It's Christmas Day. I've been out of the hospital for exactly one week, and I still feel the same.
It's been the longest week of my life. This trial has proven to continue on in every way. Sybil had the hardest time adjusting to me being away for a week and then back, but in bed all the time. She has done several things very uncharacteristic of herself: crying for hours, whining, being disobedient, having accidents in her pants, and not wanting to sleep. In addition to this, my medication has given me the following side effects: dizziness, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and difficulty sleeping.
With all that said, the last week has been taken one day at a time--one moment at a time. There were days when I didn't get out of bed. Days where my only goal was to take a shower. Days where I put jeans on instead of sweatpants. And days where I wore make-up for the first time in weeks, just some powder and blush to give me some color. Each day, I have physically felt about the same with a few changes here and there. The nausea comes and goes each day. I feel a little like I'm pregnant without the rewards of a baby in the end. But overall, each day has gotten me closer and closer to the One who loves me.
I have felt the Pursuer come after me. As Christmas approached, and I felt worse and worse physically, I felt better and better spiritually. He came after me, showing me Christmas is truly about Him. When I have nothing to offer, it's much easier to receive the Gift before me. The more I suffer, the more I think of Christ's suffering and how much worse it was. And then. And only then, do I count it a privilege to suffer with Him. The most encouraging thing in all these days of suffering has been some sweet words from Charles Spurgeon:
"Do not think that as you grow in grace your path will become smoother and the sky calmer and clearer. Quite the contrary. As God gives you greater skill as a soldier of the cross, He will send you on more difficult missions. As He more fully equips your ship to sail in storms, He will send you on longer voyages to more boisterous seas, so that you may honor Him and increase in holy confidence."
Friends, this tells me God is doing what I asked of Him--sanctifying me, bringing me closer to Him, loosening my grip on the things of this earth, maturing my faith. Therefore, in the midst of this trial, I welcome this trial. Thank you, Jesus, for truth and hope in you.
Thursday, December 25, 2014
Thursday, December 18, 2014
Part 2: I'm sick and here's what's helping
So, after my break down in the car and with my husband, we just lingered a while. I told him I didn't want to go to Chapel Hill. I had enough for the day and wanted to just deal with it tomorrow. Andrew asked a bunch of questions about my dr's visit and about why we had to go to Chapel Hill. I couldn't fully answer his questions because, I myself, was still confused. Andrew called my dr. to get a reason why we needed to go to CH. As soon as he got off the phone, he said we were going.
When we got to the Chapel Hill ER, we entered and I gave them my whole spiel. They put me straight into an ER room and read my labs and ultrasound results, which I had brought with me. Then the kicker came. "Mrs. Laparra, I know you don't want to do this again, but we are going have to do everything over, here, because it is protocol. I can't even let you see the OB on-call unless we go through all the steps."
If I'm honest, I wanted to punch someone in the face. The thought of going through one more test, especially a repeat one, just made me furious. What was the point? Why did I just waste my whole morning doing that at my dr's office if I was going to have to do it here? Not to mention, the repeat money we were spending, that we don't have, to do tests that I didn't need. This seriously infuriated me.
On Monday, at the end of the day, this is what I had been through: two urine samples, three blood draws, four pelvic exams, four ultrasounds, an admission to the hospital, three hours in a dr's office, two hours in the car, and five hours in the ER...and still no clear answers.
I'm not typically a complainer. In fact, stuff like this usually makes me more grateful than anything, but I gave in to my flesh and just let loose. I was feeling like the old lady in the Bible whose been hemmorhaging for 12 years and has seen every doctor and still remains unhealed and suffering.
But here it is: she had hope. If she could just touch the fringes of Christ's robe, she'd be healed. She just knew it. Where was my hope? Was I looking for His fringes? Was I hoping in Him?
I was reminded of a song I have had on repeat for the last three weeks. One of my favorite lines in it is "I will stand my ground where hope can be found." That phrase fuels my soul. My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness. I will stand my ground there, where hope can be found. I'm staying. I will stand with Him, for He alone is my hope in this broken world. He alone shines light in a world where sometimes babies die right when they're born, where tests often times don't lead to answers, but only more tests, where families are broken, where children are abandoned by parents, where racial tensions are so high people can't even leave their houses, where darkness seems to be everywhere, looking to consume anyone in it's path. But God.
God is light. And in Him, I will put my hope and stand my ground.
I've been in the hospital from Monday and I leave today or tomorrow. I leave with antibiotics and hopes of healing, but this isn't over. Unless God chooses to miraculously heal me, I will most likely be back. It's the critic in me to say that, but if you saw my ultrasound scans I'm sure you'd feel the same way. I just don't know if antibiotics will be enough. The dr. says the worst case scenario would be surgery to remove both my right ovary and fallopian tube. But for now, we wait. Just like I've been waiting these six weeks. I wait more. But at least, I can wait in confidence that I am loved and cared for by my Jesus who gave His life for me, that I might have life in Him.
I will stand my ground where hope can be found.
When we got to the Chapel Hill ER, we entered and I gave them my whole spiel. They put me straight into an ER room and read my labs and ultrasound results, which I had brought with me. Then the kicker came. "Mrs. Laparra, I know you don't want to do this again, but we are going have to do everything over, here, because it is protocol. I can't even let you see the OB on-call unless we go through all the steps."
If I'm honest, I wanted to punch someone in the face. The thought of going through one more test, especially a repeat one, just made me furious. What was the point? Why did I just waste my whole morning doing that at my dr's office if I was going to have to do it here? Not to mention, the repeat money we were spending, that we don't have, to do tests that I didn't need. This seriously infuriated me.
On Monday, at the end of the day, this is what I had been through: two urine samples, three blood draws, four pelvic exams, four ultrasounds, an admission to the hospital, three hours in a dr's office, two hours in the car, and five hours in the ER...and still no clear answers.
I'm not typically a complainer. In fact, stuff like this usually makes me more grateful than anything, but I gave in to my flesh and just let loose. I was feeling like the old lady in the Bible whose been hemmorhaging for 12 years and has seen every doctor and still remains unhealed and suffering.
But here it is: she had hope. If she could just touch the fringes of Christ's robe, she'd be healed. She just knew it. Where was my hope? Was I looking for His fringes? Was I hoping in Him?
I was reminded of a song I have had on repeat for the last three weeks. One of my favorite lines in it is "I will stand my ground where hope can be found." That phrase fuels my soul. My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness. I will stand my ground there, where hope can be found. I'm staying. I will stand with Him, for He alone is my hope in this broken world. He alone shines light in a world where sometimes babies die right when they're born, where tests often times don't lead to answers, but only more tests, where families are broken, where children are abandoned by parents, where racial tensions are so high people can't even leave their houses, where darkness seems to be everywhere, looking to consume anyone in it's path. But God.
God is light. And in Him, I will put my hope and stand my ground.
I've been in the hospital from Monday and I leave today or tomorrow. I leave with antibiotics and hopes of healing, but this isn't over. Unless God chooses to miraculously heal me, I will most likely be back. It's the critic in me to say that, but if you saw my ultrasound scans I'm sure you'd feel the same way. I just don't know if antibiotics will be enough. The dr. says the worst case scenario would be surgery to remove both my right ovary and fallopian tube. But for now, we wait. Just like I've been waiting these six weeks. I wait more. But at least, I can wait in confidence that I am loved and cared for by my Jesus who gave His life for me, that I might have life in Him.
I will stand my ground where hope can be found.
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Part 1: I'm sick and here's my story
It's been a hard two months. November and December this year have proven to be the most difficult months of my year, maybe even my life. For the first time in my life, I've been sick...really sick. Not like the flu or a cold, but a long-term problem. I have too many symptoms to list on here but I first started feeling symptoms around the beginning of November. Since then, I have had major fatigue (like can't move, let alone get out of bed, fatigue), sharp abdominal/pelvic pains, little to no appetite, headaches, weakness and light-headedness, and difficulty going to the bathroom (due to the abdominal pain). These are just a few of my major symptoms.
So, the first week this went on, I thought I was pregnant. I took two pregnancy tests and was convinced, even though they both said negative, that I really was pregnant.
The following week, I still thought something wasn't right and convinced myself that it must be my IUD. That week I went to my dr. and got an annual exam and removed my IUD. At that appointment, she said everything looked "normal" and said she thought the problem might be my bladder.
From that point, until I went to the ER (the first time), I thought I had a bladder infection. After I got the results back from my urine culture, indicating nothing was wrong with my bladder (and I definitely wasn't pregnant), I became really confused and frustrated. Meanwhile, my poor two-year-old was becoming used to "watching shows" and eating dinner on the couch.
Over Thanksgiving weekend, I had a couple really bad nights with a fever and extreme pain. I could feel something growing inside me, and if I'm honest, I couldn't help but think it was cancer. We went to the ER in Greensboro and frantically found a sweet college student from church to watch Sybil, bless her heart. We were at the ER for five or six hours and I was diagnosed with a hemmorhagic cyst on my right ovary. It was the size of a golf ball, filled with blood (hence, hemmorhagic) and leaking. I was told to "wait it out" because these things almost always resolve themselves, and get a follow-up ultrasound in 6-8 weeks.
I left feeling relieved it wasn't the "c" word. I was also thankful I knew what it was and that I could now take something for the pain.
I thought I was on the uphill swing.
And then, I got worse. I just kept getting more tired, more weak, more light-headed. I didn't want to eat. I didn't want coffee--my favorite beverage in the world. I couldn't cook for my family, clean my house, or barely get dressed and ready each day. I was growing so weary.
Less than a week ago, I started getting severe fevers and shaking at night (the teeth-chattering kind of shake). Of course, it happened on a weekend night so we were waiting for Monday to call my dr., because we sure as Starbucks weren't going to the ER again...or were we?
Monday morning I called my dr. and told her what was going on and got right in at 9am. I was there until 12:30 doing every test I've already done and of course just more waiting. The one thing I did learn at my dr.'s office was that my "cyst" was now an "ovarian mass". During the ultrasound, I listened to the dr.'s talk:
-"What is that?"
-"Where is the uterus? Can you even separate the uterus and the ovary and the mass?"
-"I don't know what I'm looking at here."
I'm sure you can imagine how clarifying that all was (not). So, I get out of the ultrasound room and wait another hour for someone to tell me that they think it is imperative for me to go to Chapel Hill and see a specialist...TODAY. Apparently, the main dr. said to my dr. while I was not in the room that if I was his daughter, he would want me to get this taken care of immediately and not wait one more second.
I left that place with my labs, and directions to enter the ER at Chapel Hill and ask for a specific dr. I was promised that I would not have to repeat any of the tests or labs I had just done over the past three hours.
I got in my car and broke down. In my heart, I said, "This sounds like an emergency. This is really serious. Maybe it is cancer." With tears streaming down my face, I got home and informed my husband of the "plan".
To be continued...
So, the first week this went on, I thought I was pregnant. I took two pregnancy tests and was convinced, even though they both said negative, that I really was pregnant.
The following week, I still thought something wasn't right and convinced myself that it must be my IUD. That week I went to my dr. and got an annual exam and removed my IUD. At that appointment, she said everything looked "normal" and said she thought the problem might be my bladder.
From that point, until I went to the ER (the first time), I thought I had a bladder infection. After I got the results back from my urine culture, indicating nothing was wrong with my bladder (and I definitely wasn't pregnant), I became really confused and frustrated. Meanwhile, my poor two-year-old was becoming used to "watching shows" and eating dinner on the couch.
Over Thanksgiving weekend, I had a couple really bad nights with a fever and extreme pain. I could feel something growing inside me, and if I'm honest, I couldn't help but think it was cancer. We went to the ER in Greensboro and frantically found a sweet college student from church to watch Sybil, bless her heart. We were at the ER for five or six hours and I was diagnosed with a hemmorhagic cyst on my right ovary. It was the size of a golf ball, filled with blood (hence, hemmorhagic) and leaking. I was told to "wait it out" because these things almost always resolve themselves, and get a follow-up ultrasound in 6-8 weeks.
I left feeling relieved it wasn't the "c" word. I was also thankful I knew what it was and that I could now take something for the pain.
I thought I was on the uphill swing.
And then, I got worse. I just kept getting more tired, more weak, more light-headed. I didn't want to eat. I didn't want coffee--my favorite beverage in the world. I couldn't cook for my family, clean my house, or barely get dressed and ready each day. I was growing so weary.
Less than a week ago, I started getting severe fevers and shaking at night (the teeth-chattering kind of shake). Of course, it happened on a weekend night so we were waiting for Monday to call my dr., because we sure as Starbucks weren't going to the ER again...or were we?
Monday morning I called my dr. and told her what was going on and got right in at 9am. I was there until 12:30 doing every test I've already done and of course just more waiting. The one thing I did learn at my dr.'s office was that my "cyst" was now an "ovarian mass". During the ultrasound, I listened to the dr.'s talk:
-"What is that?"
-"Where is the uterus? Can you even separate the uterus and the ovary and the mass?"
-"I don't know what I'm looking at here."
I'm sure you can imagine how clarifying that all was (not). So, I get out of the ultrasound room and wait another hour for someone to tell me that they think it is imperative for me to go to Chapel Hill and see a specialist...TODAY. Apparently, the main dr. said to my dr. while I was not in the room that if I was his daughter, he would want me to get this taken care of immediately and not wait one more second.
I left that place with my labs, and directions to enter the ER at Chapel Hill and ask for a specific dr. I was promised that I would not have to repeat any of the tests or labs I had just done over the past three hours.
I got in my car and broke down. In my heart, I said, "This sounds like an emergency. This is really serious. Maybe it is cancer." With tears streaming down my face, I got home and informed my husband of the "plan".
To be continued...
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