"This might be it." "Breathe." "I know it hurts, but breathe Shay. You need to breathe." For a moment I start to forget how important oxygen is, it’s like my body stops caring about breathing, it hurts too much, and it’s way too much work for the little o2 that’s coming to me. My body starts to comfort itself, things are going tingly, dark, and I’m getting cold. I can feel the laboring slowing down. The pain increases again, my eyes start to close, and my feet are completely numb. I feel a cold tear drip down the side of my face as my world slips into darkness. "No." "Wake up." "This isn’t it for you." "You aren’t going like this." I force another painful breath in. "Ouch." I could go on, and in more detail, however for the sake of my very terrified brain, that's the only piece you'll get from my journal. That came the second night I was
Yes. I said it. I also thoroughly agree with that statement. Here's why. As I've been going through pretty huge and life-changing medical problems, my family has been physically nowhere near me. Granted my intestine decided to swell up in Saskatoon, which isn't convenient for anyone. It's given me so much time to think, in some scary and painful moments. Let me preface this by saying I'm not a religious person, However from what I know, God, helped those in need, he didn't just pray for the sick, he visited them, and he served them. Let's imagine that when that blind guy came to he Jesus, Jesus said, "You're in my thoughts and prayers" and then left. That story would have turned out very differently. We all do and say things in our lives almost out of habit. Like think of how many times you've said "Hey how are you?" and not actually listened for the answer. Lots, I know. I do this ALL the time, and I'm working incr