Now I had hope.  I felt encouraged to fight for my life.  I saw the great outdoors 🙃  I knew I had to fight, I had to trust in God and see what His plan was for me now that life looked different.  When you are in this position you cannot look too far into the future; that can be daunting.  You just have to trust the Lord day by day and see what your new future will be.  Remember God's promise in the bible:  He works all things together for good (paraphrasing, Romans 8:28). 

Oh boy! I could not walk.  I could not talk.  What was I to do? I lay there at the mercy of others.  My sole survival rested on those around me.  I had a feeding tube, I was still hooked up to the ventilator through the trach, and I was still being pumped full of copious amounts of medications.  It was not a fun time.  I was in extreme pain all the time.  The worst of it was the trach.  Oh how I hated that thing!  It was so painful and uncomfortable.  I've never felt anything as horrible.  It began to feel as though they would keep me hooked up to it forever!  It caused me irritation, pain,  and I constantly coughed with no reprieve.  My chest was always aching, and I still could not breathe on my own.  In addition to that my legs and my ankles ached something awful.  It felt as though my bones were collapsing.  No amount of pain medication or re-adjustment to my position helped ease the agony I felt.  I think what I was experiencing was drop foot.  Very painful.  Very not good.  In addition to that they were VERY VERY swollen.  In fact, every part of me was very swollen!  I was experiencing massive water retention.  I had edema, and not just in my feet.  

"Goooood morning Lyndsey!"

It was February 10, 2023 and in the ambulance on the way to the other hospital, I stopped breathing for ten seconds.  Thank goodness it wasn't any longer than that!  They were able to get me breathing again, and hooked up to the ECMO machine at the new hospital.  A lot happened while I was under.  Not only was I on ECMO, but I was also on dialysis.  My organs were shutting down.  This was something no one in my family thought would ever happen.  My children were terrified.  My daughter, only 9 at the time, hates hospitals to this day.  She struggled to come and see me.  My eldest son, 14 then, fainted when he saw the blood being transfused in and out of my body.  It was not a happy time.  In my head a whole lot of things were happening!  I couldn't hear what people were saying but my brain somehow new when things were physically happening to my body and it computed it into a dream that felt like reality.  No pain.  Just weird, oddly realistic dreams.  More to come on that in another post!

After God used my peanut butter sandwich to speak love to me, my health continued to diminish.  My breathing rapidly worsened.  Nothing they were doing was working.  Finally, the doctor came and asked me if he had my permission to intubate me.  I said no.  Why did I say no?  Well, I had let fear get a foothold.   I remembered rumours that circled about in the Christian community during covid.  These rumours spread rapidly online, through social media.  What was the rumour?  Well, it was that people with covid were dying because of the intubation.  All I thought was, "I don't want to die like that." And so, I said, "no, you can't intubate me."  My doctor was alarmed.  He didn't know what to do.  He left my room and went out and spoke with my friend, Ashley.  He told her that I would not consent to letting them intubate me, and if I didn't I would surely die.  Ashley was sure I just did not understand, and she told the doctor just that.  She asked him to speak with me privately and explain to me the situtation and why it was so urgent to obtain my permission.  This is where God used Ashley yet again.  This time to relay the truth to me.  She marched into my ICU room and promptly told me that if I did not allow them to intubate me I would surely die.  She explained it all.  That I needed to let my lungs and heart rest and heal.  After her detailed explanation, I finally understood.  The doctor came back in and told me it was looking like they would need to put me into an induced coma for about a week to let my lungs recover.  

It was 1 o'clock in the morning and there I was being transferred back down to the ICU.  Well, this sucked.  No sugar coating it here.  I felt my life at home and my children's hugs slowly slipping further away.  It was a week and a bit into February 2023.  My 3rd oldest son's birthday was fast approaching on the 21st.  I wanted so desperately to be home for it.  The day before I entered back into the ICU, I had ordered his present online.  I was super excited to see his face.  Even if that meant over video chat - this I was not missing!   I bought him a metal detector.  Something he had wanted for years.  You can imagine the excitement I felt.  A mom always does.  We get more excited for our children than we do ourselves.  But alas...that never happened.  I missed his birthday.  I missed the look on his face when he opened his gift.  But I did not know it...

Two weeks in the ICU in January 2023.  I was getting better.  I was making improvements.  So much so that they decided to move me up to the Hematology Ward to continue my recovery.  Yay!  I was pretty happy.  I was moving in the right direction.  I was still on airvo when they moved me, but that was okay.  However, I got bored rather quickly.  Now that I had a little more energy I was tired of sitting in a bed all day.  I was still hooked up to an IV, but they were reducing my pain meds.  I had to take a very specific type of medication for the fungal pneumonia.  They said it would be a long hull with the meds.  I started to make more progress.  I could sit on the edge of the bed, then eventually I was able to walk to the end of the bed.  Finally, I could walk to the bathroom in my room to pee ALL BY MYSELF!  This was quite the accomplishment, so I was very pleased.  This meant that I was getting better oxygen circulation.  I had peace.  The Lord was with me, and He was helping me to improve.

I was sent back home on January 11th after spending 8 hours in the emergency room.  I still could not breathe. I could barely talk and breathe at the same time.  I couldn't even stand.  Yes, that's how unbelievably weak I was!  My husband had to hold me up to shower me.   I could not sleep.  I didn't sleep for days because I could not sleep and breathe at the same time.  My husband begged me to go back to the hospital.  I refused.  I mean, we all know our health care system in Canada can have it's pros and cons, and I honestly thought what was the point?  I truly believed they would make me sit in the ER for another 8 hours and then send me back home saying I was fine.  I had resigned myself to suffocate to death at home.  I did not have much faith that the system would help me.  Sad?  Yes.  Honest?  Yes.  Now don't get me wrong, we have a great many people that work in health care and do their best, but in this circumstance, at this moment, I felt my life was coming to an end and nobody would help me.  

The last maintenance-chemotherapy I had was October 2022.  I was scheduled to return for my next treatment in the new year.  January 3rd to be exact.  My doctor graciously delayed it for me because my eldest son was travelling to Florida for a baseball tournament.  Boy was I excited!  He had just entered grade 9 and was playing with a new team.  They had entered a "world tournament."  Although not an official world tournament, it was still pretty exciting for me!  Many countries from South America were competing along with the US and our team, who of course, was representing Canada!  We packed up our crew and drove down to Florida, super excited to watch some games and surprise the kids with a trip to Disney World after the tournament had ended.  

We told the kids.  Their mom had cancer.  They were only 12, 10, 9, 7 & 3.  My youngest had only just turned 3.  His birth was a miracle in itself.  I asked the Lord, "why would you give me this answer to my prayer, this miracle child, only to take me away from him?"  I experienced a few moments of weakness.  I am human.  God is God.  He is the one I had to look towards.  Only He knew the answers.  It hurt.  I'm not going to lie.  It was a very painful thought.  I think it passes through most people's minds that they may die once they discover they have the big C.  It didn't make sense to me...why give me these beautiful children and then take me away from them?  This is what I struggled with for awhile.  It wasn't the fear of dying, more so than the fear of my kids not having a praying mother anymore.  All you mother's understand.  Who else will pray so fervently for your children?  Who else would be willing to lay their life down to protect the ones you love?  This, I had to give to the Lord.  It was the only way to ease my burden and face this challenge.

I'm sitting at home and the lumps are multiplying and getting bigger.  It started with two lumps - one behind each ear.  It's now February 2021 and these invasive lumps have sprung up all over my collarbone.  I return to my doctor and show him what's happening.  He decided to send me for an ultrasound to see if there is anything that needs further investigation.  After my ultrasound, the report came in and it didn't show anything of urgency.  The radiologist suggestion was that I return in thirty days so see if the lumps had changed. 

I'm sitting on the couch surrounded by my family.  It's Christmas Eve 2020.  I'm rubbing my neck, and notice two small lumps - one behind each ear.  I immediately think, "Oh no it's cancer."  Why do I think this?  I have never been a worrier before.  I am not a hypochondriac.  But this is the first thought that pops into my mind.  I try to push the thought aside, and tell myself I will call my doctor in the New Year.  The holidays progress and I fall into our regular routine of tradition and fun.