Doing the Time

Well, I guess first off I want to apologize because I’m not going to proofread this post. Sorry in advance for all the spelling and grammatical errors.
Once again I am sick. I’ve been told that I don’t keep people updated enough on these kinds of things, so I’m going to try to be better. Well, on Wednesday evening, I started feeling a little “blah.” I was home alone because my parents were both on highway 6, headed in opposite directions, one to Lorena and the other to Waco. Mom says that they like to wave as they pass each other on the road; that’s about all the contact they get these days. My dad got to Houston, and maybe two hours after he had arrived I realized that I wasn’t feeling the normal “blah.” No, this was a sick “blah”—Almost flu-like. We took my temperature, it was only 99.3 F. You might be thinking, “That’s hardly a temperature at all.” But when your white blood cell count is low, any temperature is bad. Here’s a little FYI for those of you not so scientifically inclined readers: white blood cells are the cells that fight off infection and are what keep people from being sick 24/7. A normal persons’ white blood cell count is supposed to be at 4,000, but mine was at 100. Anyways, I was NOT ready to go back into the hospital, so my dad and I decided to wake up 2 hours later and check my temperature. We sleep a couple of hours and at 3 o’clock my temperature is at 99.9 F. We probably should have gone then, but I (stupidly) was convinced that the thermometer was wrong. My reasoning was that I had an appointment at 7:30 a.m. anyways, so they could check it there and we could get my “real temperature.” (Note to readers: please don’t tell my doctor about this little episode, she might get upset with me) We woke up at 5 a.m. to take my temperature one more time, and it was at 101.5 F. We go to the Emergency Room at MDA, that’s where everyone goes when they have any kind of problem, so don’t freak out because I used the term “emergency.” They got me in, and started me on 3 different IV antibiotics. I haven’t had a fever since last night (Friday night), so that’s good I guess. Another good thing—my white blood cells have jumped from 100 to a whopping 300 and are continuing their slow upward climb. I saw the doctor today, and he said that I might be able to go home tomorrow. That was until I showed him a red/swollen lymph node (where white blood cells are stored). He looked at it and told me that I won’t be going home tomorrow. Bummer. As if missing one of my best friends 21st birthdays and Baylor’s SING (ALL of my friends are in it) wasn’t enough. I was supposed to go home on Saturday, have lunch with my friend Lauren (whose 21st birthday is today—Happy birthday Laurita!! Te quiero), then we were going to go to SING with some other people, celebrate her 21st after, and go to our church, Redeemer (which I miss so so much), on Sunday morning. Sadly, instead of being on the road, I’m in Houston writing this blog. Am I disappointed?? Definitely. But honestly, this whole experience has brought a lot of disappointment, and I’ve almost come to expect it. I’m just looking forward to April, but it seems that the more you look to the future, the slower the present becomes. The days are dragging a little bit, so I’m going to try to keep the “day by day” attitude.
I feel bad for the hundreds of patients who get sick a lot more than I do. I met a girl named Eliana; I’m pretty sure I wrote about her in a previous blog. She is in the hospital ALL the time with fevers. It’s people like her who remind me that although this sucks, it could always be worse. I’ve seen cancer patients stick skinny from their inability to eat (due to nausea), people whose faces and other body parts are mangled or just completely amputated, people so weak that they can’t walk at all and need a wheelchair AND somebody to push them. I’ve talked to a woman who’s had 2 different people change their mind about donating bone marrow. She was devastated. I’ve talked to people who have had cancer for years and people whose treatment just isn’t working anymore. When my dad and I arrived in the ER, there was nobody in the waiting room yet it took almost an hour for them to see me. We wondered why. When we asked the lady told us “We had two people coding, and they needed all of the staff.” My dad not understanding the hospital jargon asked what “coding” was, and she replied “it means they are being resuscitated.” In the most basic terms—they were trying to bring them back to life. All in all, I would say that being here at MDA has kept me grounded in respect to understanding that my situation isn’t the worst out there.
I wanted to write a little paragraph to my baby sister, Kolby. I doubt she’ll read this, but I’ll write it anyways—I’m so very proud of her. She’s only 12 years old, but she has lived the past four and a half months as the woman of the house. I know it’s been hard for her, but it’s almost over and hopefully life will become normal for her once again.
So that’s about it…I’ve run out of words and I have “chemo-brain.” (That’s my new excuse for everything…I’m so bad.)
I want to end with this thought. I believe that trials are God’s necessary way to shape us, teach us faith, strengthen us, affect people around us, ready us for the future and inevitably make us more and more like Christ. Although a lot of the time I definitely don’t feel like it, I know that God is doing His work in my life—the affects of which I may see now, in the future or that I may never see at all. Most importantly, all is in His plan, and in the end all will be for His glory. I’m going to end with this familiar verse
Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. ----James 1:2-4