18 Years

During a recent trip to my doctor's office for my annual health check-up, I got news I'm not sure I thought I would ever hear.  "You can stop taking your carvedilol."  I'd been taking this medication for congestive heart failure.

My story of having congestive heart failure began 18 years ago around 2:30 in the morning.  I was lying in bed trying to sleep but I was having trouble breathing.  I was gasping for air.  I leaned over to my husband (ex) and told him how I was feeling and asked him to take me to the hospital.  He didn't move so I drove myself to the ER and ended up being admitted, where I stayed for 10 days.  Not only did I have to worry about getting better but I also had to be concerned about my 10-year-old daughter's welfare since she was now in the sole custody of her father, who was absent from the family more times than he was present.

Little did I know at the time just how sick I was.  I was already being treated for hyperthyroidism but this felt much worse.  When my primary doctor came in to see me, she immediately called in a cardiologist to run some tests.  The cardiologist confirmed congestive heart failure as the diagnosis and I had to stay in the hospital until they could get my heart rate down (it was beating over 140 beats a minute).  My heart, I was told, was very weak and the hyperthyroidism exacerbated my overall condition.

I had a hard time dealing with that diagnosis at first because I was in my 40's and I certainly didn't want to be on anybody's death bed.  I also had difficulty coming to grips with the reality that I had to take the same medication that really old, sick people needed to stay alive.  All of these thoughts, coupled with the fact that I hate taking pills, became an excuse for skipping dosages.  I figured if I missed a pill or two once or twice a week it was no big deal.  Of course, an Echocardiogram ordered by my cardiologist revealed my heart had weakened even further, which forced me to confess I wasn't taking the medication as directed.

So much happened over those 18 years.  I was on the brink of death a few times, while trying to keep my job and raise a child. During that time I got a divorce, which took some of the pressure and stress out of my life but I was still very sick physically, emotionally and spiritually.  It was a struggle just to breathe. A woman from my church, who had also been diagnosed with congestive heart failure shortly after me, ended up having to carry around an oxygen tank to help her breathe.  She passed away around 2010. I went into a state of depression but I knew I couldn't stay there long because I had a child to raise so I kept trying to push myself and follow the doctor's orders.

Initially, I didn't want anyone to know my struggles because "publicly" I've always been known to be a strong woman. I started praying and going to church more.  As my prayer life became impactful, God told me I would be a testimony for someone one day.  Did I believe it then?  Not really because I was still trying to understand why God would allow this to happen to me---especially since I was someone who exercised vigorously ever since I was a teenager.

During those 18 years I found myself slowly getting better with the help of the Cardio-Rehab program at Duke.  I met people who were struggling just like me.  We encouraged each other, while understanding the seriousness of what we were going through.  The program forced me to start exercising again and I discovered I was getting better.  I started writing and became a best selling author.  I re-married and welcomed a grandson into my life.  All of this gave me hope and a will to keep moving forward.

When I see my cardiologist these days, she likes to remind me how sick I was and how far I've come.  I knew I turned a major corner when I was able to climb to the top of a mountain during a trip to the Blue Ridge Parkway last year.  Now I'm not going to lie and say it was a breeze. I stopped to rest about 10 times As a matter of fact, my husband climbed all the way to the top by himself and then came back down to get me so we could walk together.  But I did it and I have the pictures to prove it!

Hearing my doctor tell me I can stop taking my heart medication is a blessing.  It is God's promise:  "By His stripes, we are healed." (Isaiah 53:5) This has been 18 years in the making.  God has a plan and a purpose for my life and this is part of it.

My story is not over yet.  18 years ago it could've been----but God is Good and I am a LIVING witness of His Grace!