BIG. Part 4.

Three months out from the depths of my BIG, I sometimes forget that my BIG is not something of the past....rather, it is still very in the present.  I got some news last night regarding my BIG that knocked me to my core.  Not going to go into details, because that part will come much later in my story, but basically it reminded me that this is no where near over.  I am not okay yet.  I'm not fully recovered.  In some ways, I'm not almost through the worst of this BIG... no.  I'm just at the beginning.  After dealing with what we are now, it was hard to pick up my macbook pro and go on with my story.  I wanted to freakin' quit.

But I got a message from someone today that stopped me from quitting.  She told me that she hadn't known what God was capable of until she read my blog.  She told me she wanted to know MY God.  Wow.  How freaking amazing and humbling and beautiful is that.

Okay, God.  I hear you.  I'll continue on with my story.  I'll continue to declare the works of the Lord.

I left off talking about what you guys were doing while I was living on a breathing tube.  Prayer chains were exploding all over the country.  My mom's church friends in Virginia were some of the fiercest prayer warriors.  They made these:

Aren't those freakin' fabulous?  I still wear mine everyday.

And they raised over $1500 to send to me to help with bills and whatever other needs I had at the time. These are women that I had never met before.  I couldn't believe it when I finally was off the vent and starting reading cards and letters and saw these pictures.  My mom's friends also ran a race in my name. I cried and when I saw these pictures.  I remember my mom giving me a stack of cards and letters and these pictures and then that check.  My mom, dad, and I sat together on my hospital bed and held each other and cried.  That people who didn't even know me would help in this way was shocking to me.  I was so humbled and so overwhelmed by their kindness.  

My work friends were prayer warriors too.  They collected money to buy me an amazing Christmas present....a comfy robe and PJ's for the hospital and a gift card to Anthropologie, my favorite store.  They each wrote cards and letters of encouragement.  The afternoon I opened up that package was an absolute sobfest.  Facebook was exploding with updates and messages and people that I hadn't seen or talked to in years dropped everything and joined the battle, begging our Father to save me....to save my leg... to comfort and provide my family what they needed to get through it.  My best friends Liz, Erum, and Nicole were in constant contact with my family, visiting when they could, praying, providing encouragement and meals.  I am so blessed to have such amazing friends.  

My parents got into my mail and made sure all my bills were paid while I was intubated.  No questions asked, they did what needed to be done.  And God provided.  The money sent from mom's friends and her friend's from work (who sent another $850) and money from my grandpa and other family members helped pay my rent and bills while I couldn't work.  Until my short-term disability took effect, I wasn't paid for 42 days.... so every single cent was needed to make sure I was financially taken care of.  God provided exactly what was needed.  He is such an amazing God.

Necrotizing fasciitis has an 80% fatality rate in most cases.  That means only 20% of people who contract the infection die.  Most patients that live through it lose at least one or more limbs.  And because of your faith and your prayers bombarding the Heavens, God listened.  He spared my life....and my leg.  HE LISTENS.  HE PROVIDES.

When I woke up from the ventilator, I was shocked to look down and see my wounds.  My right leg on both the inside (abductor side) and outside was completely open, muscle and bone exposed.  Wound vacs were attached but it was absolutely surreal to see myself like that.  In addition, my abdomen was completely covered in scars.  A 10 in scar vertically, an 8 in scar transverse and a 12 in open wound took over my tummy.  So much for wearing a bikini on my honeymoon.  I also had to say goodbye to ever wearing shorts again that day.  Despite all that, I was eerily calm that day.  I was happy to be alive.  I was satisfied finally getting to drink some gatorade and putting some deodorant on.  It's funny how your priorities change when you almost lose your life.  

The wound vacs completely freaked me out.  I could see the black pieces of dead tissue and dried blood being sucked through the vacuum tubes and the first time I saw it, I was convinced it was bugs.  I screamed and shrieked that there were bed bugs.  (I think there was still quite a bit of sedation meds in my brain...haha).  My mom tried to explain what was going on, but I didn't believe her.  I screamed for the nurse.  "There's bugs in my bed!!!!!  BED BUGS!!!  I've seen them in hospitals before!!"  The nurse laughed and told me I was just hallucinating.  She told me a story about a time when she herself woke up from the ventilator and thought she saw a little green man at the edge of her hospital bed telling her that her husband was trying to kill her.  Drugs do some crazy things.  Drugs are bad.  

The next week to ten days were ventilator and surgery-free.  I was becoming more and more aware as each day passed and started asking lots of questions.... what happened???  what day is it?  What?? Thanksgiving already passed??  One of the weirdest things that happened after I woke up from the vent was not being able to grasp what time meant.  I had no understanding that four weeks had passed.  I thought it was nighttime when it was daytime and vice-versa.  It took about a week for me to understand what time of the month it was then and when to wake up and when to go to sleep.  

The pain was unimaginable.  They give all sorts of meds to Burn Unit patients, but this kind of pain is not well-controlled with meds.  I started to find that prayer was a much more effective medicine.  When the pain was really bad, I'd have my mom and Jon put their hands on me and pray to God to lessen the pain.  And you guys, I swear to you, it worked.  At times, it was the ONLY THING that worked.  The other helpful pain medicine was scripture.  My mom had a copy of Jesus Calling at my bedside (amazing book if you haven't read it, get it NOW.)  When the pain was really bad, I'd have my mom read passage after passage until the pain calmed and I could sleep.  We all depended on the Lord for everything.  IT IS THE ONLY WAY, GUYS.  If you take away one thing from my story, take this:  if you're going through a trial, lean on Jesus.  I know I've been stressing that He saved my life....and He did.  But He also got us through the toughest parts of the process.....the pain....the fear.....the heartache.  

The antibiotics and blood transfusions and surgeries had worked.  I was starting to mend and when there were no signs of active infection left, the doctors decided it was time to remove the wound vacs and close all my wounds (they were still open at that time).  I was about to face the worst part of my journey yet.  To be continued....