About four months into my employment, disaster threatened to shake all the new found blessings that God had given me.
In 2014, while I worked at the hospital, I had an attack that sent me to the emergency room. I could not breathe. I was hurting in my chest cavity. I couldn't even fill out the paperwork to admit myself into the emergency room.
They wheeled me to my assigned room for emergency evaluation, and on the way, between gasps, at 45 years old, I found myself crying, "I want my mama!"
I would never cry for my mom. I was (and am) very independent, and did what I could never to need my mom. For me to cry out for comfort from my mom, was proof of the amount of pain and fear I was in.
When they got me to my room, this continued for a good fifteen minutes, while the nurse patiently stood their observing me, at a loss as to how to help me until the doctor could get there. Finally, a wave of nausea passed over me and I looked at her and said, "I'm fixing to puke."
She immediately handed me a gray tub, and I puked.
Then, I was fine. I could breathe. The doctor had come in as I was puking, and he was observing me. I looked at the doctor, smiled, and said, "I can go back to work now. I'm fine."
He said, "No. You are not going back to work today. You are not going back until after we test you tomorrow." He made an appointment for me to come in the next day for an ultrasound to see what caused this horrific episode..
I presented my boss with the doctor's orders and went home.
The next day, I was diagnosed with gallstones.
Because, at the time, I didn't have insurance, the doctor said they would not treat it. My kidneys and liver were working well. I needed to change my diet and live with it. If it became unmanageable, and an "actual emergency" (when my skin jaundiced and I was in pain that would not subside) then they would be forced to do something.
So for four years, I managed my pain, having an occasional attack when I ate the wrong things or ate too fast. All was good. I was even eating healthier. I had to give up some of my favorite foods at a result, like bacon, but I was managing it.
When I started working at the prison, the first thing we did during our academy training was fill out all the paperwork required for insurance purposes. I opted to pay for everything. I got health, vision, dental, short-term disability, long-term disability, life and retirement. My paycheck was cut almost $1,000 a month for all the insurance I was paying for, and I still made more money monthly than I made at the hospital. I was blessed.
One Thursday night, about two weeks after my baby-dogs were returned to me, before I even made the first payment on my new home, I had a gallbladder attack. I struggled with it for a longer time than usual, but it subsided.
The next morning, I decided to make a doctor's appointment. I had insurance, and my recent attack made me realize that I needed to be vigilant with my health. I was not getting any younger. But, the doctor's office never returned my call.
On Friday night, August 31, 2018, the gallbladder attack came back. I struggled with it for hours, until I was finally able to fall asleep. Then, I slept for 32 hours straight. I just did not have the energy to get up. When I finally woke up, I was badly dehydrated. I drank a lot of water and Gatorade, as opposed to the sweet tea I usually drank. My urine had turned dark orange, and I was feverish.
On September 2, Sunday, I felt as if I had a grapefruit lodged in my chest cavity, and my back hurt so I could not get comfortable. I kept telling my babydogs, "Mama is sick! Go away!", which was way out of character for me.
Monday, September 3rd was Labor Day. I could not get my doctor on the phone. His office was closed. I was scheduled to return to work that night.
I tried to get some rest, hoping it would go away by the time I had to ready myself for work. I am the type of person that never misses work unless I am too ill to move. I was not planning to miss work if at all possible.
But, I woke up and the pressure in my stomach had intensified. I knew I could not function at work. So, I bathed, got dressed, left three days worth of food and water for the dogs, and went straight to the emergency room. I called my mom to let her know where I was going and why. Then, I called in to work to let them know why I would not be there.
After being examined, the doctor ordered a chest X-ray, an EKG, then an ultrasound. He came back and said that it looked as if my gallbladder was, indeed, infected. I had a cyst on my liver, and a blood clot in the vein that connected the stomach to the liver. My gallbladder was abnormally shaped. My gallbladder would have to be removed.
I was admitted into the hospital.
I called work and told them that I was being admitted and why.
I was told to make sure the hospital faxed our human resources department with the information. I was worried about losing my job.
Normally, a gallbladder removal was done by laser surgery and the patient was released from the hospital the same day, with a few days to recover and then released to go back to work. I was assured I had the leave time on my books. I felt better.
The next day, the doctor came in and ordered an MRI to make sure I was okay for laser surgery because of the abnormality of my gallbladder's shape. They found that gallstones had become lodged in ducts that surrounded my gallbladder. They would have to call in a specialist to blast the stones out before they could do surgery.
They did so, but were unable to blast them all out. One of the stones was lodged and of a massive size. They would have to cut me open with a knife.
So much for the simple laser surgery.
On my fourth day after admission, I finally went in to have my gallbladder removed. As I waited in the OR for surgery, the doctor came in to explain the procedure, and to inform me that it might be a few months before I am released to return to work. I was devastated!
I just closed on my new home. My job was still new. I did not have the leave time to support myself during my recovery! What to do? Then, I remembered that I had signed up for short-term disability when I first got the job. I praised God!
Had I not got my job when I did, I would not have the benefits to make it through my recovery. God had placed me where I was when He did because He knew I was going to need it! And, need it right now, I did!
At that point, I surrendered it all to God. Even if I was not able to keep my job through all this, I felt grateful that I was where I was at the time to receive the care that was saving my life. But, I prayed that if at all possible, God would work to preserve my job so I could return to it when all this was over. Even if the answer was "No", I knew I was blessed with that job by God at a time I needed it most, and I know God was gonna take care of me in the future as He had so far, putting me where HE needs me to be.
In more ways than one, my new job turned out to be one of the greatest blessings God had ever given me.
A few days after my surgery, as I was still in the hospital recovering, I was listening to Tony Evans on The Bridge radio on my cell phone as I slept. I woke up to Tony explaining how Satan told God, "Go ahead send me a man. I'll take him. Send me another one. I'll take him, too." Etc. Then he asked God, "what are you going to do about it?"
God said, with a smile, "I guess I'm just going to have to become a man."
Then what did Satan do? He used food to get Adam. He tried to use food to get Jesus. Remember when he tried to get him to turn the stones into bread?
It was then that I heard God talking to me.
"Satan tried to use food to get you Shonda. He was going to tear you from the inside out. If he couldn't do it one way, he was going to do it the other. But I'm not just Jesus. I am the Father in me. And you are mine. With my authority you are still here. You are here because I want you here. You are me in you. No food Satan can throw at you can stop you until I'm ready.
So you remember that. The next meal you look at you remember there's a reason you are here child. Live accordingly."
In 2014, while I worked at the hospital, I had an attack that sent me to the emergency room. I could not breathe. I was hurting in my chest cavity. I couldn't even fill out the paperwork to admit myself into the emergency room.
They wheeled me to my assigned room for emergency evaluation, and on the way, between gasps, at 45 years old, I found myself crying, "I want my mama!"
I would never cry for my mom. I was (and am) very independent, and did what I could never to need my mom. For me to cry out for comfort from my mom, was proof of the amount of pain and fear I was in.
When they got me to my room, this continued for a good fifteen minutes, while the nurse patiently stood their observing me, at a loss as to how to help me until the doctor could get there. Finally, a wave of nausea passed over me and I looked at her and said, "I'm fixing to puke."
She immediately handed me a gray tub, and I puked.
Then, I was fine. I could breathe. The doctor had come in as I was puking, and he was observing me. I looked at the doctor, smiled, and said, "I can go back to work now. I'm fine."
He said, "No. You are not going back to work today. You are not going back until after we test you tomorrow." He made an appointment for me to come in the next day for an ultrasound to see what caused this horrific episode..
I presented my boss with the doctor's orders and went home.
The next day, I was diagnosed with gallstones.
Because, at the time, I didn't have insurance, the doctor said they would not treat it. My kidneys and liver were working well. I needed to change my diet and live with it. If it became unmanageable, and an "actual emergency" (when my skin jaundiced and I was in pain that would not subside) then they would be forced to do something.
So for four years, I managed my pain, having an occasional attack when I ate the wrong things or ate too fast. All was good. I was even eating healthier. I had to give up some of my favorite foods at a result, like bacon, but I was managing it.
When I started working at the prison, the first thing we did during our academy training was fill out all the paperwork required for insurance purposes. I opted to pay for everything. I got health, vision, dental, short-term disability, long-term disability, life and retirement. My paycheck was cut almost $1,000 a month for all the insurance I was paying for, and I still made more money monthly than I made at the hospital. I was blessed.
One Thursday night, about two weeks after my baby-dogs were returned to me, before I even made the first payment on my new home, I had a gallbladder attack. I struggled with it for a longer time than usual, but it subsided.
The next morning, I decided to make a doctor's appointment. I had insurance, and my recent attack made me realize that I needed to be vigilant with my health. I was not getting any younger. But, the doctor's office never returned my call.
On Friday night, August 31, 2018, the gallbladder attack came back. I struggled with it for hours, until I was finally able to fall asleep. Then, I slept for 32 hours straight. I just did not have the energy to get up. When I finally woke up, I was badly dehydrated. I drank a lot of water and Gatorade, as opposed to the sweet tea I usually drank. My urine had turned dark orange, and I was feverish.
On September 2, Sunday, I felt as if I had a grapefruit lodged in my chest cavity, and my back hurt so I could not get comfortable. I kept telling my babydogs, "Mama is sick! Go away!", which was way out of character for me.
Monday, September 3rd was Labor Day. I could not get my doctor on the phone. His office was closed. I was scheduled to return to work that night.
I tried to get some rest, hoping it would go away by the time I had to ready myself for work. I am the type of person that never misses work unless I am too ill to move. I was not planning to miss work if at all possible.
But, I woke up and the pressure in my stomach had intensified. I knew I could not function at work. So, I bathed, got dressed, left three days worth of food and water for the dogs, and went straight to the emergency room. I called my mom to let her know where I was going and why. Then, I called in to work to let them know why I would not be there.
After being examined, the doctor ordered a chest X-ray, an EKG, then an ultrasound. He came back and said that it looked as if my gallbladder was, indeed, infected. I had a cyst on my liver, and a blood clot in the vein that connected the stomach to the liver. My gallbladder was abnormally shaped. My gallbladder would have to be removed.
I was admitted into the hospital.
I called work and told them that I was being admitted and why.
I was told to make sure the hospital faxed our human resources department with the information. I was worried about losing my job.
Normally, a gallbladder removal was done by laser surgery and the patient was released from the hospital the same day, with a few days to recover and then released to go back to work. I was assured I had the leave time on my books. I felt better.
The next day, the doctor came in and ordered an MRI to make sure I was okay for laser surgery because of the abnormality of my gallbladder's shape. They found that gallstones had become lodged in ducts that surrounded my gallbladder. They would have to call in a specialist to blast the stones out before they could do surgery.
They did so, but were unable to blast them all out. One of the stones was lodged and of a massive size. They would have to cut me open with a knife.
So much for the simple laser surgery.
On my fourth day after admission, I finally went in to have my gallbladder removed. As I waited in the OR for surgery, the doctor came in to explain the procedure, and to inform me that it might be a few months before I am released to return to work. I was devastated!
I just closed on my new home. My job was still new. I did not have the leave time to support myself during my recovery! What to do? Then, I remembered that I had signed up for short-term disability when I first got the job. I praised God!
Had I not got my job when I did, I would not have the benefits to make it through my recovery. God had placed me where I was when He did because He knew I was going to need it! And, need it right now, I did!
At that point, I surrendered it all to God. Even if I was not able to keep my job through all this, I felt grateful that I was where I was at the time to receive the care that was saving my life. But, I prayed that if at all possible, God would work to preserve my job so I could return to it when all this was over. Even if the answer was "No", I knew I was blessed with that job by God at a time I needed it most, and I know God was gonna take care of me in the future as He had so far, putting me where HE needs me to be.
In more ways than one, my new job turned out to be one of the greatest blessings God had ever given me.
A few days after my surgery, as I was still in the hospital recovering, I was listening to Tony Evans on The Bridge radio on my cell phone as I slept. I woke up to Tony explaining how Satan told God, "Go ahead send me a man. I'll take him. Send me another one. I'll take him, too." Etc. Then he asked God, "what are you going to do about it?"
God said, with a smile, "I guess I'm just going to have to become a man."
Then what did Satan do? He used food to get Adam. He tried to use food to get Jesus. Remember when he tried to get him to turn the stones into bread?
It was then that I heard God talking to me.
"Satan tried to use food to get you Shonda. He was going to tear you from the inside out. If he couldn't do it one way, he was going to do it the other. But I'm not just Jesus. I am the Father in me. And you are mine. With my authority you are still here. You are here because I want you here. You are me in you. No food Satan can throw at you can stop you until I'm ready.
So you remember that. The next meal you look at you remember there's a reason you are here child. Live accordingly."
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