Refiner's Fire

Today marks the two month anniversary of my being home from the hospital. For those of you who may not know, we had quite a scare after Spencer, our fourth baby, was born. I'm going to tell the story and try not to make this too long. But, I warn you, it will be. :) Just sit back, grab some popcorn. Here we go. . .

The day after Spencer and I got home from the hospital, I started having fevers and pain all over my body. I had terrible chills and then I would sweat until my pillow was soaked. My mom and Gary would have to help me walk the ten steps from my bed to the bathroom- the only place I could go besides bed. I kept thinking, "This is the WORST recovery ever!!" Showers were risky and exhausting because I would have to stand, which made me so dizzy and I'd almost faint. My mom, who I was so glad to have, kept saying, "This is not right. Something's wrong." I resisted going to the Emergency Room because I thought they'd tell me I'm fine and give me Tylenol and send me home for $100.

I had gotten home on a Friday night and by Sunday I felt like I was drowning, I don't know how else to describe it. Every breath was labored. I took a shower on Sunday morning. Gary was at church and my Mom stayed home with me and Spencer. I barely made it through my shower without fainting and by the time I got out, the room was spinning and I was seeing spots. I grabbed a towel and collapsed on a chair we had moved into our room so we could rock Spencer at night. If it weren't there, I would have landed on the floor. I tried to call out for my Mom, who was downstairs taking care of Spencer, but it came out as a weak whisper, which surprised me. I glanced at the clock to see when Gary would be home. Tears were streaming down my face. Mom couldn't hear me and I could feel myself getting weaker. I looked at the clock again, and ten minutes had gone by. All I can figure is that I must have passed out because that time went too fast for how terrible I was feeling. She happened to come upstairs for something and saw me in the chair, pale and crying. She was so worried and wanted me to go to the hospital, but I didn't want to leave Spencer and my other boys. And the thought of even getting up and leaving totally exhausted me, which was probably a good sign I needed to go.

Gary and our home teacher gave me a blessing on Sunday night at about 10:30. When my home teacher walked into our room he looked at me and said, "Oh Jessilyn!" I didn't know I looked that bad, but apparently I did. :) Gary gave me a beautiful, very inspired blessing and then our wonderful home teacher went home. My mom got home shortly after he left. (She had gone to visit her Dad who was in the hospital, very ill. This was a very hard time for her.) It was interesting that after my blessing, my pain increased to an unbelievable level. This confused me, but ironically turned out to be one of the many "tender mercies" we received. Mom went to the store at 1:00 am, just after we had gotten Spencer to sleep, to get me some medicine that might ease the pain I was having. Nothing worked and because I had just had a baby, we didn't know what I could take that was safe. Because of this increased, unbearable pain, we decided to call the doctor for the fifth time that weekend. It was about 2:00 am. What a great patient I am! I didn't know what else to tell him that I hadn't said before, then I realized something. I said, "Well, I drank about 200 ounces today and I'm still so thirsty." He said, "Go to the ER!" (Suspecting kidney problems) We know it's because of the blessing that that thought came to me and I knew what to tell him. The decision, based on the feelings we had after my blessing are, we believe, what saved my life. I told my mom we were leaving and she said, "Oh good. That feels right." I had to leave Spencer, which broke my heart. Because I was so sick, my milk hadn't come in, and so it was easier to leave him where he could sleep well and he'd be in good hands. I told my mom we'd be back before the boys woke up. I had gone to the ER after Ryan was born. I was there for a couple hours and got to go home. This is was I imagined happening. So, not wanting to wake anybody up and worry them, I didn't sneak a peak at the boys before I left, figuring I'd be back before they woke up anyway. This really started break my heart later that day.

Mom and Gary helped me out to the car. Gary brought my hospital bag, which was still packed, "just in case." I kept comparing this painful, stressful drive to the hospital to the leisurely, excited ride to the hospital when I was in labor with Spencer. It seemed strange that this was drive was more painful than the "labor" drive. We got to the hospital and Gary got me a wheelchair while I waited in the car. I cried out in pain when he helped me in. The pain was just everywhere, I couldn't figure out where it was coming from. They took me right in and hooked me up to monitors. My blood pressure was 70's over 30's and my heart rate was in the 140's, where it stayed for two more days. Poor Gary was so tired. The nurse turned the lights off while we waited for test results and Gary climbed in bed next to me. It was the first quiet time we'd really had since I had come home and he feel asleep in two seconds. I was glad. About one minute later, the nurse was back, and sleepy Gary was awake again.

I had x-rays, which didn't show much. They couldn't completely explain all the terrible pain I was in, and my blood pressure and heart rate showed that I was in shock- literally. At 3 a.m. they decided to admit me for what they thought would be a 24-hour surveillance. I was put into wheelchair and taken to a small room and Gary and I waited. Gary had to leave at about 9:00 am to get Spencer to have his bili checked for his jaundice. While he was gone, my nurse was literally pacing back and forth in my room. I just smiled and tried to reassure her, still waiting for my $100 dose of Tylenol and the "all-clear" to go home. Silly nurses.:) Well, it turned out she was right to be worried, but I was also right to choose to be naive. If I had really thought something could be terribly wrong, and I didn't have Gary or my boys with me, I would have lost it. On a semi-conscious level, I chose to be blissfully ignorant. I also just felt a very peaceful, reassuring feeling that didn't come from me or any choice I had made. It was just . . .there, comforting me.

Well, after a few minutes the nurse said, "I just don't know what to do." She came and held my hand and said that she needed help and my doctor was in surgery. She warned me that it was going to get loud and crazy in my room and that I shouldn't be scared. Then she called a Rapid Response. Suddenly, there were about ten nurses and doctors talking to me and taking tests. My OB came in and looked at my blood pressure and said he was surprised they weren't shocking my heart. Then he held my hand and said, "We're going to move you to the ICU. We can monitor you more closely there." I said, "Oh man! Now you'll know when I try to sneak out to get an M&M McFlurry!" He just laughed and patted my hand and said sadly, "You always make me laugh." Then I looked at the nurses and they were all looking at me with pitiful looks on their faces and I got a taste of how serious things were. They wheeled my bed to the ICU and transferred me to another bed by lifting me up on the sheets. I thought, "Cool! Just like the movies!" No, not like the movies! My whole body tensed up and pain shot everywhere. I cried out and tears flew out of my eyes. Within minutes I was hooked up to all kinds of monitors and oxygen, which I never went without!

When Gary got back, my room was empty. As they wheeled my bed out of the old room, I had asked a nurse to stay by my room to intercept Gary so he wouldn't be worried. I guess there were too many things happening. Well, they found Gary and they brought him to me. I got to see Spencer from across the room, sleeping in his carseat. Then a nurse asked Gary to take Spencer out because of all the germs.

They took me to have a CT Scan done, which was excruciating. It's hard to hold your breath when you can't breathe in the first place. I also got to do a couple more bed transfers, which, as you and I now know, are not my favorite. But, we made it.

From the CT scan and many blood tests, they saw that I had a pulmonary embolism (blood clots in my lungs) and a very rare Group A Strep infection in my blood, which was attacking all my organs. I was now able to explain the pain everywhere because my blood was taking the infection and the pain everywhere it went. Things did not look good.

Gary took Spencer home to my mom and sister, Jenn, who had come to help out. Gary came in and broke down and told them what was happening. They knelt down and said a prayer before Gary came back to me. Then, Jenn packed up her two kids and our Spencer and became his adopted mommy for a couple of weeks. My sister-in-law, Kristina came and took the other boys to play with her four kids.

The ICU is a blur to me. I hallucinated the whole time I was there. I was totally out of it and would fall asleep while talking. I was there for three days. I wasn't allowed to see the boys because no one under twelve could go into the ICU. I never slept for more than two minutes at a time (literally) because my air mattress would adjust itself and make a loud, rumbling noise that would wake me up. I was on very heavy pain medicines, which became very dear friends to me, that made me very. . .silly, yet very calm. Ah, I miss those guys! For most of the time I was in the ICU, people had to wear masks because the doctors didn't know how contagious I was, or if I was. So, it was more for the visitors' protection than mine. I had so many sweet visitors- Jenn, Cari, my brothers Rob and Ed (who gave me a blessing with Gary), my Uncle Rich and Aunt Dallas (who brought me sweet gifts and a card), my parents of course, and my Aunt Julia sent flowers from Las Vegas.


Here is my advertisement for Dove Deodorant. Pretty clever product placement, I must say. They paid me millions, by the way. AND I'm a poet, and you did not know it!

I was so weak I couldn't hold up the phone without help. I couldn't walk. I couldn't breathe without unbelievable pain. My thirst was beyond any thirst I had ever had. I couldn't go more than a few seconds without water. On Tuesday, I had a blood transfusion. That was a humbling, incredible experience. It made me so glad for every time I had ever donated blood. Because of the infection, my blood wasn't taking fluid to my cells and the fluid was accumulating in my abdomen, legs, and back. The pressure from the fluid caused excruciating pain and put tons of pressure on my lungs and organs, not to mention ruining my lovely post-baby figure! Dang fluid!

I was on the phone a lot. I'm most likely talking to my dad here, who cutely called for his morning, afternoon, and evening update, then I'd call him with any other information we received in between. I look like I'm about 1000 pounds, but I actually have many heated blankets on me because I was always freezing! But I am also very swollen.

I don't remember a lot from the ICU, except for the terrible pain and never sleeping well. On the last day I was there, I was being wheeled to have an ultrasound done and while I was going down the hall, I saw Jenn, Cari and Gary holding Spencer in the carseat. I waved and my sister, Cari, and she kind of looked at me weird. I laughed and realized she didn't recognize me. Gary laughed too and he told her it was me. They came over to me and I got to see the and Spencer. I reached out to touch him, but my nurse told me I better not. We all cried as they wheeled me away. This experience made the nurse feel so bad and she talked to my doctor who said it was safe for me to hold him. After the ultrasound, she wheeled me to my room and I washed my hands up to my elbows and they gave me a new gown and blankets. Gary came and brought Spencer to me and I got to hold him. I cried and kissed him and he slept in my chest.

As quickly as I went in to the ICU, I went out. They announced I was doing better and could go to the regular floor. This was Wednesday and I realized Spencer was already a week old. He had been in the Level II Nursery ( kind of like the NICU) when he was born, so I didn't really get to see him there, except to feed him. When I got home I was so sick and weak, I could barely hold him. It had not been a fun week, but I knew better weeks were coming.

I don't know how, but I always knew I'd get better. This knowledge was another one of the many tender mercies we received while I was in the hospital. As soon as I'd picture myself having to say good-bye to Gary or to my boys, including my new one I'd barely met, the emotional pain far exceeded any physical pain I was feeling. But, almost immediately, I would feel a beautiful calm that told me I wouldn't have to do that. I found myself comforting and reassuring others who still didn't know if I would make it or not. I just waited until I could go home. I knew I would.


This is how I got ready for bed at night because I couldn't stand up at the sink. Gary and I had it down. He would get me my water, washcloth, soap, toothbrush and toothpaste, lotion, floss, etc. I flossed every day at the hospital. Not just because I would get hospital food stuck in my teeth, but because it was nice to have control over something- oral hygiene!

This is how I looked when I wasn't having an x-ray, ultrasound, CT scan, or blood test. I couldn't lie on my side because it put too much pressure on my lungs, but lying like this made the fluid go to my lower back- hence, more pain, but it was the best I could do. :)

My first full day out of the ICU- Thursday - was pretty much horrible. Gary had to leave to be with the boys for a while. It was always risky for him to leave because every time he left, something terrible would happen and I, or a nurse, would call him telling him to hurry back because I was in very bad pain, or I had to have a painful procedure right then and I needed him, or something like that. Well, Thursday was no different. He left and after a while I started having pain. I asked for pain medicine and they said I wasn't due for two hours. I felt like Bill Cosby's wife and I desperately wanted to cry, "I want morphine!" Except I would replace it with, "I want dilaudid!" which is about 10 times more powerful than morphine. And I couldn't pull the nurse's bottom lip over his head to let him know how much I was hurting. Now, in giving birth to four boys, I have never gone past an 8 on the pain scale, and that was even after my epidural had worn off an I felt everything, including stitches. Sorry for the graphic nature of this section. :) I actually exercised great restraint. Now, this pain I felt was a 10, and I was alone. The nurse casually left me "writhing" and "wailing." I put those words in quotes because I was too weak to really do them how they should be done when feeling this much pain. :)

I was sobbing and praying and clutching the side rail on my bed with my eyes clenched closed, when I felt hands cover mine. I looked up and saw my Relief Society president standing there (who also happens to be the wife of our home teacher). She came and sat on the bed and let me squeeze her hands while we waited for Gary and pain medicine. They both came, and with them came relief. Gary had been sleeping at home up until that day so he could be with the three older boys. But, from Thursday on, he slept at the hospital!
This is my breathing apparatus to help me breathe deeper and not get pneumonia. I only breathed very shallowly when I was awake. When I was asleep, it was even more shallow because I couldn't make myself breathe through the pain. My lungs couldn't breathe deeply and fluid was accumulating in my right lung. Every time I woke up, I would have at least a 102 fever.

On Thursday night I had a risky protein treatment to help my blood function better. It could make me have a stroke or worse, and it took about 8 hours. It just went in through my IV, but I had to be monitored very closely and stay awake for the whole thing. It ended at 4 am. The antibiotics they were giving me were not making the infection go away. They told me they were "running out of options." Not a fun thing to hear. I had been going up and up in the strength of antibiotics, but they just weren't working. So this treatment was supposed to give them a little boost. Along with fighting the infection, I was also really hoping they would make the swelling go down. I was told that if the treatment didn't work I would have to come in every week and have my abdomen drained. Hmm, I don't think so! My stomach was bigger than when I was just pregnant the week before. I debated over putting those pictures on here, but I couldn't bear it!! Well, I don't want to keep you in suspense, so I'll tell you- the treatment worked! It took about four more days to tell, but I noticed the swelling start to go down. Unfortunately, the sweating increased, but it was worth it. One of the symptoms of a pulmonary embolism is profuse sweating. I had that going on, plus this new reason for sweating. I can just tell you that that was pretty miserable.

Steady. Steady.

On Friday, I took my first walk. It was just around the "block" around the garden, but I was just inside and got to see the garden from the windows that surrounded it. It felt so great.

Look Ma! One hand!

I am actually talking to my Mom and telling her I'm on a walk. I was so excited!!

On Friday night I had half a liter of fluid drained out of my right lung. They went in through my back and drained it into a big beaker. It was full of clots and blood, but no infection, luckily. Again, sorry for the graphic material. :) I had a 103 temperature and was nauseus and had chills and was miserable through the whole thing. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over a table with a pillow on it, holding onto Gary. He stroked my hair and I cried. It wouldn't have been so terrible if I didn't have my fever, oh, and if they didn't have to do it twice because they hit a nerve that sent a stabbing pain into my shoulder that still causes me some pain. But the doctor really did do a good, thorough job. He had even come back to the hospital to do the procedure after he had already gone home. When it was done, I was emotionally and physically drained, partly because of my walk earlier. The walk had started out exciting, but I had barely made it back to my room. After my lung was drained, they wheeled me back to my room and I sat in the wheelchair, totally unable to move. I couldn't even drink a Boost, which I had been living on because I couldn't make myself eat.

The draining of the lung was, well, draining, but it was also the turning point. It took pressure off my lung, and my lung was no longer putting pressure on my other organs. My body could now focus on getting better instead of focusing on the pain.


As I mentioned before, Jenn took care of our little Spencer while I was in the hospital. Everyday, she'd bring him in to the hospital for his bili test. Then I'd get to see him for a while and hold him and feed him (bottle) and we'd take a little nap. Then, she'd take him home and take amazingly great care of him for me. She woke up with him all night, fed him, changed him, and held him. I never worried about him. He was born at 37 weeks, so when I'd miss him, I'd remember that I really would not have met him yet if he had been born at 40 weeks. She also had help from Mom, Cari, and Kristine. They would take shifts with him at night and hold him and feed him. He had lots of mommies. Ang would have helped too, I'm sure, but she lives in Colorado and she had her own baby while I was in the hospital, so she was excused. :) But she called me almost every day, even when she was in the hospital.

Andrew, Ry, and Ben were also taken great care of. They were at my brother, Rob's, and got to play with their cousins so they had no idea anything was wrong. Then they were at Gary's parents' house. Then, when Gary had to go back to work when Spring break ended, they played at ward members' houses and had tons of fun. I never worried, and that was another tender mercy.

Me, pretending to eat.

I actually really like hospital food, for the most part. It's fun when you have a baby. You get a full, well-rounded meal, and dessert morning, noon, and night. Unfortunately, I just couldn't eat. I did drink my Boost or Ensure. And once I discovered I could have orange sherbet any time I wanted, I was ALL over that! And, my Jenn would bring me my precious M&M McFlurries when she'd bring Spencer. I didn't have to sneak out after all!

My view from my window.

I watched Spring come while I was in the hospital. I was so afraid I'd miss my tulips, but they waited for me to come home before they bloomed. Andrew had helped me plant them. Ryan and I had planted the gladiolas and I got to see them before I left. I was glad for that.

Feeling better. Not quite looking better. :)

Flossing Ryan's teeth. Hey! I'm still the mom around here!

Ryan and Ben visiting with Mommy.

Andrew and Ben sitting in Dad's "bed" at the hospital. . .and eating Mom's cookies!
That's OK. :)

On Friday, the doctors came in for their daily visit. After days and nights of researching and talking to literally dozens of doctors, they had a name for my illness- Septic Pelvic Thrombophlebitis. This may not even be exactly what I had, but it came the closest to what my symptoms were. I had been septic and in shock for the first few days in the hospital. The blood clots came from my pelvis, not the legs, possibly from a damaged vein to my ovary. Again, I apologize for the graphic content. :) And, if any of you knew me in high school, if you're a girl, the whole ovary thing makes sense. Another possibility is that I could have also gone into labor already having a uterine infection. There's no real way to know how I got the Strep A infection. It's so rare the CDC doesn't even track it. (I have talked to my doctor who says he can now "sleep at night" seeing me all better, and he told me that a team of doctors are in the process of reviewing my case and are now looking more deeply into Strep A.)

On Sunday I got to go to church at the hospital. It was half an hour long and so amazing! I just sat there in my wheelchair with my oxygen and IV in my gown. The room was full of people with Sunday clothes on. Where'd they get those?! Oh well. I guess they were visitors. Just me and two other old guys were in gowns. I felt like we had a deep connection. :) They were sweet. The branch president of the hospital wheeled me to and from my room and we had a great talk. If you ever have a chance- go to church at the hospital. The Spirit was so strong and everyone had this common bond and understanding. It was our own little Zion.

I had a lot of visitors on Sunday and it reminded me of my great life and my great friends I had outside in the real world. (Thank you so much Casi, Ruth, Allyson, Alison, Bro B. and Bro S., Sherry, Rob & Krissy and kids, Kiffy, Marilee, Chelsea, Jenn, Cari, Aleta, Kevin . . .I hope I didn't forget anyone!) I didn't take a nap, but I was OK. One of the greatest things about the hospital was talking to old friends on a daily basis. I worried that I hadn't been good at keeping in touch with people and if I didn't make it, I would have regretted that. Kris called Heather when I went into the hospital, then Heather called me. I asked her to call Amber and Julie, two other best friends from days of yore. I was able to talk to Amber and hear about her baby and that was so great. Heather called and checked on me everyday, sometimes lots of times, and it instantly brightened my day no matter what was going on. I could laugh and cry with her over the phone and it was like she was right there. I also got to talk to my Dad lots of times a day. I loved it. I learned how to answer the question, "How are you?" honestly, instead of saying, "Oh, fine," when I wasn't really fine. When people asked "How are you?" it was an actual question instead of a greeting. :)

Well, Monday night the boys had Family Home Evening with Gary. The boys kept asking about death and if I was going to die. They had been having such a fun time with cousins and friends, I had hoped they weren't worrying about that, but they caught on to more than we thought. Gary did the whole hand and glove lesson about dying and being resurrected and then he called me and said they had to see me. They came over in their PJ's and I got to hold them and tell them I loved them and they got to see that I was alive and getting better. Luckily they hadn't seen me at my worst. We got to laugh and they told me all about what they had been up to. And of course, they all had to try my lung exerciser and they were all way better than I was at it! It breaks my heart thinking about when they had to leave. It was 10:00 and they were so tired, but Ryan just didn't want to leave. He cried and wouldn't let go of me. I held him and didn't force him to let go. He needed his mommy. When he started feeling better, I told him I'd walk him to the door. I chose not to use my walker because it might scare them. This took a lot of energy, but I did it. I cried as I watched them walk down the hall. I still didn't know when I'd get to go home, but right then, leaving at any other time but right then, with my family, was just too late. All I knew is that my family was leaving and I had to stay. Nurses watched the scene from their table and they all had the same sad look on their faces. I hobbled back to bed and just bawled. I was sad, but not hopeless, though. I still knew everything would be OK.

Well, Monday I was told I had to have a test on my gallbladder because it was twice as big as it was supposed to be. Sure, what's another test, right? Wrong! I couldn't eat or DRINK anything or have any pain medicine for TWELVE hours before the test. Luckily it was scheduled for 6 am so I wouldn't have to feel the pain and thirst all day.

Gary dropped the kids off at home and his mom slept at the house and he came back to sleep at the hospital. I tried to sleep, but the thirst was unbearable. Then the pain started as soon as my last dose of pain killers wore off. I was hunched in a ball at about 3:00 am. I wanted to cry hard enough that the tears would go into my mouth! I said, "Gary. I need you to talk to me." The poor guy sat up and we talked about what we had to do the next day with the kids and scheduling. It was helpful, but I finally said, "This isn't working." I called the nurses' station and said, "I need my nurse." The nurse said, "Can I help you?" I started bawling and said, "I need a blessing." Luckily, she knew what I was talking about and in two minutes one of the guys who took my blood every morning, Mike, at 5:00 came in. It wasn't my usual, Justin, but I had had Mike before.

He lifted up my bed really high so they could reach me and he helped Gary give me a blessing. As soon as Gary stopped talking, I felt no pain. I even tried to concentrate on where the pain had been and it was gone. I felt giddy! As they lowered my bed, I did a pose and said, "I feel like Han Solo when they lower him down after they freeze him in that stuff." Mike looked at me weird for a second, then started laughing. I think he thought I had lost it. It was a miracle and I was able to get a couple hours of sleep.

At 5:00 I woke up, drenched in sweat. I couldn't go back to sleep, so I had a shower- with no help! - and got ready for my test. It took two hours and was not super fun. I was a sweaty, yet freezing, mess and I was exhausted and homesick. I just laid there and cried while Gary talked with the guy, who was the nicest, sweetest guy. He talked about his family and showed Gary pictures of his kids. It made me miss my kids. I was lying in a big semi-open tube in a dark room. I wasn't allowed to move and had to keep my arms straight down at my sides. My arms started to ache and the profuse sweating, accompanied by chills, continued and I started to stick to the plastic wedge that put my legs in the right position. My back ached so bad from the fluid and pressure. It was pretty miserable. I was in good spirits, though. I was told this might be my last test, and if all was well, we could start talking about when I could go home. When the test was done, they wheeled me back, Gary jumped in and out of the shower, got ready, kissed me, and ran to work. I sat there, again, in my wheelchair, unable to move. I finally got to have my pain medicine. Then, they wheeled me my breakfast but I just drank my Boost.

I had yet another shower (can you blame me? :)) and tried to sleep. At 10:00, my doctor came in with an unusual hop in his step. He looked through my charts and got a twinkle in his eye. He said everything looked normal and I could leave by noon. I just sat there, shocked. I called Gary and he didn't believe me. He got so excited and he left work. He went to Target and bought me some comfy clothes and things to go home in. No one believed me when I said I was coming home. It was very sudden, but I was outta there! Well, I had to do some things first. :) I talked to a pharmacist about all my medicines that I'd be taking and to doctors and nurses about danger signs to look for and when to come back to the hospital. I got in my wheelchair, got piled up with all my beautiful flowers that made my room look like springtime, and said good-bye to all my nurses who had totally become my friends. A lot of them would come visit me even if I wasn't one of their patients. They would sit and listen to me talk about my boys when I missed them so much. They were great. People who worked at the hospital stopped us on our way out and congratulated us. They knew us even if we had never even met them, even cafeteria workers. It was amazing.

Ready to go!

Gary and I left at about 2:00. We picked up my meds at the pharmacy. I sat in the car and felt so weird. I was shivering, resting my head on the seat, holding vases full of flowers in my pajamas. People passed by the car and saw me in there and had no idea what we had just been through. I wondered how many times I had seen people who had been through something hard, or had experienced a miracle, and I had never known. I felt a strange homesickness for the hospital and for people who understood me. The pain was also coming and I needed my medicine. Gary got back and I felt more normal. He drove me to Jenn and Josh's house so I could rest while he went to his class. I wasn't exactly able to take care of myself, much less four little boys, so Jenn and Josh and Cari took care of me, and Kris took care of the other boys at home. Spencer was at Jenn's, so I got to hold him- only a little because I was still radioactive from my test that morning. We watched "American Idol" and just relaxed. When Josh got home from work, Jenn said, "I have a surprise for you." She walked him to their room where I was asleep on their bed. He said, "Did you steal her?!" I love that story. :) Josh helped me walk from their room to the TV, which was downstairs. I held onto his arm and we took baby steps to the stairs. He said, "I've never walked this slow in my life! We're never going to make it down the stairs." So he carried me down. Aww! They took good care of me.

Gary came and got me and he helped me to the car. I held onto his arm and took my little steps, all hunched over in my pajamas. Gary stood up tall as usual and supported me. Cari was standing behind us and she said, "I don't want to ruin this moment, but I feel like I'm seeing the future." Someday, I'll be hunched over again, shuffling down the street in my PJ's, holding onto Gary with his perfect posture. We had a good laugh over that one. Well, my laugh was more like a little weak "Heh Heh," but still sincere. :)

Jenn took Spencer for one more night because Gary and I were totally exhausted and she brought him to us in the morning. I got to sleep in my own bed and have three excited little boys wake me up in the morning with hugs, instead of being woken up by Justin (who was nice 'n all, but ya know) and his needles. After a few days of rest, I got to go to my sister, Cari's, graduation from BYU on the Friday after I got home. That was a huge goal of mine while I was in the hospital and for a while I was scared I might not make it out in time. My parents rented a wheelchair for me so I got around great! My Grandpa passed away the Saturday after I got home and I was able to go to his funeral. I was sick during the week of Spring Break so Gary barely missed any work and he was able to be with me. We were blessed so much!

Whew! There it is folks! In my journal, it's 65 pages front and back. I could have put more in here, but a lot of it is stuff you probably wouldn't want to know and other things are just too special, you understand. The reason I wanted to tell you this story, and why we even started this blog, is to show how blessed we've been, and that miracles happen. My doctor told me he'd only heard of four cases before mine of this illness. Three of them died and the fourth is a quadruple amputee. I am alive and whole and almost totally back to normal. It is a miracle. I don't know why or how we were so blessed. The words, "confused at the grace that so fully He proffers me" go through my mind a lot. I am also so blessed to have incredibly amazing family and friends who strengthened us through this whole thing. I'll save the recovery portion of the story for another time, as it still continues. :) I am regaining my strength and getting back to normal, which is a miracle in itself. I'll be on my "blood-thinners" for at least another 4 months, but besides that, I am doing so great. Hopefully, through this experience, we have been refined and we want to let people know that miracles have not ceased.