I Thought I Was Dying…Literally

I can’t remember a time I felt more ill. But let me back up just a bit with the story. It was Friday night just a few weeks ago and after having dinner (most want to know what I ate: it was a salad) I started feeling sick. Like I was going to throw up sick. And sure enough that’s exactly what happened. And it kept happening. Retiring for the night, I tried to get some sleep but kept having to run to the bathroom.

Then, after calling out to my husband for help, he found me completely passed out. Skin white, eyes in the back of my head, my body flushed with sweat, passed out. Mike tried to wake me but couldn’t. He quickly grabbed a towel and filled it with cool water and put it on my face and I came to a bit. He said, “I’m calling an ambulance.” I said, “Okay.” I knew I needed help. We realized driving ourselves would get us there faster and we headed to the hospital. I was barely coherent and doing everything I could not to vomit in the car.

As we pulled up to the Emergency Room I told him not to park just let me out. He paused the car and like in the movies where you see felons dropping an injured comrade out from the passenger side door I crawled out as Mike said, “Wait on the curb and I’ll be right back” and he drove off as the car door shut. I looked at the hospital doors, pulled myself up and headed for help. I barely got in and laid my body on the front counter… “I can’t breathe, I think I’m dying, please help me…I’m going to throw up.” Then I threw up in the front lobby. It wasn’t pretty but I didn’t care. By this time Mike was there with me and keeping others away from the vomit on the floor. I could no longer speak and Mike answered the questions to get me checked in.

A wheelchair arrived and I could barely get in it. I was wheeled to a room and helped into a bed. My throat and mouth felt like sand was poured in and I was in horrible pain overall. My brain seemed to stop working and I could hardly answer simple questions like what my name was. Mike asked if he should call our daughter and I said, “Don’t bother, I’ll be dead by the time she gets her.” That was the only way I could express at the time how bad I was feeling. I felt like I was dying.

The doctor told me, “You’re not dying on my watch.” Finally, a glimmer of hope.

A bunch of tests were done including checking my heart and doing x-rays and a CT scan. Once an IV was secure they gave me drugs to stop the vomiting and got me hydrated. After being there for hours, it seemed clear I had gotten food poisoning which led to dehydration. All the tests were normal. I was discharged with four scripts for medications. We got home at around 3:30 a.m.

While in the hospital after I felt somewhat better, looking over at my dear husband who had throughout the ordeal frequently put his hands on me and prayed I could see the concern in his eyes. I asked, “Which is harder, to be in the bed or the chair?” Only months before I was in the chair in the same hospital while he was in the bed (for his heart attack which he has now recovered from and doing well). He said, “The chair.” I knew this all too well. Sitting in the chair while your love is getting treated is something you never want to repeat. I agreed the chair was indeed more difficult. 

The next day Mike watched me closely and took care of my every need. I sat in our easy chair all day and rested. In fact, I did that for two days.

I was confined to a chair, eating hardly anything, and still feeling awful but at the same time feeling tremendous peace and contentment and joy and overall happiness.

Appreciation was my biggest emotion.

And that my friend, is the takeaway from this story…appreciation is the key to peace and joy and happiness. That’s my takeaway and I hope it’s yours too.

For more from Lucille Williams on marriage check out her books, From Me to We, and The Intimacy You Crave. Have kids? Order a copy of The Impossible Kid: Parenting a Strong-Willed Child with Love and Grace or Turtle Finds His Talent for ages 2-6. Subscribe to LuSays today for regular encouragement.