I have been recapping the events leading up to that day in the hospital where my miracle was granted. What the world could not see was that day after day, I was laying on the couch at my folks house, unable to do anything but rest for hours on end. I would fix meals, if I had a bit of energy, but I usually required a LOT of assistance from my children or husband in order to do so. I remember more than once where my mom came in from work, took one look at me laying there, and her eyes began to swell with tears.
"What's wrong, Mom?" I would ask her.
"You are just so.... sick," she would sadly reply.
I supposed I never really saw it, until then. I really was sick. It seemed that once I got the diagnosis back in June, after more than a dozen years of doctors running tests, my body decided it was ok to be sick. It was ok to be in pain, to faint, to have such severe fatigue, I could hardly function most days. That diagnosis validated everything I thought I had been imagining all those years that I pushed through the pain. My heart was enlarged. My circuits were going crazy. My heart was working way too hard to function properly. That diagnosis was permission to rest, because if I did not rest, then I would die.
It had been my life for more than 5 years, I told her. This was "normal" for me. She has been at my father's side for many years with his failing heart. She knows the signs. I was dying. It was hard for some to see, because I would still go to church or other activities. What they did not see is that when I got home, I would collapse for hours afterwards. Sure, I would go grocery shopping for 30 minutes, then I would spend the next three hours recovering from that outing. For the most part, my life came to a halt. My bedtime went from 10pm, to 9 pm, and eventually worked its way down to 6 pm. Often, I would make sure someone was overseeing dinner, climb into my pajamas (if I got out of them that day) then go to bed, falling asleep long before my children dreamed with the angels. I was not allowed to go do anything strenuous, and even walking was only if someone was with me. Once I had my diagnosis, once we were in a place where I had help with my children, it was as if my mind gave permission to my body to really start feeling what was happening. My heart was failing me. It would take a major surgery to keep me alive. Without that surgery, tt would take a miracle to survive at all.
Three months ago, you fasted and prayed for me. Three months ago, the Spirit guided the hands of my heart surgeon. Three months ago, the problem was found, then corrected. Three months ago, the doctors tested my heart to go into cardiac arrest and it did not respond to the drugs- a great sign! Three months ago, I was told (although I have no recollection because I was so drugged up) that my heart was fixed, that I would never have to get the life saving device and that, with time and healing, I would be fine.
How am I able to be simply mortal, yet have this Divine understanding?
God uses us to fulfill His purposes. He has granted me the life I need to share my story, so that I can bring glory to Him. (It is taking all the control I have to not weep while I write this.) I know He is mindful of each of us. I know that my life has been spared for a purpose. He loves me. I am His greatest creation! He loves you. You are His greatest creation!
I do not need to know about the intricacies of how my heart works, because that is what the specialists are for. I just need to know I had a condition that was life-threatening and God, in all of His Glory, guided my team of doctors to correcting the electrical storm that was raging. The storm has been stilled. I am still tired. I am still healing, but I am ALIVE!!
My name is Jenny McKinney. I am so blessed. Want some chocolate?
(Picture is "Peace, Be Still" by Simon Dewey.)
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