On the Fourth of July I heard a story on the radio. A story that has rocked my world for the past week. A story about a tech at Rose Medical Center, who injected herself, multiple times with a painkilling drug. She then filled the dirty needle with saline and put it back on the shelf. In doing so, she may have passed Hepatitis C to any number of patients who had surgery at Rose between October and April of this year.
Hepatitis C is a virus that effects your liver. There is a cure (for some), some folks kick it themselves, but others die from it. And there is an outrageous percentage of people who have it, who don't know it, because many people don't show any symptoms - and some, can live their whole lives and never know they have it.
Thing is, I was one of the 5,000 patients who had surgery there (I had a small thing done after Madoc was born).
I don't ever think I have ever been so scared in my life. Being told that you have a risk of being infected by a hospital you trust, exposed to a contagious disease, is no way to spend a week. I had dreams about tornadoes every night. I called my Grandfather, who I believe is the closest to God a man can get, and asked him to pray for me. I'm a big fan in preventative prayer.
And I received word today that I am clean. Thank God. Thanks to my Grandfather for his prayers, and for the prayers from my immediate family. I believe they helped.
I ask everyone who reads this to say a little prayer for the 4,999 people who touched by this, who are waiting to hear, who are dreaming about tornadoes. And I also ask everyone to take a minute and be thankful for everything bold and beautiful in your life.