This is my story of healing — of the miracle God worked in my life. My reason for writing it out here and sharing it rather than keeping it in a private journal is in hopes of someone who may be going through a similar situation to know they aren’t alone. I also believe I am a living testimony to God’s healing power, and I want to share my story of healing so He can get all the glory. This story proves that prayer is powerful. That He does indeed hear us when we call out, and He cares. Because this story is long, I’ve split it up into multiple blog posts. Be sure to start from the beginning to have full understanding of what all happened.
The Day Things Got Grim
It was Thursday, Jan. 23 — my last day of being 30 years old — I was given another CT scan that morning. The results would determine whether I could try to come off the ventilator. They were trying to determine if they needed to do surgery — if they did, I would stay on the ventilator.
The results showed there were a couple spots that my surgeon was concerned about and wanted to monitor, so I would have to stay on the ventilator for at least another 24 hours. I was having abdominal pain again. We found out my right ovary was now infected, but the surgeon didn’t want to pull the trigger on surgery just yet. He explained he didn’t want to remove any organs unless absolutely necessary, and that included my ovary. He hoped antibiotics would help, and they gave me morphine for the pain.
That evening, I began to get a fever. My pulse had been in the 110s but had dropped down to 60. They did an EKG, but it came back normal. At this point, Travis wanted opinions from other doctors/surgeons. We were able to hear from three other surgeons who all agreed — surgery was not the best option for me.
To most surgery seemed like the best option — get as much of that infection out as they could, right? But the surgeons all explained that I most likely would not survive surgery. My blood pressure was way too low and my body was way too weak. Also, because of the infection, they wouldn’t have been able to sew me back up and the incision would have been large — from my chest all the way through my abdomen. The risks weren’t worth it.
I also had an infectious disease doctor assigned to my case. He took samples of my infection and studied them in his lab to find out what antibiotics would work best. They switched my antibiotics several times based on his findings.
The Night God Rocked Me in His Arms
That night, Travis followed my hospitalization doctor out of the room to ask just how serious this all was. He wanted to know if I was going to make it. The doctor told him it was very serious and that I had a 50/50 chance of survival. Travis collapsed at hearing that news. The doctor and a nurse pulled him off to a side room where he wept. He was worried about being away from me for too long, so he pulled himself together and came back to my room. Our family left for the waiting room for the night. Travis laid down on his makeshift bed and just cried and began to feel angry.
Suddenly, the lights in the room began to slowly dim and brighten over and over. He looked at me and noticed that my knees were bent with my feet still on the bed and my legs were rocking back and forth slowly. While in the ICU, any time I moved it was more rigid movement that caused me pain. This was different. This was gentle. It was in that moment that he felt this sense of peace wash over him. He looked up at the clock and saw that it was 9:02 p.m. He remembered that a prayer vigil was set for 9 p.m. that night. People from all over the country, and even in other parts of the world were praying for me in that exact moment. Travis said he just felt like God was saying, “I’ve got this.” He knew He would take care of me. The lights and my rocking back and forth lasted for 15 minutes.
Healing from God: Seeing Improvement
The next day was my 31st birthday. My fever came down to 99 and my white blood cell count when from 17 to 15 (that’s good in case you don’t know much medical stuff like me). They found more bacteria and put me on a more broad-spectrum antibiotic. They were also able to successfully wean me off my blood pressure medicine. I had so many improvements this day. I also had a ton of visitors, but this day — my birthday — does not exist in my memory. An effect of the sedation. While I’m thankful to not remember a lot of the ventilator, it is very strange to have several days of your life completely missing from your memory. I guess it’s a good excuse to stay 30!
On January 25, my blood cell count came down again to 11. They began to lessen my sedation and pain medication to prepare me for the breathing test to come off the ventilator. While I was sedated, even though I don’t remember it, I was conscious some of the time. Thankfully, I didn’t need to be restrained like some people have to be. It is natural for people to try to pull the tube out of their throats because it is so uncomfortable. But I never tried to do that. I honestly think it just shows my personality — I’m a rule follower (an enneagram 1) and I knew I wasn’t supposed to touch the tube. I would try to communicate with family through sign language or by writing notes. Travis kept all of my notes, and looking at them now is strange. I don’t recognize my own handwriting. Communication while sedated was frustrating. A lot of the time, they couldn’t understand what I was trying to say or it would take a long time to figure it out. I would get frustrated, and they felt bad. As they began to take me off sedation, I wrote, “What in the world is going on? I’m so confused.” They tried to explain everything to me.
My father-in-law is a physical therapist and he was able to get me up and out of bed for the first time since being in the ICU.
The Breathing Test
I did a breathing test that morning. During the test, you have to be completely off sedation and breath on your own (with the ventilator still in, which is EXTREMELY uncomfortable) for 30 minutes. I did not pass the test. My heart rate was too high at 135. I wasn’t taking deep enough breaths. They told me I would try again the next day. The pulmonologist said I had made tremendous progress and that there wasn’t anything wrong with my lungs. The reason I was on the ventilator was because the infection had caused so much pain on my diaphragm when I breathed that it made me take short, shallow breaths. I also had some fluid around my lungs, which didn’t help. They put a feeding tube in and gave me water and Miralax. I hadn’t eaten anything in five days, but they were afraid to give me anything through the feeding tube in case I needed to go into surgery. With the feeding tube in, I kept gagging so they increased my sedation to keep me comfortable.
The next morning, I would start my second breathing test.