I’m getting lots of messages about how much you all hate the cliffhangers. I’m sorry. Sort of. The story lends itself to some cliffhanger moments, so I am taking you along with me, cliff by tricky cliff. 🙂
My husband had just left with my 3 week old baby in tow, and I was in a cold, smelly, unfamiliar hospital room, not having any clue what was wrong. I did not sleep very well, and because I was in such a critical state, the sweet nurses had to check on me every hour. Vitals, blood draws, scans, medicine, etc. Good times at St. John’s Hospital, my people!.
The next day was a Sunday. There would be no church for us. Except for me having some Jesus moments in my heart, begging Him not to take me Home just yet. I really wanted to be a mom to my kiddos and a wife to my husband, so I asked Him, nicely, if He might save me.
And the really sad part about that simple prayer? I didn’t believe I was worth saving. It was a fake prayer because I prayed it thinking I was a lost cause.
There are many things I would like to go back and tell that scared 25 year old girl. I would tell her that she was worth more than gold, and the apple of His eye (Deut. 32:9-11). That the King of the universe was enthralled with her beauty (Psalm 45:11). That He allowed this to happen to her because He had a plan and a hope and a future for her life (Jer. 29:11). That this massive health event was really a thing of beauty because it would be the catalyst that would start to shape her new view of her Heavenly Father.
But, I probably wouldn’t have listened to the future, wise 35 year old me. And 25 year old me would be sad that 35 year old me hadn’t figured out the magical weight loss secret. So she would have tuned 35 out.
Dangit. 25 would be so ticked at 35. 25 thought that her value was only as good as her last performance. Laid up in a hospital bed, unable to move, in vast amounts of pain, 25 was a poor performer.
Newsflash 25! 35 is a poor performer too.. it’s just… God has done a big thing in my heart and I longer base my worth on what I can do. And, if that is all I needed to learn from that time in my life, it was worth it.
But 25 wasn’t there yet. She was thinking that it was her fault that she got sick. She was too big and her big-ness is what caused her issue.
Sunday was a day full of tests. They discovered some things that would all point to what was actually wrong, but it wasn’t a diagnosis. They were doing what they do best. Managing a crisis. Because I was presenting as anemic, they asked to do a blood transfusion. I said no. I don’t know why I said no, I just knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. Looking back now, it was the first time I can remember having a prompting that I wouldn’t be swayed by. I know now it was the Holy Spirit helping me not die.
Yay Holy Spirit!!
The doctors thought I was crazy for not taking the transfusion. I held firm.
Monday is when I went for my CT Scan. It’s when I was injected with radioactive iodine and lots of radiation. (Sorry.. my natural hippie tendencies are flaring.) It’s when they discovered I had a massive blood clot that was running from my thighs, all the way up to an inch below my heart.
It’s when, after I was back in my room, the doctor came in and had the most panicked look I have ever seen.
Let me coach you up on bedside manner, doc.
25 year old me didn’t like that face. It said you had never seen anything like it and you didn’t think survival was possible. It said you were scared out of your mind because you didn’t rightly know how to go about treating such a critical health issue.
Oh.. that’s what you were thinking?