Get Up and Rest Up

I fancy myself a high pain tolerance kind of person. This is laughable if you know me. I hope my close friends are laughing. Yet, I am who I am, and in some way I feel I’ve proven that of myself with my unmedicated births but as it turns out, that really doesn’t mean anything other than surviving a few hours of discomfort. Have you seen the memes that circulate among married couples of “the man cold” where the female (usually a mom) maintains life as everyone knows it despite having the black plague but her husband, on the contrary, cannot handle so much as a summer sniffle and insists he stay in bed or won’t survive? Yeah … I am the man in that scenario. And I am so sorry to my husband for that, because he is most definitely the woman in that scenario.

Prolonged illness just really touches a part of my psyche that activates anxiety and panic and fear in a way few things do. I do not like the unknown of it, I obviously do not like feeling ill, and there’s always the question of - what if this NEVER GOES AWAY? (Just me?)

So when the flu finally caught up to me after it dragged through each of my four children, and I had never had it before, I had no idea the rollercoaster I was in for. Truly, all things considered, I was only very sick for two days (ha!) but the discomfort surrounding the week of the flu was more than I could bear. I am also still carrying the undulating grief of losing my mom in December, and it all just felt like too much to carry. The worst part for me was that my back and hips ached from laying in bed, and general body aches was compounding that pain significantly. Everything just screamed. I am limited on what pain medicine I can take due to some recent personal medical discoveries, so anti-inflammatories were out of the question and I was really starting to drown in the pain of it all.

At my lowest point, Thursday night, I had just taken my third hot shower of the day to help with the chills and my aching body, and got out feeling nauseous, which was becoming my new routine. I paced our bathroom back and forth. When I would sit down in front of the toilet to throw up, I would feel better. So I would stand back up to get in bed, only to feel nauseous when I left the bathroom. My mind was on fire. I was exhausted, sick to my stomach, hurting all over, struggling to breathe, and I was at the frayed ends of my tattered rope. In a moment of defeat I just surrendered on my bathroom floor. I curled into child’s pose and tried to stretch my back out for some relief. I thought about how I was in a similar position in my mom’s belly as she carried me. I cried out to God for healing, knowing full well it’s just the flu and such a small thing in the grand scheme of sickness and life, but also for the ache of my heart as well as my body.

He gently reminded me of when we built our bathroom. How we wrote scriptures in the walls, and knowing that I have unfortunately always struggled with nausea and anxiety walking hand in hand, I had written Phillipians 4:7 on the framing behind the drywall of exactly where I was crouching next to the bath tub in that moment. In 2018 I wrote that verse where I knew I would probably spend time struggling between anxiety and nausea.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

I was so grateful it came straight to my mind from my memory.

Okay, Lord. I’m anxious. I feel like I’m dying (even though I know very well that I am not and that you just made me with a flair for the dramatic). I petition you, please Lord, heal me. What am I thankful for in all of this? I am thankful for a husband who is well enough to care for me and our children. I am thankful it’s just the flu. I’m thankful it isn’t worse. I’m thankful I haven’t thrown up yet. I am thankful for the reminder of just how fragile I am and how I desperately need you for every breath I take in this life. I’m thankful for your nearness. Will you cover me with your peace that transcends all understanding? Will you guard my heart and mind in Jesus? Will you heal me?

As I poured my heart and tears out on my bathroom floor, I felt so clearly the presence of Jesus sitting beside me, rubbing my arched back. My face was on the floor but He was quieting me, without words. I felt covered by His comforting nearness. I continued to pray, and I felt Him asking me to lift my head and drink. He had a cup in his hand for me, and I hung my head. I cried because I knew I didn’t have the faith to believe He could heal me. I was asking but I couldn’t help my unbelief. I kept telling Him, “I can’t, Lord. I can’t. I don’t believe. I want to, so badly, but I don’t believe. Help my unbelief.” and He said, “I believe for you.” And - as insane as I realize this sounds - I sat up slowly and I opened my mouth. Yes I felt half crazy, but I couldn’t miss the opportunity. And Jesus (in my mind’s eye) poured his cup into my mouth and whispered, “Now get up and rest up.”

And I immediately walked to my bed to sleep.

I still felt defeated, although a bit more resigned about it all. I did not feel well. I felt the same. So I took all my medicine, said goodnight to Logan, and crawled into bed. Only before I was able to settle in, I immediately had a coughing fit which ended in a moment of stridor so I could not breathe or speak. Logan heard me struggling and walked in to tears streaming down my face as I pointed at my throat mouthing, “I can’t breathe!” I grabbed my rescue inhaler from my bedside table (I am an asthmatic) and tried my best to take two puffs and it immediately helped, but I was completely terrified by the whole episode.

We called my dad (a pharmacist) and he suggested we wait until the rescue inhaler wore off in four hours to see how my breathing was and then assess if I should go to the emergency room. So that was our plan, but for those next four hours every cough would wake me up immediately in fear that I would not be able to stop. So at the moment four hours had passed I gently told Logan I was driving myself to the ER to make sure I didn’t have pneumonia.

As I left, my stomach ached with hunger but I still felt slightly sick and worried about making it worse, so I grabbed the only thing that sounded good to me: a green apple. It was the first time I’ve ever taken myself to the ER alone, and I ate my green apple whole on the way there. Internally I giggled at how laissez-faire it felt to smack on a juicy green apple while taking myself to the hospital. I felt oddly at complete peace. My breathing was stable. I wasn’t nervous to be alone. I felt strong (albeit tired).

At the ER they confirmed I did not have pneumonia and gave me a breathing treatment and steroids and fluids. My body didn’t hurt by the time I arrived. I had taken Tylenol before I left, so my back did eventually start to hurt again while I was there but it never seemed to reach anywhere near the levels I’d been feeling for the days previously. Once I was discharged, I came home and had the best sleep of the entire week. I woke up refreshed and - still recovering - but actually feeling functional and like myself again.

My body aches never returned. They vanished over the course of that evening, and all of my other most bothersome symptoms were gone by morning. My cough has lingered, as I expected, but I truly believe that Jesus believed for me when I couldn’t, so I could be healed. Maybe He used modern medicine to do it and I just needed some fluids and steroids, but all the praise goes to Him. He is the healer.

I’m sure that’s as weird a story as anyone can tell, but I had to document it for myself and for others because in that most shattered and broken place, He met me. He even told me to “rest up” - knowing I would be up all night.

If you do not believe in the power of Jesus and His friendship, you are missing one of the most beautiful dimensions of this life. I say that with all of the love and conviction in my heart, and not a shred of judgment. Healing or not, learning to walk in every. single. moment. with Him even when it feels like He has abandoned me, has been and continues to be the greatest adventure of my life. He is always close, as close as our breath. My hope is for every person to experience that freedom.

He is near to you, too. Now get up, and rest up.