Grateful is where I’ve been these past few days. A year ago at this time, I was in the hospital. It wasn’t pretty. Fever, chills, vague memories of nurses in and out. I was deathly ill and didn’t realize what happened. It turns out I had a kidney stone…well, more like a boulder. The boulder blocked my system, a kidney infection quickly ensued and sepsis took over. I spent three days in hell. Yes. Hell. I said it.
I’ve never been so sick in my life. My husband was a saint through it all. Church members prayed fervently while I begged God for mercy. My poor husband was driving back and forth every day, trying to maintain the household and go to work and spend time by my side. He took time off from work when it really got scary.
Doctors and nurses drifted in and out of my hospital room while I drifted in and out of consciousness. The medical staff worried about my lungs and said I needed to breathe deeply out of a plastic toy to make sure my lungs didn’t fill with fluid. Unfortunately, the first time I inhaled deeply to make the ball hit the top and win the prize, I immediately started to choke and cough.
Now I don’t know if the foreign object was inside the plastic toy…but I knew right away that “something” entered my lungs without my permission. I tried to tell the hospital staff what happened, but denial was rampant. “There is no way that could have happened!” “There was nothing in the spirometer” (the real name of the plastic toy.) Their statement, and soon to become mantra, was “You must have inhaled something else.”
My desperation to leave the hospital was just that…desperate. The doctor gave me the bad news and told me unless a miracle happened, I would be in the hospital for at least three more days. I called my women’s group and said, “I need some prayer warriors.” The whole church prayed at that point and especially the women. I don’t remember much from that night, but I know my fever broke. I slept soundly for the first time since entering the hospital. I awoke to a nurse drawing my blood at 4:30 a.m. and felt human for the first time in days. The doctor who said that I would not be going home, told me although he did not understand it, all of my blood work was normal and I could be discharged.
I spent the next month on anti-biotics and battling pneumonia. Again, I requested prayer from the women’s group. They prayed over me and asked that the foreign object in my lungs dissolve and expel itself. The next morning that is exactly what happened! I will spare you the gory details, but the foreign object renting a room in my lungs, was evicted. Another miracle!
Today, as I think about what happened last year at this time, I am immensely grateful. I’m grateful for a husband who seldom left my side and did double duty for more than a month to make sure I healed and got back on my feet. I’m grateful for a group of mighty prayer warriors and a church family who pitched in to help with meals. I’m also grateful for doctors who did their best in spite of toys that didn’t work. And I’m especially grateful to God for answered prayers…and miracles.