here's what's going on!--

Here I am again, back from the land of the dead. Thank you all soooo much for your care and concern. I'm not much more than words on a page to a lot of you, but I could really sense the care behind all your well wishes.

I know I said I was feeling better in my last post, but a few hours later, I was back down again. That's how it has been for the past week--better, worse, better, even worse, little bit better, lots worse. The only way I can describe to you how I felt was that it was like being a 90 year old arthritic woman who was made to run a marathon, and then beat by mean men with baseball bats at the end. You might laugh--but that's honestly how I felt. I just laid there feeling like a prisoner in my own body. I couldn't move--even a slight jerk of my leg or turn of my body was intense. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I couldn't hold a book or turn the pages when I was hurting. I even--and most frighteningly-- lost interest in my children because I couldn't do anything with them or for them. It was the scariest place I've ever been in my life. Every joint--every toe, every knuckle in every finger, my jaw, my knees, my back, elbows, arms, ankles--you name it, it hurt. I saw my mom through her last days not quite two years ago--I saw how she cried when we would barely touch her. And though I can't compare my ordeal with how she felt riddled with cancer--I think I gained a bit of understanding. And she kept smiling as long as she could. I stopped smiling days ago.

I was about a day away from not being able to stand up to even use the bathroom anymore. My knees would not bend, my feet couldn't support my weight, and if I happened to sit down in the bathtub--I couldn't get out without my husband's help. Have you gotten the idea yet? Not that I'm really writing this so people will say--"Poor Jennifer"--I just don't want to forget what I've been through, what I've learned, and what I can endure.

We finally went to a good doctor today. One that sat and listened to all my symptoms. One that understood that I was on the verge of giving up all hope of ever feeling better. Before I'd only been to one of those "Doc in a box" doctors who put me on a ton of medication. Next I visited "patch 'em up and send 'em out" ER doctors who gave me some pretty intense narcotics. This doctor told me that all those medications have actually set me back--and that the Percacet and Laudanum (I think I spelled those right) were the worst. They took the pain right away and let me rest for a few hours, but when they wore off--I hurt worse than ever. Last night, Percacet wouldn't even last 2 hours on me and I had to take it with a lot of anti-nausea medication too. This doctor told me I was going to have to be patient for a few more days. He could make me feel a little better with a non-addictive, non-narcotic kind of drug--and that fluids and sleep would do the rest. One more trip to the hospital for another IV of fluid, and a shot of anti-inflammatory--and I HAVE HOPE AGAIN! I cried on our drive home, because I could actually see the world around me again. I could actually imagine myself out of bed and in a store again. I wanted to see my boys so badly and hug them and tell them their mom would be alright!

I guess I saw a little mirroring with life. So many times I just want to do what is easiest--what will make me feel better right away. But in the end, I know that kind of thinking and behavior always leave me feeling worse, and over time--without hope. The right way is the way that will always take a little longer and take a little more effort and patience. But in the end you can smile because you know you've done it right. You know you've put your trust in the Right Person.

So I have to thank my dear, dear husband who has cared for me these past two weeks (minus two days!). I could not have seen him in the condition he's seen me and remain as strong as he has. My house may not be spotless--but it's picked up-- and the boys have been loved and entertained. Brad has taken maybe a total of 3 weeks off over the past 6 years--so for him to have been home every day since Thursday is the greatest gift he could have given me.

I'm so thankful to my children who were brave and who took such good care of one another, and who came in every night to tell me they knew I could beat this.

I'm thankful to Dr. Jacobsen for listening for so long, for understanding, and giving me back a little hope.

And I'm thankful to my Heavenly Father who never left me. Who understood my pain. And though He chose not to take it from me in the miraculous way I prayed for every minute of every day--He didn't leave me. And as always--He had a plan in mind. And He taught me.