Muskoka

As the seasons shifted from summer to fall, I crossed over country lines from the US to Canada to spend a couple of days with a couple of good friends from New York City.

After finding out that my malaria test might be a false positive, I needed a break from thinking about the health mess I am in. I am tired of battling insurance, medical bills, doctors, referrals, and a possible worker's comp claim. I'm exhausted by the red tape involved in my journey to get my health back. I just want a conclusive diagnosis, so I can be properly treated, so I can be well enough to start making a living again, and possibly even start living out my dreams again.

The other day I decided I needed to pause, and "fast" from all of that.  Because all of that was killing my spirit. So I left the country and drove up Muskako Canada...

IN WORKS...


Last night, while I was out on the dock, I saw a shooting star. It reminded me of the shooting start I saw in July when

Plasmodium Vivax

Last Tuesday, September 2, 2014, I received the news.

That I'm not crazy,
And that the health issues I've been facing since May 2012 aren't simply psychosomatic.  

Last week I received the new from my doctor that I tested positive for Malaria, plasmodium vivax.  I couldn't be more thrilled to have a diagnosis and to know that I'm going to my health back.

This changes EVERYTHING.

The Search Continues

As I settled into the passenger's seat, he handed me a long stem rose and I handed him a fortune cookie. After an early arrival at Denver International Airport, I had picked up an egg roll snack at Panda Express.  And, at check out, I had requested two fortune cookies.

Mine claimed, "A financial investment will yield returns beyond your hopes." Now that would be amazing. I've been crowd sourcing funds to edit, design, and print my first book. And yes, I'm making progress (hurrah!); however, I have a ways yet to go in my pre-release book sales. (See katrinablank.com for information on how you can obtain a pre-release copy for $20.)

Meanwhile, his fortune stated, "Enjoy the good luck a companion brings you." We both liked our fortunes, but I think he liked mine better. I'm not sure how much luck I've brought him since we've been getting to know each other. Perhaps our fortunes got mixed up. Because Mr. Colorado has brought me good luck in my search to find answer to what has been going on with my body.

The day before I boarded the plane to Denver I received the news that my July round of blood work returned with no answers. The doctor who it took me four months to find and to get in to see couldn't make a diagnosis for me. He was my last hope, and he had nothing to offer me. I was devastated, yet still determined to find answers, because I don't believe I'm just crazy. There has to be a reason that I've been feeling so miserable since returning from Africa.

In my final moments with this tropical disease specialist, he inquired, "Have you been tested for thyroid issues?" I got quiet because I felt so defeated. The first time I had met with this man he was kind and caring. This second time around, he wanted nothing to do with me.

"You probably have plenty of times already," he answered for me.

"Yeah, I have."

The doctor agreed to place a few more tests, including a malaria screening, and gluten/celiac disease evaluation, along with a few others. But he also told me, "I'll order these tests, but I want you to understand, I don't think we're going to find anything." Five more vials of blood were extracted from my arm that day (two weeks ago), and I could only hope, that maybe, something might be found this time around.

A night or two later, when I couldn't sleep, I studied my old blood work, considering, perhaps I might find something the doctors overlooked.

And I did.

Since the UM doctor had mentioned thyroid issues (as every other doctor I've been to has also suspected) I went through my thyroid test results and discovered my T3 level in December of last year was on the low end of the "normal."  I quickly learned that low T3 can be a huge culprit of fatigue and can also be an indicator of "comprised liver function."

I knew I was on to something, but again, I would need a professional opinion and evaluation.

Well, it just so happened that while I was out visiting Mr. Colorado, he introduced me to a friend of his -- a thyroid specialist. Last week she agreed to review my compiled test results over the past two years. She confirmed my suspicion: I need to be treated for thyroid issues.

Dreams of Long Ago

Sometime ago I got stood up on a Friday night (well, canceled upon, two days in advance). Rather than making alternate plans, I determined I'd stayed in for the night.  I didn't feel well, and I had a piece of writing begging for my attention.

But in hopping on my computer, rather than going straight to my writing, I checked every form of social media first. (I'm so glad facebook and twitter didn't exist in my undergrad years.) I then continued on to my e-mail and discovered my pastor from LA was speaking that night in New York, near Columbus Circle.

Even though I didn't feel the greatest, I didn't want to miss his book signing.  I had to go, so I invited a friend along, and we booked it up from Soho to hear Erwin McManus speak, and to pick up copies of his most recent work: The Artisan Soul.

As I waited in line for my book to be signed I recalled how seven years prior I was nervous to talk to this particular author.  Back then I informed him I'd like to cohost a talk show and inquired if he had any suggestions for pursuing such a dream.  He recommended I become an expert on a particular subject matter.

I thought on it some and didn't know what I might become an expert on.  I wanted to have a talk show so I could interview other people -- expert individuals -- who could provide the meat of the show's programming content.  Erwin signed my book --Wide Awake-- and I continued on my way a bit discouraged, thinking the dream of my youth might be too far fetched, a bit too unrealistic. 

Still, that December my friend Aaron (a camera man who had worked on a series call The Drive TV) and a potential cohost, made plans to meet with a family friend of mine in Owosso, Michigan.  It seemed this individual (Gordon Pennington) might be able to help us with "The Dream." Although we enjoyed the conversation, our time in Owosso didn't seem to help move the dream along.

But then I moved from California to New York a few years later and I ran into this same family friend at a dinner party in the city.  Eventually I started to assist Gordon with some conference coordinating and in the process of booking speakers I befriended an amazing woman named Jackie.  En route from New York to Nashville last fall, I dropped by her place for a night, and she told me about this television network she has been in the process of getting off the ground.

Tonight I participated in a vision conference call for Jane TV .  Funny how the media dreams of my youth no longer seem so unrealistic.

But back to that Friday night - the night I got stood up.  This time when I got to the front of the book signing line I wasn't at all nervous to speak with Erwin.  In fact, I told him, "Extra bonus points if you can remember my name."

He replied, "Of course I know your name.  It's Katrina.  Katrina Blank."  I then insisted he stand up so I could give him a hug. 

Following my conversation with Erwin, I chatted with another author named Eric Metaxas.  He took interest in chatting with me because he also knows Gordon (that family friend), and I had connected with his top assistant a year or so prior.

I mention Eric because a few days following the book signing I learned that Eric is living out the dream of my youth.  You can check out his show, 100 Huntley. 

At this point in my life, I'm not overly eager to pursue possibilities in television.  However, I love seeing friends and acquaintances embrace such a medium as a means of offering hope to the world.
 

I Get To

I get to

Tonight, I get to

I don't get to every day

Because most days aren't that great

But tonight, I get to

Because my thinking isn't too foggy

And the fatigue isn't too heavy for me to type legibly and intelligibly

Or at least somewhat, anyway

Tonight I get to because I'm not drugged up on medication, or en route somewhere when I know I shouldn't be traveling

Tonight I get to

Tonight I get to write

Yet tonight, when I finally can, writer's block gets the best of me.  I can't seem to dig up anything notably creative or cleverly anecdotal. Instead, my default is to turn to the factual.

Like the four year old who asked me last Thursday evening if I would also be leaving the following morning.  I told him no, but explained I would soon be heading to Colorado.

"Do you know where Colorado is?" I inquired.

"Of course I know where it is," he insisted. "Colorado is where Paleontologist Daniel Fischer found a mastodon." He spoke his dinosaur geography like it was an obvious association to Colorado that everyone should know about.

Confession: I didn't know.  (Nor did I know how to spell mastodon without the assistance of spell check and google.)

Colorado also happens to be the state where the shooting star guy (see previous post) resides. Against my better judgment, I agreed to let him buy me a plane ticket for me to fly out to see him.

Yes, I want to see him, but I know better than to be traveling - and especially by plane.  I've avoided airplane travel since last summer, when I wasn't so sure I'd make it off the plane alive. I remember getting on the plane thinking, this could be it.  Not because I feared the plane might crash.  Rather, I feared my heart might give out on me before we landed.

Last June and July, especially, my body struggled to get enough oxygen. Although my ferritin level of 12 was considered fine by the labs, by God's grace I found an article on running that explained a ferritin level below 30 can cause all sorts of problems - like breathing issues and heart palpitations. 
Within a week of being back on iron, I no longer feared I might be dying.  The breathing issues subsided, and I hoped the heavy fatigue and headaches would eventually cease too.

But they haven't.

But I get to.

I get to because I occasionally have a good day or two in between the bad.

And I get to because I have parents who let me live with them at their lake home until my health can be figured out.

And I get to because I have a 401 K I can borrow from or cash in, once my credit card is maxed out.

And I get to travel, even when I'm not feeling it, because I have 4 friends getting married this summer and I wouldn't want to miss their wedding celebrations.

And I get to spend time with shooting star guy, because he believes I'm worth pursuing even though I'm not all that put together at this point in my life.

I get to because of God's grace.

And, last week, I FINALLY got to see the doctor who may have found the answer to what has been going on with my body.  More soon.

Shooting Stars

"What would you wish for if you saw a shooting star?" I asked.

It was shortly after midnight on a moon-less night.  The stars shone bright on the dark tapestry of the night.  And we layed on the deck staring up at them. 


sand lake: the deck before dark

"I can't tell you, otherwise it won't come true."  He explained.

"But we haven't seen a shooting star.  It shouldn't matter." I argued. 

I answered my own question in my head, and then pushed the matter some more with him.  "Come on, we're hypothetically speaking.  If you saw a shooting star, what would you wish for?"

He paused and then finally answered, "I'd wish for you to get your health back."

He pulled me in a bit closer to side, and I looked over to him and said, "Yeah, me too."

We had both hypothetically wished for the same thing.  He and I know any sort of us or potential future is on hold until I can get better.

I'm still not.  And although we've linked my health troubles to my time in Africa two summer ago, we still don't have a conclusive diagnosis.   I'm not sure why I write "we." I'm still an I. 

Just moments after sharing our hypothetical wishes, we saw a shooting star together.  The question remains, will our wish someday come true?

At the end of May I returned to New York to spend time with "him" and to meet with my doctor.  Finally, he agreed with what I suggested two years ago - I wasn't doing so well because of something I picked up in Africa.  My doc prescribed some meds, hoping they would do the trick.

paromomycin

On June 16th I took my last round of 7, hoping my health would return...

I'm still seeking answers.

18 Years Ago Tonight

I remember 18 years ago tonight like it was last week.  Funny how life would have me return to the same city this evening.

Falling in love at 18 is much different than at 36.  It was much easier then.  On the very day we met, he and I both considered, this could be it.

Of course it wasn't it, but he was the first guy "I knew" for certain was the one and that I would someday marry.  (After being wrong twice, I gave up on knowing.)

It wasn't intended to be a date, but we excused ourselves from the rest of the group to feed the parking meter, and then it was just us.  And by the time we drove home that night, we just knew.

The guy I'm talking to now called me the other night as he was feeding a parking meter in Denver.  Funny how Denver happens to be the same city the guy 18 years ago disappeared to and married another woman.

I had a dream about a decade ago that I ran into my 18 year old crush at an airport.  We both happen to be in the same terminal, waiting for our connecting flights.  He told me he was glad he ran into me, because he had been wanting to tell me for quite some time, "You were the one, but I chose differently."  In my dream, he felt badly, but he thought it was only fair I should know the reason I was still single.

Even before that dream, I had acknowledged there is no "the one" in the universe.  It's a beautiful concept to consider God picking someone specifically out for me to share my future with - but that's not how it works - even at times when it feels like it does.

The guy I'm talking to now, could be the one, but I also thought the same about the guy who parted ways with me last fall, when he decided to pursue work overseas and to not continue to pursue me.

That was confusing for me.  Because even though I don't believe in "the one" anymore, I thought he was - just like the man before him.

So I tell myself there isn't "the one" yet I still want to believe that God is orchestrating on my behalf a somebody for me to someday share the rest of my life with...

The guy from Denver arrives on Friday for a 3-day visit.  Perhaps he could be that somebody.  So we'll see...