Personal health stories - Page 3

Kisses with Death - Page 3

Finally we made it to our hotel; the only air conditioned place in town at the time, and everything became a little clearer in my head as my body began to cool down.

It seemed as though I was taking the fourth and final base to home when I was seventeen years old. I had been at college for no more than a couple of months and it was a holiday weekend. I decided to stay on campus for reasons I really can’t remember, and was one of the only remaining girls in my dorm.

I had gotten home from a breakfast buffet with another girl, who had left a few hours later for break. Horrible stomach cramping and nausea hit me on that Sunday afternoon, and I feared perhaps I had received food poisoning from the food.

I forced myself to throw up but nothing changed the horrible pain in my abdomen. I called home and my parents coached me on some remedies.

Two days went by and I was much worse, the pain so bad I could hardly move from my bed. I was able to get a hold of one of the only girls still there and she promptly drove me to the ER that night.

After waiting for what felt like an eternity of agony, I filled out the endless paperwork and sat for several minutes as I was questioned in an office over my symptoms. Finally I was laid on a stretcher and a doctor came in who had no patience for me (no pun intended).

After vigorously poking around my stomach and reprimanding me for making myself throw up, he sent me back to my dorm.

The third night I remember laying on my mattress which I had dragged from my top bunk onto the floor. I was sweating and unable to drink and I remember just knowing that if I didn’t do something I wouldn’t make it through the night.

One of our dorm leaders came and checked on me and I begged her to drive me to the ER. We pulled in and up to the door once again and I remember nearly blacking out every few steps that I took.

We sat in the waiting room for about an hour, within which I made my way to the bathroom to vomit five times or so. Finally they took me to the back and began to run tests on me. I remember I was freezing and felt as though I had reached deaths door as they gave me water enemas and checked my entire system over.

After an hour of this a doctor finally came into my room explaining that they would need to remove my appendix. I made the doctor promise that they would give me enough sedative so I wouldn’t wake up during surgery. He laughed and promised.

They removed my appendix as my mother then arrived to be there with me afterwards. I was later informed that my appendix was horribly infected with gang green and had already ruptured long before the surgery.

The doctor told my mother I was lucky to make it alive, and deeply apologized for sending me home the day before hand. My mother held my hand as I emerged from surgery, alive.

When I think of these memories of my life, I whisper a prayer that it will all be for something…that my breath will accomplish something wonderful on this present home front called earth.

I’m thankful to be alive…excited for the future…and no, I don’t expect any more close brushes with death…but who knows…only God can predict that throw, and it’s His hand I trust the most with my next breath.

 

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