Ten years ago today, my life took a turn that would change me forever.
Around the beginning of 2001, something happened. I don’t remember exactly how or when, but I knew things weren’t right. It scared me. So I ignored it, hoping it would go away.
It didn’t. My mom found out and set up an appointment for me to see a doctor. I went periodically so they could do blood work and make sure I was doing okay. I was given a prescription to help me get better. I rarely, if ever, took the prescription. The pills I was given had to be swallowed whole. I had struggled with swallowing pills since I was in 3rd or 4th grade. It was a mental issue, but I had yet to beat it. So I got progressively worse and worse, not really understanding or knowing what was wrong with me. My doctor appointments became more frequent to the point I was going every week.
On Monday, September 10, 2001, I went to see my doctor as usual. I had to wait for them to get my blood work back, which had become the norm. When the doctor came back in with the results, she told me she was admitting me to the hospital. She said that she could send me home, hoping I’d get better over the following week, but that my hemoglobin had dropped 3 points in one week, from 10 to 7. Odds were it would drop another 3 points, and I wouldn’t see her the next week because I’d be dead.
At the age of 17, that was a shock for me to hear. So I was admitted to Enterprise Medical Center. Tuesday, September 11th, we all know what happened that morning. So while the United States was in turmoil, I was in a hospital, waiting on a blood transfusion to save my life. I was transferred to UAB Hospital on Wednesday. I had IVs, tests, blood drawn 3 times a day, all that fun stuff. It was a trying week for me, but God was still there with me through it all. The doctor who checked on me every morning (with all his interns or whatever they were), asked me if I had experienced any pain. I told him how I would lay on the sofa, curled up in a ball, because it hurt so bad. It literally felt like someone had set my insides on fire. It was unbearable…I had never felt pain like that before…or since, for that matter. Whenever it started hurting, I’d pray to God to either take me home or take the pain away, because I couldn’t stand it. I would hide my face so my family wouldn’t know the pain I felt and I would silently cry…begging to be set free from the agony. Without fail, after a couple minutes, the pain would go away. I told the doctor it would go away, just didn’t tell him why. He was stunned. He said, “I’ve never heard that before! As bad off as you are, the pain is normal. But it’s a constant thing. Someone in your situation should be feeling pain like that, but it doesn’t just stop.” When he told me that, I realized that God really was with me, as if I didn’t already know. I just wish I would have told him the truth.
There was another day they had to give me a special IV. I don’t remember what it was or what it did, but the nurse told me that it would burn. The burning sensation would last the whole time, and it took about 45 minutes for the whole process to be complete. But as she was setting things up, she looked at me and said, “May I pray for you?” I told her yes. She prayed that the IV would not burn like it should. Then she really got going and started praying in tongues! I was so thankful for the great nurses I had, especially her, a believer who knew the power of God! When she started the IV, it burned the minute it hit my vein. She held my hand and thanked God and it quit burning. It never burned again while that liquid ran into my arm. That was another eye-opening moment for me.
I thank God for the great nurses I had at UAB. He surrounded me with people who really cared, especially that sweet black lady who wasn’t afraid to step out and pray for me! While at UAB, I had to learn how to swallow pills, too. One day, I had another really sweet nurse. I don’t know if she was a Christian or not, but she came in and worked with me and really helped me to overcome the whole mental block I had concerning swallowing pills. She was patient and took the extra time to help me.
Also while I was there, I met a specialist, who was going to be my doctor. She was the one I would have to visit periodically to make sure everything was still going well. She came in and explained everything to me. She told me I had ulcerative colitis…a disease that could not be cured, but could be controlled. She was a nice doctor, and all the times I saw her I felt like she really had my best interest at heart, but that first day I met her, when she told me that, I couldn’t agree. I stayed calm on the outside, listening to everything she told me, but on the inside, it’s like my spirit jumped up and screamed, “NO! I will NOT live with this! I won’t have to put up with it for the rest of my life! I know a doctor who can cure ANYTHING!”
Finally, a week after I was admitted to EMC, I was released from UAB. They had to weigh me before I left, for my records. I was 99 pounds. Let me tell you, at 99 pounds, I looked like I should be dead. (Some of you know this, as I actually weighed in at 97 last year when I got really sick around this time.) Even though I finally got to go home, and seemingly the worst was behind me, the battle was just beginning.
I had to deal with depression. I had never been depressed in my life. I was only 17 for crying out loud! I wished I had died instead of surviving. I didn’t think life was worth it. Things got better when I was accepted to UA, but the excitement of change just masked what I was dealing with. The depression reared its ugly head again during the summer of 2003. I decided to take summer classes because I didn’t want to have to stay an extra semester, and I knew I had to do an internship the summer before my senior year. I dealt with a lot of stuff that summer, and found myself, once again, wishing I wasn’t alive. I didn’t see a point. I didn’t think it was worth it. I had forgotten about how God brought me through everything and all the ways He proved how much He loved me. One night in my room, I was crying. He got stern with me…corrected me. But it broke that depression off of me and I KNEW I’d been set free!
Satan has tried to put it back on me, and there are times I almost gave in. But every time it gets easier. Satan actually tried to give me those same thoughts not too long ago. “Life isn’t worth it. I’m not worth it.” The minute the thought hit me, I started laughing! “Satan, you can’t be serious! God knows everything about me…the good, the bad, the ugly, and He STILL showers me with His love in ways I could never earn or deserve! How in the world can I dare to think I’m not worth it???” That’s one of the things God said to me, actually. He reminded me how He sent Jesus to die FOR ME. Then He made me realize that, basically, what I was saying was that Jesus died in vain. That the ultimate sacrifice was a waste. How could I ever look at the cross and doubt that God really, truly LOVES me? There’s no way!
There are so many more things that tie into this story…MY story. But obviously there’s too much to keep it short. I have shared some stuff with different people, but I have kept pretty silent about most of it. I know God has plans for me, and I think it’s time I start stepping out more. I know this is just a blog, and it’s a toss-up of how many people will actually read it, especially since it’s really long. But at least it’s a start.
