The eleventh year

As the calendar flips to a new month and a new year, I celebrate another year with Mitochondrial Disease. I am entering the eleventh year since my world was flipped upside down after I had an emergency laparotomy procedure done. With the exception of my birth, I had never been in the hospital prior to this emergency operation. I was told post-surgery, it would take some time for my body to recover from my procedure. I had no idea what a normal recovery should have been. I thought having a racing heart when standing and constantly feeling as though I was going to pass out was "normal" after having surgery. I struggled and struggled to "recover", but I never did. As hard as I tried, my health progressively got worse.

At the time, I had no idea that I had Mitochondrial Disease. I had no idea that even prior to my surgery the constant fatigue, muscle weakness, muscle pain, tremors and migraines were not normal. Everyone always talks about the aging process. They complain about aches and pains. I assumed after I reached the age of 18, my body was showing the signs of aging. I was no longer a youth. My fatigue and constant exhaustion were my body's reaction to the aging process. I did not complain about my symptoms. I was just growing old like the rest of the world.

As the weeks and months rolled by after surgery, my symptoms began to be worrisome. I could no longer climb stairs, walk more than a few feet or stand more than a few seconds without blacking out. My body would shake from extreme exhaustion just trying to do the simplest things such as showering. I desperately tried to "get better" but my health seemed to continue to deteriorate.

I found myself in deep despair. What was wrong with me? Would I ever recover? Everyone assured me I was young; I would outgrow my symptoms. My health woes would soon pass. I would soon be on the road to better health. I would soon be back to my regular life.

As the years passed, the hope of ever recovering faded. When a new health crisis arose, doctors would look at me in great sorrow and say, "You are too young to have this health issue. You are too young to be this sick." Instead of comfort, the doctors' words often made me cry. Yes, I was young. Yes, I should not have this many health issues. Thanks for reminding me that instead of pursing higher education and fulfilling my dreams, I am stuck in a failing body.

Now, as I am entering year number eleven since my health took a significant nose-dive, I try to remain optimistic. As God has taken away many things in my life such as the ability to breathe on my own without the use of a ventilator, I try to embrace the things I can still do--I can type, I can read, I can enjoy the taste of many wonderful foods, etc. I know at any time, God can take away these luxuries. I understand that as hard as my life is, it can be so much worse.

Although now no one ever speaks to me about recovering from this illness, I cling to God and know that if He desires, He can heal me at any time. Since He has chosen not to do so, I must embrace the fact the He is using me in my current state of health to fulfill His will. As tough as it is to live with this knowledge (and to live with this disease), I rejoice knowing that God is using me. What a blessing that is!