There is nothing more settling or peaceful than the pressence of someone who loves you. My parents walked into a room through a door that was to my back, but it didn't matter. I knew they were there...had for some reason been able to tell for awhile that they were in the hospital.
The hours after my parent's arrival isn't really clear to me. I didn't understand how that could be at first, but now I do. It is a trust. Once there, I knew that they were going with me no matter what and that they would advocate for me without me having to ask them too. And they did. I don't know why I was transfered or who made the arangements. I don't remember the room I was in at Ft Polk, the doctors that took care of me there or the conversations with my visitors that I am told I had or even the Paramedics that drove me to BAMC. I have no memory of getting to BAMC, my room, or even my doctors the first night.
These are the facts though. I was in BAMC for seven days. I was seen by an internal medicine team who thought that cutting my headache in half was success enoguh to send me home, a pyschologist who asked me if I thought I was subconsiously making myself sick because of stress, neurologist who want to know if I was doing this to get a medical board discharge, and a TBI specialist who told me that I probably didn't have a concussion in Iraq or my car accident. This is one thing that I do know though. I am under the care of a God who is going to work His will for his people whether those around you like it or not. I was discharged. But the same TBI dr who thought nothing was wrong was the one who made the reccommendation to keep me as an outpatient. And the same neurologist who thought I just wanted a medical reason to get out of the military, was the same dr who gave me a round of steriods for the inflamation in my neck. The internal medicine team I didn't see again before I left, but that is ok. I don't need a dr to check in on my when God himself is coordinating my care.
Wait til you hear what He did for my outpatient care!
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