I Want to Live

It will be a year on the first since I threw out my back, and this horrible cycle of pain began. For the last few weeks, I had been doing pretty good; then, I was afflicted with vertigo, followed a few days later by a cold. But still, the pain wasn’t bad at all, except for my neck, which I couldn’t turn without getting dizzy.

Then, I woke up Monday morning with another spin of the Wheel of Misfortune. Right pelvic pain to the point where I couldn’t walk. Over the last eleven months, I’ve had this before, and it usually eases up after two days.

So I woke up yesterday morning, and the right side wasn’t too bad, but the left side was horrible. That has kind of been the trend. Not only is my left pelvis still hurting this morning, but today my left neck is stiff and killing me. 

I’ve dealt with all of this as best I can. Some days, like yesterday, I hit the wall and wasn’t very nice to my husband or son, as if any of this was their fault. But overall, I’ve accepted that this is life.

There was a time, however, last fall when I couldn’t cope anymore. God wasn’t answering my prayers to take away the pain, and He wasn’t answering my prayers when I kept asking why this was happening to me. A depression descended on me, a black cloud. I didn’t care if I got up in the morning; I found nothing to make me laugh. My prayers become times of begging God to take me home to heaven.

I scared myself and the friends and family members who I told about my feelings. I started thinking of all the ways I could kill myself, which looked like an accident.

Then, one afternoon in November, I got crushing chest pain while taking my walk. Instead of going straight to the ER (do not pass go, do not collect $200), since the pain went away by the time I got in the house, I called and made a doctor’s appointment for the following week.

But in my head, I thought, ah-ha, finally, God has listened to my prayers, and He’s going to take me.

I made it to the appointment and had a bunch of tests that day, which all came back pretty okay. But the doctor wanted to run one more test, which took a month to get in for. 

Still, I thought, this is okay. I’ll die from a heart attack before then.

The day of the appointment came, and I was still alive. I made it through the test, and a few days later, my doctor gave me the results. He tried to cover up his concern, but I could tell he didn’t like something about the results. He scheduled me to see cardiology.

I went home and looked up everything I could find online about the number he didn’t like, that one little blimp on an otherwise normal test. What I saw stopped me in my tracks. The words “increased risk for sudden cardiac death” jumped off my computer screen.

I looked out my window and whispered, “But, God, I don’t want to die.” Then I wanted to shout, “I don’t want to die.”

I was like George Bailey near the end of “It’s a Wonderful Life,” hanging on to the bridge railing, his mouth bleeding, repeating, “I want to live. I want to live again.”

When I saw the cardiologist, she said that the one abnormal number on that test usually didn’t mean anything, but she’d schedule one last test just to be sure. That one came back totally normal, and I was cleared; there was nothing wrong with my heart.

And my mind? That is good again, too. Coz I don’t wanna die. No matter how much pain I’m in or what new ailment assails me, I want to live.

Yes, I am sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor ruling spirits, nothing now, nothing in the future, no powers, nothing above us, nothing below us, nor anything else in the whole world will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:38-39, New Century Version)