An invitation to a mental health life events function and my life's RSVP to repression, stress, being valueless and panic that comes with it. Follow the journeys in this blog …

I don’t want to dwell on death and dying but it is a fact of life that is so hard for me to mentally deal with. It changes everything in an instant and I am not a person who embraces overwhelming changes. Everyone reacts in his or her own way to a death, but the first time that I thought my time had come I was surprised at my own reaction.
I awoke so sick I could barely get out of bed. I lumbered to the bathroom and called for my mother. She came and took one look at me and said, “You’re going to the emergency room.” My father said it was the flu and just to take me to the doctor’s office. However, she put me in the car and drove me straight to the hospital. I was so dizzy and my head hurt like someone was pounding on it with a hammer. She got me signed in and we spent the next thirty minutes waiting to be taken to the back. She kept talking to me and trying to comfort me. I wasn’t much for conversation at that point. We finally got in a room at the ER and the doctor started asking the typical questions, until he saw me slump to the side when another dizzy spell hit. He immediately had a nurse draw blood and within fifteen minutes came back into the room. I don’t know what he said to my mother but I was put into a wheelchair and taken to another part of the hospital They then strapped me to a table and flipped the whole thing upside down and positioned me like I was doing a headstand. My mother joined me short time later and I asked, “What’s wrong with me?” She said, “They are not sure yet.” The doctor came in and told me I was going to need blood transfusions. My anxiety hit like I had been slammed into a brick wall at eighty miles per hour. I remember saying, “Sure. As long as it comes from my mom.” He said,”We don’t have time for that.” Now with all the information about HIV and AIDS and tainted transfusions that had been given my reaction was, “No way!” Apparently they didn’t listen because the next thing I knew I was admitted to the ICU and Fred, the technician, was there putting in an IV. I remember Fred because he was the only one who could put in an IV without it feeling like I was being stabbed by vampire teeth. Which leads me to the reason I ended up in the ICU… internal bleeding.
I can still hear the doctor saying, “A few more hours and there would have been nothing that we could have done. Now we have to find out where the bleed is in the body. We will administer a dye to find out where the bleed is and then decide what our options are.”
That evening in the ICU, even though I knew they were refilling my tank with the transfusions, I was in so much pain from the headaches and so cold I figured this was it for me. I remained in the bed hooked up to two IVs, covered in four blankets, and watching some mindless television program while waiting for death to show up. My immediate family came to see me and I told them I loved them and tried not to make it seem like I was going to die, but my head told me otherwise. The next two days were much of the same but the headaches had gotten a bit better with a demerol drip. So what did I do when things had reached the point of what my head deemed hopeless with no positive outcome… I prayed. I remember saying, “God, I am too young for this, but if this is your will then please don’t let me suffer. Bring me peace.” I was scheduled for the dye procedure the following afternoon to find the bleed.
That night, I continued to pray before falling asleep and the answer to my prayer was revealed to me in a dream. In my dream I was a little girl again and was playing with a ball in grassy green field. The ball had begun to roll away from me and disappeared down a hill. I ran to the hill and looked downward to see my ball resting at the bottom of it next to a lake. Now resting next to the ball was an alligator. I focused my youthful eyes on that ball and started to run toward it determined to retrieve it. The gator opened it’s mouth, displaying sharp rows of teeth able to tear me to shreds, and awaited my arrival. Just then, I felt myself being lifted off the ground and cradled in two strong arms as I was carried back up the hill. I was placed gently on the ground and looked up to see my grandfather smiling at me. This is the person that I watched, at the age of three, pass away from a heart attack in a church. I awoke with a very different feeling that morning. I was calm and peaceful. My feet started to warm and the sensation continued right to the top of my head. I was able to sit up fully, my headaches were gone, I could walk around the room without a problem and I was hungry. I thanked God! I was fine.
The doctors and nurses continued to monitor me and cancelled the dye. The doctor that admitted me couldn’t figure it out. He told me that I was stable, all my vitals were great, everything was where it should be and it didn’t add up. He diagnosed me with a possible bleeding ulcer that healed itself and suggested a follow-up colonoscopy and upper gi exam. I told him that I had been praying and asked if he believed in God and miracles. He looked at me and said, “I do now.”
I had the follow-up procedures that he suggested and they revealed nothing. They could find no ulcers, no bleeding and no reason why I had been so ill.
In my experience, prayer is a vital part of my life. It may not always give me the answers I want, but it can make my mind rest from racing thoughts. I know that God is watching over me. Prayer is calming and faith gives me strength to go on, to continue through the hardest times, to have a place to turn to when those times hit.