Just...thankful

This weekend was one of those moments that hits you in the face with the fragility of life.  Saturday night I started having chest pains.  I kept brushing it off with the “it’s just gas” excuse.  Gradually it became worse and more intense.  I woke up at 2 AM knowing something was wrong.  “Maybe it’s gas?  But this is way bad.  Did I strain it somehow?”  I had taken a load of treasures to Goodwill that morning.  I thought lifting the bags of clothes somehow pulled a muscle.  My parents encouraged me to go to the ER; however, I was hesitant because of my pride and vanity.  “I will be mortified if they diagnose me with ‘bad gas’.”  Finally, good sense got a hold of me, and we went to the ER.  Just check it out and make sure.  The “nice” thing about chest pain is they give you priority when you check in.  I’m hooked up to the EKG, which shows no signs of a heart attack.  Ok, that’s good…so it’s gas, right?  Then the blood work starts, and the pain become unbearable.  One of the blood tests comes back abnormal, so then I need a CT scan.  The only way I was getting relief from my pain was to sit straight up and lean slightly forward.  Taking a deep breath was (and still is) quite a task.  I had to get just at that right angle, then it’s always accompanied by a weird noise on the exhale.  Hey, whatever works, right.  I’m finally taken to get the CT scan (this is after we’ve been there 7 hours).  What’s required?  Laying flat on my back with my arms behind my head.  Yeah, no.  I actually started crying because of the pain.  When was the last time I ever shed tears over pain?  I look at him pleading, “I cant.”  The tech says curtly, “What do you want me to do about it?”  I just thought, “Ok, Lord, please help me.”  I was able to get the test done, and the intensity of the pain made me really nauseous and dizzy.  The doctor came in maybe 2 minutes later.  He told me both lungs had blood clots and I was being admitted.  I text my parents and they said they’d be right up.  There’s something about your parents.  No matter how old you are, you always want their comfort.  They arrive just as the on-call hospital doctor arrived.  By this point in time, I was really scared and emotional.  I was almost not going to come!  I hurt SO bad!  Am I going to have a stroke?  The “sensitive” doctor looks at me and says, “Why are you crying.  Don’t cry.  This is no big deal.”  Really?  Just so you know, crying when you can’t physically breathe is a bad idea.  The two don’t work together.  As I’m being wheeled upstairs, I start barfing.  UGH.  I haven’t puked since 2006.  (I always think of that Seinfeld when he barfs up the black and white cookie.  “A 20 year streak is over.  Gone!”  Hahaha!)  I get in the room, barf a lot more.  It’s blurry.  I was overcome with emotion in the middle of the night.  It was dark and quiet.  I started thinking of my sweet girls.  I was so thankful to be alive and know I was going to live through this.  I kept thinking of one of my favorite scriptures in the Book of Mormon.  King Benjamin is addressing his people in chapter 2.  He’s talking about how indebted we are to the Lord.  The One “who has created you from the beginning, and is preserving you day to day, by lending you breath, that ye may live and move according to your own will, and even supporting you from one moment to another…”  I felt that gratitude and that debt to my Heavenly Father.  Thankful he had preserved me another day by lending me breath…supported me in my pain.  I felt those words literally.  “Thank you” isn’t enough, but it is all I can do.  I am so thankful for the Lord’s ever present hand in my life.  He is aware.  He is real.  Contrary to the hospital doctor’s words, this is going to be a life changer for me.  New medications, monitoring, and medical history.  These incidents, although uncomfortably humbling, confirm and strengthen the faith I already have.  Today and always I will be thankful.