As I found myself struggling to get out of bed or survive, I grew more and more frightened. I prayed and prayed and prayed for help or someone to help sort through these unfamilar and horrific feelings I was facing.
I received a priesthood blessing from my beloved husband. He laid his hands on my head and offered a beautiful blessing. In it, I was promised protection. Protection from the horrible medication reaction. I breathed a deep breath thinking my living hell would ease and come to an end.
The overwhelming and all encompassing peace that I am used to, didn't come. I beat myself up wondering how and when I had lost my faith and my ability to receive such blessings from my Savior. I again questioned what was wrong with me.
The world became darker and my glimmer of hope for anyone or anything to pull me out faded. I knew I was alone. All alone.
When I thought the literal gates of hell would swallow me up with the sheer misery my heart encountered, the Savior sent help in the form of the bishopric. When they came, I was hurt and angry and didn't want to go to the door. However, Thomas didn't give up as he knew it was what I needed.
When they started discussing Hayden's upcoming Trek, I again found myself telling the Savior that they must have felt inspired to come but were missing what was so needed at this minute. But how do I bring it up and what would they do if I did?
As we talked, I remained hard and cold and calm. I participated in the discussion to the point I had to, and tried to hold it together for Hayden's sake. Then, the question came, "How are you doing?" I tried with all my might to push down the flood of emotions that were ready to break the dam. No such luck.
I explained my anger of the Mayo doctor that lied to us to protect his ego. I talked of all I had lost from his decision. I explained that it took months and years to get medical help because I was labeled anxious. That during the four additional years that it took to get the diagnosis, that my illness has progressed and deteriorated to a point that doctors have no hope of curing me, but are trying to buy me time. No hope of a cure. No hope of the life I was knew. I was forever changed and so was Thomas and Hayden's lives. It wasn't fair. And most of all, I sobbed for all the relationships that suffered and disappeared because I didn't have a diagnosis that they understood. I had lost family, friends, our home, my health, my independence, my freedom, our finances, our lifestyle, our ability to go places and our ability to live a normal life. Because of one man's agency to choose his ego over the truth, my life was in shambles.
The bishop took a deep breath unsure of where to begin. But the first counselor stepped in. He told me he hasn't known me long and vocalized the respect he has for me, the inspiration I am to so many and the way that those around me truly see me. He told me that he would have stopped fighting over five years ago, if in my shoes.
He then said something that struck a cord, a ray of hope. He talked of how he admired that no matter how much Satan fought me and threw absolutely all he could at me, I never faultered but found a blessing in each trial and a fortitude for greater strength in my battles with him. He discussed how the adversary had used every technique possible to destroy me. He tried to kill my mortal body in order to break my spirit. He talked of the great faith I have because I know that I have fought satan head to head and come out victorious.
He then said what I needed to hear.... "After all the battles that have been raged against you and all the fights you have won. Why would you let him get in your head now and try to destoy you mentally?"
I hadn't thought of that. I knew I had been in the battle of my life. But why? Why would someone lie? Why would someone hide the truth?
The adversary was raging this war. This war that had to be fought head to head just me and him. I had come too close to our Savior and witnessed too many miracles to have help when I so desperately needed it. If the adversary could take me mentally with thoughts of -no one loving me, then he ultimately wins. So I couldn't let him defeat me in his last ditch effort to take me down.
All of a sudden I felt my fight come back. The clouds somewhat cleared enough for me to see with my premortal eyes and know that crushing him was the only option. Giving in is something I would never do. The circumstances may not change. It may be a fight I must face alone, but I am determined to win this one. Absolutely positive.
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