June 30, 2005 is etched in my mind as a day that from all intents and purposes was designed to set me free from a three year sickness of Asthma, Atria Fibrillation, congestive heart failure and allergies that plagued me.
It seems my second chance in life started about six weeks after that day. However, I've learned from those who waited patiently in the room designed for families, that five hours later they were still waiting. In fact 8 hours later they were still waiting, when on the 9th hour after I had gone into surgery they were told it was over. Periodically they were given updated reports on how I was fairing, but the waiting continued with everyone afraid to leave the area. I think of the love that kept the family there, rising early in the morning to be with me before I went in to surgery is very special.
I was not afraid, only anxious for it to be over so I could start mending. I wanted to get my breath without a struggle, the pounding feeling in my chest from the rapid irregular heartbeat to be gone. I wanted the itching to stop so I could have relief from the discomfort.
By July 2, my husband and I were alone at the hospital. I was dismissed on the 4th but waited until the 5th of July to start the long trip home from St. Louis to Conway. I could find no place to rest in the car, so needless to say I was exhausted and weary when we did reach home several hours later.
The Doctors had warned that it may take several weeks for the heart to settle down. I didn't want to hear that and wanted to prove him wrong. However I went home again to the Oxygen machine, the updraft machine, the continual coughing, and oh yes the itching I referred to as "internal" for it could not be satisfied by my scratching. The same as before, the swelling in my body made it difficult for me to get out of a sitting position without much excruciating pain. My skin broke open from swelling and began weeping. The skin had stretched as far as it could.
My sleeping position was in a lazy boy lounge chair with my upper body slightly laid back. My appetite was poor, but the fluid kept building even with lasix trying to flush me out.
My husband, my dear caregiver, was showing wear on his body. He tried not to show it, but he was losing weight from his secret worry. He knew from the first of 2003, that I would not make it unless someone did something to make me well again. Growing increasingly worse over the next two years, I too was weary of life. I began understanding how my mother and others must have felt when they gave up on life and wanted the end to come.
I tried to will myself to die many times, but was unsuccessful in my efforts. I was showing signs of renal failure to add to all the other things going wrong. Once on the way to the emergency room, the ambulance rushing through traffic, I went into Tachycardia, my heart rate could not be registered. It was upwards of 200 and climbing, it was then I relaxed my body and mind and gave in to death for some relief. I could not breath fast enough to keep up with my running heart.
2 Cardiologist, pulmonary specialist, primary care physicians, Thyroid Doctors, 2 Allergists, 3 Dermatologists, 2 surgeons and countless others scratched their head, consulted the computer, and basically watch me deteriorate without anyone agreeing on the best of care.
When after my cardiologist tried an ablation and found he could not do the job, he recommended a surgeon in Ohio that was experienced in Pulmonary Vein Isolation Ablation, where the pulmonary vein would be cauterized to relieve it of the electrical impulses. "However it is next to impossible to get an appointment as it takes several hours for one surgery, so no more than one surgery is scheduled daily. We might be looking at six months out."
I was about to lose hope until I realized I still knew how to pray. So I gathered round me those who believed as I did, that God could get it scheduled sooner than man, if not in Ohio than somewhere else.
June 30, 2005 was set (which was 5 months sooner than the Doctor had predicted.) And the choice was made to go to St. Louis, MO, the surgeon contacted and the surgery date set.
However 5 weeks after the surgery, on August 2nd to be exact (a date I will also remember always) I had tried laying down in the bed, only to get up around midnight and start my ritual of walking the house trying to find rest for my exhausted body, weary mind and rapid heart. My oxygen machine had a long tube that allowed me the freedom to walk the length of my house. By now I could tell no difference from before June 30. I was still very ill.
Eventually I lay down in my old familiar chair longing for rest. When all around me I felt a slight breeze as though someone passed me, then there was a presence, I could not see only sensed. I never questioned. I wasn't afraid. I accepted it as the angel of death. Death to me was not something to be feared, only welcomed.
My husband had heard my restlessness earlier and suggested that we call an ambulance who was always on stand by. I said no, as I had gone the day before and had my heart shocked back into rhythm only for it go get back to an irregular racing rhythm a few hours later.
So I lay there thinking of my life and what story may be told of me. I wanted it to be a life not wasted, but one lived with purpose. I don't know how long I lay there thinking, when I got up to find a different resting place. I chose the couch. I reached for my Bible, but realized I was too tired to process anything I'd read. Do not ask me how, or why, but I reached for the remote control and shortly the room lighted up with the most beautiful music. The scenes shown on the screen were, water falls of the most magnificent beauty; there were golden fields of grain ready for harvest; a field of roses, shown up close, the roses were perfect in size and shape, the mountains, regardless of what country they stood were superb in all their splendor. There were no man made houses or structures, only pictures showing God's handiwork.
The music played, and with each picture there was a Psalm placed in the corner of the screen. I began reading each psalm, wanting desperately for my weakened voice to hum along with the music. Soon, with each scripture and each song I read, something begin happening in me; a well of tears and praise started from the depths of my soul.
I didn't ask for anything, I only praised the maker of the wind, the Creator of the fields and mountains. It was not long until the storm that had been raging in my body for three years was slowly being replaced by refreshing peace and calm in my spirit, mind and body.
For two hours I drank in the scripture. For two hours I praised the Lord of Lords. For two hours I could have lost track of time, except for knowing what time I lay back down in my chair it was 4am. I slept soundly until eight o'clock when my husband came in and offered me a cup of coffee.
"I was visited by the angel of death last night," I told him.
"Do you want to go to the hospital?" he asked in loving tones. I knew I was still weak, and was not sure what they could do, but I submitted and the ambulance was summoned. My son Greg met the ambulance at the end of the road into my neighborhood and rode with me. Being a paramedic, he took things into his own hand and helped me talk with the Doctor about my window of time during the day when I felt almost human, but it did not last long. The ER Doctor instructed me to stop part of the diuretic and sent me home with few other instructions. They could not use the electrical defibrillator again for a couple more days.
However, I could not start home before I told my son about my "visit" the night before. (still thinking my visitor was the angel of death) "I was visited by the angel of death last night," I said barely above a whisper. He didn't flinch but asked, "Were you afraid?".
"Oh No," I answered. "I welcome death. I can't go on living like this."
Thanks for reading this far. Now I will finish. It was from that night on, (August 2, 2005) that I began mending. After a few days, the Oxygen gave me a morning headache. So I stopped using it. I finally got my lungs cleared of the mucous and quit coughing, no longer needing the updraft machine. My heart settled down and started beating in normal sinus rhythm.
I continued with the itching until this year. Medications were going against me all during the tumultuous years and I learned the hard way, that I developed an allergy to Aspirin as a derivative or an ingredient. In addition, I am highly allergic to sulfa in either form. With the new information, I am careful to ask the right questions before I take a new medicine.
What I've learned? Often we seek our healing and not the Healer. I was doing just that. Often we have the concept that God may do miracles for others but His supply runs too low for me. Then I am made to remember the fragments of left over fish and bread, and realize that what He has left in his reservoir of blessing and miracles is more than fragments for me. Its the Whole and Real thing! Amen
Grammyof13, still well and Thankful.
