This is a personal narrative that I recently completed for one of my classes and wanted to share with all of you. I hope you enjoy!
A Year of Blessing
2010
was a memorable year, but not for the reasons it should have been. My daughter Annabelle was born and I was
getting to celebrate her milestones as a first time mom. Her umbilical cord falling off, her first
bath, her first smile, her first tooth popping through…blessings! These should be
the things that stand out the most about 2010, but they are not.
Annabelle
finally fell asleep in the bassinet beside the bed. One mom lesson I quickly learned was that
when she slept, I needed to sleep too! I
dozed off to get some much needed rest.
When
I awoke, I could hardly move.
I knew I needed help, but couldn’t do much to get it. Blind, mute, and lifeless, I kept trying to
push through and do something - yell, move, anything! At last! My arm responded. Blessing.
I could move my arm! I patted the over-sized bed hoping to find my
phone. Something solid! Blessing. I found it! Maybe I could call 911! I began pressing buttons, not sure what they
were, just hoping I could reach help somehow.
Death lingered before me. My daughter would be left alone without her
mommy if I didn’t make it. I heard my
grandma’s voice. Blessing.
“Hello? Are you alright?”
I
moan, trying to speak.
“I’m
on my way.” She says. “I’m at 40 and Mt.
Comfort. I’ll be there as soon as I
can.”
Help
was on the way, but I knew the door was locked.
My body was overcome with weakness. I knew I had to somehow make it to
the door to unlock it. I gathered up all
the strength I had and drug myself across the floor to the front door. The gold deadbolt seemed miles away. I managed to unlock it and crawled out onto
the porch. There I collapsed, my body heavy against the cold concrete. I laid on the cold porch soaking wet and out
of breath…waiting…hoping.
Finally,
my grandma arrived. Blessing.
“Annabelle’s
inside,” I pointed. “Go check on her.”
I decided
I was ready to sit up. I slowly brought myself upright. “It’s going to be
okay.” I thought.
I
looked back at my phone to see how long I had been out. 25 minutes.
It was 25 minutes from my grandma’s first call that triggered my seizure to
when I accidentally called her back half conscious. That was the longest
I had ever been out that I know of. This had happened before, but never
this intense or bad or long. I really
didn’t think I was going to come back from this one. Some are easier to come out of than others. There were the little ones when this began
that my doctor thought were anxiety attacks.
The Paxil didn’t make them stop.
There was the 17 minute long seizure that I had in front of everyone at
school. When I came back that time, I
sat up, my face the color of my lavender shirt, and told my dad and the
paramedics that I was okay.
“It
was just a panic attack,” I had told
them.
They
laughed a little and said, “No, that wasn’t a panic attack. That was a seizure.”
That was
when we figured out these things happening weren’t just panic attacks. After
having another seizure the next morning and being greeted by the same crew of
paramedics from the day before, I was diagnosed with epilepsy. I don’t
have epilepsy anymore though. I never did. I had been walking
around taking the wrong medications, misdiagnosed for 10 years when this 25
minute seizure happened. Blessing. It was the key to unlocking my real
diagnosis.
After
gaining some strength back, I called my neurologist to let him know what had
happened.
“I
was napping. My phone rang and I woke up startled. I answered it,
my heart racing. I had about 5 seconds to say ‘God, help me.’ And that was
it. I was out. Until I came back to about 25 minutes later, so
weak, with my head pounding.”
“Let’s
get you in here and do another scan.” He said. “And lets go ahead and
order an EKG too since your heart was racing.”
Blessing. That blessing was the catalyst for
saving my life.
I got
the call at work.
“Your
EKG was abnormal so we are going to refer you to a cardiologist. They will call you to set up an
appointment.”
That
was it. That is what they left me
with. No answers as to what kind of
abnormal or if this was something I should be worried about. Of course, I asked the all wise Wikipedia
about abnormal EKGs to get some ideas. I
only payed attention to the minor issues. I didn’t feel unhealthy or sick.
I was
in luck again the day I first met with the cardiologist. The neurologist had forgotten to fax over my
records or they had gotten lost. Because
the doctor didn’t have my records to look at, he asked me to tell him
everything I had been experiencing while he waited to receive my records. Blessing. It was in this conversation
that a memory was sparked for him that was the next step in saving my life.
“I
was 16 when these attacks started happening.
I remember the first one was when I had taken a nap before work and when
my alarm woke me up, it happened. It
usually happens when I am startled by a sound like an alarm clock, a phone
ringing, or the bell at school. My heart
races. I only have about 5 seconds
warning. Then I feel like I can’t
breathe and my vision goes. It feels
like a pounding and crushing inward on my head.
I try to fight it. As I’m coming
out of it, it is like decreasing pressure in my head. At first I can hear others, but I can’t move
or speak. Eventually I can, but my body
is exhausted. Many times I have lost
complete control of my body and am covered in urine and sweat.”
“This
reminds me of something I read about in one of my text books a while back. It is rare, but it is also lethal. I’d like you to see one of my colleagues who
knows a lot more about it than I do. The
wait is usually pretty long to get into him, but I am going to pull some
strings and see what I can do because I think it is important that you get in
right away.”
He
was able to get me in later that week. Blessing.
I
arrived at Dr. Goodman’s office expecting to have some tests run. I looked around the waiting room feeling
naïve and optimistic. I noticed that
every other person waiting in his office was about two generations older than
me. Eventually my name was called and I
was walked back to the exam room after the typical weight check.
In
walked Dr. Goodman, a younger doctor than I was accustomed to. I soon learned he didn’t necessarily have the
best bedside manner. He was by no means
cold or mean and I’ve since learned he does have a sense of humor, but
typically leaves me not knowing how to respond to his humor. He is just incredibly forward and a bit
awkward.
“You
are lucky to be alive.” He said as he shook my hand. “I’ve discussed your case with my
colleagues. I believe you have Long QT
Syndrome and they all agree. Your heart hasn’t been polarizing correctly which
has caused it to go into fibrillation.
We need to implant a defibrillator about the size of a cell phone in
your chest. It will have leads that go
into your heart that can shock it back into rhythm when this happens.”
“Ok,
when will I get this done? What is
fibrillation? Are you sure? Is there a
test that says I have this?” The questions flowed like a raging river.
He doesn’t
smile or reassure me. He bluntly states,
“It needs to be done as soon as possible.
I can work you in tomorrow morning.
There is a genetic test you can take if you want to be sure you have it,
but you might be dead by the time the results come back. It is amazing that you have had as many
episodes as you have and are still alive.”
Blessing.
As I
was putting on my coat and picking up my purse, he gave me one last bit of
advice, “And don’t worry. Worrying will
only increase your chances of having an episode.”
I
walked out a little dumbfounded and numb.
It hadn’t sunk in that my heart had literally stopped pumping blood
probably 45 times and every time God had miraculously restarted my heart and
kept me here on this earth. I hadn’t
read yet that 50 percent of people with my condition die the first time they
have an episode.
“Okay,
don’t worry.” I thought. “Shouldn’t he
have given me some drug to help with this not worrying thing. I only have a life threatening condition that
could kill me any moment and I have to have surgery in the morning and I have a
six month old baby and this condition is hereditary and…..” My thoughts
spiraled out of control.
Then
it dawned on me that I needed to pray. Blessing.
I prayed and a peace came over me. It
was going to be okay. I had faith that
it would. Blessing.
Seven
years later and 3 shocks later my daughter still has her mommy and I know I
have a reason to be here. Blessing. I
now have two boys in addition to my daughter and a passion for bringing hope to
hopeless and under-served children. I am
here to be a good mother to my children and to show other children that they
are seen, loved, and completely capable of greatness. Blessing. If you are reading this, you are still alive
on this Earth and that is a blessing.
Live out your blessing purposefully.
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