Well, if you keep up with me on facebook, then you would know that I've recently been in the hospital for four days. For legal reasons, I can't get into all of it, but I can tell you that I took some prescribed medication and nearly died. By God's grace, my best friend, Leslie, was there and saved my life. I was suffocating in my sleep and she woke me and called the ambulance.


(if y'all only knew how much I hate pictures of myself you would understand that posting this shows how much I love her) My parents had insisted that I stay with them, but they both agreed that, being in another room, they wouldn't have heard me gasping for air.

I wound up staying in the hospital for four days with what turned out to be non-cardiogenic pulmonary edema. That's just a really fancy way to say you have fluid in your lungs and it has nothing to do with your heart. I just couldn't breathe. I couldn't catch my breath... I was disoriented, confused, forgetful. woozy, and exhausted... and this was while I was IN the hospital!




I remember looking over one day and seeing a little black boy standing in my doorway, and I remember thinking, "Why is there a little black boy in my doorway??" As it turned out, it was my sweet Joseph with Colleen and her crew. Colleen came in and said immediately, "You look terrible!" I took it as a compliment. Because, I mean, if you gotta be in the hospital, you might as well look the part.

 My days were filled with breathing treatments, popsicles, then more breathing treatments. I got tired of the hospital food really quickly, so I had Joel text me this picture for when I wanted a treat.

It turned out to be very handy, I must say. All in all, though, hospital stays are stressful... especially when you know someone else was responsible for putting you there. I got poked and prodded more times than I can count. I was awakened every two hours at night for vital signs (annoying) I had chest xrays, chest CT scans, they took so much blood I didn't think I had any left! It was exhausting...

The worst part about it, is that in the end, when all the bills roll in, we have to be the responsible party. In order to prove the doctor made the error would take a seriously expensive lawyer and the team from Extreme Home Makeover to make it happen. It makes me very sad and angry that we entrust our lives to people, but then they bear no responsibility when things go wrong. Don't misread me, I love my doctors, (most of them) but I guess I'm feeling angry from my trust being shattered. I still believe in our healthcare system, and am thankful to have it! Maybe it's the culmination of three years of try this and try that that has me frustrated and hormonal.

We did have a bright note. An in-house psychiatrist came to give us a second opinion on what happened. She said that I should NOT have been given that much medication. She also said she's seen and treated hundreds of bipolar patients.... and I am not one of them.. Hooray!! To find out I'm only semi-crazy is great news.

I also had several wonderful friends stop by just to say hey, or give me a hug. It was good to see friendly faces who weren't coming at me with needles. My favorite thing that I was brought was this....

I hate to pick favorites because people brought such nice and thoughtful things.. but I love the expression on this guy's face. That's how I felt about being there. I named him Larry.

Well, with everything that's happened, we are stripped of all our power and control we thought we had over this life. We are on our knees with no pomp or frills, just asking God to lead us... to help us. We delight in knowing HE will never abandon, misdiagnose, or mishandle us. He is the only place we are truly safe. And while this place looks peaceful and lovely,
it is a place of pain, suffering, sickness, and death. In His arms we are protected from all those things. I TRUST the One in control... that is what this whole thing boils down to... trust. As I've learned many times before, there is only One in whom we can trust. Thank you, Father.