Julian off of FB, link....

[mrvette]

https://www.gofundme.com/wst77d5w


Too much with the continuing negative news here in this house....so this is only way I can help......hopefully he is cool with me posting this.....

GENE

[Barn Babe]

I had no idea it was so serious! Will send $ and prayers for the OneDef family.

[VITE1]

:seasix::shots:

[Mike Mercury]

sent (prayer & donation).

[RedLS1GTO]

Damn. :(

Julian, if you read this, please let me know if there is anything I can do. I'm in Cincy now but still close enough that I could make a drive no trouble at all.

[VatorMan]

Sent a donation. I hope it helps.

[CertInsaneC5]

Sent some myself. Prayers coming as well. :seasix:

[SQUIRMIN VERMIN 84]

Prayers and donation sent.....

[Chris Fowler]

Damn...donation sent. :angel:

[Craig]

Can we sticky this thread too? (Is that the term to put it at the top?)

Can someone post the link at the other place? Someone who's well known that can get it some attention?

[Craig]

Bump

[SteelCityBlue]

Has anyone spoken to Julian?

[xXBUDXx]

Has anyone spoken to Julian?

I have not, but I will reach out tomorrow.

[Craig]

I have not, but I will reach out tomorrow.

See if he's okay with it being posted at CFOT.

[Black94lt1]

Donation coming!

[xXBUDXx]

See if he's okay with it being posted at CFOT.

I spoke w/ Julian and he has no objection to this thread or making a post @ CF. He is very appreciative of any and all thoughts, prayers and donations.

Craig, please go ahead with the post @ CF if you don't mind. I would do it, but I have not been a prominent member over there for quite some time.

Thank you.

[Craig]

I spoke w/ Julian and he has no objection to this thread or making a post @ CF. He is very appreciative of any and all thoughts, prayers and donations.

Craig, please go ahead with the post @ CF if you don't mind. I would do it, but I have not been a prominent member over there for quite some time.

Thank you.

Thread at CFOT. Check in and keep it active if you can.

For Those That Remember onedef92 - Corvette Forum (http://www.corvetteforum.com/forums/off-topic/3792360-for-those-that-remember-onedef92.html)

[tuco]

Prayers sent and will donate when I get home, so sorry to hear.:sadangel::sadangel:

[Norm]

Donation forwarded, best wishes for speedy recovery.

[onedef92]

Sorry to be MIA so long peeps, but life sometimes comes at you 100 mph with intense, yippee ki-yay, mofo! intensity and my family’s certainly experiencing such a moment now.

As you know, Theresa is recovering in the hospital from autoimmune hemolytic anemia (AIHA), a group of rare but serious blood disorders. They occur when the body's red blood cells are destroyed more rapidly than they are being produced. The condition is considered idiopathic when its cause is unknown, but in her case, doctors believe it was triggered by Type-A flu she contracted in February.

Still, there is no cure for this disorder. Doctors can only treat the symptoms and guard against future occurrences by monitoring closely for bodily antagonists like viral infections.

Theresa’s received approximately 10 blood transfusions since her first affliction with this disease back in 2011, including two on Monday and Tuesday of this week. She has also received three chemotherapy treatments in an effort to bring down her white blood cell count and allow her red blood cells to prevail.

Think of it as her body experiencing a friendly fire campaign. Your white blood cells (the good guys) fight off infection. But in her case, they turn on the red blood cells (the GOOD, GOOD guys since they carry vital oxygen) while allowing the true enemy (the virus) to destroy unharmed. That’s why common illnesses like a cold, strep throat, pneumonia, flu and respiratory infections most of us recover from routinely are potentially life-threatening to Theresa.

It was a long day Wednesday at the hospital. What we thought was going to be Theresa's final scheduled chemo treatment resulted in her being admitted for surgery.

Following complaints of chest pain, the doctors ordered a CT scan that determined fluid buildup around her heart and in her lungs (pulmonary edema). She had surgery Thursday to install drain tubes to bleed off the fluid. One tube in her lung and two tubes between the ribs of her sternum to drain fluid collecting around her heart and in her lung.

The procedure went very well and she rested comfortably most of the day after getting her pain under control once the anesthetic wore off. She also saw a cardiologist who is investigating why the fluid accumulated in the first place. Right now, doctors are leaning toward a viral offense to her body, possibly pneumonia.

Now the fluid has to drain off on its own before the tubes can be removed. This typically takes 3-5 days. A fluid sample was sent to the lab for analysis. Hopefully, we'll know more once her tests come back.

Even so, Theresa still has a row in front of her. Doctors believe her spleen should come out to minimize future episodes since It mainly acts as a filter for purifying the blood, removing microbes and worn out or damaged red blood cells. It is also an important organ in the immune system, producing the white blood cells that fight infection and synthesize antibodies. Although the spleen is important for many functions in the body, the spleen is not vital to survival and it is possible to live without a spleen. Without the spleen, other organs in the body (particularly the liver) adapt and increase their ability to fight infection and remove redundant red blood cells.

But, the road to recovery will be challenging. Theresa has already been given substantial doses of Rituxan, prednisone, folic acid and iron tablets (which she takes daily for her immune deficiency). There will be frequent blood draws and numbers, numbers, numbers.

But I also know Theresa will meet the challenge head-on as she has before, as she always does. She will pray harder. Laugh louder. Sleep longer. Breathe deeper. Focus more on faith and family. Once again, she’ll press on toward the prize of remission.

Her doctor defines “remission” as being able to have a hemoglobin count at or above 12.1 for four weeks without steroids. Once her hemoglobin is in that goal, she’ll be able to again put hemolytic anemia behind her. She did it before and I have every confidence in the Good Lord she’ll do it again.

Despite arthritis, anemia, skin rashes or whatever else may come, it doesn't matter how much trouble her body gives her. She still has who she is, who God created her to be. And as long as her heart, soul, and mind stay stronger than her temporarily afflicted body, she’ll be okay. And I’ll keep praying. I'll keep fasting. I'll keep hoping. I'll keep loving her.

Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your prayers and donations. You don’t know what a tremendous blessing they are to us. I love my great, big, dysfunctional Corvette family. Guess I better log off now…I think I got something in my eye.

http://i102.photobucket.com/albums/m111/onedef92/T.%20Shipp_n_zpszsz4flnr.jpg

http://i102.photobucket.com/albums/m111/onedef92/Theresa%20Shipp_n_zpsjkp51vi8.jpg

[Shrike6]

Continuing prayers for her recovery sent.

[wwomanC6]

Prayers for her continuing fight against this disease and a donations a well.

:angel:

[CertInsaneC5]

I think I got something in my eye.


You are not the only one. May god bless her and you. You will both get through this. Prayers coming your way.

[Iron Chef]

Donation made. Hang in there Deacon. Call on us if there's anything else we can do.

And don't fast: You need your strength as well. :yesnod:

:cert: :angel:

['77Babe]

Best wishes and good thoughts coming your way. :angel:

[Brett K]

You, your wife,and children are in my family's thoughts and prayers. You and your words have been a blessing to me when I have needed them. Know that we are here for you and we are praying for strength and healing for all of you!

[Chuck A]

prayers sent

[Craig]

There's an update at the GFM link.

[Fastguy]

Hang in there OD. Thinking of you and your family.

[onedef92]

Victory today, peeps!

Theresa was released from the hospital after receiving two units of blood via transfusion. It’s been a roller-coaster, up and down, eight days of hospitalization and we’re all exhaling no small sighs of relief and gratitude.

No more 12-hour-plus stints staring at rows of complex, winking, bio monitors or enduring the ceaseless cacophony of “Uncle Chirpy,” our nickname for her error-prone IV pump.

For Theresa, the transition from routine, follow-up office visit to ICU surgery prep was fast and frightening. The worst part, she said, was being separated from me and the kids when I had to leave for the evening, go home to take care of them, get them off to school, then trek back to the hospital first thing in the morning.

Yet, our ordeal is far from over. Theresa still has to resume her chemo treatments in an attempt to bring her red and white blood cell count into balance. She still has to guard against infection and stay away from crowds while her weakened immune system boots up to normal.

And most importantly, we still don’t know what caused the fluid buildup around her heart and in her lung. Was it an autoimmune reaction to her hemolytic anemia? The result of some viral offense to her body?

The jury’s still out, according to the doctors. The long-term solution might lie in the removal of Theresa’s spleen, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Even so, I saw much to be thankful for at that hospital. Thankful for the joy and elation on the faces of parents and grandparents on the maternity floor.

Thankful that the Code Blue protocols did not toll for my wife. Thankful that the death sentence of cancer was not handed down to her. Thankful that the bedroom we’ve shared 20 years won’t be empty tonight and I’ll rise to see her face in the cold, morning light.

A young woman on the elevator shared a revelation with me as I went to get my car to drive Theresa home. The doors hushed closed and we descended toward the street level.

“It’s all connected, it’s all God,” she said, commenting on her dying father’s endless sense of humor. “We just have to take the time to connect the pieces.”

Indeed, when we die, our bodies become the grass, and the antelope eat the grass. It’s the circle of life.

[simpleman68]

... Thankful that the bedroom we’ve shared 20 years won’t be empty tonight and I’ll rise to see her face in the cold, morning light....


Well, that really makes my day. I'm really happy to hear she is doing better although I know it's not over yet. :hurray:
Scott

[onedef92]

Well, that really makes my day. I'm really happy to hear she is doing better although I know it's not over yet. :hurray:
Scott

No. Not over yet. But a welcome respite of hope, an emotional pit stop we all desparately needed. :seasix:

[Iron Chef]

Great new Julian. Hang in there. :cert:

[onedef92]

At some point, even the most committed Christians ask themselves, “Lord, how much more must I endure?” in the midst of sustained trials and tribulations.

That was certainly my case Friday as my flesh threatened to overwhelm my spirit as I watched Theresa suddenly shiver and shake uncontrollably. Unbeknownst to me at time, she was experiencing a severe reaction to the chemo medication she’d taken three times before without incident.

Rituxan (rituximab) is a cancer medication that interferes with the growth and spread of cancer cells in the body. It’s also used to treat non-Hodgkin's lymphoma or chronic lymphocytic leukemia. It is also used in combination with another drug called methotrexate to treat symptoms of adult rheumatoid arthritis.

Theresa doesn’t have cancer, but is recovering from a rare blood disorder known as autoimmune hemolytic anemia.

The Rituxan is used to bring down her white blood cell count and allow her red blood cells to dominate, since they supply vital, life-giving oxygen to the body.

Just moments before, she was starting to drift off to sleep peacefully. I was settled down in a chair in the tiny treatment room at the hospital pecking away on my laptop, Theresa’s IV pump methodically dispensing its medication in a rhythmic, electronically-choreographed cadence.

About halfway through the procedure, she abruptly began to complain of coldness then began to rigor and shake from her legs initially, then from her core with such severity, her teeth began to chatter.

She managed to stammer the words, “G-Get the nurse!” about the same time I pushed the red call button attached to her bedside. A shrill alarm immediately sounded, an urgent harbinger of her condition.

As jacked as it may sound, what happened next was truly a spectacular sight to behold. I’m still thinking about it today. A maven of nurses and other female medical professionals swarmed Theresa like benevolent insects, the nurse assigned to her leading the charge.

I was allowed to remain in the room since they noticed I was remaining calm and had begun to massage Theresa’s feet and speak to her in reassuring tones while they worked frantically to stabilize her.

The whole thing was tripped-out, surreal. Imagine being on the set of E.R. or Grey’s Anatomy with your loved one lying on the gurney and you’ll grasp but a tenth of the drama.

But those women rocked! The APRN and RN’s worked with the skill and precision of an elite paramilitary squad. It was as if they could read one another’s thoughts as they seamlessly called out and worked out the treatment protocol.

Syringe after syringe was injected into Theresa’s IV line to nullify the rigors and other detrimental side effects of the chemo medication. She was also given oral medications to bring down her spiked blood pressure and temperature.

The monitor that displayed her blood pressure, oxygen level, temperature, heart rate and other vitals dominated the room as we watched her threat level drop from severe to normal.

In those critical initial moments, I also observed three of the nurses praying while they worked. Instinctively, I added my own prayers to theirs.

Standing at Theresa’s feet, with my eyes closed and from the summit of my intelligence to the pit of my fears, I had to lob the question at Him; “Lord, are you going to take my wife from me today?”

By 4:30 p.m., I had my answer. A resounding, reassuring “No!” confirmed by the spark in my wife’s pretty brown eyes. Theresa was stabilized, discharged with instructions to return on Monday.

Fear and faith collided, but favor and mercy prevailed. For the nurses and medical staff, it was just a routine walk in the park, an exchange of hugs and tears of joy and gratitude.

But for Theresa and me, the ordeal was life-affirming and re-established an essential tenant of Christian faith; that God is a very good God and the devil is a very bad devil.

[DAB]

for all have sinned and fallen short of the Glory of God.

the wages of sin is death.

we are all granted a set number of days here, by the grace of God. each day is a reward from Him. we deserve none of them, but we rejoice in them all.

early in the morning my song shall rise to thee.




i too spent many long days in an ICU, not sure what was happening or what would happen. God granted me to live some time longer, how long I do not know. whether God calls us home today or another day, we can be sure that heaven awaits the believer. so all we can do is be faithful, proclaiming His Word unto the ends of the earth.

have faith Julian, have faith.

all things work together for good.

[simpleman68]

“Lord, are you going to take my wife from me today?”

By 4:30 p.m., I had my answer. A resounding, reassuring “No!” confirmed by the spark in my wife’s pretty brown eyes.


Now we're talking :yesnod: :hurray:

Very good to hear Julian and thanks for the link/update. :angel:
Scott

[SQUIRMIN VERMIN 84]

WOW! I just read your Saturday update! It took me right back to 3 years ago when I asked God the same question! I received the same answer as well!

Praise God and His never-ending mercies! It made my day with the reading of Theresa's response!!!!!:angel:

[onedef92]

Theresa's visit to her oncologist Monday was thankfully uneventful (goodness knows our entire family's experienced enough drama over the last two months to last the remainder of 2016).

Due to persistent rolling veins (veins that move or roll from side to side, which makes drawing blood difficult) despite staying well-hydrated, she'll be fitted with an IV port next week.

In a short procedure, the port is implanted, completely beneath the skin, and the catheter is inserted inside a blood vessel. Ports are usually implanted on the upper chest.

This will make it easier for medications and fluids to be given and blood samples withdrawn. The nurses won't have to stick her arm veins directly anymore with a needle.

The port will also makes these procedures more comfortable for Theresa, especially since her current treatment regimen requires weekly access to her bloodstream for medication delivery and blood withdrawal.

Her doctor also wants her to see a dermatologist with experience in oncology patients for her skin rashes. That will likely occur next week.

She's also due to have the sutures removed following the chest tube thoracostomy she underwent last week, so another busy week is on tap.

Again, we're so grateful for all the donations, cards, meals, visits, well-wishes and most importantly, PRAYERS that have gone up on our behalf.

Theresa's positive outlook and bravery in the face of adversity is absolutely inspiring. When the enemy asked the Good Lord permission to sift her like wheat, I'm sure God chuckled to Himself because ol' Scratch had no idea what sort of woman he was messin' with!

[onedef92]

"Theresa Shipp, come on back," the blond, mid-life nurse smiled as we simultaneously rose to our feet to meet her.

"Just Theresa," she abruptly said to me. "You can remain out here."

Thus, the suckiest part of accompanying Theresa to the hospital, the WAITING, occurred again Wednesday as she was fitted with an IV port.

In a short procedure, the port was implanted completely beneath the skin and a catheter inserted inside a blood vessel in her arm.

Ports are usually implanted on the upper chest, but since Theresa recently underwent surgery on her sternum and lung to eliminate fluid collecting around her heart, doctors didn't want to risk a possible entry point for new infection.

The logical side of my brain again reasoned why this appointment was necessary. The port will make it easier for medications and fluids to be given and blood samples withdrawn.

The nurses won't have to stick Theresa's arm veins directly anymore with a needle. It will also make these procedures more comfortable for her, especially since her current treatment regimen requires weekly access to her bloodstream for chemo delivery and blood withdrawal.

Still, I sort of felt like I was letting her down. After all, I'd promised to accompany her and made good on it. When faced with a serious illness like hers, a support system is critical.

I've got her back, to be sure, but the doctors, nurses and other hospital staff have also become like surrogate family over the weeks and months since she got sick.

But, she was flying this one solo in a cold, antiseptic, treatment room and I was out here. I might as well have been 1,000 miles away.

As waiting rooms go, well, I'd definitely seen worse. This one wasn't like the typical Greyhound Bus Station. The chairs and benches were colorful and thoughtfully arrayed.

The magazines weren't so out of date, they begged for the recycle bin. A bubbly, perky, female meteorologist gave her forecast from a 32" flat-screen, LED TV mounted on the wall. A toddler played loudly in the kid's space area while her mother doted attentively. And there was the ubiquitous free Wi-Fi signal in the ether.

The minutes moved like soldiers creeping through the night. About 30 minutes later, the broad, metal doors with the words, "STAFF ONLY" in arrest-me-red letters solemnly yawned open and Theresa emerged with the nurse, who ushered her out.

She walked toward me slowly, still sore from her recent thoracotomy and days of poking and prodding as the quest to discover the root cause of her condition continues. But her signature, megawatt smile and parade-wave told me all had gone well.

Yes, time to leave it all behind for the day. Time for the two of us to have a precious moment of solace. Time to grab a bite at the local mom and pop Chinese restaurant to discuss our daughter's ring and awards ceremony and high school prom. Our son's upward academic progress. The latest hilarity of Bruce, our Boxer dog. To meditate on Holy Week and the promise of Easter.

Anything but the apparatus taped now to her arm.

Anything but what tomorrow and the new normal of recovery from autoimmune hemolytic anemia will bring....

[Craig]

I've been following this through your updates and my heart hurts for you guys. Prayers; hang in there, it'll get better.

[onedef92]

"I do have lupus," Theresa texted me Tuesday on her cell phone.

And that, added with the crushing weight of a crying face emoji, is how I discovered my wife has tested positive for systemic lupus erythematosus (SLE or lupus). It's a disease that can (and in her case already HAS) affect any organ in the body and cause a wide range of symptoms.

So, now we have two enemies to combat; autoimmune hemolytic anemia (AHA) and now lupus.

Sun Tzu once said, "all warfare is based on deception" and in Theresa's case, lupus has certainly proven itself to be a complicated, unpredictable disease.

What’s more, SLE symptoms can vary from person to person—and change over time, even within the same person.

So, from here on out, we'll have to closely monitor her symptoms, even when they seem minor, temporary, or unrelated to her other symptoms.

Yup, we've got a row in front of us, alright. You see, over time, SLE can lead to organ damage. It’s important we understand the symptoms, because they could be signs (God forbid) organ damage is occurring.

Some of the most common lupus symptoms are:

•Extreme fatigue that doesn't go away with rest

•Joint pain, stiffness, and swelling in two or more joints

•Fever over 100°F

•Muscle pain

•Hair loss

•Skin sores and rashes (which may occur in a butterfly-shaped pattern across the cheeks and nose)

•Nose or mouth sores (usually painless)

•Skin rashes after sun exposure

On the medication front, Theresa's been put on a drug called Plaquenil (hydroxychloroquine). It's a medication most known for its original purpose of treating or preventing malaria, (a disease caused by parasites that enter the body through the bite of a mosquito).

Today, Plaquenil and other antimalarials are also used to treat and help prevent symptoms caused by certain autoimmune diseases such as rheumatoid arthritis (RA), systemic lupus erythematosus, and discoid lupus, even though these diseases are not caused by malaria parasites. Plaquenil belongs in a class of medications known as disease-modifying anti-rheumatic drugs (DMARDs).

We're not sure how long she'll have to take this medication. It will depend on how she responds to it and the recommendation of her rheumatologist (a doctor who specializes in the musculoskeletal system) who is also coordinating her care with her primary care physician, dermatologist, endocrinologist and oncologist (didn't I say it was complicated disease)?

What we do know is, God always has a pathway of preparation and guidance for our lives, even when we can't see it.

In January, we watched the premiere of "Toni Braxton: Unbreak my Heart" on Lifetime, a biography of the R&B singer-songwriter and producer who also battled lupus. The disease attacked Braxton's heart and Theresa's, too.

Theresa's rheumatologist believes it caused her pericardial effusion in February. When the amount of fluid exceeds the pericardium's "full" level, pericardial effusion puts pressure on the heart, causing poor heart function.

We didn't know it then, but that movie served as a primer for our encounter with lupus. Funny how life imitates art and vice versa, huh?

The other thing we know is, we wouldn't have gotten this far without all the prayers, support and generous dentations from all of you. Thank you.

Although Theresa's saga is far from over, we believe we now know the root cause of her autoimmune disorder and we will battle aggressively to put both conditions in remission. There is no cure for AHA or SLE, but they can be treated.

So on that note, it's off to the thoracic surgeon today to get her sutures removed and to the oncologist on Thursday for another round of chemo.

For as Sun Tzu wrote, "victorious warriors win first and then go to battle, while defeated warriors go to war first and seek to win." Theresa is healed by the stripes of Jesus, so we praise God the battle is already won.

[DAB]

my brother Julian-

i've had my own share of health issues over the last few years, and that awoke in me a new attitude toward life.

i know i cannot control the future, but i can control my reaction to it. and i know God directs all things for His good.

so everyday, when i wake up, I thank God for another beautiful day (yes, even if it's raining). i thank God for Mrs. DAB. i thank God for all my weird family and friends, including you.

and every day, i have something to do. things to take care of myself, things to take care of Mrs. DAB, and things to serve others with my time and talents.

we can only live one day at a time

Psalm 118:24 - 24 This is the day which the LORD hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.

so love her, care for her, teach your wonderful children what it means to trust in the Lord.

for i know that when the Lord calls me home, He will rid me of this corruptible body and grant me a new incorruptible body.

Job 19:26 - 26 And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God:

you shall remain in my prayers.

[onedef92]

I think I saw God Friday!

Well, let me qualify that statement since His word clearly says in Exodus 33:20 no man can look at Him and live. I saw His handiwork, His spiritual DNA, if you will, and in the most unusual of places—on a 20” flat-screen monitor!

Theresa and I were at the hospital from her having been admitted the night before following a second adverse reaction to her chemo medication. This despite being prepped with countermeasure drugs that were supposed to prevent a negative response (suffice it to say she won’t be given THAT stuff anymore).

Before discharging her, the cardiologist ordered an ultrasound of her heart to make sure there were no problems from the recent incision into the pleural space of her chest (thoracotomy) to insert a series of drainage tubes to vent excess fluid.

Theresa and I were laughing it up off the April Fool’s episode of “Let’s Make a Deal” when in wheeled Elga, the ultrasound technician, her sonogram equipment ominously preceding her in an unnerving parody of an Imperial Torture Droid from "Star Wars."

But there was nothing foreboding about Elga. Theresa immediately introduced me to her and told me she had performed three prior ultrasound procedures on her before since her ordeal began in January.

Elga was the epitome of dark and lovely. Her eyes sparkled with warmth and compassion, her apple cheeks perfectly punctuating her shiny, original, Nubian face.

And her African accent, (Nigerian or Kenyan I perceived) was so rich and alluring. Her words undulated in a perfect calypso wave of voice and diction quality.

“Hello, hello, so nice to meet you,” Elga said in an exchange of pleasantries as she began fastening electrodes to Theresa’s body. Like a high priestess of technology, she powered up the sonogram console and used high-frequency sound waves emanating from a hand-held transducer to look at my wife’s heart.

Now, Theresa and I have seen ultrasound readings at least a dozen times between us, with our two kids being the most memorable when they were just developing fetuses. But there was something undeniably special about this one as we marveled at the intricacies of the hollow, muscular organ silently and noisily pulsing on the screen in front of us with the click of a mouse as Elga guided us on an interspatial tour.

“I think it’s fascinating, it’s life,” Elga said smiling through teeth of ivory perfection.

The sci-fi geek in me immediately tripped off the V’ger flyover scene from "Star Trek: The Motion Picture" when the Enterprise entered the aperture of that massive entity. I also recalled Mr. Brown’s seventh-grade science class when we studied mammalian hearts.

I was able to recognize the mitral and aortic valves and see the four chambers as they filled and emptied themselves with life-giving blood in a perfectly synchronized blend of form and function, art and science.

But inside her aorta, I saw what appeared to be thousands of tiny fingers waving in the bloodstream. As a believer, I likened them to hands of praise rising and falling in adoration before Almighty God. I’d never seen anything like that before!

Elga explained they are capillaries that feed the heart. They are the tiniest vessels that bridge the smallest arteries to small veins called “venules.” From there, blood passes into veins that serve as tributaries to larger veins before entering the heart.

She went on to explain Capillaries are the smallest, thinnest blood vessels in the whole body. They receive blood from the arterioles and form networks called capillary beds, which are the locations where gases are exchanged and nutrients and other substances are exchanged for waste products with the tissues. White blood cells may also leave the circulatory system through the capillary walls during immune-system responses.

“Most people take their heart for granted unless there’s a problem,” Elga said. “During an average lifetime, the human heart will beat more than 3 billion times -- pumping an amount of blood that equals about 1 million barrels.”

Elga ended her test after recording more than 60 short videos for the cardiologist to interpret. Theresa’s test thankfully came back negative for anomalies and she was discharged, leaving us to ponder the wonderful complexities of the human body.

And lift up hands of praise to its Intelligent Designer.

[SQUIRMIN VERMIN 84]

"But inside her aorta, I saw what appeared to be thousands of tiny fingers waving in the bloodstream. As a believer, I likened them to hands of praise rising and falling in adoration before Almighty God. I’d never seen anything like that before!"

Let all things praise God!

So well put, Julian!

Glad to hear that test was negative! One step at a time.
You both are still in our prayers.

[simpleman68]

Was really happy to read this update the other day! Good stuff Julian! :hurray: :dance:
Scott

[onedef92]

Theresa sat with her eyes closed in the leather executive chair in our bedroom, contentedly humming the chorus of Kari Jobe’s “Holy Spirit You Are Welcome Here” as I shaved the remaining locks of hair from her head.

“When I find myself getting down, this song brings me back up,” she said to me as I nodded slowly in agreement. “Jesus has shown me so many times what He can do. Hold onto the faith because my God supplies all my needs.”

Hair loss. It’s one of the dreaded symptoms of lupus, a chronic, autoimmune disease that can damage any part of the body (skin, joints, and/or organs inside the body). And it had certainly ravaged my wife’s corporeal frame.

It attacked her heart in February with such ferocity, doctors had to insert a series of drainage tubes in her chest cavity to stave off rapid fluid buildup. Her beautiful, bronzed skin is now mottled with rashes and scabs. The soles of her feet burn frequently with stabbing pain and her ankles are often painfully swollen to the point walking is difficult and running is impossible.

Additionally, she’s lost 20 pounds during her ordeal, leaving her frail and gaunt in appearance. This isn’t athletic or high-school skinny, she’s Ethiopian refugee, bulimic-zone thin.

Even before the medical diagnosis came, I suspected Theresa had lupus based on the crash-course research I’d done. Our pre-confirmation came the morning she exited the shower silently weeping after a clump of her hair came out.

“Look at me,” she said through stinging tears suppressed so as not to alarm the kids. “I just can’t accept the way I look. I don’t want to look like this.”

The gut-punch of reality settled in as I struggled to process my wife’s anguish. That this was truly happening to us. That no matter how badly I wanted to, I couldn’t trade places with her affliction. In that terrible moment, I had no ready words, but instinctively enfolded her in a warm embrace until I felt it melt her quiet pain.

I lovingly planted tender kisses atop her head and forehead and held her with tree-trunk arms of masculinity. My strength propped against her temporary weakness. Our love a two-fold chord against the forces of darkness that defiled her.

Theresa told me she wanted to shave all her hair off until her disease is in remission. She didn’t want to suffer the indignity of going to a hair salon or have a nurse at the oncology ward of the hospital do it.

And I knew I was eminently qualified for the task. After all, my Dad cut hair at Fort Knox, Ky. nearly 20 years, barbering at Ireland Army Community Hospital.

“I want you to do it,” she whispered to me in settled tones of resolution. “I’m not going to let the enemy steal my joy. Good things come from Jesus and bad things come from the devil. So just remember when we go through things, God is always with us.”

I agreed to her request on one condition—that we ALL gather as a family during the procedure. She consented and we summoned the kids, including fur-baby Bruce, our Boxer dog, who assumed his place on our bed lying in repose with curious, moist, brown eyes beaming at the unfolding spectacle.

Theresa had never known the soothing warmth and intimacy a Wahl electric clipper creates as it gently buzzes along the nape of your neck, but I was determined to make her first time memorable.

My mind drifted to decades past when my Dad cut me and my littermates’ hair on Saturday evenings. He kept the tools of his trade, an assortment of Oster, Andis and Wahl clippers, scissors, blade oil and blades, in a paper grocery sack in the laundry room of the basement.

Whenever he asked me to fetch that bag, I felt like a Levite priest entering the Holiest of Holies, an inner sanctum of the utmost reverence and respect. I admired Dad’s barber tools almost as much as I love my Dad.

The cold, smooth, stainless steel. The commanding crackle those clippers made when they snapped on. The oscillating hum of a 60-Hz rotary motor vibrating like Luke Sywalker’s light saber in the palm of my hand. I dared not play with them, but I couldn’t help my fascination.

Expertly and carefully, I channeled the techniques I learned from my Dad and in short order, Theresa’s head was clean shaven.

I tenderly planted one more kiss on the top of her head as I waited with baited breath for her to open her eyes and express her initial reaction to her new appearance.

Bruce tilted his head curiously and gazed at her, obviously taken back by his Doggy Mom’s new look. Julian, Jr. smiled and nodded in approval, but didn’t say anything.

“It’s still you on the inside, Momma,” our teenage daughter, Chynna, said breaking the silence in her cynical, adolescent, “whatever” deadpan.

Well said, Chynna. Well said.

http://i102.photobucket.com/albums/m111/onedef92/Family%20and%20Friends/IMG_20160415_154848_zpsfxr702ao.jpg

http://i102.photobucket.com/albums/m111/onedef92/Family%20and%20Friends/IMG_20160415_154729_zpsp8tjxzui.jpg

[DAB]

you're a good man Julian, and your wife looks great. bright eyes, wide smile, standing tall.

external blemishes? we all have them. God looks at our hearts, not our imperfect bodies.

give her a hug from me. :grouphug:

[Craig]

You write so well Julian, I'm sure it comes from a big heart, and I'm sure writing is cathartic for you...I so wish it was a happier tale you were telling. I don't know what else to say except we're all playing a role in God's Plan, the greater good; like being in the middle of the book He has written. The things you guys are going through is teaching someone something, maybe one of us...maybe all of us.

God, please make Your presence felt to these good folks tonight, and in the coming days, may they always know You are with them; amen.

[Black94lt1]

I just checked the gofundme and my thanks to whoever made the $1000 donation today to push it past the goal. Let's not stop now though.

[SQUIRMIN VERMIN 84]

That's a great song, 'Holy Spirit'.... and that beautiful smile of Theresa's
is a witness of the Holy Spirit working in your lives. Thanks for sharing
your walk through this storm. In our prayers always. You are not alone.

[SteelCityBlue]

Please keep us in the loop

[onedef92]

It’s one of the best things about married life, I suppose; that lifelong gift of companionship you receive each morning when you wake up beside your mate in the cold, morning light. And after 21 years, Theresa and I realized we had much to be thankful for.

This, despite a turbulent year that’s tested our faith, yet purified our resolve to hold on to one another in sickness and in health. In December, I only knew lupus as the storyboard behind “Unbreak My Heart,” a Lifetime Television Network original movie.

But now, as I flushed the PICC line of my wife’s bronzed, elegantly slender arm with a saline solution-filled syringe, I knew all too well the consequences of this chronic, complex and prevalent autoimmune disease that affects more than 1.5 million Americans.

This unwelcome interloper was now in my house and it had turned our lives upside down through a bellicose, topsy-turvy series of events that humbled any daytime soap opera or prime time drama I’d ever seen.

Theresa spent most of this past winter hospitalized. Complicated by a condition known as autoimmune hemolytic anemia (a life-threatening disorder that essentially causes the body’s white blood cells to conduct friendly-fire on its red blood cell counterparts) she received three blood transfusions, endured five rounds of chemo and underwent a major surgical procedure called a “thoracotomy” to insert drainage tubes in her chest cavity to bleed off excess fluid around her heart and right lung.

And yet, despite a mortal frame ravaged by these conditions (including dramatic weight loss) she’s still able to maintain an attitude of gratitude, her mega-watt smile indicative of a soul impervious to sickness, disease or infection.

“Thank you hon,” she grinned sweetly as I slowly administered blood-thinning medication into the thin, plastic tube grafted onto her arm to keep the blood within her implanted port from clotting. “I promise you when this is all over, we’re going to paint the town red.”

Ah, “Red” perfume by Giorgio Beverly Hills. Was it by Freudian slip Theresa mentioned her signature scent to me? Twenty-one years of marriage and time had indeed travelled through its inevitable, slippery sluice. As the Book of James says, our lives are like the morning fog--here a little while, then gone. We’re just a vapor that appears for a little while, then vanishes away. Cabbages and kings. Princes and paupers. Great and small. The way of all flesh.

Still, no one could deny we’d been blessed. My vocation has allowed me to travel all over the U.S. and see a decent chunk of the globe, too, with Theresa happily accompanying me on many occasions.

Awestruck, I’ve stared my first and second-born in the eye. We’ve built the proverbial house with the “white picket fence” not once, but twice and I’ve been slathered with the slobbery, blobbery, unconditional love only a boxer dog provides as the icing on my familial cake. Joy and pain, sunshine and rain. The joy of the holiday season. Summertime when the livin’ is easy. Countless funerals, parties and the entire kaleidoscope of life whirling like a pinwheel in front of an electric fan.

But now, hardship in the form of incurable chronic illness had come to our doorstep. Prosperity replaced by difficulty. Abundance traded for lack. Ashes substituted for beauty. Yes, these are the Job moments every Christian encounters and dreads. Still, didn’t my man say, “shall we indeed accept good from God and not accept adversity?”

Yet, through it all, Theresa and I have learned to trust in Jesus and depend on the promises of God. Long before “War Room” became a pop-culture phenom, she and I knew the importance of a vibrant, active, prayer life. So much so, we gathered the entire Shipp brood up and headed to church at 6 a.m. five days a week before going our separate ways to work and school. I’m talking years of vested, stored-up prayers of spiritual sustenance. Too blessed to be stressed.

And I know for a fact prayer generates closeness, even intimacy. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt my wife’s supplications lovingly embrace me like a memory foam mattress during my daily commute to work and back along the treacherous “Gene Slider” and “Dixie Die-way.” It’s a peace that surpasses the security of six-passenger airbags and supplemental restraints, I can tell you that.

Yes, through it all, Theresa and I are still standing despite the challenges (historical and current) of more than two decades of marriage. We can look back and be proud of the fact we took a bold stand for committed, marital fidelity rooted in the abundant, zōḗ, life of the Gospel.

Her lupus might bring foot sore feet, aching joints, intermittent headaches and bouts of fatigue on this, our anniversary, as she recovers; but it can’t stop us from enjoying a delicious meal by candlelight and a TV movie while I massage her feet with copious amounts of creamy, scented, Argan oil-enriched lotion.

“When life hands you a lemon, squeeze it and make lemonade,” she said with an inviting, come-hither glance of those pretty, brown eyes.

Cheap dates, priceless memories. Yeah, that’s another nicety of married life.

gofund.me/wst77d5w

http://i102.photobucket.com/albums/m111/onedef92/Anniversary_zpspr09nves.jpg

[DAB]

Job 19:26 -

19:26And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God:

[onedef92]

OK, peeps, I’m honestly still pretty wiped from a chaotic weekend, but as promised, here’s a quick and dirty update on my wife with just the actual factuals.

Theresa was hospitalized early Sunday morning at Norton Women's Hospital in Louisville after her symptoms failed to improve. She began feeling sick on June 3rd and her condition spiraled downward from there.

As many of you recall, she was diagnosed in March with lupus, a serious auto-immune disease that can attack any organ in the body. 90% of all lupus patients are women who usually start showing symptoms during the ages of 15 to 44.

This go-round, the accursed lupus demon decided to attack Theresa’s kidneys. She has two rounds of dialysis scheduled this week; Monday and Tuesday, in the hopes of “jump starting” both mission-critical, blood filtering organs of the body.

She’s also scheduled for a “thoracotomy” or incision into the pleural space of her chest on Wednesday to drain off a pocket of fluid ponding in her left lung.

And finally, Theresa will have a biopsy of her kidneys this week after dialysis is complete to better help the doctors assess any additional damage from the lupus.

On the positive side, her appetite is picking up, she’s drinking plenty of fluids, there is no fever and she is urinating, but still needs assistance in getting out of the bed. A physical therapist will help her regain mobility while she’s hospitalized.

Some pre-July 4th holiday/birthday treat, huh? (her birthday is Sunday). Agreed, but it sure beats the dirt nap alternative all hollow.

Thanks again to all of you for your generous donations, expressions of sympathy, well-wishes, acts of kindness and most importantly, PRAYERS!

Keep ‘em coming because “we’ve got a row ahead of us” as we say in the Southern vernacular.

gofund.me/wst77d5w