Reflections: 2017 (Part Two)

On May 3, I was admitted to the hospital to have a tracheostomy and to be started on invasive ventilation. Everyone hoped that using invasive ventilation, which would breathe for me and thus alleviate the energy demand on my respiratory muscles, would result in me having more energy. Although the ventilator keeps me breathing, my energy levels have never returned. It seems my Mitochondrial Disease has continued to progress.

I wish I could say once I received a tracheostomy and was started on invasive ventilation my life was free from any medical intervention. However, many complications have arisen--clogged trach tubes, allergies to trach tubes, trach tubes which were too long and dug into my trachea, respiratory tract infections, etc. In the last seven months, I have had countless doctor's appointments, six visits to the emergency department and have spent 46 days in the hospital (45 of those days have been in the intensive care unit).

(On a non-medical note, this year I have had many adventures. A swarm of hundreds, perhaps thousands of bees infested my home. I am very grateful to my friend Michelle for coming to the rescue by spraying the entire house and then allowing me to stay at her house for an impromptu slumber party as my house aired out from the toxic fumes. (For more details, read http://mitowarrior.blogspot.com/2017/07/the-honey-bees-come-for-honey-queen.html) Also, I had a rattlesnake fall on my head. Now that was a very painful experience but also a great story. I have yet to find another person who has had the excitement of having a rattlesnake wallop him/her over the head. And praise be to God, the snake did not bite me. I then had the "enjoyment" of using a shovel to kill the snake. (For more details, read http://mitowarrior.blogspot.com/2017/11/things-i-learned-today.html) Yes, that certainly was a memorable day!)

As I reflect back on everything which has happened this year, I can say this has been one of the most trying years of my life. And yet, God has richly bestowed upon me abundant blessings, mercies and miracles. There have been countless times when overwhelming situations have seemed absolutely hopeless. And in the depths of my despair, God has directed someone into my life or has revealed essential medical knowledge which brought hope and joy. I am very thankful that we can never go back in time and repeat our lives, and yet, I am forever grateful to God for this year. It seems through all these trials and challenges, God has allowed me to grow closer to Him. During the darkest and loneliest times of the night, God has allowed me to see His light and has allowed me grab hold of His light, storing this source of power deep within my soul.

As I look to the future, I have very few hopes and dreams about what I would like to accomplish. I know Mitochondrial Disease is a chronic progressive disease. Things I am able to do today I may no longer be able to do tomorrow. I try not to make goals, but instead, I try to rejoice in each moment and take great satisfaction in completing even the smallest task. I still hope that one day I will wake up and am miraculously healed from this disease. I dream about not having to be connected to a ventilation; I dream about not having a tracheostomy; I dream I am once again able to run down the street, ride a bike and splash about as I swim to my heart's contentment. Until that great day, I continue to pray. I pray for relief from my never-ending symptoms. I pray a bacterial respiratory tract infection which I acquired in July will finally be healed. I pray God will continue to richly bless my life. I pray God will allow me to be blessing in other people's lives. Whatever 2018 brings into my life, I am very grateful God is with me every moment, directing my path and loving me endlessly. It is with Him I can fearlessly face the future and eagerly embrace the great unknown. May 2018 bring much love, joy and happiness to your life. Shalom!

Reflections: 2017 (Part One)

As I sit at church in my corner next to the wall, a friend I have not seen in nearly a year warmly greets me. "You look great! It is so wonderful to see your face! You look like you are doing so well!" As my friend's words swirl through my head, I am suddenly reminded of this last year. The last time my friend saw me was when I had a giant full face mask strapped to my head, and I was severely laboring to breathe. Was it really just a year ago I was using non-invasive ventilation (BiPAP) to breathe?

On December 5, 2016, my life changed forever. After struggling to breathe since mid-August, I suddenly felt as though I could not breathe. I felt as though I was using every muscle in my body to take the tiniest breath. In a panic, I called the medical clinic. Praise be to God, a doctor very knowledgeable in pulmonology was assigned to be my doctor. The physician took one look at me and told me he was going to admit me to the hospital. My Mitochondrial Disease was affecting my respiratory muscles. I was going to need to use a BiPAP machine to help me breathe.

After being admitted to the hospital, I spent a terrifying night trying to learn how to breathe while a machine was forcing air into my lungs. As tired as I was, I simply could not relax and let the machine give me the needed breath support. After a few short hours of using BiPAP, I had the respiratory therpatist disconnect me from the machine. Thankfully, my machine settings were recorded, and I was able to be discharged home with my own machine. My doctor instructed me to just use the BiPAP machine at night and anytime I felt as though I could not breathe. Very quickly, I found myself not being able to breathe on my own. I soon was using the machine more and more.

On January 1, 2017, I started using BiPAP 24/7. I so clearly remember this day. It was a Sunday. I did not have the respiratory muscle strength to breathe on my own while attending church services. Filled with much sorrow and anxiety, I used the BiPAP machine during service. I was so embarrassed. I felt like a space alien wearing a huge full face mask and having to have a machine help me breathe. As folks were joyously celebrating the new year, I was lamenting that this day would commemorate a new progression of my disease.

As I struggled to breathe during the next several months, my BiPAP mask was always strapped to my face. As much as I wanted to talk to people, which required me to remove my mask, I simply did not have the muscle strength to breathe on my own. I remained quiet for most of the day. At church, folks would often talk to me. I would only respond with a head nod or perhaps a one word response. I knew my respiratory muscles were failing. I knew it was only a matter of time before I needed to get a tracheostomy and use invasive ventilation to breathe.

During the month of April, my respiratory muscles were completely exhausted. I could only sleep about an hour before I would abruptly wake up drenched in sweat, shaking and gasping for air as my body tried to desperately rid itself of carbon dioxide which had built up in my body during my brief time in slumberland. I kept praying during this time that God would give me strength. I kept praying that God would provide the medical means to help me breathe.

At the end of April, the day before my pulmonology appointment, the clinic called to inform me my doctor had to cancel my appointment. On the verge of tears, the receptionist informed me that another pulmonologist could see me at the clinic the following afternoon. Praising God, I gratefully agreed to see a different pulmonologist. The moment the pulmonologist saw me in his office shaking with fatigue and severely laboring, using every muscle possible to breathe, he exclaimed, "You are in respiratory failure! I do not need any test to tell me this. You need to be hospitalized. You need a tracheostomy now!" As much as I appreciated this doctor's concern, I was not ready at that moment for a tracheostomy. I needed time to pray; I needed time to research getting a tracheostomy; I needed time to digest this information.

Christmas giving: Santa left it under my tree

Many years ago, I used to volunteer in a second grade class at a local elementary school. I absolutely loved the kids and greatly enjoyed tutoring them and assisting them in any way possible. There were also some students who spoke little English. Their families had recently moved to the area from Mexico as migrant workers. Gratefully, I had some knowledge of Spanish and would sometimes have to translate assignments from English to Spanish or write notes home to the kids' parents in Spanish.

After Christmas break, the students were all a buzz talking about the presents they received for Christmas. Every child's face was lit with a radiant glow...every child except Ismael, a child of one of the migrant workers. My friend Nick was also tutoring with me that day. Nick, in his caring manner, asked Ismael about his sorrow. Ismael whispered into Nick's ear. Immediately, Nick's countenance fell. A short while later, the students were dismissed for their afternoon recess break. As soon as the students had vacated the classroom, Nick divulged Ismael's secret. "Santa did not come to Ismael's house this year. Ismael did not receive a single present for Christmas." I, too, was instantly saddened by this revelation. But unlike my colleague, I knew what I had to do.

When I arrived home from the elementary school, I went to my meager savings stash and fished out ten dollars. I then joyfully took this money with me to my local Walmart, hoping I could buy Ismael a Christmas gift. When I arrived in the toy department, an incredible blessing awaited me. Since it was about ten days after Christmas, everything left on the toy department shelves was 90% off! I was nearly leaping for joy! Instead of being able to get Ismael just one gift, I was able to purchase a plethora of items--crayons, a coloring book, Play-doh, a stuffed animal, an easy to read storybook and several other items which filled up a paper grocery bag.

When I arrived at the elementary school the next day, I tried to discreetly give Ismael his presents. I did not want to make a big scene upon giving Ismael his gifts for I did not want the other children to see me give Ismael a bag full of presents. I quietly told Ismael, "When I arrived home last night, I found this bag full of gifts beneath my tree. It seems Santa was not sure where your home was this year because you recently moved. But, Santa gave me a message to deliver these gifts to you." Ismael's eyes grew wide and excitement and joy filled his face. Ismael quickly ran off to the coat room to put his gifts next to his book bag. He also took a few moments to rifle through the brown paper grocery bag. When Ismael returned, he began telling everyone about the gifts he had received for Christmas and about how Santa was late getting him gifts because Santa did not know where he lived.

As I sat silently listening to Ismael and watching laughter spill out from his mouth, I took a moment to enjoy the true blessing of Christmas. What a joy it was to have been able to buy Ismael gifts. What a blessing it was that Walmart had their toys on sale. What a miracle it was that God revealed to me Ismael's burden, and I was able to bring happiness to this little boy's life. May this Christmas season be filled with lots of love, joy and kindness. Shalom.

Christmas giving: A day of rest

Many years ago, I found myself once again hospitalized with a bowel obstruction. After struggling for many days, not being able to drink more than 2 ounces of water a day, I finally broke down and went to the emergency department. My small intestine had wrapped itself around my superior mesenteric artery, causing a complete bowel obstruction. Although I was grateful for IV hydration and IV pain meds, I was disheartened to be back in the hospital for an extended stay.

During my hospital excursion, God placed a delightful woman in the bed adjacent to mine. I greatly dislike shared hospital rooms, but for what it is worth, I was grateful for this woman's kind, endearing company during the long hours whilst hospitalized. This woman shared with me that she was a teacher for children with learning disabilities. She told me all about her students. Her love and joy for her kids seemed to radiant from her smiling face. Unfortunately, the woman had developed asthma and subsequently had been having many respiratory issues. She had been hospitalized for many days earlier in the year with pneumonia. Now, it seems, she had acquired a bad case of pneumonia again.

The woman never complained to me about her financial situation, but when her husband came to visit, deep sorrow and misery spilled out from her heart. She was out of vacation days. They were very short of money due to the recent Christmas holidays. Every day she was hospitalized, she would lose $100 from lost wages. As I listened to this woman's long lamentation, I felt compelled to help her out. For my Christmas gift, my parents had given me $100. I instantly knew what I had to do.

The day I was discharged, I placed my $100 Christams gift in a small photo booklet my friend Deb had given me. I desperately wanted to leave the woman a note, but I had neither pen or paper. Instead, I prayed God word deliver her this message, "Here is $100. The exact amount you said you would lose if you missed a day of work. Please rest, please be free from your anguish for this one day. Sit back and allow your body to recuperate. Your students need you to be well to help them through their days. I pray you know Jesus for He says, 'Come unto me all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn of Me; for I am meek and lowly in heart. For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light' Matthew 11:28-30. God loves you. This gift is from Him."

As I exited the shared hospital room, my hands were busy hanging on to my backpack and other luggage on my lap as my dad pushed my wheelchair out the door. So, my mom gave my roommate the gift. Since the $100 bill was stashed inside the booklet, my mom told the woman to open the booklet. When the woman saw the $100 bill drop from the booklet's pages, shock overwhelmed the woman's body. Then, large, round tears burst forth from her eyes as she began to weep uncontrollably. My mom quickly exited the room, never saying another word to the woman.

As I reflect back on this story, I have no idea what ever happened to my hospital roommate. I pray she recovered and was able to go back to work. I pray God was able to richly bless her life as she and her family struggled through some difficult financial circumstances. Although I could have purchased a number of items or could have even used the money to pay off some of my own debt, giving the woman the money was by far the best use of the $100. I thank God over and over again that I was allowed to be this woman's hospital roommate and had been given the resources to bless and share God's love with her.

Christmas giving: Just ring it up

It was another long day in which I had a doctor's appointment. My body was fatigued and very thirsty from the hours spent at the clinic. I craved for a caffeinated drink to help pull my body out of its energy-deprived state. Thankfully, Whole Foods was just a short distance away, a place where I could purchase a nice cold, caffeine-laced beverage. I was also grateful that this Whole Foods was set-up in a very convenient way. Being located on a street corner, the store's main entrance was located on the one street, while a second entrance, located around the corner on the other street, gave access to the salad bar, hot foods bar and giant coolers filled with lots of tasty drinks. Located at this second entrance was also a tiny check-out register which allowed folks to quickly zip in and zip out of Whole Foods without having to traverse the entire store. Knowing this convenient store layout, I gratefully entered the second entrance.

I quickly found my beverage of choice, turned and walked a few steps to the cash register. In front of me, there was a university-aged student. She had a plate heaping full of food from the salad bar. Her total came to just under $9. As the girl pulled out her wallet, her face fell into a panic. "Oh no! I don't have my debit card. I must have left it at my apartment. I have no cash with me and have no other way to pay for the food." I could immediately see the anguish on her face. It was lunchtime. I could imagine that this was a special treat for the girl, and she really had her heart set on eating all that delicious food. The girl told the cashier she would not be able to purchase her food and was about to walk away from the register.

I quickly piped up, "Sir, if you could just ring up my beverage and add it to her purchase, I will pay for them both." The cashier seemed a bit puzzled. I again told him to just ring it up. Finally, the cashier seemed to understand what I wanted. The university student started to protest. "Oh, I cannot let you do that. I cannot let you pay for my food." As soon as the cashier rang up my beverage and gave me the total, I quickly swiped my credit card. I then replied to the university girl, "Too late. It has been all paid for. Go and enjoy your lunch." The girl picked up her lunch plate and began mumbling, "What have I done to deserve this? Why have I been shown this kindness?" Although I would have greatly enjoyed telling this girl about Jesus and about His tremendous love He has for us, I was utterly exhausted. Any energy I once had was completely drained from me as I stood there in line.

As I walked away from the cash register, I thanked God for the opportunity to be a blessing today in someone's life. I also asked that this girl would know this gift was from God. As I exited the store, I suddenly realized I had paid nearly $10 for my drink. "Oh well," I thought. "The LORD will provide." And indeed He always does.

Christmas giving: Baking for God

It was a cold December Sunday morning, and the church was teeming with folks in the Christmas spirit. As service began, a woman stood up to recite a few announcements. The local Meals-on-Wheels organization was looking for folks to bake cookies to give out to its clients during the Christmas season. Anyone wishing to help should have the cookies brought to the local office two weeks from today.

Upon hearing these words, I was overjoyed. I LOVE to bake and LOVE to give my sweet treats away. It is not for my own benefit that I bake (as I cannot eat any sugar or flour or most other ingredients in baked goods), but I bake because I know how much folks enjoy receiving fresh baked goods as a special treat. I also bake because I find it is a celebration to God. With having little energy, any time I can accomplish anything is a direct praise to God for His abundant kindness.

As I set off to accomplish this task, I set a high goal for the number of cookies I wanted to make--one hundred cookies. There were LOTS of folks in our local Meals-on-Wheels program. I hoped perhaps my dedication to the task would ensure that at least every person in the Meals-on-Wheels program would be able to enjoy at least one Christmas cookie. As with any lengthy task, I quickly divided up the challenge. First I made the cookie dough. I then placed the dough in the freezer. A few days later, I took the dough out of the freezer and cut out the Christmas cookies. Next, I placed the formed cookies back in the freezer. A few days later, I took the cookies out and baked them. After they cooled, again they went back in the freezer. A few days later, I took the cookies back out of the freezer and frosted them. Once again, the cookies went back in the freezer until they needed to be dropped off at the office.

On the day I dropped off the cookies, I was overjoyed! I did it! I had made 100 cookies! I was praising God on the journey to the local office. Upon arriving at the office, I quickly slipped in the front door. To my shock, an entire table was full of Christmas treats! I nearly started crying. Oh, the generosity of all the folks at church. I knew not only would every person in the Meals-on-Wheels program receive at least one baked good, they would probably be able to receive a small plateful of delicious sweet treats! "Oh LORD, how abundant are your loving kindnesses!" As I was praising God, a woman walked from a back office to the front lobby area. "Thank you for dropping off some cookies. Can you please sign your name in this book so we have a record of who donated cookies and can send you a thank you note?" I was a little taken aback by her request. I had baked these cookies out of love and joy for God. I did not want any recognition for my efforts. It was God who provided the ingredients and energy to make these treats. I simply was the messenger dropping off the goods. I reluctantly wrote down my information and slunk out the door.

When I got out to my car, I felt utterly defeated. Tears streamed down my face. "LORD, I did this to honor You and to spread Your goodness to those in need. I did not do this for any recognition, and now it seems my efforts have been wasted. My name (and not Yours) has been attached to those cookies. I am terribly sorry. I thank You for the generosity of so many people. I thank You that folks in need will be able to enjoy an abundance of delicious treats. I pray these folks know all these things were done to honor and glorify You."

Energy. Precious energy. How do you use yours? (Part Two)

Another area of my life where I have found joy is by not resisting. I made a promise to God that if someone asked me to do something, I would do it. I would leave it to God to provide the necessary energy and strength to make it through the task. I no longer waste energy by wrestling with the decision if I should or should not do the task. I leave it all up to God. If I am to do something, He will move mountains to make it happen. If I am not supposed to do something, He will close doors to make it not possible. Here is an example of this.

On a Sunday this spring, my heart sank as I saw printed in the church bulletin that the memorial service for my friend Laura's husband was going to be that afternoon. "Oh, Lord, I am so tired. Sundays are so hard on me--getting up early and then enduring a morning out of the house. I want to go to the memorial service, but I am so tired. Lord, make it known unto me what I should do. Direct me in the way I should go and make it known unto me with a sign."

As I was enjoying the church service, I kept hearing in my head that I should abandon my place in the middle of the room (a place in which I was using a pillar to prop my head up against) and seek the perimeter of the room, in which there was located an electrical outlet. I kept arguing with myself. "I can go about five hours using the batteries on my ventilator. I do not need to plug it into the wall to avoid any additional drain on the batteries and also at the same time allow the batteries to charge." However, when the pastor was finished preaching, I wheeled over to the wall and plugged in my ventilator.

When I arrived home, I discovered we were in the midst of a power outage. "Oh, thank You Lord for telling me to plug in my ventilator! With plugging it in at church, I have enough power on my batteries to last a couple hours. Also, this is probably the sign I asked for at church. I guess this means I am supposed to go to the memorial service."

Forty-five minute before I needed to leave for the memorial service, the power was restored. Praise the Lord! I now had electricity to charge the ventilator some more to ensure I would have enough battery power to get me to and from the service. Also, I could enjoy some tea now that there was electricity to work the stove and make some food (since most of my food was in the refrigerator, and I had avoided opening and closing the fridge door to not let all the cold air out). Eating, drinking and breathing...life is good!

On my way to the memorial service, I realized I was not exactly sure how to get to the location. Thankfully, traffic was thick, and I was able to use the map on the car's GPS to figure out how to get to the general location of where the service was to be held. When I neared the location, I become a bit anxious. Oh, no, I have no idea where to go. No worries. I heard a voice tell me to follow a car which was a little ways ahead of me. Where that car turned, I turned. As I followed the car, it lead me to the entrance of the gated community. At the gate, the security guard was able to direct me to the memorial service site.

When I arrived at the community center, I again panicked. Oh, no, there are so many cars, and the center is quite large. "Oh, Lord, help me find a close parking space and help me figure out where I need to go." As I approached the front on the building, there was a space near the wheelchair ramp. "Thank you Jesus!" As I rolled up the ramp, I had no idea if I was supposed to go right, left or straight ahead. Before I had time to guess which way to go, a man came around the corner of the building. He asked if I was looking for the memorial service. I said I was. He told me it was just inside the door in front of me. Before I had a chance to slowly wheel up the steep ramp backwards towards the door, the pastor from my church opened the door and grabbed hold of my wheelchair. He wheeled into the room and placed me next to a very sweet man (John) and his wife from Canada.

The service was lovely. At the end of the service, the man from Canada offered to wheel me up to the front to say my condolences to Laura. I also was especially grateful because I was able to meet Laura's beautiful daughter. What a joy and blessing it was to give her a hug. John volunteered to wheel me out to my car. He then also loaded my wheelchair into the car. (What a tremendous blessing he was!)

After this eventful day, I am so glad God directed my way to go to the memorial service. Whenever I needed help in the way I should go, God provided me with direction and assistance. It is truly amazing to be the recipient of God's abundant blessings.

Lastly, when I am feeling very sick or very depressed, I often think about heaven. Somehow, thinking about a place in which there is no sin, a place in which there is no suffering, a place in which there is no disease makes me very happy. Last year, during one of his sermons, the pastor at my church said something which has changed my life. “What it the worst thing that can happen to you? You die and go to heaven.” This thought of going to heaven is such a comfort in times of great distress. There have been numerous times when I am having a bad reaction to a medication or a downward spiral in my health, and I cling to these words. Even during these dark times, I try to rejoice and thank God for heaven. I think about Jesus suffering when He hung on the cross. I am reminded that even though His suffering was extreme, it came to an end. No matter how hard a situation is, it too shall pass. “Weeping may endure for a night by joy comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5).

So, this is how I try to live my life. I try to give thanks to God always and try to rejoice always. Many trials and challenges lie before all of us. We have the choice of either clinging to God and rising above them or allowing fear, anger and pain consume us. I suggest clinging to God. But don’t take my word. Try it yourself.

Energy. Precious energy. How do you use yours? (Part One)

Energy consumes my thoughts. I am constantly doing a cost-benefit analysis on my energy levels. “I want to go to the store, but I have Bible study tomorrow night. If I go to the store today, I will be too tired to go to Bible study tomorrow. I made a commitment to God to teach His word. So, I will have to skip going to the store.” These thoughts constantly race through my mind. If I do too much, my body runs out of energy.

I suffer from a disease called Mitochondrial Disease, which inhibits my body’s ability to produce energy. Inside every cell in the body, there are tiny powerhouses called mitochondria. The job of the mitochondria is to produce a molecule called ATP. In the body, ATP is the body’s energy source. Without ATP, the body cannot function. ATP is required to do everything in your body—digestion, thinking, flexing your muscles, breathing, producing enzymes, making hormones, contracting and relaxing your muscles to beat your heart, etc.

If I force myself to do too much, my body’s ability to produce ATP is greatly inhibited. This means, organ systems have less energy available to them to function, which leads to decreased function of an organ or complete failure. The most recent area of my body affected is my breathing. My mitochondrial disease has depleted the working mitochondria in my diaphragm—which are two large muscles needed to allow a person to inhale. Without these muscles functioning properly, it is very hard for me to breathe on my own. Thankfully, I have been able to get a tracheostomy and have a ventilator to breathe for me.

Back to energy. With having not a lot of energy, I have been forced to use my precious energy supply sparingly. Wild swings in emotions are very energy intensive and are a complete waste of energy. Does it matter if you get mad at someone for cutting you off in traffic? Does it matter that you hold a grudge against someone?

Thankfully, God has showed me again and again how to manage my emotions. 1 Thessalonians 5:16 says, “Rejoice always”. Joy is one emotion which does not cost the body a lot of energy. Instead, joy often seems to increase my energy levels. So, whenever I can, and as often as I can, I try to rejoice always.

As easy as it sounds, being always joyful is a constant battle. It is so easy for us to be caught in a bad turmoil of emotions. As soon as I find myself in this situation, I stop and try to think of something positive, anything positive, and give thanks to God. Rejoicing always requires constant vigilance to not let others and to not let a situation determine your mood. Thankfully, through much practice, rejoicing becomes easier and easier.

After becoming severely sick many years ago, I decided I wanted to see the good in the world. I wanted to see God’s goodness in everything. Whenever someone did something for me, I would take a moment to thank God. Soon, despite having very lousy health, I was seeing God constantly at work all around me. If I went to the bank and someone cut in front of me in line, I tried to remain calm. When my turn came, the teller I had was extremely fast and very polite. She quickly processed my transaction and I was leaving the bank before the man who cut in line in front of me did. I immediately sent up praises to God for giving me the fastest bank teller in the building. If the man would not have cut in front of me, I would still be inside the bank. In any situation I found myself in, I tried to find ways to praise God.

Soon, I stopped seeing the bad in the world. An example of this is going to the grocery store with my friend. I was so happy when I left the store as I saw over and over again God sending people my way to help me through the store. My friend, on the other hand was filled with complaints. “Did you see how three people rushed ahead of us when we were trying to enter the building? Then, the man in produce shoved his cart right in front of you so you could not proceed down the aisle. And then there was that woman who blocked the ramp so you could not exit the store.” And the list of complaints could go on and on. Amazingly, as my friend was expressing all her anger, I had not noticed all these inconveniences. Instead, I noticed a man move a shopping cart out of my way so I could enter the store. I noticed the cashier giving me a warm smile in the checkout line. I noticed an employee come over to our checkout line and bag up our groceries. He then placed the bags in our cart and offered to take the groceries out to our car. Again and again, I saw God showering us with blessings. My friend, on the other hand, could only seem to focus on all the negative aspects of our grocery experience.

I often thank God for His continual guidance on being so loving. I know I, too, was once like my friend. I, too, would only ever see the bad things in life and would miss so many of God’s abundant blessings. It seems the more I look, the more I see God working in my life.

Eye, eye, eye!

The last week of October, I noticed I was having terrible eye pain which radiated to the back of my head, down my neck and to my shoulders and back. I was also dizzy, and objects seemed to oscillate back and forth, never really in focus. As I was pondering the pain, I suddenly knew what was the cause. My eye muscles must have weakened, and I needed different prism strength in my glasses. This exact same thing has happened to me in October 2016, October 2015 and October 2014. Armed with this information, I called an eye clinic which hosts six different eye doctors. When I called, I just asked to see the doctor who had the next available appointment, which was four weeks away.

Today was the magic day. I was excited I would soon have a new prescription and would be seeing again soon without pain, dizziness and double vision. When the doctor saw me, my body was shaking due to fatigue. The doctor asked about my tremors. I briefly explained I had mitochondrial myopathy. When the doctor heard I had mitochondrial myopathy, he quickly told me there was nothing he could do for me. "You have a muscle disease. Your eye muscle strength will change throughout the day." I already knew this, but I also know that my current glasses need different prism strength and possibly a different refraction strength. I am dizzy, see double and have a headache from the moment I wake up until the moment I go back to sleep. These exact same symptoms have occurred in the past and have been resolved with a new eyeglass prescription. Without ever doing an eye exam, the doctor pushed me out the door, insisting there was nothing he could do for me.

I was a bit in shock as I left the doctor's office. Did the doctor really not check to see if the prism in my glasses was correct? Did I just waste my yearly eye exam visit on a doctor who did not perform an eye exam? I was utterly defeated, felt sick to my stomach and knew I had just wasted a precious afternoon's worth of energy.

I wish there was some happy ending to today, but it seems today was just another day with another bad doctor's appointment. Now, I have to ponder if I can endure these symptoms for the next 12 months until I can schedule another eye exam through my insurance. I doubt I can last that long. I feel as though I have been doing everything I can for the last month to patiently wait for this appointment. I guess I will just keep praying. Praying for a miracle. Praying to have relief from these symptoms soon.

Tuesday will be too late

It was a cold December morning several years ago, when I was lying in bed snuggling down beneath lots of warm blankets. Resting in the twilight slumber, half-way between awake and asleep, I heard a voice. "Her life force is going out of her. Tuesday will be too late." Before I had a chance to understand this message, suddenly the warmth and sense of security which embraced me was quickly taken away. I felt as though I had been pushed off a tall building and was free falling straight to the ground. Instantly, my heart was racing, I was gasping for breath and a cold sweat was pouring down my face. I sat bolt up right, trying to regain my composure. The words, "What was that!?" rang through my head. I tried to shrug off the incident, but the words haunted my mind. Whose life force was going out of her? Today was Monday...that meant something was going to happen very soon.

I got out of bed and tried to go through my daily routine. I suddenly thought about a family friend, Bea. She was in a nursing home about 20 minutes from our home. Was she the person who was going to die? My mom and I had planned on visiting her tomorrow, but if the voice was correct, tomorrow (Tuesday) would be too late. I asked and almost pleaded with my mom to go visit Bea. My mom informed me that she did not feel well, and tomorrow she had a doctor's appointment which was down the street from Bea's nursing home. We would visit Bea the next day. Knowing the discussion about visiting Bea was over, I tried to go through the rest of my day as normally as possible. I kept praying Bea was ok and that she would be alive when we visited her.

The next day, I nearly sprang from my bed, hurrying to get ready to go visit Bea. I was ready in a flash and was pushing my mom out the door. When we arrived at the nursing home, I was relieved and overjoyed to see Bea, alive and happily sitting in her room. During our entire visit, I kept thanking God and rejoicing Bea was alive. Bea looked in great shape, and my fears about her dying were quenched.

For the rest of the week, I pushed aside the entire incident about hearing the voice and about being in a panic about Bea dying. I went on with my life, burying the incident into my memories.

The following Monday night I was extremely tired. At 7 p.m., I retired to bed and prepared to go to sleep very early. Around 7:30 p.m., my mom came into my room. Her face was full of deep sorrow, and giant tears were rolling down her face. She told me she had just found out her aunt was very sick and was in a nursing home receiving hospice care. My mom said she could see I was ready for bed and said we should go visit my aunt in the morning. (My mom had recently been in a car accident and was unable to drive. If she wanted to go anywhere, I was her chauffeur.) Without a moment's hesitation, I told my mom we would visit her aunt tonight. I just needed some time to change out of my pajamas and into street clothes. In less than a half an hour, we were in the car on our way to visit my mom's aunt.

When we arrived at the nursing home facility, I dropped my mom off and parked the car. I was extremely tired and told my mom I would wait in the car. When my mom arrived in her aunt's room, my mom's aunt opened her eyes when she heard my mom's voice. After a brief while, her aunt closed her eyes; she could not speak, but rested quietly. My mom stayed for about a half hour. My mom then said good-bye and left.

The next morning, my mom came into my bedroom. Again, her face was tear-streaked and tremendous grief radiated from her body. My mom informed me that her aunt had passed away at 2 a.m. The last time her aunt opened her eyes was the night before when my mom came to visit. My mom left my room. I immediately thanked God that I had gotten out of bed to drive my mom to the nursing home.

As I was praying to God, suddenly the words from the week before resonated in my mind. "Her life force is going out of her. Tuesday will be too late." "Oh LORD!!! Today is Tuesday! Early this morning my mom's aunt died. Her life force did go out of her! If we would have waited until this morning to visit my mom's aunt, it would have been too late!!! Oh my! The message was from You, LORD! Thank You for giving me the message. Thank You! I know I got out of bed last night without hesitation because I must have been thinking about Your message. Despite my fatigue and exhaustion, I knew I had to drive my mom to the nursing home. Our LORD, thank You! I know how much the visit meant to my mom. Thank You for allowing me to be Your instrument. Thank You for allowing me to hear Your voice." As I ended my prayer, tears streamed down my face. I was so grateful God felt it necessary to deliver this very important message to me. I was so grateful I had heeded His words. Words cannot describe the immense love and gratitude I felt at that moment to God. After a long while, I collected myself. I needed to leave my room and comfort my mom. I needed to share God's love with my mom.

Forever Grateful--Precious Jude

On March 28, 2014, the Grace family welcomed a precious newborn baby into this world. Jude, born at just 32.5 weeks, was practically perfect in every way except he had bad lungs. He started his life in the NICU and had a trach placed when he was just six weeks old. After struggling to breathe for nearly two years, God gave Jude the gift of a double lung transplant for his second birthday. It seemed Jude was on the road to better health. He had a joyous laugh and was the light of the room. What an incredible blessing Jude was to everyone he met.

In September, Jude suffered a series of health setbacks. Courageously, his mama kept updating his Facebook page to continue to let all those who loved Jude know about Jude's health. With each bump in the road, I know so many people prayed Jude would recover. And like any rambunctious 3 year old, he did just that. Unfortunately, at the end of October, Jude contracted adenovirus. After bravely fighting for several weeks and having the best doctors in the world as his medical team, God called Jude home on November 14.

As my heart mourns for Jude's family, I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for sharing your story. Thank you for sharing photos and videos of Jude. Thank you for being so grateful. Over and over again on Facebook, gratitude was expressed for Jude's lung transplant donor. Your gratitude and kindness have deeply touched me.

Moreover, I somehow feel a connection with Jude. Sixteen months ago, I developed significant breathing issues and was subsequently diagnosed with respiratory failure. In May, I received a tracheostomy and was started on invasive ventilation. I have been made acutely aware of how fragile life is and how diligent one must stay protected from infections. (I am in the midst of fighting off pneumonia, my fourth bout of it in four months.)

Although I am terribly sad Jude is no longer with us, I cannot help but feel joy knowing Jude is in heaven--a place where his lungs are perfect; a place where he can run and jump and laugh without having any breathing difficulties. So now as we celebrate Thanksgiving, I cannot help but send up many prayers of thanksgiving for you-all. I thank God for lending us Jude. I thank God for your gratitude. I thank God for giving you-all courage through so many turbulent times. I thank God for technology--for photos and videos--which will help keep Jude's memory alive. I also pray you-all find comfort and peace in the days, weeks, months and years to come. Thank you for being part of my life.

"Be worried for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds though Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:6-7)

Stop! I have POTS!

Having a relatively unknown chronic medical condition such as postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS) can be very frustrating while in the hospital. With POTS, my blood pressure sky rockets, and my heart rate becomes extremely fast upon standing. At rest, my heart rate and blood pressure are normal or only slightly elevated. Unfortunately, medical staff see my normal blood pressure and heart rate at rest and withhold my beta blocker--a drug used to lower heart rate and blood pressure. This is all fine and dandy, but if I sit up or attempt to stand up, my heart rate can soar to 150-190 beats per minute and my blood pressure can spike to 180/110. The purpose of taking the beta blocker is to lessen the wide swings in blood pressure and heart rate. Unfortunately, medical staff can never seem to grasp this concept.

Today, physical therapy came to my room to rehabilitate me back to my state of health prior to being hospitalized. (I have to chuckle because I spend most of my time in bed while at home. So, when I am hospitalized and spend most of my day in bed, it is no different than when I am at home.) Of course, they came to my room during the early morning rays of the sun. The physical therapist wanted to take a walk around the hallway. This is a very bad idea on so many levels.

Mornings are the absolute worst time of day for my POTS. My heart rate and blood pressure tend to be extremely high in the mornings and gradually lessens throughout the day. Additionally, I wear compression stockings which provide a high amount of pressure on my legs to keep blood from pooling in my feet. The more blood that is able to return to my heart, the less severe the POTS is. (In the hospital, I do not wear my stockings. It is usually too much of a challenge to work around all the monitors, IV lines and other equipment without getting the stockings snagged on something.) Also, being in the hospital means I am not able to drink as much as I need to maintain high blood volume. I drink about 4-5 times as much as a normal person does to maintain my blood volume. In the hospital, my fluids are usually restricted to what should sustain a normal person. This means I am usually very dehydrated. Additionally, being in the hospital means I am not able to eat my normal diet filled with lots of salt. Like drinking lots of fluids, eating lots of salt helps increase my blood volume, which leads to less severe POTS symptoms. Finally, fatigue plays a big part in my POTS symptoms. Lack of sleep or doing too much activity or simply being run down from stress can cause my POTS to be more severe.

So taking this all in to consideration, my physical therapy session was a waste of time. My nurse refused to give me a beta blocker this morning. Add in dehydration, low salt intake, no compression stockings, lack of sleep, lots of stressful tests and the early time in the day, I made it about ten steps before I felt as though I was going to pass out. Back to bed I crawled with a massive headache. Once in bed, my heart rate was 120 beats per minute, and my blood pressure was 140/100. My physical therapist said she would return again tomorrow for another session. Oh boy, I can hardly wait!

Praying

Dear Lord,
Thank you for listening to my endless prayers. I know, sometimes they are just vain repetitions, but I feel as though I need to pray for these same people over and over again. I know in the book of Ecclesiastes, it states let your words be few when before the Lord, but my heart often overflows with things to say to You. Also, it is hard to be short in prayer for I feel like the more I say, the more I plead my case, the more inclined you will be to hear me. I know, this is dumb human logic, but it is hard to break free from human wisdom. For You know the thoughts of my heart even before I mutter a single word to You. And for this, I cannot tell You how grateful I am. The endless prayers which have been answered even before the prayer left my lips overflow my spirit with great joy. Thank You!

And now Lord, help me grow in prayer. I have read in Your Word many times to be mindful of what I pray about. For example, never pray for patience because the answer to that prayer is a very long time of waiting. I also know from Your Word, to be mindful of what you pray for because often the answered prayer is not always what one had in mind. I often think about Hezekiah and his prayer for health. Lord, You granted him his wish; however, what terrible sorrow came from that answered prayer!  Hezekiah turned away from You, had a son, Manessah, and raised him in a godless manner. The end result: when Manasseh became king, he was the bloodiest king in the history of Judah. He killed so many people, historians write, that the streets of Jerusalem continually flowed red blood from Manasseh's constant slaughter of his people.

So, Lord, as I lift up my prayers up to You tonight and on all occasions to come, let my prayers come before You with a sincere heart. May no evil consequences come from the utterance of my ignorance. May everything which proceeds before You be pure, as only a mere human can make anything pure. If I utter things which are full of malice or wickedness, please forgive me. I am constantly falling short of Your glory. May Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. May those I lift up before You receive mercy and grace. Thank you for listening to Your servant. In Jesus' precious name I pray. Amen.

A Lifetime of Waiting

After having countless doctors appointments and constantly having to fight for every morsel of medical care, today everything I have ever fought for came to fruition when I saw a mitochondrial disease specialist. For so many years, I have been researching and making my own path through a medical world which rarely recognizes many of my medical conditions. When epigastric pain left me in a tight knot of severe pain, I searched and searched to figure out the pain was caused by my gall bladder. I then spent the next week trying to convince doctors my gall bladder was infected and needed to be removed. When another round of severe epigastric pain hit, I carefully documented what caused the pain, which ended up to be fat and protein. After extensive research, I discovered I had chronic pancreatitis and had problems with my bile duct sphincters. Again, it was another tooth and nail fight until I was able to convince doctors I needed some of my bile duct sphincters cut.

The list could go on and on of medical conditions I self-diagnosed and then had to slowly, carefully, lead my doctors to the correct diagnosis. Every symptom was an epic battle to get medical treatment. Eventually, the battles became too hard to fight; my body was growing too weak to continue the constant battles. After losing several of my favorite doctors, I simply stopped seeking medical care. I tried as best as I could to find natural remedies to my ailments and tried to live with the rest of my symptoms. Reluctantly, after my health took a nose dive and I developed respiratory failure, I finally decided to seek out medical treatment for mitochondrial disease.

Today, everything was different with my Mito doctor. Instead of me having to justify all my symptoms, the doctor was flabbergasted that my plethora of symptoms did not signal red flags that I had mitochondrial disease back in 2010. (I, however, was the one who put together all my complex symptoms and figured out I had mitochondrial disease. Then, I had to carefully lay out my medical case before doctors. After many failed attempts, I finally was "diagnosed" with Mito.)

My appointment today makes me want to leap for joy but also wallow in grief. The doctor said it was not "if" I had Mito, but what type of Mito I had. Although I have been fighting so hard to get a Mito diagnosis and to get a Mito specialist, now that I had both, suddenly my wacky medical hypothesis is now reality. I think I have always hoped that my medical condition was some mysterious ailment with a secret known cure...but now that I have Mito, a condition which has no cure, all hope of ever recovering and chasing after my dreams has vanished.

I have known for a long time that getting an "official" diagnosis could be like getting a death sentence. I often think about my friend Milly. When she found out her type of Mito causes heart failure, she gave up living. When she developed respiratory failure, instead of getting a tracheostomy, she continued using non-invasive ventilation. Ultimately high carbon dioxide levels built up in her body, and she went Home to be with Jesus.

Now, the same reality is facing me. Since genetic testing is not covered by my insurance, my doctor wants to do a muscle biopsy to nail down what type of Mito I have. As much as I would love to know what exactly is ailing me, I know this information will absolutely crush my spirit. I fight hard to get through each day, but to know that I might be at risk for developing some further complication of mitochondrial disease is more than I can handle. My doctor promises that the testing will help them treat me and guide their medical plan. But as much as this information may be "helpful", I much prefer leaving everything to God. I much prefer to be in the dark about what the future of my health might be. When I am lost and cling to God, only then can I see His abundant mercy, kindness and goodness. I would much rather rely on God and have Him lead me than to put confidence in man and science.

Today did also bring much joy. Now, I have a doctor and her office staff who will fight for me to get the proper medical care. I am no longer a one-man show. Oh, how wonderful it is to actually have medical professionals supporting me! After fighting for so long and doing endless research, I can finally take a moment to celebrate all my years of hard work! Praise be to God!

Funny Story

This afternoon, I noticed my dad fervently working away in his office. I was curious what he was working on. So, like any good daughter, I ventured in to his office to inquire about my dad's latest mission.

My dad began telling about a lock he was trying to figure out the combination to. He told me the usual method he goes about trying to retrieve a forgotten combination, but unfortunately, his method did not seem to work on this lock. He then told me about another method he tried following a video he found on YouTube. Again, that was a failure. Next, he was telling me about the latest video he was watching. He was trying to walk me through all the steps.

As I was looking at the look, I thought to myself, "That lock looks very familiar. I wonder where it is from?" So, once my dad took a pause to catch his breath, I casually asked, "Where is the lock from?" My dad replied that it was a lock from an old storage shed. I then happily quipped, "I remember a few of those combinations." I proceeded to give him the first combination that popped into my head. Unfortunately, the lock did not open. I then remembered another combination. When my dad reached the last number in the combination, the lock clicked and sprung open when my dad pulled on it! My dad looked in dumb-founded amazement at the lock and then at me. I, on the other hand, burst into uncontrollable laughter! My poor dad had spent most of the afternoon pain-stakingly trying to figure out the combination...and the answer to his problem was just a room away!

I love when God makes the seemingly impossible possible! May joy and laughter fill your day! "Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all the earth: make a loud noise, and rejoice, and sing praise" (Psalm 98:4).

Who can be "Grey" when I am this excited!!!?

For many weeks, my friend in Los Angeles has been posting clues as to what show her son, Brandon Tyler Russell, will be guest starring on. I have been patiently waiting for the weeks to pass to find out the answer to this question. To my delight, it has been revealed he will be guest starring on the 300th episode of Grey's Anatomy on Thursday night on ABC!!! I am so thrilled. Although, I was super excited to find out he was cast as a guest star on a top-rated television show many weeks ago, Grey's Anatomy is such a huge hit and holds a special place in my heart.

When the show premiered in 2005, I was instantly a fan. I LOVED the medical aspect of the show. There were so many challenging medical cases, and there were so many interesting patients. No two medical cases or patients were ever alike. I also greatly enjoyed the show profiling the life of first year medical interns. The interns always had to do the most degrading jobs and were constantly climbing a steep mountain, trying to learn and perfect new skills without making any mistakes (and thus avoiding being yelled at by their attending and senior residents).

I watched the show religiously every week for the first three seasons. Then, work and school got in the way. After missing most of season four, I tried getting back into watching the show, but it was too hard. There were new characters on the show, and old characters had left. Complex storylines had evolved which were too challenging to try to figure out with missing almost a whole season. So, I stopped watching.

But now, the 300th episode promises to bring back old characters to the show, either in spirit or in the form of look-alike characters. I loved the original cast. Although I do not watch television (and have not watched tv in several years), I am overjoyed to set aside part of my Thursday night to watch a favorite old show and to watch an incredible, talented young actor guest star on such a popular show. Brandon Tyler Russell will be amazing! I pray this role will lead to many more.

Things I learned today...

1. Snakes do not like to be screamed at.
2. Getting hit in the head by a falling snake hurts...I hope/don't think I got bit
3. It is hard to kill a snake with a shovel

Today, as I was leaving our kitchen to enter the patio, I opened our patio door. Bam!!! I got hit on top of my head by something falling. Now, I have had a fear for a long time that a cockroach or some other critter would linger on the top of our patio door and when you open the door, it would fall or run into the house. Praise be to God I did not look up like I usually do, or I would have had a rattlesnake on my face!!!

Yep, when I opened our patio door, a rattlesnake fell down on top of my head. Now, my reaction was the same as any rational person. I looked down and started screaming when I saw the snake. It was about 20 inches long. I quickly closed the patio door, but then I knew I had to kill it because who wants a rattler on their patio. I went back out and saw where the rattler was, right up against the house. I then went to the garage to find a shovel. For what it is worth, a wide shovel is better for killing a snake than using a a narrow shovel. I just grabbed a shovel, which was narrow.

I then made too much noise on the patio, and the snake curl up in a tight ball...again this makes killing the snake hard. I started to erratically thrust the shovel down on the snake. I cut off the middle of its body. A few more thrusts, and I got closer to the head. Finally the snake was disabled enough, I was able to chop off the head.

I then went inside to look for my boots. I did not want to go on the grass without proper foot protection. After putting on my boots, I went back out on the patio. I picked up the snake with the shovel. I then quickly raced toward the water's edge. The water is still very low and a long ways from our lawn's edge. I tried to throw the snake into the water, but it slipped off the shovel. It is somewhere in the rocks which line the water's edge.

Now, I am recovering from the rush of adrenaline. My head aches where the snake hit me. I did not feel a bite or a sharp pain...just a dull pain like someone hit me over the head with a baseball bat. I will look at my head in a bit when I am more stable to see if there is a bite mark. I think if I would have gotten bit, the snake would have latched on. Instead, this snake just bounce off my head on to the patio.

That is the latest news from the wild frontier! I am going to lie down. My head really hurts!

A space alien no more

Last spring, when I was using non-invasive ventilation 24/7, I often felt like a space alien. I always had to wear my full-face BiPAP mask in order to keep high pressure air flowing into my nose and mouth. The high pressure air was essential in forcing air into my lungs. By forcing my lungs to inhale, my body was able to more fully able to exhale, ridding my body of carbon dioxide. If I took off my mask, I was once again in a low pressure environment. My body could not properly exhale carbon dioxide and very soon, toxic levels of carbon dioxide would build up in my blood. So although taking off my mask did not mean I would inhale poisonous gas (like I imagine would happen to space aliens if they visited our planet), taking off my mask was almost just as deadly when my body could no longer properly get rid of carbon dioxide.

With all this being said, anytime I left my house, I always had to wear my BiPAP mask. This was very challenging. Wearing the mask meant I could not talk to people. Also, I could not communicate via facial expressions because no one could see my face with the full-face mask on. Of course having a large plastic mask on my face which was hooked up via long tubing to a ventilator meant that people would ALWAYS stare at me. People would sometimes whisper, and kids would look with wide eyes at me. I really felt like a space alien and was not able to communicate with people while wearing the mask. When I got to the checkout lane at the grocery store, the only way I could converse with the cashier was by shaking my head "yes" or "no".

After having surgery which placed a tracheostomy tube in my throat and allowed me to breathe via invasive ventialtion, I suddenly was freed from the large mask on my face. The day I was discharged after having my tracheostomy surgery, the very first place I visited was the grocery store. People still stared at me because that is what people do when they see someone riding around on a motorized scooter with a tube in her throat connected via tubing to a ventilator. But now, everything was different! When people stared, I could smile back at them. I often would also greet them, which seemed to startle people. Either people in a stunned disbelief greeted me back, or they quickly turned away from me. When kids stared at me with their wide eyes, I smiled and waved at them. When I got to the checkout lane, it was such a relief to be able to communicate with the cashier. How joyous it was to say, "Thank you!" or even to say "yes" or "no".

What a joy it is to smile! What a joy it is to be able to speak! What joy it is to no longer have a giant mask on my face and no longer be a space alien!

The running of the bull...well actually it was a very angry mama cow (Part Two)

I soon passed the stand of trees and was once again on the dry sand. The rocky cliff was so close! As I was about to ascend the steep crag, I noticed how jagged the rocks were. I was very thankful at that moment to have my sandals. I quickly threw down my sandals on to the sand and slipped my feet into them. As fast as I could, I started scaling the rocky outpost. I could see mama cow a little distance behind me. I thought, "Can cattle climb cliffs?" As this thought ran through my head, I noticed hoof prints in the dirt. "Oh no! Cattle can and do climb this cliff. I have seen cattle on this point several times, and sometimes they also climb down the cliff on to the on-campus beach! Oh Lord, please give me the strength to keep on climbing. Please keep this beast far away from me!"

When I finally reached the top of the massive rock formation, I immediately traversed the apex and started my descent toward the on-campus beach. As I was weaving my way down between rocks, I could see about 15-20 students happily running and swimming on the on-campus beach. I was elated to see other humans! I was very excited because if I happened to slip and/or fall, someone might see me and rescue me. When I finally jumped down from the bottom of the rocky crag on to the soft sand, I started to jog toward campus. (I did not want to full-out run to prevent any alarm from springing up in my colleagues.) At the end of the beach, there was a small incline which lead to a paved road and some campus housing. When I reached the concrete pavement, I stopped and turned around. As I panted and gasped for breath, I looked back toward the rocky cliff, but I did not see mama cow. A tremendous sense of relief and praise to God filled my soul.

Still spooked by the whole situation, I immediately turned around and started briskly walking back to my dorm room. Every so often, I would quickly glance over my shoulder to make sure mama cow was not behind me. When I reached my dormitory, I slowly ascended the two flights of stairs to my dorm room. A question floated through my head, "Can cattle climb stairs?" I know this was a ridiculous question, and what was even more ridiculous was to think mama cow would track me all through campus and find me at my dorm...but fear was still consuming my thoughts.

When I finally entered my dorm room, I looked over my shoulder one last time to make sure mama cow was not behind me. I then gratefully closed my dorm door. I slung my heavy backpack to the floor and collapsed on to my bed. My body was shaking with fatigue, and excess adrenaline was still coursing through my veins. As I waited for my breathing to slow down, I re-hashed the day's events. I suddenly started to find the humor in it all. While living in Spain, I had wanted to run with the bulls in Pamplona. Unfortunately, I was never able to attend the event. Well, now, as I thought about mama cow chasing me, I suddenly realized I had accomplished one of the things on my bucket list! Although I ran on a beach (and not on the streets on Pamplona) and was chased by a cow (and not a bull), today's events were close enough for me! And oh what an adventure it was! Now, it was time to open up my book bag and start studying.

"Be not far from me, for trouble is near; for there is none to help. Many bulls have surrounded me; strong bulls of Bashan have encircled me. They open wide their mouth at me, as a ravening and a roaring lion. But You, O LORD, be not far off; O You my help, hasten to my assistance. Deliver my soul from the sword, my only life from the power of the dog. Save me from the lion's mouth; from the horns of the wild oxen You answer me" (Psalm 22:11-13, 19-21).

The running of the bull...well actually it was a very angry mama cow (Part One)

It was a gorgeous weekend day many years ago, while I was attending university. I had a lot of studying to do, but I did not want to stay indoors. With the whole campus and beyond waiting just outside my dorm room door, I decided to pack up all my books and look for a place to study. Now, when I say I packed up all my books, I do mean I packed up ALL my books--my histology book, my histology atlas, my two biochemistry books, my 1500 page anatomy book, my 1280 page Gray's Anatomy textbook and of course pages and pages of class notes. With my backpack stuffed full to capacity, I set off to find my perfect study place.

As I was walking on campus, I headed toward one of the on-campus beaches. I remembered seeing a beautiful white-sand beach which was just a little ways away from campus. The beach was sequestered off from campus by a rocky cliff which jetted out into the water and separated the off-campus beach from the on-campus beach. No one ever seemed to venture to this secluded beach. I thought to myself, "What a great place to study!" And off I went.

When I arrived at the off-campus beach, I marveled that there was not a single person around. I slowly walked along the shore. I spotted a beautiful shaded area at the far end of the beach. "Perfect!" I thought. "This is going to be my studying sanctuary for the afternoon." As I approached the shaded area, I noticed in the midst of the grove of trees which lined the beach, there was a barbed-wire fence. And behind the face, there were about 75-100 cattle. I thought it was odd that there was a cattle ranch so close to the beach, but I pushed aside this anomaly and kept walking toward my intended destination. As I was nearing the shaded area, I noticed a young calf tied up with rope to a tree. As soon as the calf saw me, it started whining and squealing. Since the calf was tied up, I figured I was safe from the calf possibly attacking me. I continued walking. As I got closer to the calf, it started to squeal louder and louder and paced frantically back and forth.

Suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I saw something. Coming down a path made in between the trees, mama cow was bolting toward the beach! She was bellowing loudly like a ravening lion and stampeding right toward me! Now, mama cow was not an ordinary cow. She had two very long horns with very sharp points on their ends. She stood about 6-7 seven feet tall and could easily destroy a car if one happened to run into her. Mama cow was a brute beast. I knew I had to run for my life to avoid being trampled to death or possibly being gored to death by her long horns. In a split second, I turned around and started running toward campus. At this moment, I was lamenting for having taken ALL my textbooks with me to study. My book bag was incredibly heavy and was slamming into my back with each step I took. I thought to myself, "I know I could out run this beast, but these books are slowing me down. These books might yet be the end of me!"

As I was running, one of my sandals fell off. I quickly did a cost-benefit analysis. "Well, these sandals cost $40. They are my only pair of sandals I have here at university. I wear them almost every day. If I turn around and quickly backtrack to retrieve my sandal, I think I have enough of a lead on the cow to avoid being gored by the cow's horns." In an instant, I flipped around and started running the twenty feet back to my sandal. As I was slowing down to pick up my sandal, I kicked off my other sandal. I swooped down and grabbed both sandals with my right hand and immediately turned back around. I briefly looked behind me. The mama cow was so close! I could hear her snort as air rushed quickly in and out of her nostrils. I mustered up all my energy and ran with all my might toward the rocky cliff which separated the off-campus beach from the on-campus beach.

I was gaining some distance on the mama cow when a tremendous obstacle stood in my way. A stand of trees extended out from the grove of trees which lined the beach and reached out into the water. "Oh no! What am I going to do! The trees are a tangled mess. If I wished to stay on the beach, I will have to climb up and over the trees. I know mama cow will definitely catch me if I have to climb through the trees." So looking out to the water, I knew what I had to do. I dashed and splashed into the water. Thankfully, I only had to wade through about 3 feet of water, which kept my precious textbooks dry. A question ran through my mind, "Can cattle swim?" I immediately looked over my shoulder. To my astonishment, as the cow was nearing the stand of trees, she started running into the water! "Oy vey! I am in trouble!!!"

When God moves mountains

Last week, my respiratory therapist from my durable medical equipment company came to visit me, as she does every month, to check in on me and to retrieve data from my ventilator. My respiratory therapist was very disheartened to see after several trips to the large medical facility, I was still very short of breath and still having significant issues with my trach tube. As we were talking, she started telling me about a pulmonologist who specializes in neuromuscular diseases and practices at the large medical center. I told the respiratory therapist I was very happy with my current pulmonologist, although the next available appointment I was able to schedule with her was three months away.

After the respiratory therapist left, the new doctor was on my mind. What if this was an answer to my prayer? I have been asking God over and over again for relief from my symptoms. Maybe this new doctor could help. I did a Google search on the doctor, and all her reviews came back as five out of five. Every comment posted about the doctor reflected on how the doctor was caring, compassionate and went above and beyond to find solutions to her patient's challenging problems. As much as I did not want to see another pulmonologist, her reviews were too good to pass up! What did I have to lose!?

But then a thought drifted through my mind that it might be a good idea to see my primary care doctor and have him refer me to the doctor. I thought perhaps I might be able to get in to see the pulmonologist faster going this route. So, I called my doctor and hoped I could get an appointment to see him soon. To my great surprise, the receptionist told me he had an appointment available the very next afternoon. "I'll take it!"

I was very grateful my primary care doctor happily made a referral to the pulmonologist. He even called the pulmonologist's office and got the referral going while I was still in the clinic! The doctor said the pulmonologist's office would call me to set up the appointment.

I patiently waited four days for the pulmonologist's office to call me. Finally, I decided to call them. The receptionist told me it was six week wait for a new patient to see the pulmonologist. She then said someone would call me back to set up the appointment. I waited another day. Then, I decided perhaps my primary care doctor could help out. I called his office, and his nurse agreed to follow up with the pulmonologist's office.

Finally after several more days of waiting, I called the pulmonologist's office again. This time, the receptionist said, "Oh, yes. I was supposed to call you. The doctor wants to see you in the next month, but there are no appointments available. Maybe I can talk to the doctor and see if I can get you in to see her." I usually do not plead my case to relate to the receptionist the urgency of my situation, but today I did. "Please see if the doctor can see me soon. I am in respiratory failure. I have seen almost every pulmonologist in my area, and none of them have been able to help. My breathing is very fast and is putting a strain on my heart. I would greatly appreciate if the doctor could see me soon." The receptionist said she would talk to the doctor and call me back.

A few minutes later, the receptionist called back. "The doctor can see you at 1:30 on Tuesday. Can you make that?" (What!? That is only five days away! I nearly start crying.) "Yes, Tuesday at 1:30 works for me!" When I hang up the phone, tears of joy and gratitude fill my eyes. I lie on my bed thanking God for His abundant kindness. Two hours after I scheduled the appointment, the nurse from my primary care doctor's office calls. "I am so sorry. We have been calling every day this week to get an appointment for you with the pulmonologist, but we can not get anything set up with their office." I am filled with delight that my doctor's office had followed through on their promise. "Oh, thank you so much for all your help. I was able to schedule an appointment this afternoon." The nurse was very pleased. He took down my appointment information and then hung up. I was smiling ear to ear knowing that my primary care doctor and his office were working hard to get me an appointment. It made scheduling the appointment with the pulmonologist today all the more miraculous!

"Oh, LORD! Oh, LORD! I have been praying and praying and praying. And now, in an instant, I have an appointment to see the pulmonologist and do not have to wait the usual six weeks for a new patient appointment. Oh, thank You again for Your loving kindness and abundant mercies. Thank You for moving so many mountains. Please, let this appointment go well. Please give guidance and wisdom to this doctor. Please let me be free from all these tracheostomy issues. In Jesus' precious name. Amen"

Thank God you are still here! (Part 3)

In the morning, my first visitor was the doctor I saw at the clinic. He was so very kind and had a deep sorrow in his eyes. He talked to me only a few minutes. He told me that I had a ruptured ovarian cyst on my left side which leaked 700 mL (24 ounces) of fluid into my abdominal cavity. The cyst had compressed and occluded my intestines, which caused my vomiting and had compressed everything on the right side of my body, which caused the severe right-sided pain. (I was relieved to hear it was indeed my left ovary which had ruptured as that is the side of my abdomen which had been ailing me for about the last 3 months.) He kept asking if there was anything he could do for me. Despite having a raging fever and desperately wanting ice to cool off my hot flesh, I insisted I was fine and thanked him for his visit. 

A little while later, the doctor who accompanied me in the ambulance to the hospital visited me. He had a worried look on his face. The first words out of his mouth were, "Thank God you are still here!" I was a bit amused by his remark. I thought to myself, "Oh course I am still here! I just had major surgery last night! I am cut from hip bone to hip bone. I sure hope they would not have discharged me home while I was still under anesthesia!" Instead of blurting out these rude remarks, I remained silent. The doctor talked to me for just a brief time and then left.

I spent only that day and the next recovering. On the third day, I was begging to be discharged. I had a flight I needed to catch the following morning. It was the week before Christmas. I knew if I was not on that flight, I would not be able to get another flight for a week. Furthermore, most of my university friends would be on that flight. I knew they could help me travel. If I had to wait and catch a later flight, I would be traveling alone. So, in my desperation, I began lying to my doctor. "Oh no, doctor, I am in very little pain. I feel great." (Liar, liar! I was in lots of pain and was extremely dizzy whenever I stood up...but hey, I had a flight to catch!) I remember praying all morning (starting at 4 a.m.) for God to allow me to go back to my dorm to pack up my things and catch my flight the next day. Thankfully, God answered my prayer in a favorable way. Since it was a Sunday, the surgeon was not slated to come in to the hospital. I was able to convince the resident doctor to call the surgeon and ask for my discharge. Praise be to God, the surgeon consented to my release.

My journey home was nothing short of many miracles. When I arrived back at my campus dorm, my roommate packed up all my things. I felt bad that I was not able to help, but I was in so much pain. I could do little more than lie on my bed, and quickly I fell asleep. The next day, a number of my friends helped me through airport security and on to the flight. They also helped me get off the plane. Then we parted ways. I had two more planes to catch. God was incredibly gracious and provided help every step of the way. Eighteen hours after I left my university dorm room, I arrived home! Praise be to God!

Nine months after surgery, as I was walking to one of my classes on campus, I saw the doctor who accompanied me in the ambulance to the hospital. He stopped and started talking to me. He told me how concerned he was for me that day so long ago. He said no one was sure if I was going to make it through surgery. I was very sick. I was in septic shock--my kidneys and intestines had shut down, and my health was quickly deteriorating. He told me he had stayed at the hospital through my surgery. He only went home when the hospital medical staff said I was out of surgery and should make it through the night. Immediately, his words from nine months ago rang in my ears, "Thank God you are still here!" I suddenly realized the doctor did not mean he was grateful I was still at the hospital. Instead, he was grateful I was still alive. 

Instantly, I felt very weak and overwhelmed with thanks to God. I knew I was sick, but I had no idea I was that sick. Despite my hard-headedness in not seeking medical treatment sooner, God had moved mountain after mountain to clear the way for me to keep on keeping on...and that knowledge has been a tremendous blessing in my life!

"Surely my soul remembers and is bowed down within me. This I recall to mind, therefore I have hope. The LORD'S lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness." (Lamentations 3:20-23)

Thank God you are still here! (Part 2)

When we arrived at the hospital, a physician who worked at the university was the doctor in charge of the emergency room. He was the first person to greet us. Tears of relief filled my eyes when I saw the doctor's university ID. Praise be to God! I did not have a local doctor but was in the hands of a highly skilled physician. Seeing this man from the university comforted and reassured me everything would be ok. The university doctor quickly diagnosed me as having an ovarian cyst. 

As soon as he made this diagnosis, he pulled out his mobile phone and called the best surgeon in the region, who just "happened" to specialize in OBGYN. (Oh another incredible miracle!) Furthermore, the doctor just "happened" to be at the university, only a 30 minute drive away, and not at her home, which was over an hour away from the hospital. She quickly was on her way to the hospital.

I was whisked away to have an ultrasound. The ultrasound technician told me how lucky I was. Usually there was a 2 hour wait for the ultrasound machine. But today, at this moment, there was no one who needed to use the machine. (Again, I was overwhelmed with an incredible sense of gratitude that God was moving so many mountains to get me the care I needed.) The technician could see lots of fluid in my abdomen. She could not clearly discern which ovary had a cyst on it, but decided after much examination it was my right ovary.

I was hurried off to the gynecology ward of the hospital, where the surgeon examined me and was sure I had an acute appendicitis. By this time, pain consumed my body, and I was screaming in agony. The surgeon told me she thought it was an appendicitis, but either way (if it was an appendicitis or ovarian cyst), she needed to operate. She told me she would do an exploratory laparotomy and whatever was ailing me, she would fix. (In normal circumstances, I would have been petrified to go into surgery. However, I was in such extreme pain, I was grateful to hear I would soon be asleep from the anesthesia and would be out of my misery.) I gladly signed my release papers to go into surgery. 

I was soon prepped for surgery and wheeled into the operating theater. I was overjoyed when I saw the large syringe with the magic white anesthesia liquid that knocks you out for surgery. Everyone kept telling me not to be afraid. I, however, was not afraid but in severe pain. Moreover, my body was consumed with fatigue, and I was fighting hard to stay awake. I knew in a few minutes, I would be out of my misery and finally able to get the sleep my body craved. As the people in the operating theater rushed around me, a doctor who used to attend my university started talking to me. She was asking me about various professors and classes. She was such a comfort when so much chaos was swirling around me. Very soon, it was lights out!

When I woke up in post-op, the room was completely white--white floors, white walls, white ceiling, white sheets draped over a sea of hospital beds. I could see a nurse far across the room clothed in a white dress with white shoes and a white hat. She was sitting behind a white desk. (One could almost imagine with all the white, it was like waking up in heaven!) The first thought that ran through my mind was, "Am I alive?" I then heard the nurse pick up a white phone on her desk and say, "She just woke up." I then immediately look down toward my abdomen. I then said, "Thank God, the pain is gone!" I then went back to sleep.

The next memory I have is of me being wheeled up to the gynecology ward. I kept going in and out of consciousness for the next 12 hours.

Thank God you are still here! (Part 1)

Once upon a time in a far away land, I attended university. It was absolutely a dream! All the students were pursuing the same degree, and thus we all had the same classes. It was amazing to be in the midst of individuals with the same interests and with the same hopes and dreams. My first term was a fairy tale. Everything that could go right did go right. My second term, however, changed my life forever.

About a month into my second term, I started developing lower left quadrant abdominal pain whenever food passed through that part of my intestines. I was not worried at first. I thought it perhaps was a GI flu. The pain grew worse and worse and was accompanied by severe nausea. Two weeks before midterms, I could only eat liquids. All other food made me severely ill. The week before midterms, I was so sick, I could not attend classes. But determined to complete midterms, I put my nose to the grindstone and ignored the pleas by my body to seek medical attention. I made a promise to myself I would go to the clinic after midterms if I was still severely sick. Despite being very malnourished, dehydrated and sleep-deprived, I whizzed through my midterms with stellar grades! After the exams, my GI symptoms slowly went away. In a few days, I was again able to eat solid foods. In my deep pit of self-denial, I assured myself I was on the road to better health.

I enjoyed about a month of good health. I was able to eat food without any ill-repercussions and had gained some strength back to hike up the hill to classes. Unfortunately, my good health was short lived. Two weeks before finals, I again became terribly ill, with the same symptoms I had had previously. I could eat no more than liquids. I survived by drinking 4 glasses of Cadbury hot chocolate with milk and sugar, which provided a generous 400 calories per glass. I soon was too weak and too sick to attend classes. Again, my strong will to finish the term with my classmates superseded all logic and common sense to go to the campus medical clinic. Somehow, I managed to complete all my finals and achieved high marks in my classes. 

At 2 a.m. after my last final, I awoke from sleep with the worse pain of my life! I could barely move and had no idea what was wrong with me or what I should do. I managed to make my way to the bathroom where I threw up and curled up in a ball from the intense pain. Over the next few hours, I managed to make my way back to my room. By the time I got to my room, I was so exhausted, I could only think about getting back in bed and getting back to sleep. Knowing I was in bad health, I left my door to my room open, hoping in the morning one of my roommates would see me and come into my room. I tried and tried to go to sleep, but I couldn’t do anything to alleviate the pain. Any direction I tried to lay on my bed, I nearly shrieked in pain. The more I moved, the more nauseas I became, and the more I threw up. In the end, I threw up about 7-8 times, with the last of my vomit being black--i.e., bile from my intestines. 

At around 11 a.m., my one roommate got up and seeing my door open, checked in on me to see what I wanted to do for the day. I told her I didn’t feel well and didn’t know what to do. After a brief discussion, the pain was too much; I told her I needed to go to the clinic now! I could not get up from my bed. So my roommate ran to the on-campus clinic. She arranged for a campus van to pick me up and get me to the clinic. My two roommates carried me down two flights of stairs and into the awaiting van. Upon arriving at the clinic, I was able to be seen by a physician within about 2 minutes.

The nurse took my vitals, which were impressive! My blood pressure was 240/150, my temperature was 104.5, and my pulse was 140 beats per minute. I was extremely short of breath and could barely speak. When the physician examined me, he tried to dismiss all my symptoms as a bout of GI flu. I could sense he was trying to push me out the door. Thankfully, this physician was the same physician I had the semester before in my anatomy small discussion group. Suddenly, his lecture on appendicitis ran through my brain. Moreover, in my head, a voice was  screaming, "You need to get to the hospital now!" I knew something was seriously wrong with me; I knew I needed urgent medical treatment.

In an instant, I started remembering everything I had ever learned about an appendicitis and started acting like I had an appendicitis. Although the pain for the last 3 months had been on my left side, today the pain was on my right side. So, in the spirit of not lying, I started complaining about my lower right abdominal pain. I kept repeating words the physician had said during our small group session. Very quickly, the doctor's ears pricked up, and he finally looked at me! He then quickly started telling me he thought I had an appendicitis and needed to go to the hospital. (I was praising God for the insight to feign an appendicitis. I was also grateful the physician said I was going to be taken to the hospital. I knew once I got to the hospital, I would get the medical attention I so desperately needed.) 

(A side note: my roommate said she could not believe the physician was going to send me home. She said, all you had to do was look at me to see I was ashen gray in color and in severe distress. My roommate said if I had not spoken up when I did, she would have. Her words from so long ago still overflow my heart with abundant gratitude and love. I am so grateful God arranged for us to be roommates. She has been a blessing over and over again in my life!)

When I was loaded up into the ambulance, a physician from the clinic, a nurse and my roommate accompanied me. It was a long 30 minute drive to the hospital on very pot-hole laden roads. The driver was trying to go fast, which caused the ambulance to bounce up and down as it hit a plethora of potholes. I was so grateful the nurse screamed at the driver to slow down. "We are in a hurry, but for goodness sake, avoid the potholes and slow down!!!"