Before Summer Ends...

I have to get at least one post in for this season. Why is it when you think you’ve gotten all of your ducks in a row, ready to be more consistent with goals and making plans that life throws you a curve ball? I’m starting to feel like I should keep those plans a secret, don’t even utter them under my breath for fear that an unknown force will come and knock them down like chess pieces. Just when I was getting ready to pivot and take on more challenges, I was thrown for a loop in June. I’ve been meaning to get back to writing but I couldn’t muster up the energy to, honestly. I had a lot to say but didn’t know where to start. Mainly because I knew I’d have to say what I’ve been up to. I’d have to tell what happened to me.

It started with a salad…an hour later I was feeling the worst pain I had ever experienced. I couldn’t walk and could barely even stand. The mister left work early to check on me and found me shivering, teeth-chattering, heart palpitating, wrapped up in a throw from head to toe on a 90+ degree day. When he had checked my temperature, it was over 105. For those who don’t know, here’s a frame of reference: a fever of 103 requires immediate medical attention; 105 degrees and higher could lead to organ damage and 107 and higher can lead to brain damage. I wasn’t grasping the gravity of the situation I was in at that time. My stubbornness had me thinking I could sleep the fever off. Every time the mister would check my temperature, it would continue to spike. My heart rate was out of control. After constant prodding, I finally gave in to going to see a doctor. It wasn’t until we got to urgent care, then subsequently sent to the ER, that I realized I had been staring down the barrel of death. A nurse told me “Thank God you came in! You could’ve died!”

The days that followed were filled with endless tests, screenings, medications with countless doctors and health professionals in and out of my room all hours of the day and night for what felt like days on end. Anyone that would look at my chart would look at me and tell me how fortunate I was. I recovered after several days in the hospital but was warned that it could take me a while to fully recover and that it may be an uphill battle to get back to feeling 100% again. Months later, I am still on the mend but I’m forever grateful. I have the deepest level of gratitude for all of my caregivers, for the people who showed me grace and kindness, for the friends who showed up to sit with me, who continued to check in way after the fact with genuine concern, care packages and cooked meals.

I want to appeal to you the reader to view my story as a cautionary tale: to listen to your body and to prioritize your health and safety. I keep thinking back to the moments when I wasn’t feeling well but was stubbornly resisting seeking medical assistance. Looking back at that moment scares me because I now know that things could’ve taken the turn for the worst in my situation had I waited too long. It shines a light on the importance of having people in your corner who will fight for you when you can’t. I remember that first night in the hospital. Anytime anything buzzed on my heart monitor or my IV pump beeped, the mister was at the nurses station, fetching someone to come take care of it, wanting to know what each beep or buzz meant. He was with me everyday, remembering to ask questions I’d forget to ask, standing guard whenever I was being poked and prodded, ensuring I was getting the necessary care. This experience highlighted for me the importance of having an advocate: someone who has your best interests and well-being at heart. I can only imagine what the standard of care looks like for those who are going it alone. Again, I am deeply grateful.