Life, Love, Long Hair, Weeping and Gnashing of Teeth, and other mysteries

All this and more, from a semi-Serbian, slightly sane, former editor for physicians and surgeons, who is the mother of seven kids.


Sunday, 30 December 2012

They Who Feel Too Much

They feel "too much".

They have the power to love deeply, to understand the plight of those they adore, to heal the heartache of whoever reaches out to them.

If they give you their heart, carry it carefully.  If you drop it, you shatter it like glass.  The pieces, sparkling like moonlit teardrops on a broken face, are hard to fit back together.

When they feel hope is lost, they die some more.

Stop all the music.  Songs intensify the pain.

Let the death march begin. 

They don't "get over" being harmed.  It piles up inside, silently - where it cannot be seen, sometimes hidden even from their own sight.

A new lock is added to the door of their heart.

Woe unto those who offend one of these tender beings:  not because the tender beings wish pain upon them, but because of the ways of reaping and sowing.

I pray the torments of the offenders will end when they make things right with the ones they have harmed, and that the broken hearts will somehow be mended by the miracle of love.


 Some related posts:

Tuesday, 25 December 2012

So, This Is "Christmas"

Early in the morning on Christmas Eve, I was in the hospital for blood tests.  This time, it’s a test for a.m. cortisol.  My doctor is trying to figure out if it is Addison’s disease.  I am praying it is just adrenal fatigue, which I have had and overcome before, albeit slowly, as it takes at least a year.

After I was done at the hospital, I went to the grocery store and bought some of my kids’s favorite fruits - mangoes, Oriental pears, pomegranates, boxes of mandarin oranges, and containers of raspberries.

I also bought a few special candies and chocolates, and bottles of Pom pomegranate juice - things my kids love but seldom get to have.


At home, I got my day’s worth of work done before 6:00 p.m., drove my 18-year-old daughter to her dad’s house five minutes away for dinner with a bunch of her relatives, came home, tucked the little ones into bed, and then I sat on the living room floor with Daddy, gently wrapping the gifts I had bought earlier, imagining the joy the kids would experience in the morning.

“What do you want for Christmas” is a phrase that doesn’t make sense to me.  As many in the world assume it to be the birth day of Yeshua, if He is their Lord, He is enough.

He is my Lord, and He is enough for me.  I do not, however, believe that December 25 was the day He was born.  Based on some things in the Scriptures, I suspect it was another day, and based on some things in historical writings, I believe “Christmas” is the “Christianized” version of an ungodly day of celebration, the same as Easter.

Nonetheless, a day does exist where thoughts are tossed around that God came down to Earth in the form of a man.  May the hearts of many be softened to the point of acceptance of why He came to us, what He did on the cross to pay the price for sin, and that that is all that is needed for eternal life.

And, so, sitting on the floor in my weakened state, I simply breathed, and took in the fact that I am still alive.  The silence of the evening was precious.

And then I ate some chocolate.  Yes, yes, I ate chocolate, I did.  Sooooo un-Steenybopper-ly of me, but it is what it is.

I knew my children wanted a tree, but I had no time nor strength to get one.  Daddy said, “Let’s draw a tree on the easel.”

I smiled, and I got the dry-erase pens.  I drew the tree symbol that represents the timber company that gives us half of our family’s income.  We put various Christmas decorations around the edges of our son’s easel, including ones made by the kids over the years, and we hung colourful glass balls from pretty thumb tacks I stuck into two of the ceiling beams.  I also taped to the beams some decorations made by the kids.

   

In the morning, the kids had so much fun seeing the decorated living room and opening presents while Patty Loveless sang "Christmas Time's A-Comin'", and John Lennon sang "So, This Is Christmas".  I got the turkey in the oven, and started work.  No days off for the self-employed barely making ends meet.

Peace on Earth?  I’m not sure that’s possible.  Peace in my heart beyond comprehension, even in the face of illness and whatever else this world throws my way, because I know I am loved with an everlasting Love and will be with the Lord forever?  Yes.



(Song:  "Heaven Came To Earth", by 2nd Chapter Of Acts)


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Thursday, 6 December 2012

Medical Transcribers Underpaid

I'd like some dialogue on this.

I wonder how you feel about knowing your medical details may be shipped overseas to be transcribed, or that your vital information may be mistyped by an underpaid transcriber who is rushing to get through the job in order to make enough money to feed their family.

To be clear:  we who transcribe medical reports from home are underpaid.

I have had a contract with the same company since May 2006 and never once has my rate of pay increased, despite my having requested it a few times.

Furthermore, the rate of pay for my entire team has been decreased twice.

From what I hear from others in the industry, this has been the norm.

I read of one MT who had an increase in pay, though it was miniscule, and her rate of pay is still way below what her several years of experience and excellent skills are worth.

I'd like to hear any information, opinions, and/or questions from those involved with medical transcription, whether you be a medical transcriber, one who is involved in a medical transcription service organization or medical records department of a hospital, one who is involved in a school or course which prepares people to become medical transcribers, or a medical professional who utilizes the services of medical transcribers.

I'd also like to hear from the end products of medical transcription services - patients.  This may well include you, if you have ever been, or are yet to be, to a doctor's office or a hospital.

I will probably have future blog entries on this subject.  For now, I will close and invite comments and conversation.  Please do not be afraid to comment.  I moderate the comments but publish anything that is not spam or abusive.




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