest, vaguest of terms. And I cried. I knew I would cry the moment Emma Mustich said my name. She looked over at me, and I felt that heaviness in my chest. Not dread, exactly. Not public speaking nerves. Something else. I broke all the rules of good public speaking the moment I stepped behind the podium, looked at the screen set before me with my words waiting, and sighed. A heavy, loaded sigh. And then I began to read. And I cried. There were already paper napkins set next to the microphone for me. I didn&#8217;t miss a beat. I just cried, and wished all over again, with all my heart, that I could bring the sunshine back. If only for another minute. If only for a heartbeat. I wished I could spin the world round and never have written this awful thing, this beautiful and terrible thing, that I was standing watching somebody else bare a soul scarred by their own demons. That I could be drinking too many glasses of wine and cramming my face with pastries and not have a spotlight I&#8217;d asked for shone on my sorrows. When I finished reading, everyone clapped. People handed me gift bags and hugged me, and I stumbled off the stage, into the arms of The Domestic Pirate. She hugged me as though we were the oldest and dearest of friends, and I broke. For a minute I stood in a darkened auditorium and wept into the shoulders of somebody I&#8217;d met in person for the first time that day. There haven&#8217;t been words invented yet to describe the sort of gratitude one feels for friends like that, unequivocal, genuine, and present. The rest of the weekend passed in a manic high. I learned, I laughed, I got drunk and danced until I was pretty sure I tore something. Kind of like I know I said I sometimes do in that same piece. People were so gracious. They were so kind. They said the nicest, most flattering things, and I blushed and tried to accept their compliments without feeling fraudulent. And then I came home, and crashed. What I should have learned years ago was that you can&#8217;t do this to yourself. You can&#8217;t not feel, and then feel, and then not feel things you don&#8217;t want to. The emotional energy invested in not feeling something is outrageous. I spent five years expending that energy, through M&#8217;s original diagnosis, through chemo and radiation and experimental arsenic IVs. Through a wedding and two pregnancies, through unemployment and both of our return to school. Through so much doubt, and so much uncertainty. And the minute I could lift the curtain on all that repressed anxiety, it crippled me. It nearly killed me. I believe we&#8217;ve survived M&#8217;s cancer so long because of this optimism, this blindness to the alternatives, but maybe it&#8217;s not the only way. Part of me is certain that unless I pull that curtain closed, really shut out the doubts and fears, they will manifest themselves. The way that until I wrote about worrying that my husband&#8217;s cancer would come back, it hadn&#8217;t come back. That my comfort with my grief precipitated the new need for surgery by four measly months. Like I did this to him. Like this is my fault, for publicly doubting, even for a second. Like if only I&#8217;d never let that doubt out at all, we would still be living as though we were done with brain cancer forever. And that&#8217;s what hurts the most. Knowing that, no matter how wrong it is, or how self abusive it is, no matter what&#8230; if things go badly, it will be my fault. Because I&#8217;m the one who wasn&#8217;t strong enough to keep shutting out those doubts. No matter what, I will never be as purely certain of the future as I was eight years ago. Maybe the cynicism of age, or the experience, or the realism, or whatever you call it, is inevitable. But that also implies that death is inevitable. And yeah, it is, but I don&#8217;t want it to be now. Not now. Not when I could have done something. Could have been better. Could have been stronger. Could have been more. I want to say I know we&#8217;ll survive, but I don&#8217;t even know what that means right now. All I know is I want to wake up in the morning with my husband&#8217;s cheek resting on my ear, with his stomach pressed into my back, and I want to stay there forever. Until the sun sets and rises and sets again, and we&#8217;re the only things left in an entire universe of passing time. I want to feel warm, and safe, and loved, and to believe that each day is going to be no different from the last. I want to stop waiting. &#160; Join The Conversation! Easily contribute your story here. &#160; About the Author… Lea Grover is a writer and speaker living on Chicago&#8217;s south side. Her writing has been featured in numerous anthologies, including &#8220;Listen To Your Mother: What She Said Then, What We&#8217;re Saying Now,&#8221; and on websites ranging from The Huffington Post to AlterNet to The Daily Mail Online, and she speaks about sex positivity in parenting and on behalf of the RAINN Speakers Bureau. She can be found on her blog (Becoming SuperMommy), on Twitter (@bcmgsupermommy), and Facebook, or preparing her upcoming memoir. &#160; &#160;]]></description>
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		<title>Preeclampsia: What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/preeclampsia-what-its-really-like/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/preeclampsia-what-its-really-like/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 02 Jun 2015 22:40:34 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Sara Brennan]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Health/Fitness]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Blood Pressure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[C-Section]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Delivery]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Hell]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Preeclampsia]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Pregnancy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Swelling]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=6687</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[&#160; Don’t you love when someone points out to a pregnant woman that she looks &#8220;terrible&#8221;? Who do they think they are telling you that you’re swollen, puffy, look tired, or even that you look “painful”. I think people who aren’t, especially those who have never been, pregnant say these things as if it&#8217;s somehow comforting for a second or third trimester pregnant lady to be reassured that yes, you actually are pregnant. Well, guess what people; it&#8217;s not comforting! In fact, it sucks and makes us feel like crap! &#160; I felt great during about 90 percent of my pregnancy, but I would actually get both sides of this spectrum. For a while, some people said to me that I looked too thin to be pregnant then others, who knew that I was just petite in nature, would say, wow you’re getting so big so fast! And I have to admit, I wanted to get the “belly”, I wanted to “show” and it wasn’t until about 6 months that I had a significant enough bump for strangers to notice and comment on. But I did notice that everyone loved to point out how “huge” I was getting once the real “growing” started. So when I approached the 9th month of my pregnancy, in the heat of a Carolina summer, I noticed that I actually was starting to really swell up. My feet and ankles would get very puffy, along with my hands and fingers. So I bought new shoes, asked my husband to rub my feet and kept on with life as usual. Then, people told me I looked like I was “in pain” and “puffy” and although it wasn’t the nicest comment I&#8217;d ever received, I summed this up to the heat, the baby, me not taking enough time to rest, but never Preeclampsia. The dreaded Preeclampsia – the jerk of pregnancy! It&#8217;s the little sneak that hijacks your body, inflates you with water weight, and constricts your blood vessels so much that your kidneys can malfunction and your blood pressure soars. It beats on your head like a drum while also making you feel like you’re being spun around on a merry-go-round too fast, when all you really want to do is get off. It’s not fun and loves to make it&#8217;s appearance when you’re least expecting it, 37 weeks to 48 hours post delivery. It&#8217;s the little sneak that hijacks your body, inflates you with water weight, and constricts your blood vessels so much that your kidneys can malfunction and your blood pressure soars. It beats on your head like a drum while also making you feel like you’re being spun around on a merry-go-round too fast, when all you really want to do is get off. Below, I tell the story of my joyride with Preeclampsia along with signs and symptoms that should raise a red flag. So, go ahead, read about my misery…you know you want to! I visited my OB for the typical routine checkups and towards the end, we noticed a trend…high blood pressure. Starting at about 33 weeks, they’d strap on that stupid cuff and it would read around 140/90. It wasn’t that bad (not good either), but normally my BP is very low, so that was pretty high for me. I’d also do the whole pee in a cup thing and my urine never showed signs that anything was wrong (no keytones or proteins). This continued on for weeks but with each visit, I was gaining about 5 pounds, swelling more, and my blood pressure was increasing. I knew there was something wrong; I didn’t feel like my glowing pregnant self anymore. So, what is Preeclampsia? It&#8217;s characterized by having high blood pressure and protein in the urine after 20 weeks of pregnancy (Preclampsia Foundation). Basically, it&#8217;s like a huge, grey storm cloud that suddenly forms over your head and rains on your beautiful pregnancy parade. It is sometimes referred to as Toxemia as well. It&#8217;s like a huge, grey storm cloud that suddenly forms over your head and rains on your beautiful pregnancy parade. &#160; I never, ever, had the protein in my urine, but by the time I was 38 weeks, I had full blown Preeclampsia and my doctors weren’t on top of it until it was almost too late. I found out that it&#8217;s a very progressive condition that is only cured by having the baby. So, to “cure” me, I was induced and eventually had an emergency C-section because my condition kept worsening. This was not what I wanted to do and I was quite frustrated that nobody caught this along the way, but I later learned that it’s typical to not have any signs or symptoms until about 37/38 weeks. Now, ladies, if you’re reading this and you’re pregnant; don’t freak! Preeclampsia only effects about 5-8% of all pregnancies and a little (sometimes even a lot) of swelling is expected with pregnancy. Below, I am going to go through the signs and symptoms to help to distinguish between whats “normal” and what should raise a red flag about this condition. Here are some signs and symptoms to watch for, along with my take on each symptom that I had: 1) The most obvious one – High Blood Pressure. When I’d visit my OB, they’d strap on that stupid cuff at the beginning of each visit. Starting at about 33 weeks, my blood pressure (BP) started to get really high. By the time I was 38 weeks my BP was 190/120 and I was admitted to the hospital. My advice would be to pay close attention to the number from week to week and if it increases a little, it should be alright, but if it ever reaches 140/90 then you should talk to your doctor about it, even if they brush it off. 140/90 is the threshold between normal and “high”, so if you are reaching these numbers tune into your body closely. Because the condition is quite rare, they sometimes assume the high BP is nothing to worry about unless it’s accompanied by protein in the urine. They also would have me lay on my left side to “bring it down”. This is a bad idea and provides a false sense of assurance. I was told that laying on your side helps the blood flow better temporarily and gives you an improved BP reading, but it does not mean the problem is fixed. 2) Protein in the Urine Preeclampsia temporarily changes the way the kidney filters out some proteins from your blood, therefore extra protein can show up in the urine; this is a sign that you may have Preeclampsia. I never had this show up in my urine, not even once, and I think that’s why nobody at my OB’s office took me too seriously. My warning is that you don’t need to have extra proteins show up in your urine to have Preeclampsia. If you are feeling other symptoms and also have high blood pressure, talk to your doctor and if they don’t take you seriously, get a second opinion. 3) Excess Swelling This is technically called Edema and it&#8217;s different than the typical pregnancy, swollen ankles type of thing. This is when your face, eyes, and hands feel so swollen that you might just explode. This is how I felt! And looking back, I did look terrible with a capital “t”, but because it was my first pregnancy, I thought this was just normal. By the time I was admitted to the hospital, I thought my feet were going to get stretch marks because they’d grown so large. The top of my foot almost came up over top of my sausage toes…it was weird, painful, and ugly! Absolutely no shoe fit me, not even slippers, and I had several chins at this point because my face had become so swollen (I’d post pictures, but nobody wants to see that!). If you start to feel like you’re swelling more rapidly than the pace you’d been keeping, talk to your doctor. 4) Headache and Dizziness No matter what kind of headache it is, dull, throbbing or stabbing, if it’s accompanied with high BP and any other symptom listed above, call your OB and schedule a visit right away. This is a sign that your BP is getting too high and your body is not handling it well. Try to rest and prop up your feet, but don’t ignore this symptom. Honestly, it was the only way I knew my blood pressure was high, beside taking an actual reading, because I could feel it in my head, like a pounding headache that would not go away accompanied by dizziness. 5) Rapid Weight Gain Up until about 34 weeks, I’d gained about 25 pounds from my pregnancy. I was doing really well, staying active and even doing some strength training. Then, at my 33 week visit, I had gained about 3 pounds, which wasn’t bad, but more than previous visits. Then I gained 5 at my next visit, then 5 again, and I ended up tacking on almost 25 extra pounds, in the last 5 weeks, due to this condition! 25 pounds in 5 weeks people! It was bad. So, again, if you experience this type of weight gain, it’s not normal. Your baby is not growing THAT much that you should pack on the pounds like this. For me, this was a huge sign of preeclampsia looking back. There are a few other signs and symptoms that you can encounter with this condition and you can read more about them here, but it&#8217;s really important to pay attention to what your body is telling you. I also want to put out there that Preeclampsia can actually have no symptoms, in some cases, because many of the signs resemble regular pregnancy progression type things. Just pay attention to what is normal for you along your entire pregnancy and if this “normal” ever changes, ask your doctor. And if they tell you you’re fine, but you don’t feel that in your gut (no pun intended), ask another doctor. This condition can be serious and lead to seizures or even death, so please just pay attention and watch for little signs. Who gets preeclampsia? Some people are more prone to getting this than others: this list includes, but its not limited to, women who are: Pregnant for the first time Over 40 years old Having multiples Already have a blood pressure condition Overweight The complete list can be found here, and if you fall into one of these categories (and just because its your first pregnancy does not mean you have to freak!), know the signs and pay attention for changes as you progress. &#160; I ended up having to be induced and put on anti-seizure medication because my blood pressure had reached the point where it was dangerous for me and the baby. My baby was fine during the entire course of this, he was happy and healthy with a very strong heartbeat and lots of movement, but it was me that was going downhill quickly. It was important to control the seizure component, because if I had a seizure, the baby could possibly suffer due to lack of oxygen. So, after 26 hours of labor and all was said and done, I had my baby boy and was on my way to being “cured” from this condition. It did take me a few extra days in the hospital and about 3 weeks to actually completely recover, as my blood pressure stayed high and I had headaches and felt dizzy for quite a while (plus the pain from my lovely c-section). I lost that extra 30 lbs I gained towards the end of my pregnancy in about 10 days after giving birth, it was mostly water weight anyway, but losing 30 pounds felt great nonetheless! I lost that extra 30 lbs I gained towards the end of my pregnancy in about 10 days after giving birth, it was mostly water weight anyway, but losing 30 pounds felt great nonetheless! Well, that’s it for you – my preeclampsia story. If you think you might have symptoms, definitely call your doctor or even send me an email and I’ll be glad to talk this over with you personally. I am not qualified to give medical advice, and this article is just for awareness purposes, but I will help anyone in any way that I can. I’ve been through it and it is not fun, but it’s important to know the signs and symptoms and how to handle something like this. Remember, preeclampsia is rare (only 5-8% of pregnancies), so don’t over analyze and pay attention to your symptoms. Most pregnant women will, thankfully, never have to go through this! &#160;]]></description>
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