2 years ago today, I had lost my job 18 days ago. I had flown to Indiana to talk to my mom about it. I had already been offered an interview at a different school system. 2 years ago today, 14 days ago I flew back down to North Carolina and went to church like always and asked for direction and prayer and that God would do His will, but that His will would be that I would get to stay in Salisbury for the rest of my life. Because that was my "home". 2 years ago today, 13 days ago I had a horribly high fever (102.5), couldn't stand up, my colitis was flaring something horrible, but I got in my car and drove the 40 minutes to my interview in the next county over, because I just knew God would never ever tell me that He was going to make me leave Salisbury, ever. It was His Will that I was to live in Salisbury for the rest of my life. I just knew it. It was so perfect. I loved it. I loved my church. I loved my friends. I just knew I was going to love my new job, it was at an elementary school (which is what I really wanted originally anyway). I was working with the youth group. Disciple Now was this weekend. Young Life was gearing up. Upward was awesome. I was volunteering at the farm again. How could God say no? 2 years ago today I could not stay awake, when I was awake I was running to the bathroom getting sicker and sicker out whichever end was pleasing at that time. My fever was now up to 104. Then my phone dinged. I was a well-qualified candidate, but they decided to go with someone else. Seriously God? I'm dying and you are telling me you aren't going to let me stay in Salisbury right now? What else? At this point, I really think I can't take anymore and I call my friend Misty and say I think I need to go to the ER. I really think I need to go to the ER more over heartache than what is coming out of my bum and my mouth, but I would soon learn I am very wrong.
When I go to the ER and run to the bathroom to puke my brains out one of the many times, just as the doc is getting ready to send me home because he thinks my colitis is just a little flared up and I keep telling him I'm fine I've got life to live, my friend secretly tells him I'm a lot sicker than I let on and I need to be admitted. I come out of the bathroom and fall to the ground. The doc asks me if I just threw up and I say yes, he said what color is it, I say yellow, he says "that's bile, that's a direct admit, that's really bad kid", and it begins the longest, hardest 13 days of my life.
I only spent about 3 days at Rowan, I was too complex for them. I was pretty much comatose at this point. I was so malnourished it's not even funny. I was transferred to Concord and put in CCU because my potassium was so low my heart could have stopped at any second. I was also on TPN for nutrition because I couldn't eat anything by mouth. They weren't sure I was going to make it for part of the time I was in the hospital. My mom was in Indiana. It was really scary. Luckily my church family was awesome and there every day. I weighed 99 pounds. I'm 5'9". That means my BMI was 14.6. For all you non-dietetics students, a normal BMI is 18.5-24.9 and almost no one can fit in those parameters and I was 4 whole points underweight.
I eventually, obviously, got better, and got to go home. And food, TPN, lots of milkshakes and ice cream, and Klor-Con, and some pretty smart dietitians saved my life. 2 years ago, during this hospital stay, is when I decided I was going to be a dietitian.
2 years ago is also when God said no. The doctor walked in my room around September 28th/29th/30th, when I started getting a little better and said, "You're going to be getting to go home soon, but you can't live by yourself, you are too sick. You're mom lives in Indiana. You have to move there. You can't take care of yourself." And my world ended. Or so I thought.
Since I've been here we've found out I have several more really severe chronic illnesses that would be very difficult to live on my own with. It would have also been very difficult to move with them in full force, so it is like God was moving me ahead of time so that I was settled when it happened and could just be taken care of. I have found a church and a C-group that I love. My mom just so happens to live in a town that has a competitive dietetics program that I just so happen to have been accepted into on my first try. And I just may have found some of the most awesome doctors that are willing to try and find some pretty rare things and try different treatments to help me have as good of a quality of life as I can for as long as I can. And that is pretty cool.
While I'm on that note, I found out today, on my 2 year anniversary of being so close to death, that those pretty cool doctors I spoke of, have decided due to my quick deterioration of health lately that it will be best to admit me to the hospital for at least 5-7 days next week beginning Monday. I will be under the care of 2 GI doctors, a dietitian, 2 different neurologists, a cardiologist, and a geneticist. We will be exploring all kinds of options and things including doing my "mito" testing (which wasn't supposed to be until the end of December), an NJ tube, and whatever else they decide they want to do. I'm not really looking forward to it, especially the missing school part. But whatever. It's all part of God's plan. And I'm much more hopeful for spending a week in the hospital during the anniversary of 2 years ago as finding a path to more quality of life than making sure that I'm even going to survive. It's the circle of life. And I'm hopeful we find good treatment plans and solutions and answers.
"Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance in what we do not see." Hebrews 11:1
When I go to the ER and run to the bathroom to puke my brains out one of the many times, just as the doc is getting ready to send me home because he thinks my colitis is just a little flared up and I keep telling him I'm fine I've got life to live, my friend secretly tells him I'm a lot sicker than I let on and I need to be admitted. I come out of the bathroom and fall to the ground. The doc asks me if I just threw up and I say yes, he said what color is it, I say yellow, he says "that's bile, that's a direct admit, that's really bad kid", and it begins the longest, hardest 13 days of my life.
I only spent about 3 days at Rowan, I was too complex for them. I was pretty much comatose at this point. I was so malnourished it's not even funny. I was transferred to Concord and put in CCU because my potassium was so low my heart could have stopped at any second. I was also on TPN for nutrition because I couldn't eat anything by mouth. They weren't sure I was going to make it for part of the time I was in the hospital. My mom was in Indiana. It was really scary. Luckily my church family was awesome and there every day. I weighed 99 pounds. I'm 5'9". That means my BMI was 14.6. For all you non-dietetics students, a normal BMI is 18.5-24.9 and almost no one can fit in those parameters and I was 4 whole points underweight.
I eventually, obviously, got better, and got to go home. And food, TPN, lots of milkshakes and ice cream, and Klor-Con, and some pretty smart dietitians saved my life. 2 years ago, during this hospital stay, is when I decided I was going to be a dietitian.
2 years ago is also when God said no. The doctor walked in my room around September 28th/29th/30th, when I started getting a little better and said, "You're going to be getting to go home soon, but you can't live by yourself, you are too sick. You're mom lives in Indiana. You have to move there. You can't take care of yourself." And my world ended. Or so I thought.
Since I've been here we've found out I have several more really severe chronic illnesses that would be very difficult to live on my own with. It would have also been very difficult to move with them in full force, so it is like God was moving me ahead of time so that I was settled when it happened and could just be taken care of. I have found a church and a C-group that I love. My mom just so happens to live in a town that has a competitive dietetics program that I just so happen to have been accepted into on my first try. And I just may have found some of the most awesome doctors that are willing to try and find some pretty rare things and try different treatments to help me have as good of a quality of life as I can for as long as I can. And that is pretty cool.
While I'm on that note, I found out today, on my 2 year anniversary of being so close to death, that those pretty cool doctors I spoke of, have decided due to my quick deterioration of health lately that it will be best to admit me to the hospital for at least 5-7 days next week beginning Monday. I will be under the care of 2 GI doctors, a dietitian, 2 different neurologists, a cardiologist, and a geneticist. We will be exploring all kinds of options and things including doing my "mito" testing (which wasn't supposed to be until the end of December), an NJ tube, and whatever else they decide they want to do. I'm not really looking forward to it, especially the missing school part. But whatever. It's all part of God's plan. And I'm much more hopeful for spending a week in the hospital during the anniversary of 2 years ago as finding a path to more quality of life than making sure that I'm even going to survive. It's the circle of life. And I'm hopeful we find good treatment plans and solutions and answers.
"Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance in what we do not see." Hebrews 11:1
No comments:
Post a Comment