"We are in this struggle together."

“You’re shattered like you’ve never been before. The life you knew is in a thousand pieces on the floor. Words fall short in times like these. When this world drives you to your knees; you think you’re never going to get back to the you that used to be.”

Who is familiar with the above lyrics? While boarding my 9:30 PM flight from Chicago to Kansas City last week, my phone vibrated, notifying me that I had a text message. My sister, Kim, had sent me a message with an unknown artist and song title. “Tell your heart to beat again” by Danny Gokey. I turned my phone off and buried my face into Blake’s chest. The overhead lights inside the plane faded while everyone prepared for take-off.

First, let’s rewind a bit. Friday, March 24th, marked the last day of cycle 1 for me. The following week, March 27 - April 2, was considered an ‘off week’ - no antibiotics (infused nor orally). The three weeks in March prior to the 27th were manageable. I averaged two bad days a week - not too shabby! My blue sky days were close to satisfying. I utilized the treadmill every chance I got and cooked a handful of meals for the family. My dad always talks about ‘adding value.’ I’m pretty sure I added value to a few of those blue sky days.

I wish the good vibes kept on rolling but Tuesday, March 28th, my body took a deep plunge. I had been up all night with an upset stomach. Considering all the medications I consume on a daily basis, having an upset stomach isn’t too unusual for me. Tuesday’s stomach ache was different though. I drove myself to the ER knowing my mom would meet me once she took the girls to school. The doctor ordered a CT scan of my abdomen which presented my colon had a fair amount of inflammation. The doctor diagnosed me with C. Diff Colitis. He prescribed an antibiotic and let me go home.

Wednesday morning I woke up feeling like death. I forced myself to get in the shower, only to find myself laying on my bedroom floor afterwards, in my towel, with no energy to move. Blake and I had a 9:30 AM flight from Kansas City to D.C. to catch, and with only 15 minutes left to get ready, I still wasn’t budging. My mom brushed my hair and dressed me (no exaggeration here) while I tried, mentally, pulling it together. I laid in the backseat of Blake’s car in the fetal position the entire drive to the airport. My back and abdomen hurt, my anxiety was through the roof and the very last thing I wanted to be doing was getting on an airplane.

We spent the entire day at my doctor’s office. When we arrived, they promptly placed me in a recliner chair with a blanket and pillow. Blake did most, if not all, of the talking while we were there. We met with the IV team, the nurse practitioner and the doctor. It was almost 6:30 PM before we left my appointment. We hurried to the airport and boarded our flight from D.C. to Chicago. Blake and I reflected on the plane - lots of tears, lots and lots of tears. I was scared for cycle 2. It sounded a lot more intense, let alone, looked more extreme on paper. The doctor mentioned getting my gallbladder taken out. He said the earlier we take it out, the better. Inflammation in my colon and gallbladder… After treatment, will I have any organs left? The results from my brain scan revealed two quadrants that aren’t functioning properly. What hasn’t Lyme touched? I’d say it’s marked it’s territory on just about everything.

We updated my family on how the appointment went during our layover in Chicago. By this time, my back pain was so intense, I was kneeling down on the nasty airport floor begging Blake to help me. We boarded our flight from Chicago to Kansas City where I curled up in a ball and fought to stay sane for the next hour.

I hardly slept Wednesday night. Avery, Addison and I shared Blake’s and my bed while Blake was kind enough to sleep in Avery’s bed for the night. I laid in the middle of Avery and Addison as they peacefully snoozed. I silently wept while listening to their sweet breaths. Who will take care of my babies if something happens to me? What is Avery going to be when she grows up? Will Addison be ok? Who is going to be there to wipe their tears and give them kisses? Will they forget about me? There were times when my crying got to be so loud I was amazed that everyone slept through it. I reminisced every happy memory with the girls prior to getting sick. At some point in the night, I eventually fell asleep.

I woke up Thursday morning before the girls… This never happens! My body was disabled from all the pain my back and abdomen were withstanding. I was the most uncomfortable I had ever been in my entire life. Once the girls woke up, I talked Addison into going downstairs and getting mommy a couple icepacks. The icepacks were worthless. The morning gets a little foggy after the icepack action took place.

From what I remember, Addison rejoined me in bed once my mom left to take Avery to school. I was mumbling prayers to myself while Addison rubbed my head. At one point, Addison told me not to stop mumbling - God is listening to you mommy. When my mom arrived back home, I was in rare form and she and anyone else who saw me was well aware. She called my sisters to come help with Addison. The next thing I remember is getting transferred from the car to a wheelchair to a hospital bed. I couldn’t get comfortable no matter how many times I changed positions. The doctor said he would have to strap me to the bed if I didn’t stop moving in order for the nurses to be able to do their jobs.

I closed my eyes tight while crying and screaming louder than I ever knew my little lungs were capable. I squeezed my mom’s hand and prayed this would all be over soon. It took an abundance of narcotics to finally get me somewhat comfortable. My D-Dimer test showed evidence of a blood clot so they scanned my chest to make sure there wasn’t a clot in my lungs. They ordered a sonogram of my gallbladder. Everything looked normal. Now what? The only thing they had to work with was my C Diff. Colitis diagnosis from two days prior. They admitted me and scheduled a colonoscopy for the following morning.

Long story short - the colonoscopy looked normal. The GI doctor said the C Diff. Colitis was a false diagnosis and that, overall, he wasn’t concerned. He biopsied a few areas but that seems to be routine. When I returned to my hospital room after my procedure the nurse said I would likely be discharged that evening after the doctor had a chance to meet with me. I asked what the next steps were in the discovery process and she said they had done all that they could do for me.

I became crazy. I dressed myself, detached the IV tubing from my line to the machine, tore the hospital band off my wrist and told Blake I was leaving the hospital. Blake tried reasoning with me but there was no argument - my mind was already made up. The nurse ran after us with a form I had to sign stating I was leaving before the discharge process.

When we got home, my mood and pain continued to plummet. I was mad at the world. I hated everyone. Why do all my scans look normal even though I’m in the greatest pain ever right now? I know I’m not crazy. I’m no sissy either. If I’m crying out in pain then something is seriously wrong with me. How many doctors have given up on me? How many times have I been down this road? I’m done. I am done!

I was so uncomfortable and angry that Friday afternoon. I wanted to remove myself from my body, from the current situation and from all the future bad days ahead of me. I tried 60 different positions in bed before giving up. I tried getting up, sitting down, crawling, anything, everything - the pain wasn’t subsiding and I was appearing more and more crazy to Blake and my mom.

I felt stuck. I feel stuck. Picture a maze - I envision myself trying to find the exit but no matter how many different ways I try - I can’t get out. I mentioned I feel stuck because I do. I very very much do. Friday, I felt stuck on a whole different level.

At one point I was convinced that dying was my best option. I pleaded the idea to my mom. I struggled to find the light. Publicly sharing this moment, let alone, writing about it, is very difficult. In my effort to be totally transparent in my blog, it would be unfair for me not to tell the entire story (good, bad, ugly).

This morning I woke up with mild pain and a severe headache. My mom and I spent the entire morning on the phone. Multiple calls to and from the clinic in D.C. and the hospital from my stay last week. Cycle 2 was expected to start today but my power line fell out of my chest sometime between Saturday night and Sunday morning. And while we’re trying to determine what to do about my infusion therapy we receive a call from the hospital saying my culture came back positive for C Diff. Colitis. Stop the madness! Everything is on hold - it takes 14 days to treat C Diff. and then we’ll regroup.

So, here we are again in the ER awaiting the results to make sure no remnants remain from the power line. This month’s protocol will have to wait because the C Diff. Colitis has to be treated immediately. As far as my IV therapy future - I’m anticipating a debate considering the many failures I’ve had with ports, PICC lines and power lines. Yet, another set back!

“Tell your heart to beat again. Close your eyes and breathe it in. Let the shadows fall away; step into the light of grace. Yesterday’s a closing door - you don’t live there anymore. Say goodbye to where you’ve been and tell your heart to beat again.”

I finally listened to the song over the weekend that my sister had sent me during my travels last week. “Yesterday’s a closing door - you don’t live there anymore.” Lately I’ve felt sad and unhappy - I feel like I’m blindfolded, trying to find my way, unfulfilled and lacking purpose. “Where’s my seeing eye dog?” I fall asleep with fear of what’s in store for me the next day. I struggle to let go of the shadows from the day in order to find hope and optimism for tomorrow. Just like the song says, “Let the shadows fall away and step into the light of grace.” Sounds like I need an attitude adjustment, new boxing gloves and combat boots.

“We are in this struggle together.” Philippians 1:30