Help with #RobinsDoOver after Double Lung Transplant

The Likeness is Incredible!

After researching and surfing the web today, I was left wondering: "is there any original content anymore?" In fact, someone has probably already addressed this exact question elsewhere! With so many like-minded people in the world, how is it possible to possess an original thought or create a unique piece? Perhaps the wording is slightly different, paraphrased and tweaked just enough to appear distinct on the surface, but you will come across the same meaning time and time again. 

This is written from my perspective, but I guarantee that if you research this argument, you will find someone else sharing a common view. I am intentionally not going to search for a similar work because it will likely sway this post. Instead, I will continue to state my theory and encourage you to find out for yourself just how alike our thought processes are. 

Besides great advancements in technology and other scientific studies, I would guess there is little originality. And even in those areas, someone may have envisioned the same concept and had no means to execute it. Missing the opportunity or failing to patent a discovery does not prove that an invention or method of doing something, protected by intellectual property rights, was the first of its kind in the creator's mind. Credit may be given to the most active in exposing the technology to the masses, but the idea could have developed in a like-minded person years before. Are we simply a world of copycats? Literally, a world full of carbon copies? Does it even matter? 

Plagiarism is a literary crime in the land of literature. Giving credit where credit is due is fundamental. Writers want to ensure that their voice is theirs alone, to be shared not stolen and passed along as another's. Personally, I have skimmed a text or two during my undergrad and graduate school years to fulfill an assignment. After creating what I thought to be an original paper, I've gone back to check a fact only to realize I had nearly copied content verbatim. 

Content I hadn't read prior to writing the paper, thoughts I had developed in my mind I felt were suitable to put on paper, were almost identical to another's. In order to fulfill the assignment requirements, I had to rephrase my own "original". How can that be explained? Now, I'm no literary savant. I have a passion for writing and want to hone my craft, but how can I be capable of writing a textbook?! Especially one from which I was learning and previously unfamiliar. Like-minded people are the simplest explanation. 

Thinking alike leads to decisions and actions that are very much alike. Still not convinced? That's why you say or hear "I was thinking the exact same thing" or "I was just about to say that" or "jinx, knock on wood" or "I said the same thing!" Why are you not surprised when you find out you share the same zodiac sign with a person of a like-mind? That's why we use clichés and colloquialisms. Someone has already thought and arranged the words "telling it like [we] see it". For those who don't know, a colloquialism is "a word, phrase, or expression characteristic of ordinary or familiar conversation rather than formal speech or writing" (http://www.thefreedictionary.com/colloquialism). For example: "He's out" instead of "He's not at home."--- Now pay attention! 

You'll find yourself starting a question with "is it just me…" when you already know it's not. That's why you're asking the question for some sort of validity or credibility from a like-mind. We experience deja vu. We say, "That brings back memories" when someone does or says something we've experienced previously. I don't believe in coincidence. Maybe we're linked telepathically, spiritually, mentally. No matter how you say it--, we are connected. So now, my epiphany is your epiphany. 

One of my favorite phrases is "the belly of the beast". Don't worry about why? Half of you will think that's Satanic, and the other half will think of Jonah and the Whale. Remember, I said "belly of the beast" not "mark of the beast". Don't be freaked out-- haven't you been reading-- we are like-minded people. I'm inside your head right? Well you're all inside mine too. Get used to it. It's just how it is. 

"Make no mistake" (I love that phrase too); we all want the same things, people. You want happiness. You want to be loved. You want to be debt-free. You want a little mad money tucked away. You want to be healthy. You want to be attractive. You want some good lovin'. You want to be appreciated. If you have a family, you want to balance work and family life. These desires are in no particular order, just commonly shared with so many. 

Let's test my theory with a little experiment. 

Fill in the blanks: 

In Good Company By Robin Jessie-Green

"The more I think I'm different 

 The more similarities I _____ 

 Of like-minded people 

 Who are just like _____ 

 It's no secret that it's an act of fate 

 Which drives us closer to those to whom we can ______ 

 I don't mind not being unique 

 This is how it should be-- 

 I actually find comfort in knowing 

 I'm in good _______!" 

Remember, it's not about the differences but the similarities. Simply finding that common tie and perceiving it as someone telling you they've been through it too, is what truly matters most. Find comfort in knowing you're not alone; there are so many just like you, just like me. 

CENSORED by vocal.media A Drug Addict Saved My Life Part 6: Covering All Bases

I’m the baby of five.  I haven’t seen one of my sisters and my only brother in years.  Mona is my oldest sister from another mother, and Nina is my older sister from another father.  Nina and I grew up together in the same household.  While we always knew Mona as our sister, we didn’t live with her.  Both of these chicks became mother hens when I was in the hospital.

My oldest sister and I don’t communicate often, but I love her dearly.  She is genuine and kind but tough. Mona had her own resurrection experience five years prior to mine.  After complications due to knee surgery, she developed a blood clot, which ultimately led to her heart stopping.  They brought her back. 

She had to relearn to walk and spent a month in a rehab hospital. Forever changed by her medical trauma, she knew all too well what I was going through.  So, Mona visited me every day for nearly a year.  She fasted and prayed for my recovery.  Prayers were going up from all over the world from believers and non-believers alike.  Family, friends and strangers were wishing me continued life.

Nina cared for me like her doll baby when we were younger. She fed me my bottles when our mother was ill, and mastered sliding down the staircase with me in her arms.  She was 5 and I was only months old.  As time went on, her role became more of my equal than of my big sis.  Our personalities differ, but we think the same when it comes to what matters most.  After our mother died, we were all that remained.  We are family.

We were brought up in the church, and were taught not to mess around with things we did not understand. No ouija boards, no witchcraft, no hoodoo, voodoo or blasphemous speech.  Pentecostal Christians didn’t wear large earrings or skirts above the knee to church, and we didn’t take the Lord’s name in vain.  

There are things we do not understand in life that are commonly labeled supernatural. Intuition, vibes, bad mojo, chills, surges, roots-- the unexplainable.  Thoughts of this nature began to sprout in the minds of my sisters.  They believed someone put roots on me.

Mona and Nina had a conversation about the origin of my illness. For a time, the doctors could not figure out what was wrong with me.  All they knew was that I had an aggressive respiratory infection. I was deteriorating rapidly.  I required a ventilator and later an ECMO.  It was strange because I was previously healthy.  If this had occurred in 2020, it would scream COVID-19 Coronavirus.  Whatever it was, my sisters believed someone was behind it.

Whether it's superstition or to be explained scientifically at a later time, some things require special attention by someone experienced in the area of the unknown.  Mona was willing to place her hard earned savings in the hands of anyone who could potentially protect me from harm.  Faith without works is dead.  So Mona and Nina prayed and they hired back up, just in case. 

Both of my sisters felt someone meant me harm.  Plagued with this increasingly nagging feeling, Mona sought the counsel of someone she trusted who was familiar with this sort of thing.  She was told someone was angry with me about money matters and resentful that we were no longer a romantic item.  The truth is, more than one person could have fit that description.

I was blessed. My bed was blessed. My pillow was blessed. My home was blessed.  Actions were taken to cover all bases. I believe in a higher power. I believe there is evil in the world. I know I’ve made an enemy or three, but I never considered that someone would wish death upon me.

I believe in God. I know He is the source of my medical miracle. When the medical professionals thought I was going to die, and I felt my life slipping away, God had plans to keep me above ground.  But temporarily, my heart stopped beating.

There was a point when I was in an unknown realm.  I didn’t see a white light, but I had an experience.  I couldn’t see my body, but I could sense my presence.  I was engulfed in darkness, but it wasn’t scary or menacing in any way.  I was cloaked and comforted.  Sitting in front of me, slightly to the right was a random shaggy, sandy brown mid-sized dog.

About a year later, I remembered that our family dog Springer died when I was seven.  He was a medium-built Springer Spaniel Poodle mix with a shaggy, sandy coat. Springer strangled from his leash that was latched to the fence in the backyard.  I hadn’t thought about him in decades.

The good book says to beware of fortune-tellers and soothsayers, but if you believe in the power of prayer isn’t there an opposing force?

If in fact, someone was up to no good, I now know that my Protector is stronger and my light shines brighter because "with his stripes, I am healed...". (Isaiah 53:5)

“My grandma and your grandma were sittin’ by the fire. My grandma told your grandma, gonna set your soul on fire!”  ~Sugar Boy and his Cane Cutters

A Drug Addict Saved My Life Part 1: The Common Cold

A Drug Addict Saved My Life Part 2: Wake Up!

A Drug Addict Saved My Life Part 3: While You Were Sleeping

A Drug Addict Saved My Life Part 4: What About the Kids?

A Drug Addict Saved My Life Part 5: A Little Ugly

A Drug Addict Saved My Life Part 7: Making a Comeback?

An honor an a pleasure written by Robin L. Jessie-Green

an elegy for someone who is loved. 

Witnessing your first and last breaths.

Helping you take your first and last steps.

Praying for guidance while facing an uncertain path.

Living unpredictable days not knowing how long you’d last.

Wanting to come home to pass in your own space.

Having control over how you lived out your last days.

Taking mental pictures to memorize your sweet boy’s face.

Being called home by God at His pace.

 

And although your humor was still very much alive

worry and anguish shrouded you.

Because your body was failing and no longer able to thrive

you needed us around you.

 

Like when you were a baby,

there was no place we’d rather be than beside our sweet little girl

who grew up to be a remarkable lady--

A truly good human being in this unmerciful world.

Towards the end, frail in body but still a Warrior in mind.

With a sense of humor,

a sense of dignity,

a sense of motherhood like no other--

truly one-of-a-kind.

 

Battling the pain you felt--

It was clear it would only be a matter of time….

Realizing you were never getting better, felt--

like the truest of crimes.

 

Fighting back tears and a burning choke

from this tightness in our chests

and a swelling lump in our throats

Swallowing down our cries inside, so we can cope.

You'll always be a heartbeat away

because we’re keeping you close.

 

There are major things we'll never see you do.

Like taking the arm of a man deserving

and hearing you say, “I do.”

 

There are simple things

we'll never get to say again.

Like, “Hey Vivian, remember that time when….”

 

Blessed to be your parents from the beginning until now--

Girl, you made us so proud!

Living life to the fullest, vibrant, active and Laughing Out Loud!

 

How deeply you’ve touched our hearts cannot be measured,

Sweet Child of ours and of The Divine.

We just wanted you to know,

it’s been both an honor and a pleasure.

We'll see you again...when it's our time.

The Skinny on Penn Plastic Surgery Chief Resident's Clinic

Are you close to your ideal weight and size?

Are you ready to get your body back?

Are you in need of a little assistance in that area?


Penn Plastic Surgery Chief Resident's Clinic offers quality service at reduced rates.

It all happens at Perelman Center for Advanced Medicine, a part of University of Pennsylvania Hospital (HUP).

Three Resident Plastic Surgeons chosen from a large group of 250 applicants, are there to help you with your cosmetic needs.

Every July, a new trifecta joins the program as the former three move on to other reputable positions.

The Resident's Clinic has hours every third Tuesday of the month. However, your surgeon may be willing to work with your personal schedule once you establish a relationship.

Your surgeon's assistant will stay in touch with you via email and phone.

You may be able to contact your surgeon in the same manner.

Step One:

Call to schedule your consultation appointment with one of the three Resident Surgeons.

Step Two:

Attend your appointment with a prepared list of all your questions and concerns. Know what you want, and listen to what your potential surgeon suggests.

Step Three:

Assuming you are comfortable with making this new person your plastic surgeon, schedule another appointment with him or her.

You will sign a procedural consent and have before pictures taken of the soon to be former you.

You will also discuss when you want your procedure to take place. The time frame is tentative but will be set once a Board Certified Attending agrees to participate.

Step Four:

You will receive a written Surgical Quote, which itemizes the Procedural/Physician's Fee, Hospital/OR Fee and the Anesthesia Fee. Both the OR and Anesthesia Fees are based on the number of hours your procedure will take.

I.e., 3 Hours for OR = $2750 and 3 Hours of Anesthesia = $850

Step Five:

Pay a deposit towards your Physician's Fee to secure the date of your procedure.

Pay the remaining balance of the Physician's Fee and all other fees as indicated on your Surgical Quote. The payments are slightly staggered. However, since they are separately by a few weeks, it is best that you have the total saved up in advance.
(According to the postings on Realself.com, abdominoplasty with muscle repair and flank liposuction performed through the clinic have ranged from $4400-$5450.)

Penn Plastic Surgery Chief Resident's Clinic Location and Appointments:

Perelman Center
for Advanced Medicine
1st Floor South Pavilion
3400 Civic Center Blvd
Philadelphia, PA 19104
Telephone: 215-662-7300

Lost During the Journey: A poem about restoration by Robin L. Jessie-Green

Lost During the Journey.

This is my body, yet I cannot seem to find myself amongst all the wrinkled folds of flesh and deeply grooved battle scars etched in my skin from pregnancy after pregnancy after pregnancy.

This is not how I began, so it will not be how I end.

I am woman.

It doesn’t affect my love for you. This is about me and my truth.

It does pose challenges for self-love and acceptance, though.

Questions how anyone else can love this and accept that, as is, when I can’t?

I don’t resent you.

I resent me for not having those good genes of mutant women who bounce right back.  Those select few who end up coming out without a scratch.

Life is a beautiful gift, but sometimes at the risk of disfigurement at the center where it all begins.

Why do I have to live with the sacrifice of my outer self?

Only mothers can empathize with how it changes one inside and out.

This is my body, yet I no longer recognize myself because I’ve created yours.

What’s more—as I continue to nourish you, I continue to change outwardly.

So much so that I can’t remember how I used to be.

I barely recollect the body, which was lusted over ultimately resulting in how you came to be.

So when I chose you, it was over me.  Unknowingly.

But I would not change your existence.  Simply the evidence of it left on me.

 

Causing me to live with what I wanted no one else to ever see.

I lost freedom of self.  Estimably, confidently, romantically, intimately…

Couldn’t comfortably share myself with anyone else without hiding what lay underneath.

Preventing me from being my truest self.  Not living up to my highest potential. Being all who I could be.

Hiding behind sizing up.  Some things you can’t work off in the gym.

The Curse of Eve was not simply labor and delivery, but marked flesh, loose skin, sagging breasts and loss of ones dignity.

It is a fact of Life.

All I ever wanted was to make it right.

Adopting a realistic desire of restoration.

Wanting to no longer be distracted by my own malformations.

Welts on my lower back, dips in my hips, and flames rising to the tops of my rib cage will remain.

But erasing some of this part of me that has no rightful place is not vain.

It is what allows my happiness to be regained.

I am realistic.  I knew there were to be sacrifices. 

But I do not agree that the life of you had to mean the death of me.

I do not agree with my body having to be altered permanently and my beauty lost unnecessarily.

This is my body, and I am forever changed.  I shook the hand of the man who had a hand in having unearthed its hidden beauty awaiting its moment to be reclaimed.

Finally, revealing who I’ve always been.  Freeing me, once again. 

“I’d like to proudly introduce myself, I am woman.”

This does not detract from being mommy.  It rectifies what was lost during the journey.

Using Heat for Healing After Tummy Tuck Can Hurt You!

Heat is soothing to me. For nearly every ache, I opt for heat over ice.  I have a "Bed Buddy" that I pop in the microwave and drape around any sore muscle on my body.  I own a hot water bottle and a heating pad.

Heat is said to improve blood flow and can help in the wound healing process. However, you should be cautious when using heat to heal after a tummy tuck.

You are numb for a while after an abdominoplasty.  This is potentially harmful when mixed with a heating pad and sleep!  Unfortunately, I had to learn the hard way that I could actually burn myself with a heating pad and not realize it because I couldn't feel my skin burning.

Luckily, I got a hold of some silvadene for my burn.

If you feel you need some heat, try the lowest setting and stay alert!

Don't create an unnecessary set back with your healing.