My Gethsemane

The next day after my prior post, I finally said , "Enough is enough." and called my MD who said he wanted to see me, straight away.  So my ever faithful friend and I took off for the "Land O' Goshen" to see Dr D.

Dr. D listened it my story, then put his hand on my arm and said, "Don't worry Cynthia, we'll get you through this."  I was startled.  Alarms went off in my head.  What could possibly be so wrong as to warrant Dr D's "special statement" reserved for only my most life threatening illnesses??

Dr D then sent me upstairs to get an echo...then I understood. I had had these shivers and sweats once before in my life---when I had endocarditis.  The technician chatted as she did the echocardiagram and then the doctor told me to go and sit in an adjoining room, where I could hear everything.  The tech said, "There is something definitely suspicious ...I would say it's a positive test..."

The cardiologist came out and told me that he thought I had endocarditis.  Still I pooh-poohed the idea (I've been hanging around my husband too long).  The cardiologist admitted me into the hospital straight away. The next morning a TEE (trans-esophageal echocardiagram) confirmed the diagnosis...I have endocardititis of the pulmonic valve.

So I've been here in the hospital since last Wednesday...and today is Monday.  I should probably make it home by Wednesday of this week...I will be gettin g a PICC (Pronounced "pick")  line probably later today. This is an intravenous tube that runs from midarm to your heart through which a person can give themselves infusions of medication.  I will be needing 6 weeks of medication.  Two medicines, three times a day.

That's not the bad news though. 

The bad news is that I will not be likely able to take anymore medications for my arthritis....because it was likely due to the fact that my immune system is suppressed from the Enbrel I was taking that I've been having this plethora of infections.  Because my rheumy does not wish to play Don Quixote   by battling death, well, I will be fighting these windmills of disease and pain, all on my own....standing right behind my shield of faith and sharpening my skills with my sword--God's Word...so no, not so alone.  My Lord comes with me. And when I stumble, He will pick me up.

Frightened?
Yes.  As I imagine Jesus was in the Garden of Gethsemane; terrified.
But knowing that this is the road God has for me to walk....so I will trust him to give me the strength to do so. And my spirit cries, "Lord if there is any other way...."