Life...It is so Precious

The nurse was leaning over me.

Through my foggy brain I saw the concern on her face.

A gentle hand touched my forehead to check

the fever and then her head shook in frustration as 

there was no improvement.

Then I drifted off again.

In my dozing I remember the distinct point of decision.

Would I stay and fight to live 

or would I let myself drift off into eternity?

It only took a second.

But in that moment I knew that I was ready to fight.

Fight for more days with my husband and children.

Ready to continue being my mother's friend and daughter.

I knew that I needed to come back but

to do so would take more strength than I could muster.

It had been something like two weeks since the original surgery.

Just that weekend we had been out of town where I began 

a decline.  There was pain and I was so tired.

I remember laying in the recliner that had been my Dad's and 

just feeling so sick.

By the time we returned home I knew I needed to get to 

the surgeon.  I thought I would be able to drive myself but as soon

as my neighbor heard how I was feeling she insisted on taking me there.

Good thing, too, because the road across town has many bumps on it.

You and I may not feel them in our day to day routines

but when one is in the condition I was in it is excruciating.

By the time we arrived at the doctor's office and took the elevator

upstairs I was in tears and begged the office staff to get help for me quickly.

When the surgeon came into the room all I could do was sob, 

asking him to help me.....just help me, please.

Over and over again I desperately repeated those words.

The next thing I remember is shaking violently from head to toe

and being taken to the CT machine where just moving from the wheelchair

to the machine was like horrible torture.

A mass was discovered and a condition called ileus.

My insides had ceased working.

At all.

I was admitted to the hospital where the next ten days are not much more than 

a blur in my hazy, drugged memory.

I know that my Mom came frantically.

I know that people paced.

I remember the surgeon looking at a loss and very confused.

Then the day that really took the cake,

It was the day that they took me for an ultrasound.

I was on a tiny little bed while two young techs ran the transducer

over my hyper painful torso.

They became excited by something they saw and then 

excused themselves and ran from the room.

The pain continued to grow worse as I lay there, 

in spite of all of the pain medication that had been constantly 

injected into my hips.  

First one, then the other alternating with each dose.

Finally it was so severe that I was once again shaking

and crying.  

I yelled for help.

Screamed for someone to come....

yet, no one came.

I was helpless to move because of the mass 

which caused pain of extraordinary proportions when I 

attempted to move.

After what seemed forever someone finally rescued me.

I don't think it was the same young girls who so rudely left

me alone.....The reason I think this is because I believe

I would have let loose on them.

I was really angry.

The news came back that the mass had grown to 

the size of a grapefruit ....or more.

This was what had so excited the techs who rushed

off to find the Radiologist.

Additional surgery would be required.

I don't remember whether the surgery was done that day 

or early the next....

all I know is that at that point a second doctor became a 

visible part of my treatment.

He was talking to my family.

My next clear memory is of the poor woman who would 

come and take my food order every day.

She offered me the same thing every time.

Jel-lo.

I now despise red Jel-lo.

Other flavors are fine.

I didn't like her very much.

But it wasn't her fault.
She was just following orders.

Gradually the surgery and the three

antibiotics being pumped into my system began doing the 

job of clearing the toxins that were poisoning me.

My thoughts began to clear and then they made me 

begin to walk.  

To build my strength, they said.

I hated that too.

Yep!  There is a theme here.

Not much made me happy during those days in the hospital.

I've left a lot out.

Some by choice and some from lack of memory of the events.

My husband and mother could tell you much more.

But after ten days I convinced the surgeon that I should 

continue my healing at home.

He bought it.

I was most likely wrong.

I still had no strength.

Simply sitting up in bed made me bone weary

and out of breath.

Nevertheless, I came home.

To the loving arms of my children and the care 

of my supportive friends and family.

Our church family and home school friends had been

bringing meals for more than a week.

They continued for some time after.

Again this is all pretty much a blur.

What I remember from that time is that my IV's wouldn't 

stay open and the antibiotics that I was supposed to inject

wouldn't go through.  

I had to call in home nurses nearly every dose until there were 

no more veins.

Every one had collapsed.

I cried and cried.

A decision was made to finish my last two days on oral medication.

Thankfully it was enough.

I slowly regained my strength and my life.

My wonderful life.

With so much to live for.

I am grateful that God granted me the will to live

on that fateful night.

I delight in all that God has blessed me with.

A husband who loves and cares for me.

Children who share their hearts and their love with us.

A Mother and Mother-in-law who are a part of our everyday life.

A brother and sister-in-law who are our friends.

A church family who truly cares.

So many more family members and friends who are always there.

Supporting, caring and loving.

I'm so glad I got to see my kids grow up.

Of course Heaven will be wonderful when it is time.

I now have an appreciation for how easy it will be when the time 

comes to just let go.

To rest in His arms as He carries me there.

But, for now, until that day comes

I will treasure this life,

serve my Heavenly Father as well as I can...

And be thankful.

Over the years that I have been blogging, 

Some of you have made comments as if to wonder at 

my thankful spirit and rosy take on life.

It is because of what HE has brought me through.

I know that I have faced death.

I have felt pain that I never knew existed.

Forevermore when they ask for a measure of pain

from 1-10 I have a new measure of what that means.

Internally many scars remain and cause pain nearly daily.

They remind me of those dark and frightening days 

in March 2006.

But I also have joy.

Joy in the knowing that life, this life 

is so very precious and so very fragile.

It is to be treasured.

Truly treasured.

All of this came to my mind tonight 

as I saw a preview for something on television where the 

woman said she remembered distinctly coming to a point 

where she had to decide to fight or live.

I knew precisely what she was speaking of.

I thought it was time to tell you.

And to rejoice!

Life is good.

Don't miss my ongoing Give Away.......
I'll pick a winner on Saturday, May 5th!