So how did Friday compare to Thursday? Besides my diving backwards from the truck to the pavement - it went pretty well. Thankfully my ample back end took most of the impact. Had it been caused by the MS or the single strawberry daquiri? Perhaps the cold medication taken earlier had been the culprit. We may never know for sure.
What we do know is this okay day followed by dinner with friends and a shopping expedition for a larger swimming pool brought about nothing but work to be done on Saturday. A 24 ft. round above ground pool meant we had us some hard core excavating work to do. Guess what? We still do. Any volunteers? We're hoping to be ready for water by next weekend. Until then, my Aunt's local hotel pool and their many, many occupants will get to know the Spindlers - probably all too well. Thank you, Jean! We love ya!
I wasn't allowed to do hardly anything to help. No dirt moving. No sand unloading. But just that I felt like being out in that horrendous heat to do a little bossing --- welllll, that's what I do best anyways. I did manage to pick up a few branches and trash unnoticed. So there, Jason! And having been told to return to the house, I may have even snuck in shooting a basket or two.
That said, when Sunday morning rolled around all four of us had trouble dragging ourselves out of bed. But we made it to church, by golly! Sadly, we didn't get to stay for the entire service. To explain I was sitting in the pew with my nephew who was playing with small farm animal toys. I might have been too. Truth be told those little toys reminded me of Farmville and of how I had crops at home that needed harvesting. So I just got up and walked out.
Huh? Not hardly. Yes I was reminded of Farmville, but no that's not why we left. I had bent over to pick up one of the toys that had fallen off the bench. When I had I lost my breath and was unable to get it back after several attempts at coughing. So as he dropped another animal I quickly dove for it, hoping I'd also find the breath I left there on my previous visit. No such luck.
I gasped teary eyed, and apparently beet red looking over to Jason for some sign of what to do. He mouthed, "You okay?" And I mouthed back nothing as he got to his feet to help me out of the church. It truly must've been Jason in front of me and God behind cause I was blacking out the entire trip. It was as if I'd floated to the back of the church.
Then to the water fountain. I couldn't swallow. SHIT! That scared me. Then to the bathroom in an attempt to get something up. Mucus, snot, puke, a dinosaur bone - I apologize for the absurd graphic nature of this post, however I needed desperately to make room for some good 'ol fashioned air at this point. I seriously blacked out enough here to rest upon the sink awhile and flash back to my dad's last breaths. They had been so labored. I prayed, "Please, God! Please don't let me die today."
With that I returned to the hall ouside the restroom to a very concerned, very good looking husband. He wanted to take me to the Emergency Room. And a concerned church-goer insisted I needed oxygen. I just needed to cool off I reasoned to myself, and besides, God wasn't gonna let me die today. I just asked him not to. So Jason returned to our pew for my purse and knocked on the Sunday School doors for the kiddos. Air conditioner full blast and we were on our way home.
Still my breathing was sporadic and my color more of a fuschia now versus the crimson red it had been. What was going on? Would it pass? There's been times I've struggled with swallowing. But always before I either manage to choke it on down or expell it and go on about my intake of oxygen. With no foreign objects at play inj this scenario - I became somewhat frightened. Did you know respiratory failure is among the top recorded causes of death among MSers? Well, you do now. And that, for me, is scary as hell!
Once home and cooling off I still succumbed to moments of a heavy drowning feeling. Bizarre. After having pissed all my docs off, who would I turn to about this latest ordeal? Maybe I hadn't pissed anyone off. Maybe I just didn't want to hear the "I told you so!" that I was sure to from all my holier than thou p.h.d.s. So speaking of holy and knowing in my heart of hearts this was just an episode brought on by overdoing it in severe humidity - I decide to share this problem with only one. God. "You've got me home, God. And I thank you. Now please get me thru. Amen." And a cold coke and some warm, carefully sipped soup later - I was doing better.
Now the question can be asked, what exactly had I been praying to get thru? Most likely, I had been asking that He help me thru whatever this spell was I was having. Possibly, though I could have meant my MS. Or maybe I meant this CCSVI fiasco. Do I have it, or don't I? And would my most favoritist doctor of all ever answer my e-mail?
A game of Yahtzee! and a Dominos pizza later, I needed a Farmville fix. All was again right with the world. Praise God! As soon as the computer was up I noticed I had a rather large number of new e-mails waiting in my inbox. Perhaps I should check on that before I get my boots all dirty farmin'. And there he was! My knight in shining armor had taken the time to e-mail me back to reassure me everything was going to be okay.
As goosebumps form as I'm re-telling this miraculous story of a super doc responding to a silly little 'ol worrisome nobody like myself, I can't help but wonder if he'd been compelled to write this message to me anywhere around or near the time I'd ask God for help. Just puttin' that out there people. I believe! And there is no doubting whatsoever that without God, none of this would be possible. I love Him. And praise Him. Everyday.
And as for the messenger . . . I hold you in pretty high esteem too Doc. You truly are an instrument of God's. Your caring and compassion is monumental. I can't wait to finally meet you. You who have told me you believe whole-heartedly that anyone with true MS has CCSVI. You who have told me that docs just have to know how to look for it. And what to be looking for. I told you my story and you told me you feared that would happen to many more of us. You seemed confident you would find what my doc could not (or would not).
So you say this may well be the best thing that's happened to you in your medical careeer. I, dear doctor, can guarantee you are the best thing that has happened in mine. Thank you for writing me back. Thank you for all you've done. All you're doing, and all you plan to do. Next venogram I have will be done by you. I can't afford anymore unsure explorers . . .
You got my number, right? I'll be by the phone.