Physiotherapy had commenced.  I was being seen a couple times a day and they were attempting to prepare me to eventually transition out of the ICU.  However, a few things the doctors told me and my family:  my left lung was completely pooched and they had no hope that it would recover.  Could I possibly get a lung transplant?  Nope, it would be considered a "waste" on me!  Seems harsh doesn't it?  After all, I was only 39.  You'd think if they could give a lung to anyone it would be a young mom with five kids!  But not me.  I had just defeated stage 4 non-hodgkin's  lymphoma.  They deem this an incurable cancer, (something they can only put to "sleep"), so in their eyes it made no sense to waste a lung on me.  I get it. That's okay.  I have Jesus.  I have 100% faith that I will never see that cancer again - more on why I believe this later! 

Well I was recovering in the ICU I learned a lot of important lessons.  One of which was to be grateful for so many things we take for granted.  Let's be honest, we live in a material culture.  Even the best christians among us suffer from this affliction of materialism.  We want and we want. I was and am no different.  I want a nice house, a big kitchen, a lovely bathroom, a cozy bedroom and I want it all just the way I like it.  I want nice clothes and pretty mugs to drink my tea out of.  I love these things.  I love these big things I long for and these small things that bring me bursts of joy.  But I learned the hard way that these things we cling to, these things we think we need, are not what God promises when He says He will provide.  

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.