For the blogging world, I am sorry I have been silent for so long. I know many people have been checking this almost daily for details of the recent health crisis I've been facing that has been hinted at by mine, my Mother's and a few other's facebook statuses. What follows will be an edited version of the newsletter I sent out to my family and supporters, it includes many of the details of the journey through the hellish past few weeks, my climb back into recovery and my intense and critical need for support, prayer and finances right now.
I truly seek to share with you all the amazing things God is doing in this place and in my heart as I near the end of my first season here at YWAM. I have learned much, grown a lot and experienced so much life in God's hands very recently I've had to learn a lot about humility, trust, and faith even when it hurts.
Two weeks ago I was at Donaldson's house with a few of our other staff when I started to have an anaphylactic reaction to something I ate at dinner. (We still do not know what that is). Within a matter of minutes I went from having some trouble breathing to be struggling to breathe, I had a rash and my tongue and lips had swollen. Kent, who'd been here last year when I had severe allergic reaction and Becky, (who was a nurse at Mayo and whose medical opinion I trust completely) were with me in the hallway. As someone whose had to deal with a fair share of epi pens, having to use it again was not something I wanted. It's incredibly painful, the side effects are rough and no matter what it's a serious remedy. Even on the pens the fourth direction after administering is "Call 911." But I took my cues from those two. Kent knew how painfull is for me, Becky knew when to make the call. When I realized Becky had tears in her eyes was when I got scared. As a nurse she knew more than we did of what was going on in the situation, as one of my closest friends, her tears meant something serious was going on. She finally made the call and held me while Kent used the pen. This brought enough relief to get me into the car and headed to the hospital. But within a few minutes on the road, breathing became almost impossible again and we had to use a second epi pen, this time Becky used it from the front seat while Susie held me in the back and Kent raced into the city.
We got to the 24 Hour Urgent Care clinic where they got me stabilized ( I was tachycardic from all the epi), and told me I would need to stay for 6 hours to be monitored in case any type of reaction started again as the epi wore off. My friends set up camp in the room and prepared to wait out the six hours. One would take turns holding me or rubbing my back while the other two would try to sleep or goof around trying to get me to laugh. It would be a rough night but we'd make it through it, together at least.
Three hours later a secondary reaction started and the Urgent Care doctors decided I need to be transferred to the ER. Susie road in the ambulance with me while Kent and Becky followed in the car to the hospital. After a few uneventful hours in the hospital they transferred me to observation and made my friends leave. My support system, the ones forcing me to laugh, reassuring me, reminding me of who I am and who I belong to were forced to walk away.
After a few hours in observation I seemed to be having another secondary reaction so the Doctors administered immunosuppressive steroids to stop my body from trying to fight whatever allergen was in my system. At this points doctors definitely believed it was something I ate and my body would keep reacting to it without help until it passed through my system. Those were very painful hours and it seemed as though pain relief could not come soon enough. I had a massive headache from all the epi and trauma of the hours before. When we were driving home the next day is when I started vomiting, I assumed my system was just extra sensitive from being put through the ringer during the night.
By midday Saturday my roommates decided after almost 14 hours of vomiting blood I needed to go back into the hospital. Susie and I drove back to the 24 Hour Urgent care and they examined me after a two and half hour wait in a crowded waiting room, dry heaving into a mop bucket. After running tests, they diagnosed my intense pain and nausea as appendicitis and I needed surgery.
They again transferred me to the hospital and wrote up orders for surgery that evening. We got to the hospital and they admitted me at the SARA ward (pre-op). They said my symptoms were very much leaning towards appendicitis and they started blood tests, IV fluids and broad spectrum antibiotics. A few hours later I went down for the most painful ultrasound I've ever had to rule out any other organs since I have a history of kidney stones. The other organs were clear and so we were told again surgery would be that night or the next day. At this point because we knew literally any minute I could get bumped up the list and go into surgery we started calling and texting my Mom and close family and friends to get them praying and try to keep them in the loop.
I am so immensely blessed my roommate and one of my closest friends, Susie who stayed by my side and held my hand, played with my hair, bugged my nurses through out the night for me and tried to keep my family and the base here updated. We layed in my hospital bed and tried watching movies on her laptop to keep my mind off of the pain while we waited for surgery. By very late that night they would take my support system away from me again and make Susie leave. They needed to move me to a different ward to await a CT scan in the morning after some of my blood results had made them question their original diagnosis of appendicitis. My oxygen stats were dropping so they put me on oxygen, pain killers, nausea meds, and antibiotics through the night. I knew I must've looked bad by Susie's face when she was allowed back in my room early the next day. You know that look you're closest friends have, that really quick look of shock before they put on the supporter hat and convince you everything is going to be ok? Becky and Kent came back a few hours later and around noon the next day they were able to do the CT scan and decided it was not appendicitis. In fact they couldn't really be sure what it was. They gave me a few guesses, decided I should eat and sent me home. In pain, disappointed, humiliated and scared.
The next week I continued to vomit multiple times a day, the girls' made a makeshift bed on their floor so I'd be near someone if I woke during the night. Some days I was strong enough to go to meetings and talk with people, some days I couldn't get out of bed. New symptoms seemed to be cropping up almost daily, what doctors originally thought was a rash from whatever allergen I encountered turned into sores all over my neck and chest. I took a very painful shower one of the days to realize I had bleeding sores all over my scalp. One day a friend noticed my left ear bleeding and a small mass behind it. I was nauseated and dizzy almost constantly, by the weekend my balance was off and I'd often trip or need to grab someone or something to stand up straight, my hearing was off in some way I couldn't describe, friends around me told me I was starting to lose weight (which of course as a girl I didn't believe until I tried wearing something other than hospital sweats and hoodies. My clothes that were fitted a few weeks ago, hang loose today.
This was one of the hardest weeks of my life. I was scared that doctors were telling me they couldn't figure out what was wrong with me, and didn't seem to care. My body was completely out of my control, and my YWAM reputation of being able to "tough it out" seemed to be failing me. There were days and times when I literally couldn't fathom the energy to move from my bed or even hold a smile long enough for a picture. Those of you who know me, would know this is not the Mandi you know. I was worried that without being able to work or minister here I was quickly becoming a burden to those around me, especially Becky and Susie who constantly checked on me, comforted me, prayed for and with me. The AW80 school that I have been around in this season, the staff and students who have stolen my heart and have blessed me to be a part of their family. They're preparing to go on outreach, to serve and change nations. I missed celebrating their continuous growth, life and miracles God is doing in and through them. My heart broke that I couldn't help my amazing roommates, as the time before they all leave for outreach gets closer and closer. Even seeing my "little brother" and co-staff from last year Stephen arrive could only be greeted with a weak hug and short conversation from my bed. I couldn't text or email the people who so desperately deserved updates because looking at a screen or trying to keep my hands steady enough to type was too painful. By midweek I reverted to using a walkie talkie feature on my phone to let people at home know how I was. My Mom was a continued source of strength for me, sending prayers as often as she could, staying strong for my on the phone, (until as she self professed that last phone call when she just couldn't do it anymore and started weeping on the phone with me).
One of the hardest parts of that week was getting the email bill from the hospital stay. I was assuming it would sting but be tolerable, like last years $700 hospital bill. Insurance would cover it and in about two months of running through hoops of getting the check to someone in the states and finding a way into my account, etc. later I would have most of that money back (or that's how it went last year). This would be incredibly stretching, scary and inconvenient as the Snowboard school I'm staffing is starting soon and I need to be able to pay my staff fees, even if the insurance will reimburse most of it, it will be many weeks too late. I had hopes of blessing a dear friend on her birthday before heading out for outreach, and starting off the snowboard school is a decent place financially (for a missionary after all). This was when I assumed the bill would be many hundreds of dollars. My heart nearly stopped when I opened the bill $5500! I was speechless because I could not even fathom having that much money to pay up front, hoping insurance will accept the whole claim and reimburse me. I couldn't imagine being in debt for years to this country, I couldn't and still can't imagine what will happen if insurance does not accept the claim. My hands shook and tears ran down my face as I realized I was holding a bill well over five thousand dollars and I was still the sickest I've ever been in my life. I was holding a bill that huge and they still didn't know what was wrong with me.
I need to be humiliating honest and vulnerable right now. Being in this community our answer is always (as it should be) "Don't worry, trust in God", "Your Father God owns everything, $5000 is nothing for him!", "He has more than enough for you, don't worry." Especially when you have someone who is incredibly ill, I completely understood why those around me were telling me this anytime the bill or insurance would come up. It was much more important for me to rest and try to get better than to worry and stress about what felt like an impossible amount of money. While I knew they trusted those words, I think that's also the only thing the community around me knew how to say, we're all missionaries and any way you look at it, almost $6000 is a lot of money! While I know I am loved and understood, in the back of my mind I knew, "I have been down this road before."
Most of you know that I was in the hospital when I was nineteen years old for a little over a week. In this time whether intentional or not I was bumped from my Dad's insurance (although legally I should have been on it) and months later received a $15,000 hospital bill. As a teenager I had no clue how to deal with it. I asked a few people and assumed the hospital would track down my Dad, get my insurance information and it would be ok. It wasn't and at twenty three I was sued by the hospital. Having that big ugly blemish on my credit report has followed me even until now. For years I would take home less than 75% of what I made because of garnishments. For the foreseeable future I won't ever be able to be approved for a a credit card or a loan. I have had a big medical bill like this before and as far as financially it has ruined my life. I don't want to illicit false sympathy here. Being in the hospital when I was a teenager was a consequence to wrong choices I made while dealing with depression and being far from God. It was my fault. I know I have found new life and freedom from the person I was than but have carried the debt, lawsuit and credit issues as a badge of shame even unto now. I am still paying for embarrassing mistakes I made as a teenager. All of the guilt, shame and fear that I've struggled with comes flooding back as I held another seemingly impossible bill in a country where I'm away from family, and an ability to work or make money, and a huge fear of asking anyone else to help. Struggling to trust that I've been forgiven and made new from that part of my life, that this was not, "my fault."
My family at home asked me to pray about leaving New Zealand and seeking care in the States. That they loved and supported me, that they knew I would follow God's voice in my heart either way but they were ready to receive me home if my health continued to decline. I had a few friends pray with me seeking answers from God if I should be released to go home and although it was incredibly hard we all still felt as though I should stay at this point. I was surrounded by love and prayer but my heart still felt like it was breaking. How much even as an adult I wished to be with my Mama, how much the pictures and videos of my nieces overwhelmed me, as letters and cards, chocolates and juices, got secretly left in my room here. I was overwhelmed by the pain going on in my body but just as overwhelmed at the emotion of the love and support I had. For this I am eternally grateful.
But by that weekend even if we had heard otherwise from God, it would take a miracle. It became very clear, I was not healthy or safe enough to fly home alone. By the end of the week those closest to me started talking about whether I should go back in again to the hospital. And by Monday evening when I started vomiting blood again we decided it was time. Those around me laid hands on me and prayed as one of my leaders prepared a car for us. I was overwhelmed, both in pain and emotion. I was scared that they again wouldn't be able to find what was wrong with me, that I would feel stupid that as far as they were concerned there was no reason for me to be sick, painful tests and huge bills. I was coming to the end of myself.
We got to the 24 Hour Urgent Care within a few hours. The doctor there refused to run anymore tests as he had the results from the blood tests at the hospital a week early. He looked at the results and at me and basically said there was nothing wrong with me, here's another $100 prescription for more drugs and sent us on our way. I couldn't even cry at this point, we drove home quietly and I climbed into my bed. I prayed alone, wondering how much more I could take before I gave up. I feared the fight being sucked out of me. I'm not proud of how deep my fear and despair grew in that time. I have lived enough of life to know my God is faithful. But I spent many dark nights in my room alone, yelling at God, crying out to him. Why? Why me? Why did I have to go through this? What did I do wrong? Why did I feel so alone? So weak? So small? Where was my God? Where was the God I felt like I'd come so far to serve? To listen to? To obey? Where are you now God? Where are you when I feel like my body is falling apart and everyone who should have the answers says there are none?
The next day (last Tuesday) I feel was the spiritual breaking point.I still felt incredibly weak and sick but something in my heart, something I can't explain was just a little different. My base here prayed for me twice in all staff meetings, and I heard of many friends raising the call to friends and churches in their homes to please start praying for me. We needed answers. One of my leaders Kim took me to a GP at a different clinic that our base has a relationship with. The doctor we meant to see was overseas and so we saw another woman who poured over every document we have from the hospitals and urgent cares. She asked more questions that all of the other medical trips put together and immediately started running new tests. She explained some of the in's and out's of New Zealand health care and committed to finding out what was wrong with me. After the first test and taking my blood pressure she decided my body was in dangerous enough place that I needed to once again be transferred to hospital. As far as she could see I had a kidney infection, dangerously low blood pressure and was very dehydrated. I called my Mom as we drove to the hospital and we all finally lost it. Weeping on the phone, I knew this was the last straw. We had to have answers this time. They had to have some ray of hope for me, for my family here and at home, for this tribe around me.
At the hospital to attempt to shorten a very long story they ran more tests. And after all was said and done it was realized it was the hospital that had made me sick... It was clear that I did have an infection. While they were not cause for serious alarm at this point my liver had become inflammed, while one test showed my pancreas to be fine, another showed it was not quite functioning as well as it should be, the same with my kidneys. We will have additional blood tests next week to be sure they are fine but they were in chaos because of the combination of immune suppresive meds followed days later by strong broad spectrum antibiotics. My body had nothing left in it to fight the antibiotics so it started to fight the healthy parts of me. The internal organs, my sores, the bleeding in my ears and on my head could all be credited to that. As well as the narcotics they gave me for pain being way too strong and uncontrolled so that they had almost paralyzed part of my digestive system which was making me very sick. The vomiting and nausea could be credited to any of it. The bleeding because I'd been being sick for so many days so violently I had torn my esophagus in multiple places. Finally we had answers!!
While those around me could see even that day the relief, I knew it would be a long road. While it's very disappointing to know it was negligence on the hospitals part that I was so sick, that I have to pay for their mistakes both financially and physically. The relief of knowing this isn't something that is dangerously wrong with me, it's not something we have to worry about coming back, it's not going to stay with me for life. Although the road to recovery may be long and slow it has started.
Now I am on antibiotics for the infection and am trying to start easing off nausea pills. Very, very slowly starting to eat again. I keep telling myself one step forward, two steps back still eventually gets me to the finish line. While vomiting is substantially less then it was, it is still a daily occurance while I try to introduce food back into my life. Daily my color improves and I can spend more time on my feet and interacting with people before I need to go rest. I am slowly starting to feel like myself again.
I remember very clearly (http://tonarnia.blogspot.co.nz/2012/08/long-awaited-and-overdue.html) last year going through major medical trauma with one of my small group girls, and now one of my best friends, Sophie. She shattered her arm while we were snowboarding out of town last year and had a few horrendous days in hospital and surgery. I remember seeing within days a change in her countenance and face. And when she had time to process all she had gone through and give words to it. She would speak about this change we could all see in her, she said in being forced to be so small while being hurt and helpless in her recovery she learned how big and how faithful her God is. I loved her heart and the humility in which she walked that out. This furious passionate faith being lived out in a girl completely satisfied to be small in her Papa's arms. No matter what is said or done to or about Sophie, my little peanut of a girl is happy to be just that, small and utterly helpless without her Jesus. We've talked about it often, what an awful experience it was but how much good has come out of it. Her and I have talked about what I've experienced that in the last few weeks. I've realized God can handle my doubts, God can handle the darkest nights of my soul, God's love does not change for me whether I am well and standing somewhere preaching or I'm a sick crumpled ball on the bathroom floor. God is all powerful creator, I am the created. He is the all powerful, I am to be the faithful.
I am at a loss for words for how thankful I am for the people who have walked this road with me. There have been SO many, Kent, Kim, Steph, Karen and Cindy, Dave and Christine and those at home, Mom, Sophie, Alex but specifically the students of the AW80 school who were praying for me daily, talking to my through my window, leaving treats in my room, making me hot drinks, gently hugging me whenever they would see me, including me in everything they possibly can, writing, calling and texting home to have their families, friends and churches to join in the war of prayer that was going on. And of course my beautiful roommates, Susie and Becky. We call ourselves "trust tree" this triangle of three midwest girls who've somehow been thrown together in this little town in New Zealand. Becky and Susie are AW staff who've claimed me into a little triangle of trust, relationship honor, laughter, passion, protection, grace, and love. They have walked this road with me without condition. They have held my hands during painful tests, slept in hospital beds and on floors with me, laughed after I've thrown up because it's the only thing left to do, praying and talking through the door while I'm sick, reassured me I have value, I'm beautiful and loved. Even before I was sick this relationship was of utmost value to me as I've learned so much through and with these girls. Please pray immense blessing on them as they prepare to lead teams into the nations in two weeks when they head off on outreach. I am heart broken to see them leave soon, I'll have tears as they take off but I'll cheer as they fly.
I'm not completely recovered yet but I am getting there. Slowly but surely my strength is coming back, big victories and small failures in getting healthy. Hopefully this week I will very slowly be able to rejoin some of my teams and responsibilities here. I had a goal of being able to go to Love Feast this week, a celebration of love in this season. With the girls' help I was able to get dressed up and get my hair done and sit through their dinner. I am so thankful and grateful I was there.
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| Our Trust Tree: Becky, Susie and I. The girls who've walked this road with me. |
And obviously there is a huge financial need right now. I have the original $5500 bill from the hospital. Along with around $500 in bills from Urgent Care, $100 for the ambulance (which we were told would not cost us anything when we tried to refuse it), $300 in prescriptions (half of which I have now been told not to take), $70 for the appointment with the GP, $100 in traveling costs and we're guessing another $1000 or so for the last hospital stay. We are hoping and praying my insurance will cover most of this. We are not able to file the claim right now because we are still waiting on the last hospital bill. We have to file everything from one event at the same time. We're praying insurance company and hospital has mercy on me. I am supposed to pay all of this upfront and insurance will ideally reimburse me. (Last year this took two months and chaos of sending the check to someone in MN to deposit in to their account and PayPal to me who'd left for Malaysia at that point). In whatever scenario turns out, the truth is I need a lot of support and many, many miracles. I need almost $7000 right now. I need $10 right now. I need $100 right now. I need $1000 dollars right now. This is the part of being a missionary that always makes my stomach get all knotty. Asking for money from people. But please from the bottom of me I'm asking would consider praying about helping me in this time.
Please pray if there is any amount you could use to support me paying these medical bills?
Helping to pay my staff fees which are due very quickly, and support me staying here, sowing into the Kingdom through me?
Support me staying here in New Zealand to invest into this AW80 school that has made me a part of their family, given so much to me in their last few weeks here?
Would you support me pouring into the next generation of snowboarders who sooner than we know it will be here?
Would you pray about sowing into me seeing one of my small group girls from last year, not be "my" small group charge anymore but one of my co-staff and lead with her? Literally watching the seeds of change and freedom I fought for in her life come to life before my eyes?
Would you pray about sowing into what I believe is the call of God on my life and heart: to bring his Freedom and Truth into the hearts of nations being released from this place, my second home in Oxford, New Zealand?
And finally... would you please consider supporting more of those "dark nights" of my soul when I struggle and wrestle with God, when it hurts to trust and grow but ultimately brings greater freedom and faith in my life? Drawing me closer in to His heart and love?
If you feel so lead as to help me the quickest and easiest way would be to send money online through the PayPal link at the top of this blog, on the right side. Any money that comes through there can be in my checking account within days.
Thank you for reading, for loving me, for supporting me, for praying for me. I know I literally could not have made it through these last few weeks without the prayers and support of people all over the world. Thank you! Thank you for supporting my family in this time of hardship being so far from each other, thank you for your concern and facebook posts, thank you for praying about supporting me financially. May you be blessed 100 fold!
This has been incredibly hard, scary experience but also a huge place of growth and new vision in my life. While this is not anywhere close to what I would like to be as a transition between seasons in my life, it has been a marker of my time here. The journey of this year, the growth of my heart. I know that I have not fully processed all that God has for me through this journey, that insight is coming slowly but surly as I grow stronger and understand more of who my Father is. It hasn't been a fun or easy time but I can say I don't regret it happening. I know my Father has good plans for me and a perfect purpose in all things.
Thank you for hearing my heart. Thank you for your support.
Please feel free to copy and share this newsletter with whomever you believe could help or support or be blessed by my journey.
