Exchanging the Negative for the Positive

I'm finally starting to feel better from my surgery!
After a long 4 1/2 weeks, I'm almost feeling
100% back to normal!  Yay!  :-)
Thanks to all those who have been praying
for me, who have visited, for all the FB
messages, and for keeping me company!

Even though I posted a few days ago, I'd like to apologize for disappearing for over a month…But I promise I have a valid excuse for my temporary disappearance! ;-)

In my time away I had the last few weeks of school – which included two major projects and finals.  I also had an unexpected adventure that included an ambulance ride to the ER, hospitalization, pancreatitis, and emergency surgery to have my gallbladder removed!  It’s been a busy month, needless to say.

The cool thing is, I had a negative experience with a couple of the nurses while hospitalized.  I know that doesn’t sound “cool” – but I’ll get to that.  Here’s the story of my hospitalization, and why I think my bad experience was a positive one…in the end. 

For the last few months I’ve been struggling with on and off stomach problems.  I went to see a doctor who told me that my issues were more than likely related to a glutton allergy, and then she sent me home.

A few weeks later I had a friend coming to town.  This friend and I lived together as flat mates (aka: roommates) in London and I hadn’t seen her since my time in England…It had been two years!  I was excited about this reunion.

The day before she came, I was having intense stomach pains that I chose to ignore.  Then she came, and I felt mostly okay.

My friend had plans to leave on Monday morning around 9 or 10.  However, at 5:45 am on that Monday morning, I woke up with pain in the middle of my back and feeling nauseous.  I called an advice nurse who made an appointment for me at noon, and left a message at work letting them know I wouldn’t be there that day – all before 6:30.

Before I knew it, the pain was worse.  The pain was so intense I was doubled over and couldn’t straighten my back.  Although I have a high tolerance for pain, I found myself doing the ugly cry.  (Us girls especially know that ugly cry!!  But this ugly cry was definitely uglier than the “PS: I Love You movie ugly cry.)

I woke my mom up around 7:30, who then decided it was best to call for an ambulance.  By about 10:00 I was already diagnosed with the pancreatitis, stuck gallstones, and found my way out of the ER to a room in the hospital for an extended stay.

Here’s where the fun part of the story begins.

I had to wait a couple of days before the doctor could remove my gallbladder.  To have it removed, we had to get my pancreatitis under control…meaning I couldn’t eat or drink anything.  I was only allowed IV fluids.

By the time I was allowed to have surgery, I was feeling okay.  No more intense pain.  No more being doubled over.  No more ugly cry.

The day of the surgery, I decided to shower.  I knew if I didn’t shower then – it’d be a few days before I’d have a chance to shower again.  So, I went to my bathroom to do so.

As I’m undressing out of the hospital gown, my attending nurse flung my door open and entered the room without knocking, or asking if it was okay.

As quickly as possible I caught the gown before it hit the floor, trying to cover myself.  I told her, “Excuse me – I’m trying to get into the shower.”  She said, “Oh, don’t worry – it’s just me.”  Wanting a bit of privacy, and irritated by the unwelcomed intrusion on my preference of modesty, I told her, “I don’t care who you are...whether you’re my mother, or my nurse.  I like privacy.”  Ignoring what I told her, she continued entering my bathroom to do whatever she needed to do, as I stood there trying to stay modest. 

While I recognize she is use to seeing the human body in its natural form, I also know that I’m not use to being in these situations.  I’m not use to others seeing me undressed.  Being hospitalized is not something I do often, and I still craved a bit of dignity in that situation. 

Then, I had my surgery…and the fun continued…with the same nurse.

One of the possibly side affects of having anesthesia is having your bladder “go to sleep”.  While not everyone experiences this, and while I hadn’t experienced this before in previous surgeries, this time I did.

Once awake, I called my nurse in request to go to the bathroom.  She helped me up and I tried to relieve myself, but I couldn’t. 

About an hour or so later, I called my nurse again to request more help.  She came in and told me, “I’m helping another patient right now – I’ll be right back to help you.”  Totally understanding and with patience, I waited.

I waited so long for her to come and assist me that I fell asleep.  By the time I woke up, I was extremely uncomfortable, as I really need to use the restroom.  I was still on IV fluids this whole time – increasing the need to “go” – and I hadn’t gone to the bathroom since before having surgery  (which had been more than a few hours).

Calling her into my room, she finally helped me.  Yet, my bladder was still sleeping.

Due to the side affect of not being able to use the bathroom, they decided it was best to use a catheter until everything started working properly.

My nurse tried and tried to insert the catheter.  If you’ve ever had to get a catheter – you know that this is an uncomfortable experience, physically and mentally.  After about 10 minutes of her trying, I eventually told her, “You need to get someone else to do this.  I can’t do this anymore.  This isn’t working.”  Although I requested her to find help, she continued to try.  I told her again, “No.  I’m serious.  You have to stop and get help.”  Finally, she listened to my request.

When my nurse returned with help, the lady who came to help took one look at me, looked at my nurse, and exclaimed with attitude, “What is THAT on her face?!?”  I’m pretty sure I rolled my eyes or something in reaction to her statement (Yay for pain meds??), as she then asked my nurse with persistent attitude, “Oh.  Is that something she’s had for a while??”

The lady talked about me, in front of me, but not to me.  She ignored the fact that I was there.  She ignored the fact, and forgot, I’m not just “something to look at” that is different.  She forgot that, although I am a patient, I’m also a human.  A person…A person who has feelings, who can hear her comments infused with attitude, and who could see the expression of her face during her reaction.

I know that it’s possible that she may of thought, “Maybe this is a reaction to medication or something else.”  That’s a reasonable possibility that I completely understand. However, the way she went about it was all wrong.  If she had that concern – she should have either asked me about it (kindly), or if she chose to ask the other nurse about it, she shouldn’t have done it in front of me in that shocking manner. 

As the assisting nurse started to help with the catheter, both she and my nurse started calling me by the name of “Carl”.  Thinking I must have misunderstood them the first time or two, I ignored it.  But by the fourth time of them using the name, I spoke up by saying, “Ummm…My name isn’t Carl.”  They replied in shock, “Oh, it’s not???”  I told them (again, remember, I’m on drugs, in a lot of pain, am frustrated, and am a little more blunt at this point), “No.  It’s not.  My name is Crystal.  That would be an ugly girl’s name.”  They told me, “What??  Crystal is a BEAUTIFUL girl’s name!”  Sarcastically I said, “No.  The name you’ve called me about four times – Carl – would be an ugly girl’s name.”

Once the catheter was in, I started to cry.  The whole thing was uncomfortable, I was in pain, and was miserable from surgery.  My nurse then told me, “It’s okay to cry.  I once got a shot and cried too.”

…What???  A catheter and shot are NOT nearly the same thing - at all.

During the rest of my time with that nurse, she would ask me, “What is your pain level?”  I’d tell her, “I’m at an eight right now.”  She would then say, “Oh, so you’re not in any pain?”  Or, another thing she would ask, “Do you want or need any pain medication?”  I would tell her, “Yes, I do.  I’m hurting really badly.”  She then would say, “Okay.  You don’t need any medication??”  I’d then explain, “No.  I do need pain medication!  I’m at an eight on the pain level scale.”

That nurse was an adventure…A frustrating adventure, but an adventure all the same – and a story to tell.

Before I get to the good, positive part, there is another story I need to explain.

Three weeks after surgery my doctor wanted me to have blood work done, making sure all my levels were okay and that the pancreatitis was completely gone.

Walking up to the check-in counter, the lady asked me for my medical record number and to see my ID.  Then she turned our conversation straight to my birthmark.

Instead of asking me about my day, or whatever, she asked me, “What kind of make up do you use to cover your hematoma??”  Mentally, I thought, “Hematoma??  It’s not a hematoma – but I’ll ignore that.”  I told her, “I use Cover Girl.”  She proceeded, “Oh, you should try using Bare Minerals!  It covers things like that really well.  I have a red spot on my nose, and you can’t even tell it’s red – can you??”  I then explained, “No thank you.  I don’t feel the need to hide my birthmark.  Even if it is a little frustrating at times, I figure it gives me a unique way to help and educate people – so why not embrace it?”  She replied, “That’s true.  I guess other people are more bothered by it than someone like you, who has it.”

I really don’t think the lady meant any harm in her statements and recommendation.  Her voice was 100% friendly and had no indication of attitude; unlike many other situations I’ve encountered.  Yet, I still felt bothered.

Going into the hospital to have lab work done, three weeks after surgery, I really don’t want to focus on my birthmark.  That’s not the intention of my visit.

I also did not ask for make up recommendations.  It’d be different if I had asked, “Your make up looks really good!  What brand do you use?” - but I didn’t.

There’s also the issue, especially in a hospital setting, of her assuming I had a hematoma.  In a sense, she was assuming a diagnosis for my birthmark being something different.  And had I tried the make up she mentioned, and had a reaction, the hospital is then liable due to their staff member’s advice.

And personally/mentally?  Her recommendation of changing make up interpreted in my head as, “Here – try this make up so you can hide your face.”…And that hurts.

Some people tell me, “She’s only trying to help”, or “She sees you wear makeup.  Maybe she thought you were trying to hide the birthmark.”  Both are valid thoughts, but my opinion?  There’s nothing to help…and in this day in age, I have a laptop, an iPhone, and I know how to use Wi-Fi access.  I’ve tried other make up.  Ican’t stand them, and choose not to use them for many reasons other than the discomfort and expensive cost of the special brands.  However, even if I hadn’t tried them yet, if I wanted another make up option, I know I can ask friends, go to Macy’s, or Google my options.

Besides, if a woman with curly hair walks up to her counter, does she tell them, “My dear girl – your hair is really curly!  I know of this GREAT hair straightener to help you straighten out that problem.”  She probably doesn’t.  That woman was born with her curly hair…It’s a part of who she is and maybe a part of her signature look – just like my birthmark is a part of me.

If these situations didn't happen on such a regular basis, I probably wouldn't have frustrated with this one…But these situations do start to wear me out, and it's not a good feeling when they happen as often as they do.  When people tell me this situation isn't really a "big deal", I often wonder if they would think and feel the same thing if they wore my shoes for a few days.

Also, in addition, moments like this make me wonder, “Why can’t strangers – whether they be hospital employees or the general public – talk to me about who I am as a person?  Why do they have to bring up the birthmark?  Why not just ask me how my day is going?  About my favorite hobby, or summer plans?  I’m a person – just like them…A person who has so much more depth than the color of her patch of purple skin.  Why do they forget that?”

Even though I don’t think she meant any harm, and overall I feel like I’m a confident person, my concern is – what if the next person this happens to isn’t??  What if they struggle 1,000 times more than I do??  How will it affect their already struggling confidence level?

When I walk into a hospital, I expect to feel safe when talking with hospital employees.  I should feel comfortable.  Employees in a hospital, or even dental setting, should expect “different” people to walk through the door…and while they can wonder if my facial difference is a hematoma or a reaction to medication, they shouldn’t assume that when they address it.  Instead, they should ask, “Is that a hematoma?”  Or, “Do you mind if I ask what causes your face to have a purplish look?” 

Oh, but hey - here’s where the positive part comes in!

While I was still in the hospital, my mom called a hospital manager and made a complaint about the nurses.  She was not my nurse for any more of my time there, and the manager was extremely disappointed about how things took place with her.  While talking with the manager, my mom then casually mentioned, “I’m sure that once my daughter feels better, if you’d like, she’d be more than happy to come and talk with your staff and do a sensitivity training.” 

He was thrilled at the idea and told her he would mention it to his boss.  He liked the idea a lot, but had to receive permission needed to allow me to do this. 

When I told a nurse I really liked about the possibility of doing a sensitivity training, she told me with encouragement, “If you do this and I hear about it – I will be the first one to sign up to attend.”

The same idea was mentioned to another manager in charge of the lab department, and she too is asking for the permission needed for me to come to her department to share about my experiences, about sensitivity, and my patient insight. (I do have to make a note - when talked with the manager of the lab, I did let them know that I don't think their employee meant any harm.  I also pointed out that she also probably didm' realized how what she said could come across - and did come across - and that she spoke with kindness…However, I still believe it was still unprofessional.)

Not only did we have phone conversations with these two managers, but I also had an in-person meeting with a third manager who is also in charge of the hospital department. 

She felt horrible about the whole experience.  The birthmark portion, but also the negative parts unrelated to my birthmark.  She also asked me an unexpected question.

The manager asked me if I would be willing to participate in a hospital committee that consists of hospital leadership, doctors, and a few patients.  She wants me to share my stories with them, and feels that with my age and unique situation, I’d be a value to their committee.  She told me, “I love listening to you talk!  You are inspiring.”

I still have to be voted into their committee and have a background check, but even the possibility of being added in and possibly making a difference excites me.

Many people ask me what hospital all my experiences take place at.  Truthfully?  I know that doesn’t matter.  I hear stories from other people with similar experiences from across the country and world.  These things can happen anywhere, and everywhere – and they do.  And my goal is not to put any hospital down in any way, because I know that won’t accomplish anything.  That wouldn’t be a very impactful strategy while trying to help make a positive change.

These experiences aren’t my first like this in a hospital setting.  For years I’ve been ignoring people’s comments and remarks, choosing not to speak up.

I’ve finally hit that age and point where I’ve decided, “It’s time to take off the ‘I’m frustrated’ hat and time to change it in for a, ‘I’m going to do something about this’ hat instead.”  Within the last year alone, I've had four negative experiences in the same hospital.  (Please read It's Just a Birthmark! for the other stories.)  The thing is – I finally realized that I can make a difference.  I can make an impact.  My voice, my story, can be heard if I just speak up.  Maybe my personal attempt at change will be small, but overtime, maybe a bigger change can be made just by my tiny attempt and step.

When, and if, I really get to go and speak to all the nurses and to the different committees and departments of the hospital, I know that I’m not just raising my own voice.  I’m a representative for everyone who has ever had similar, unnecessary, experiences.  By finally speaking up, hopefully I can make a big enough difference for at least one person…One person who may not get the same negative treatment, just because I am speaking up.

I think this is a reminder from God that He has so many special, and unexpected, plans for my life.  His dreams for me are bigger than my own.  Had you told me two years ago that God would be opening these doors I never knew were possible, I don’t know if I would have believed you.

I’m excited to see where this goes, as even the most ugly situations can become the most beautiful.

The Travelin’ Chick,

Crystal

PS: For those of you who remember that I was hospitalized in Norway back in the summer of 2012, my doctors told me that more than likely, it was my gallbladder giving me problems then too.  Mystery solved??  (You can read Beautiful Norway on that story.  It's much shorter than this entry.)

My Not-So-Brave Bravery

Often before going on a trip overseas, people tell me, "You're so brave for traveling and going so far away from home!!" When people tell me this, I think, "Me?  Brave?  If only they knew what was taking place inside of my head right now!"

Traveling is exciting.  Adventures are fun.  But...I find them to be completely nerve-wrecking before I leave and my mind goes into hyper-active mode.  In fact, it's in hyper-active mode right now as I write this blog entry at 2:30 in the morning.  I can't sleep, even though I know that I have plans to meet two friends at Starbucks in the morning.

Usually, at some point before a trip, I think to myself, "Am I crazy?  What am I doing?"  But - this is normal for me.  My mind freaks out.  The stress of leaving home invades my brain.

If I come across as brave to some of you, here's a secret fact:  I don't feel brave.  At least, not to today.  Not tonight.  Tonight I am thinking of all that I have left to do...Go to physical therapy, email or call certain friends, call the bank to tell them I'm leaving the country, do my laundry, pack, clean my room, say goodbye to friends and family....etc, etc, etc.

Out of that list, I think the "goodbyes" are what I find most stressful.  I know I'll be back.  In fact, I'm only going to be gone for 6 months...Just half a year!  Skype will be available so I can talk to my family and friends - while looking them straight into their pixelated faces.  But saying "goodbye" and "see you later"?  It's always the worst and hardest part of leaving...Especially when a two-year-old is involved.  It is also hard when I know that there are people close to me who are struggling with the idea with me leaving...Again.  This part is the part that I haven't gotten use to yet.  A lot can happen in 6 months, and I will miss spending time with people in person - especially my family.

Then I think about things that may come up.   Issues range from something (that is technically not-as-major in life) like my fear of forgetting the all of the ASL I've learned in the last year.  Maybe it's not a major thing in the average life, but retaining what I have learned in ASL is more important to me than I can explain.

The list then continues in more serious issues.  What if I leave, and dad gets really sick again and has to be hospitalized?  Or his life is threatened by another illness?  What if something else happens to my family while I am gone??  What if I injure my ankle (even more) while I am away, or end up hospitalized again like I did in Norway?

Behind my "brave face" is a nervous mind.

However...Did I ever tell you all that I almost dropped out of going to London??  (I guess that's a blog entry for another day.)  I almost dropped out, but I didn't.  I went.  I had fears, stressors, and a hyper-active brain before I went there too.  And you know what?  My time in London turned out to be one of the best experiences of my life - if not the very best!

As prepare to leave for Germany, I have to reroute my brain and my thought patterns.

If I leave without accomplishing my to do list, it'll be okay.  What's done is done, and what's not isn't.  If I didn't get to something on my list before leaving, it probably wasn't that important.

When it comes to ASL??  ASL is something I have become deeply passionate about and want to continue to pursue learning.  It's going to take a lot of dedication retain what I currently know while I'm in another country, but I can do it!  Just because I'm leaving doesn't mean I can't practice on my own and with friends on Skype.

My dad may get really sick again.  He may not.  His health has been a concern for a while now, and at least I am somewhat mentally prepared if he does get ill.  Some family emergency may come up, but we haven't had one in a while.  I may get injured or get sick while I'm overseas but that's okay too.  There are well-trained doctors for situations like that - and interpreters if needed.  And my Norway situation?  That was a one time, weird illness, that is unrelated to my overall health.

Nervousness might be invading my mind...but I think that's normal.  I think it's expected - at least for me.  There's a lot of unknown territory in life - especially when going overseas.  I'm about to go for an adventure...An adventure full of unfamiliar people, cultures, experiences, and language....Not to mention the unfamiliar sights, tastes, and sounds.  It will also be an adventure filled with fun, new friends, laughter, learning, and great, life-changing, memories.

God taught me a lot when I was in London.  He's taught me a lot when I've gone to Japan, Spain, and when I went to Welch College in Nashville, TN, for a year.  I'm eager to see what I can learn while in Germany!

When my mind goes into the nervous, hyper-active, mindset I remind myself of how excited I am.  I'm excited to see what God has to show me and teach me while I am away.  It will be fun learning about a new culture and meeting new friends.  Also?  I remind myself that the unknown is okay!  That's what makes life fun.  Life would be way too boring if I knew everything that was to come my way.

I also realize people are praying for me around the world - and this is more encouraging than I can fully express!

I'm blessed to have such a great opportunity to go to Germany.  I know God has this as a part of my life's story for a reason - there's no doubt about it!  My excitement, love for adventure, and knowing God has it all under control completely outweighs any stressors, freak-out moments, and fears I may have.

While my mind may be in hyper-active mode and may be all over the place, I know God has a plan.  He is calm, He is strong.  He is confident.  He knows things that I don't know and I'm never alone.  I'm glad that no matter where my brain and emotions are, God is stable.

When I lack the feeling of bravery, I trust God.

The Travelin' Chick,
Crystal

Birthmarks and Laser Treatments

Before going through a
treatment.  However, I'm wearing
make-up in this photo, so my
birthmark is lightened a good
 amount by make-up alone.

During spring break, I had a laser treatment on my birthmark.  Sparking conversations, many people have ask me questions such as, "What does the laser treatment do?  What does it feel like?  What is the purpose?"  Let me begin answering these questions with some quick background information.

First off, the type of birthmark that I have is called a "port wine stain".  There isn't really any rhyme or reason as to why I have it.  There's no genetic links, and it has nothing to do with my mother's pregnancy.  The only cause of my birthmark is, "just because it can exist, it does".  Due to an excess of blood vessels in my facial area, the blood vessels causes my skin tone to look a purplish type of color.  That being said, my birthmark goes much deeper than my skin.

If you were to look in my mouth, at my gums, in my ears, and in my nose, you can easily tell a color difference and where the birthmark starts and ends.  (Not that I go around looking up my nose or asking people, "Hey!!  You want to see the inside of my nose!??!?"...I am pretty sure that is socially unacceptable, and 100% socially awkward.  This is just an observation that doctors have made.)   The older I get, the darker it can get, and the texture of my skin is also at risk of changing (due to thickening of the blood vessels).  I also have to avoid getting too much sun without protection of sun screen, as that can damage the birthmark as well.  (Although, fun fact: I will add - when I get really, really cold...My mother and close friends can always tell.  My birthmark gets really dark, changing like a mood ring.  However, this change in color is only temporary.)

My birthmark goes all the way to my brain.  Occasionally I have to have MRIs done of my brain to make sure that none of the blood vessels have strayed into a more dangerous location.  When I was born, the doctor's had to watch me closely for my first 24 hours to make sure that the birthmark didn't cause any seizures.  If I didn't have any seizures in the first 24 hours, I would be okay.  I'm thankful that I didn't - as I am sure that would have greatly affected the way my life would play out.

Not only does my birthmark go brain deep, but it also affects my bone structure and density.  Even my teeth are affected by this.  It also adds to the lack of symmetry in my face - even more than the average person that doesn't have a birthmark.   The extra vessels make features expand a little more.  My lip is a perfect example of this, as the left upper lip is a little larger than the right upper lip.

Also, because it is more than skin deep, I also have had to deal with a disease called glaucoma in my left eye.  Glaucoma is an 80-year-old lady (or man) disease that I've had since I was about 8-years-old.  Due to all the blood pressure in my eye from all the blood vessels, I have to use eye drops twice a day, and see a doctor two times a year, just to make sure I don't go blind.  There is a surgery that can relieve glaucoma patients - but I don't know much about it.  Due to my type of glaucoma and the reasons that I have it, if the doctor makes one little wrong move - I would go instantly blind in my eye.  We've decided it's not worth the risk and have not asked for further information.

Pretty much, my birthmark is more than just something that alters the skin tone on my face.  Due to the color alteration, I sometimes have laser treatments. 

The numbing cream.  I have to
wear this for an hour before
the treatment.  It also has to
be applied on super thick.  It was
like icing a cake. ;-)

Okay...What is a laser treatment, and what does it do?  What is the goal?

The overall goal of the laser treatments is to lighten my birthmark. It's recommended that I have them every two months for the treatments to work at their best.  When I have the treatments, heat is sent from the laser, basically heating up the blood vessels.  When they get hot, they shrink - or burst.   When they shrink, the color lightens and other risk factors are lessened - such as the texture of my skin changing.

If I don't have the treatments, my birthmark will get darker as I age.  The blood vessels will get bigger, causing the darker color - and for my birthmark colored skin to become lumpy and a pebble-like texture.  By having the treatments, I am lessening my risks of it changing the color and texture - which is my main purpose of having the treatments.  (As really, I don't feel the need to hide.  Making it lighter is more than just about the color.)

After the treatment my face is extra purple for about a week - varying after each treatment.  It's swollen and painful, and I can't scratch or rub my face.  For the first few days I can't wear makeup either.  As long as the dark and purple color is around, I can feel heat radiating through my skin.  The lighter the purple gets, the less pain and heat that I feel.  Once the extra purple color disappears and my birthmark returns to normal color, my birthmark will lighten even more.

How do the treatments feel?  Afterwards it reminds me of a horrible sunburn.  Imagine your worst sunburn - and there you go.  That's the best way I can describe it.  During the treatment?  Well, the doctors like to describe it as a rubber band shooting the face.  I've decided that once they have a birthmark on their face and go through the treatments themselves, then they can describe how it feels.  The way I've decided I like to describe it is - it's like eating a spicy dish.

When you first start eating, your mouth is okay.  (In laser terms, the numbing cream I wear for an hour before does it's job to ease the pain to where the laser is barely felt.)  The more you eat, the more it stings - or feels like a rubber band. (Numbing cream starts wearing off the more laser pulses they send to my face.)  Eventually, it the food gets hot, and the spice intensifies.  (The pain gets even stronger - more than feeling like a rubber band.)  And occasionally, you hit a  jalapeño - or other spice/pepper - and your senses are sent through the roof with spice. (I would consider theses to be the really tender and sensitive areas on the face, such as the lip and nose.  I hardly let them treat these areas because of the intense pain.)

When I was a young child and toddler I use to have laser treatments on my face on a more regular basis.  To be honest, I'm not really sure how many I've had in my lifetime.  I would guess more than 25, more likely more than 30.

Since I was a child, they would let me sleep through the treatments by the use of anesthesia.  Once I hit the age of 11, that was advantage was taken away.  I was now "old enough" to stay awake during the treatment - only needing an hour of numbing cream before the procedure.

I went through one treatment awake at 11-years-old before I decided to stop.  Staying awake wasn't worth it to me.  The pain wasn't worth the outcome, as the laser machine they had wasn't making much of a difference.  The pain of the treatment was too overwhelming for me as well - so I decided to stop.  I decided that with the pain combined with an outcome that didn't show any differences - if I continued, I would be lettings stupid happen all over again.  My mom let me make my own decision about stopping, and I was glad.  I guess her theory is - it's my face, my body, the treatments aren't mandatory or needed, and I'm the one who has to go through it - not her.  I'm thankful for letting me choose for myself.

It wasn't until 2010 (at the age of 18) when I decided to try again and had a better outcome in comparison to when I was 11-years-old.  (Every three years, the hospital upgrades their machines as new medical advancements take place, so the machine was advanced at least 2-3 times since my last visit.)

My birthmark about an hour after
a treatment.  Please excuse the greasy
looking hair.  After the treatment,
Vaseline is applied to my face
to help prevent blistering and
other possible reactions from the treatment.
I promise I did shower that morning. :-)

In 2011, I planned to have another treatment and even blogged about it before I went, but we had to cancel at last minute.  Then, during spring break of 2012, I decided to attempt at the treatments again.  This time we were able to treat more than 80% of my birthmark, excluding my eye, nose, and lip area.  (Again, those areas are super sensitive for me.)  It took 200 laser pulses to get that much done.  It's been a few weeks since the treatment, and I've already noticed a difference.  I have another appointment for another treatment set up for May.

If you ever have questions about my birthmark or the treatments - please feel free to ask!  I am okay with people asking questions and they don't make me uncomfortable if they are asked in genuine curiousity and kindness.  In a way, I consider it a type of honor to be able to help others have a better understanding of this difference.  After all, you know my birthmark is there and I definitely know it's there...So why avoid talking about it if someone has a question or curiosity?   If you don't ask, it doesn't make my birthmark disappear.  It also doesn't make your questions go away either.  I would rather you know and have an understanding - so again, please ask if you want to know more!

Oh - and just because I am trying to lighten my birthmark - please don't think that I would change who I am today or that I am doing it due to any personal insecurities.  That's not the case.  Often I walk around with confidence in who I am, regardless of my birthmark. 

Just as any other female, I've had my ups and downs when it comes to my personal appearance.  However, that's normal for any female.  I just have a birthmark added to those ups and downs - but that's my normal.   Yes, I've wondered what it's like to have a 'normal' looking face.  But how many brunettes have wondered what it would be like to go blonde?  Rumor has it, it's just easier to dye your hair a different color than it is to change your skin tone.

Because of my birthmark, I've had to overcome a lot of different unique situations.  I've had to smile at the slightly rude person who has been awkwardly staring at me for five minutes.  I have also walked in stores or on a college campus, hearing comments and questions being spoken about me - but not to me.  (In a sense, sometimes it feels like I, as a person, am invisible in these situations - except for my half purple face...with people forgetting that I do have eyes that see them stare, I do have ears that hear them talk, and that I do have a brain that understands their reaction.)

I find it to be a joy to have the opportunities to share about physical differences that most people are not use to.  And sometimes, I even forget that I look different than most people…Until certain things are said or when people stare long enough.

My family and I have received comments such as, “How did you burn your baby??”  or  the most common question from adults - “What is wrong with your face?”  This is a prime example of how you shouldn't ask people questions if you're curious about something so personal.  This style doesn't come across as genuine, curious, or kind.  It comes across as mean, rude, nosey - and sometimes hurtful.  Nothing is wrong with my face.  Usually I try to be kind and ignore the tone of the question.  But, as I am human, and depending on my mood - sometimes I have to bite back sarcastic responses such as, "Nothing is wrong with my face.  What's wrong with your attitude and manners??"  (Sometimes I really need to work on my sarcastic internal and silent responses.)

People have even argued with me, telling it it’s not a birthmark, and that I have something like skin cancer or something contagious.  On the opposite end, I’ve had a woman in a clothing store tell me that she was jealous of me and that she wished she had a birthmark covering her face too.

While usually comments and stares don’t knock me down for long, I do have my weaker moments in liking my physical appearance - just like other people have.  Over the years I’ve had to overcome this obstacle when it arises, and even today it can sometimes be a daily practice.  For example: When an attractively handsome man stares at me.  Is he staring at me because he thinks I’m pretty, or is he victimizing me with his staring? 

Those feelings of insecurities don't usually stick around long, though.  As, again, there is a certain kind of joy that comes from being different from the world.  You see life differently and there are a lot of chances to teach others that’s okay to stand out a little.  It’s okay to look different!

I also know that my extra confidence comes from how I was raised by my parents.  When people would stare, like I mentioned above, my mom is the one who taught me to me to smile at them.  Maybe the staring person is having a bad day and needed a smile to lift their spirits.

My parents have also taught me to have a sense of humor.  Once I was asked by a man, “What’s wrong with your face?”  I told him, “It’s just a birthmark.”  He responded, “Oh – I thought you were beat by your husband or something!”  While my friends who were with me at the time got upset and offended over the comment, I just laughed.  For the first time in my life, I realized that I was old enough to be married if I wanted to be.  I didn’t feel offended or angry.  It was a moment of realization of the fact that I was old enough to marry!  I was an adult! 

Despite all the things I've had to over come in those areas, I also have unique stories that no one else has.  I've developed a sense of humor, learning to laugh at the awkward situations that I am faced with on a daily basis.  I have the blessing of having the ability to teach others that's okay not to fit in the mold that the world and society has given us.

It's a beautiful opportunity to be different.

The Travelin' Chick,

Crystal

PS: Sorry if any of what I've written today is a little repetitive of any posts in the past.  (Although, I've only posted about this topic twice, so hopefully there wasn't anything found to be repetitive!)

***Update September 19, 2013***
In May, the cause for port wine stains was found!  It's due to a rare gene mutation  - but is not the fault of the mother or genes of the father.  For more information, click here!

London Pictures

I haven't been in London long.  However, before starting two weeks of orientation (followed after two weeks of training before arriving), our team had the day off yesterday after a "Welcome Breakfast" and we went out and saw a little part of London.  We took the Tube and saw a museum that is currently holding the picture of "The Last Supper".  (We didn't go see it as it would of cost us 16 pounds each - which is about $30 - to see the full gallery and the part we actually looked at was free.  But I did see the painting from afar.)  We then went and saw the Big Ben.  My British friend says this is a super American thing to say, but because of the photos I had seen of the Big Ben before arriving, I always imagined it to be taller. While walking to the Big Ben we even passed by where the Prime Minister lives.

Here are some of my favorite photos that I took yesterday...

If you click on the photos they should get bigger for better viewing.

London is a beautiful city full of years and years of amazing history.  In all honesty, I don't know as much about England or the UK as I would like to.  While I am here I hope to further my knowledge in not just the culture but in the history and stories of London.

Today we started training and orientation.  From 9:30 in the morning to about 5:30 in the evening, we are in classrooms learning what we need to learn.  It's a lot of information.  After two weeks of information in Germany, I'm very thankful we had two days to rest before receiving more information here in London.  Otherwise I think there would of been a brain overload issue happening.  Ha.

Tonight I've started laundry for the first time since leaving.  That's 2 1/2 weeks worth of clothes and two loads.  To get to the laundry machines I have to go up and down three flights of stairs each time I need to change the loads.  Tonight I went down to change one load, getting all the way down the stairs to realize that I took the wrong coins to pay the machine!  Oops!  I won't make that mistake again!  At least I know I'll be getting good exercise while here, especially on laundry day. ;-)

Throughout the last few weeks I feel my ankle and leg getting stronger.  While it does get weary and sore, the muscles are slowly returning and the strength is growing.  It feels good to be moving again and to be getting exercise - even if it's just stairs.  I think today alone I've gone up and down close to 20 flights of stairs, which is way more than what I was doing before coming to Europe as I had just started walking again after spending a few months on crutches and in bed.  If you remember, please keep my ankle in your prayers.  While it is getting stronger in some ways, it still hurts and gets sore.  I know I shouldn't stress about my ankle but it is often a daily stressor, wondering if my ankle will be strong enough for the day or be able to walk quick enough to keep up with others.  Pray that it'll continue to grow stronger and will bother me and swell less and less, being able to walk more each day (and more quickly!!  That is a work in process!  I walk like a turtle, or so it seems to me...).  Pray I'll be able to keep it as safe as possible without hurting it again in anyway while I am gone and away from my fabulous podiatrist I have at home.

Oh!  Also...After about three nights of being in London (total of about 2 1/2 weeks of traveling) I am able to unpack my suitcases into my new room!  When arriving there was someone who was still in the process of arriving.  I'm not completely unpacked, but boy does it feel good to have some of my stuff out and in its rightful places!  Can you guess what I did first?  Before I even actually unpacked or did my first load of laundry while being away, I decorated my bulletin board with my photos from home.  While, yes, my clothes being put in their proper places, shoes being neatly stored under my bed, and all of that makes a place more like home...Photos of my family and friends are what make a home my home.  It's a board I can look with a smile on my face, seeing those that I love and that I know love me in return and that I know are praying for me as I am on this journey.  It's a board of memories I can reflect on when feeling homesick, or even when I miss other friends who live in random places of the world.  It's a board of encouragement.  I'll try to post a photo of my board and the room soon!

The Travelin' Chick,

Crystal