So Here's the Story (or at least the first part)

Everyone who has prayed for me, fasted for me, or been even slightly involved in what has happened over the past month with my health deserves to know what happened, and why I am where I am right now. Just so you know, this post will include such nasty words as diarrhea, nausea, and childbirth.

Okay kidding, no childbirth :) You KNOW I would not have gotten an honorable release if it included childbirth! Amen to that!

Back in October, I had just finished 6 months in Morristown, where I had grown and changed in ways I had always wanted. I was not anxious or fearful anymore, my testimony had become something that was deep and abiding, and I was feeling like I could lead in my mission rather than just struggle along as I dealt with what was my daily battle, a battle during almost every moment for me, really severe anxiety, that I had had for years. I finally felt that I had gotten over my anxiety, or was getting over it.

It was awesome :) My companion and I were on top of the world. We were serving in the city, it doesn't get better than that. We were seeing miracles left and right, families prepared for baptism, for huge changes in their lives, ready to learn more about Christ than they already knew, and willing to sacrifice for Him. I loved it.

Well, I started to get sick. I started to have diarrhea, and then I started to have nausea. Yucky. Sorry. But there you go :) It lasted and lasted, and I would hang out at the toilet at night thinking I was going to barf, and then I would try to not barf during really spiritual moments during lessons. I was sick, sick, sick, every day. I tried a couple of different clear liquid diets, to clear out my system. They worked for at least a day or two and then I would be sick again :) Stink.

This yucky problem lasted for about 2 months, and then I got a new calling, or responsibility, as a missionary that would be helping train the other sisters in the mission. So now I got to work a little harder, and see even more miracles! I was so excited- I had thought that my anxiety would stop me from ever being a leader in the mission, because it was so debilitating sometimes. But God had changed my nature- not even joking- and I had overcome my anxiety. I was not debilitated by it anymore!

I hit December, a couple of weeks into this new responsibility, still with the diarrhea (told you it would come up) and nausea. I began to have headaches, every day. And I got really feverish every day, too. The fevers wouldn't register, but my face got all red, and I would get the chills. It stunk :( I really had a hard time continuing to work every day because I felt so sick, but all I wanted to do was God's work.

I continued to work, and I started to ask for Priesthood blessings, meaning for the men who hold the priesthood, or authority of God to bless His children on Earth, to lay their hands on my head and pronounce words as directed by the Holy Ghost to guide and help me, and in my case, I was hoping, to heal me. Well, I started to get confused as words like, "God has found you worthy of this trial." and "Everything lost during this time will be returned to you 100 fold" and "This will help you feel empathy" started calling to my attention that maybe this illness was more serious than I thought it was, and it was obvious that God did not have it in His plan to heal me now.

I waited, and I worked, and I prayed.

And then, my symptoms culminated. This was about a month after the daily fevers/headaches had started. I began to notice a rash over different parts of my body (cute right? I know, now you all want to be my friend!). I was on an exchange, or a day that I spent with a younger missionary to help train her and teach about the work and make sure she was doing okay with the changes that happen when we become missionaries, and I was so so so sick. We got home from that exchange and my companion made me stay inside for the rest of the night. I began to cry- I knew that something was really wrong, and nothing that I had been doing was fixing it. In a week and a half I had an appointment with the internal medicine doctor, finally, and I was hoping that I could last until then so that it could all get figured out.

Well I woke up in the middle of the night, and something was off. My body felt just unsettled, and yucky. I felt weak, and unstable, and we called the Elders, the young men missionaries, to come over and give me yet another blessing. Yet again, no healing words were pronounced. I was promised courage and strength, and as the blessing was finished, I remember feeling like I would fall out of the wooden chair I was sitting on. As I tried to shake their hands before they left, I was alarmed that I felt I could hardly lift my arm and grasping their hands was incredibly difficult.

I woke up the next morning for church and my companion had to do my hair. I went to all the meetings but we stayed in all day because after walking around the church building and feeding myself breakfast, I could only crawl in the apartment. My lucky companion was spoonfeeding me jello- I was on the clear liquid diet again to get rid of the diarrhea (again. love that word). We laughed it off.

Over the course of the next week I became increasingly aware that there was something wrong- my strength would increase and decrease according to the level of rest, but overall it was getting worse. By the next Sunday, I only made it through the first hour of church before collapsing into a wall and needing to be escorted out. I remember being annoyed that a man had to help me out- so not allowed as a missionary! Hahaha what can you do.

By Monday night, January 20 I believe, crawling, or even scooting was out of the question. I had lost the ability to chew, let alone use my arms or legs, and my neck strength had gone days previously. We were now trying to keep me hydrated through copious amounts of gatorade and drinkable yogurt. I remember feeling a startling but spiritual confirmation that I needed to call my mission president and ask to be sent home- this was not the flu, nor was it a psychological problem, and I needed care from people who would be able to help me recover.

The flight was scheduled for the next day. But an expected snowstorm came in with unexpected force- it started hours early and did not let up, all day long. I believe that this storm was sent from God to bless my life, because although so many flights were cancelled, I hit a crisis point just when I would have been on the plane flying across the country, unable to get help.

I became alarmed as I realized Tuesday evening that not only was chewing out of the question, but moving my eyes and blinking, along with swallowing and even sucking out of a straw were almost unbearable. I was worried that my heart rate was slowing, because I could hardly speak and my breathing felt as though it was slowing. It was time to go to the hospital- long past time. My companion and the other sisters we lived with carted me down the three flights of stairs- I was completely dead weight. I am forever grateful for a companion who was physically and emotionally strong as she helped me through this trial and stood at my side through that long first night in the hospital, and week and a half of scary uncertainty as my physical condition deteriorated. It exhausted her emotionally and physically, but I love her forever for being the person God chose to help me through something so traumatic.

The ER doc didn't seem to believe I had much of a problem, although I couldn't lift my head off the mattress. I prayed with all of my heart after receiving the news that yet again my blood tests had come back normal that somehow someone would realize there was something dangerously wrong with me- I hadn't been able to get the help I needed. When I told the doctor I would be home on Thursday, and thank you for the help but now I need to leave, since you don't seem to be able to help more, he looked at me startled. He seemed to realize something was wrong in that moment, and told me he thought it best if I stayed. I stayed, relieved to hear that he was willing to call in other doctors and that I would continue to be monitored. I prayed specifically that my body would behave so that the doctors would know what was wrong with me. About 5 am I got up to use the restroom and my blood pressure dropped dramatically- I almost fainted. That was when I was admitted to the ICU and the extensive testing began.

I suppose it's late, and this post is long. I will write about my experience in the hospital next :) But for now, just know that I felt your prayers and your fasting and your faith. Not once did I feel abandoned, although I did feel very sad many times. In that hospital, angels ministered to me, both earthly and heavenly, and my testimony of God's love and His plan for us was strengthened in a way that would not have been possible without the blessing of a trial like this.

God is good. Christ lives. We are not alone. We have the opportunity to grow close to them as we turn to them in moments when we have a choice to not only endure, but endure well.