Odysseys of George

As life cruises along; vita non est vivere sed valere

Death do us fear….

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Death, lately too many…. relatives, friends, citizens …… life seem so without value as they drop like dried leaves in autumn..sad…. unsure how to feel… worried…. yes. continue reading…

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Lichfield Angel (Ausrelate)
David Austin Recommended Variety

 

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Category English Roses
(English Rose Collection)
Bred By David Austin

Flower Type Double/Full Bloom

Size Medium Shrub
Hardiness Hardy
Fragrance Light
Repeating Excellent

The flowers of this rose commence as charming peachy pink cups, gradually opening to form neatly cupped rosettes. Each bloom has a perfect ring of creamy-apricot waxy petals enclosing numerous smaller petals. Eventually the petals turn back to form a large, domed, creamy-white flower. The overall effect in the mass in sunshine is almost pure white. Lichfield Angel will form a vigorous, rounded shrub which, with its blooms nodding attractively on the branch, will make a fine sight. It is very useful in a border, as it harmonises well with all other colours and will act as an intermediary between pinks and yellows. The fragrance is generally light but has strong elements of clove at one stage. Lichfield Angel is a limestone sculptured panel, from the 8th century, which was recently discovered in Lichfield Cathedral. It depicts the Archangel Gabriel and still bears the remnants of Saxon paint. (English Musk)

Resource

http://www.davidaustinroses.com/american/showrose.asp?showr=4790

A Family Holiday in Malaysia

Following is the unedited report from the victim’s parents, who we thank for sharing their story.
Tanjung Ruh Beach, Langkawi (Deeper with DAN)

Our daughter Sally, aged 9, was stung late in the afternoon one day in May at the Tanjung Ruh Beach at Langkawi. It is at the north east side of the island, not far from the mangrove forest. We had been to that beach before, because of the good swimming conditions according to tourist websites and documentation we received from the resort. The sea wasn’t very clear both days. We hadn’t seen jellyfish.

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Happy New Year

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Promising… deep in my heart, I felt a small fire burning .. a fire of hope and promise for a beautiful year ahead. “But how is that?” I asked myself that very morning when I felt miserable and slightly depressed. It’s the 1st of January and should not I be feeling excited or happy. Looking around my bedroom, I see my beautiful wife and daughter still very much asleep. At least that part of my life I am happy… it could not be any better… I found and married the best person in my life…the best person for me. My daughter, still small but very much like her mother and hopefully be like her mother as she grows.
The distress is growing… something I know is bothering me this new day of the year. As I get ready and make my way downstairs, flashback of events in 2014 took control. A year that passed by so fast, was not a great year for my country for which in my opinion was going it’s toughest times and due to poor management and leadership, seem to be spiraling out of control to depths unknown. The uncertainty of the future of this country worries me as I have a child who will be going through that very future I fear. Yes, that issue has been disturbing me ever since I had her. She will need a stable and firm growth on all areas be it religion, education, moral, outdoor and social. I think my wife and I can give all that except education for which seem to worsen by the hour in this beautiful land I have grown to love. It was very different then. My mind races down memory lane to my school days …. ahhh lovely it was, I miss my school. I miss my friends. I miss my hometown. I wish she would have the same but…..
I have reached the living room, the mind looks around at this comfy, small home…. yes it is a home not a house. I can hear Caesar whining from behind the back door.I have neglected him so much especially the last one month. His golden hair still long untrimmed. It has been a long time since he played. He loves to retrieve objects thrown living up to his breed. I greet him and wish him a good new year and that ever forgiving eyes, I know, he will stand by me no matter what I have not done for him. Yes I just found another reason for my heavy heart… I have neglected the one responsible for making me learn about me emotionally. Flashbacks of us getting him from the pet shop when he was just 3 months old, the joy, the excitement, the frustration of him not listening to us, the fun times when we discovered each other during the obedience class..how he has grown .. Now he is 3 years old and maturing fast. He showed his emotions of dejected and depression when she was born. I hope she grows quickly to bond with him … ha ha ha and assist me to care and bathe him. I am sure they will be great buddies.
I walk on out to the garden, my hard work seem to go to waste. It has been raining cats and dogs and many areas experienced the worst floods ever. As for my garden, the constant rain rots the roots of my roses and a few pots, my favourite roses, seem to be heading to death.
My fishes all died on the day we went for our family trip December last year.. I suspect the electricity tripped and the fishes ran out of oxygen and died. I begin to prune some pots when I asked myself again, so what is bothering you still?
I guess it is work. Work has been steady. I still want to pursue my dream. Unlike my wife, she is very easily contented, I am always competing and trying to better than others. This isn’t healthy. I see a shimmer of hope that this would be the year I move forwards but there is one issue which is unresolved. An issue which has left a deep scar in my life..hmm… one of many scars actually. Being a surgeon isn’t all roses and glitter, it is very humbling experience and it has given me the most beautiful and most heart wrenching experience. Being me, I could not be satisfied and the unresolved issue is eating me from within. This was the biggest reason for me feeling down this new year. I said a quick prayer for only God can help me and He has never failed me ever. I hope this will come to pass.

And there as with every year, every day, every minute of my life I have passed the baton back to God, with trust and hope that He will shine the path for me and my family.

An Out of Body Experience.

71 comments
Taken from KevinMD.com blog. 

A patient cheats death and changes two lives

| Physician | February 10, 2013

Throughout the course of my career I have probably been with hundreds of people as they transitioned into and out of death. Although I am familiar with what this journey looks like, I have not yet been privy to the journey myself. Rarely though, I have had the pleasure of listening to someone who has journeyed back from death and arrived with a story to tell. Regardless of your position on the validity of near death experiences, take this one for what it’s worth to you.

 

Years ago when I was ripe and round with my third child, I was trudging through a late night shift in the ER when a “code” came in by EMS. The patient was a young man in maybe his late 30s, and when the paramedics came around the corner with him they were all sweating from the efforts of professional chest compressions and airway support. I remember that they had been unable to place a breathing tube during transport due to the amount of vomit in the man’s airway. I recall, that due to my gestational girth, that I had to squat like a sumo wrestler to be able to see into his throat myself, but was able to secure a stable airway as we continued CPR.

I was giving the orders, but our entire team was trying to figure out why he had died, and what we could do to resuscitate him. One of the paramedics stated that he thought that drugs were involved and that this was a potential overdose situation.
So I tried a few more medications on him and unexpectedly, we got a pulse!

After a “successful code” we always go through a very detailed examination of the patient to look for sign and hints of what has been and is going on. As we rolled this young man to examine his back, my charge nurse, Penny pulled a couple of narcotic patches off

“Here is our problem,” she said.

We all shook our heads with a type of disappointment; we had come to see this all too often in our community.

“This is too bad,” I sighed while examining his pupils. Nothing about his examination suggested that he would live. He had no visible signs of brain life. Nothing. He seemed to be just a body to me, with a beating heart. I wondered aloud if he could even be an organ donor.

No family ever arrived to check on him, to hear my prognosis that I had practiced in my head.

“I think his brain just went without oxygen too long. I am so sorry, but I don’t think he will pull through this. We did our best, and I assure you that he is not suffering.”

I sent him to the ICU and never heard anything about him again.

Until six months later.

Again I was on a busy night shift and the place was bursting at the seams. I think the lobby was spilling over into the parking area and I was feeling quite stressed about how I alone was going to get to all of these people who needed my help. In the midst of carrying a pile of charts down a hallway of patients, my charge nurse Penny, said that something unusual had just occurred in triage. A young man walking with a cane came up to the triage nurse and asked if he could have a word with me.

She asked, “Do you have a problem that Dr. Murphy needs to see you for? If so sign in here,” she said, pointing to a pen and paper.

The man replied, “No, as a matter of fact, I do not have a problem, I just need to talk to her.”

My nurse replied rather shortly, “Well you just can’t show up here to chat with the doctor. See all of these people? She is very busy!”

In response, the man signed in to be seen and took a seat to wait his turn. On the chief complaint section, the paper read “something very important.”

I cannot recall how long he waited, but it should have been long enough to dissuade anyone with casual interests.

So, I will say hours later, I finally got to his chart and headed toward his room.

I had not even walking through the doorwhen this smiling gentleman, stood to greet me.

“Dr. Murphy, I see that you have had your baby girl! How is she?”

I stopped dead in my tracks, and an eerie uncomfortable sensation rushed over my skin. I didn’t know this man, had never seen him in my life (or so I thought) and he was speaking to me in very familiar terms about me and my 5 month old child.
I eyed him suspiciously. “Do I know you, sir?” I asked

He continued to smile but took a seat, a visible effort to ease my apprehension. “Yes, you know me, you just don’t remember me. 6 months ago you saved my life.I came here tonight to thank you personally, and to tell you my story.”

I sat on the stool in front of him and listened. As he talked, I relaxed further, feeling comfortable that he meant me no harm and was not a stalker or something.

He started by saying very matter-of-factly.

“I died and you brought me back to life in that room across the hall near the end of last year,” as he pointed toward the doorway and correctly toward our resuscitation room.

With great detail he began to report on the events of that evening.

“I had become addicted to pain killers because I struggled with a bad back. That night I had taken too many pills and had used some of my uncle’s pain patches … ”

He went on to explain how he somehow knew when he stopped breathing and then left “his body.” He recounted how he saw his girlfriend find him and then call 911 while she attempted to start CPR on him. He told me the words that she said and what the paramedics said and did on arrival to his home. He told me how he knew one of the paramedics and that she cried and struggled to do her job performing CPR on him while sobbing at the same time. He explained that he closely followed the events that were going on with “his body” and began to describe in accurate detail what had happened in the resuscitation room in the ER. He told me that we were dismayed that he had overdosed at such a young age. He stated that he watched as Penny, my charge nurse, rolled him over and pulled the two pain patches from his back and he heard her say “Here is our problem.” (Note: He did not state Penny’s name but called her that dark-haired charge nurse.) He recalled that I had talked about “whether he could even be an organ donor or not.”

“But, I came back into my body and I lived! And here I am today, but I am a changed man. I don’t take pain killers anymore. Now, this cane is my only medicine, it’s my only crutch,” he said, twirling his cane in the air, smilingly.

His story seemed to have come to an end, but after a brief pause he continued.

“But, I really only came here tonight to share two things with you.”

His eyes grew serious.

“First, when I was outside of my body, when I was dead … I saw something else. I saw that there was light coming from you and from your baby,” he was staring up at the corner of the room as if viewing the memory with a sense of wonder.

I stared at him in astonishment.

Then he turned to look directly at me, and with a deeply earnest expression said, “But, I really just wanted to thank you personally, face-to-face for helping to save my life, for being a part of giving me a second chance. I promise you Dr. Murphy that I will not waste it. There are things that happened to me when I was dead that I cannot tell you about, but I made a promise to use my life and my time differently.”

I sat quietly before him, without words. What could be said? It was as though he had taken on the role of the doctor and I was the patient. He spoke gently to me using expressions that I didn’t quite understand about some aspect of existence and being that I did not comprehend. But, I was grateful for his words.

That night this man gave me a gift. This gift was a deepened sense of appreciation for my own life, and for the gift of time itself. As a result, I became more keenly grateful for the lives of my children, my husband, my family and the opportunity we have all been given to experience this thing called life together.

All these years later if I could perchance meet up with this man again. This is what I would say to him.

“I am so grateful that you cared enough to seek me out to share your story. I have had many years to think about this and although I may have helped save your physical life that night. On more than one occasion you have helped save my spiritual life. Your story has always given me a second chance and I promise you that I will not waste it.”

Monica Williams-Murphy is an emergency physician and author of It’s OK to Die.

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