It's Official It's a Miracle

By Annette Mace

‘It’s Official - It’s A Miracle’ is the incredible story of a working wife and mother who one day is enjoying an active life and the next is struck down with a crippling long term illness. Through this autobiography you will fight alongside her as she searches for a cure. You will shed tears of sadness as she suffers with depression, and you will shout with joy as healing arrives in a most spectacular display.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9780994374301

Book preview

(LB)

CHAPTER ONE: THE JOURNEY BEGINS

I didn’t see it coming

It hit me right out of the blue

It caught me off guard

There was nothing I could do

One minute there were sunny days

Suddenly, they were empty and grey

Everything I loved was stripped away

My life now in total disarray

I hang my head, tears for yesterday

Nothing I can do

Nothing I can say

Apart from pray

That tomorrow is better than today.

I remember it so vividly; in fact each summer I am reminded…sometimes it’s the simplicity of the season—the warm humidity, eating lunch outdoors, or sharing a late afternoon coffee with my husband or friends at a local cafe by the beach. Other times it’s the activities of holidays such as camping and swimming…but every New Year I am reminded of the day it all began.

It was January 2007. We were all on holidays. Glenn, as a teacher, would have from Christmas until early February off work, and I took a break from Christmas until just before Australia Day. Of course, Ben and Daniel (in Year 7 and Year 9 respectively) had a lovely couple of months off school to enjoy the summer.

Just after Christmas, in keeping with annual tradition, we crammed all our camping gear into our vehicle and drove toward the picturesque bayside village of Coles Bay, which is located on the East Coast of Tasmania and proudly boasts being the gateway to the spectacular Wineglass Bay.

As was our normal custom, we camped in the National Park for just over a week and returned back home on a Wednesday. Two days later, we packed up again to spend the weekend at our local Camp/Convention Centre with six other church families. We booked an entire Homestead, which housed us all comfortably. It was always so much fun.

On the following Monday and Tuesday, we spent a few days enjoying the company of friends from Melbourne who were visiting. This of course meant going out for coffees, lunch and entertaining mutual friends with pizzas and barbeques at home! This type of socialising… especially with these friends… is the kind you never want to pass up, embracing every opportunity to be involved in all you possibly can.

This was normal for us; we desired to enjoy life to the full.

‘I have come that they may have life,

and have it to the full.’

JOHN 10:10 (NIV)

It was on that Tuesday, when I was out for lunch with my friend from Melbourne, that I began to feel quite ill. I still remember the cafe in Devonport where I was sitting at an outside table enjoying lunch while our sons had met up with some school friends to see a movie. I was savouring the delightful food, precious friendship and engaging conversation, when suddenly my body felt like it had been hit by a truck. I felt as though I had absolutely nothing in the tank—empty of energy—and my body was heavy as if something was weighing it down. Even to lift my arm or rise from the chair was an effort.

Fear swept into my mind that something was terribly wrong with me. When I got home, I lay on the bed for an hour hoping a rest would revive me. I did feel better afterwards and was able to go out again that night to socialise over dinner.

The very next day it all ‘hit the fan’. I awoke with a severe gastro bug! For five days (yes, five days!), I could hardly keep water in my stomach without it being ejected. On the third day, Glenn rushed me to the doctors where they gave me an injection to stop the diarrhoea as well as some sort of anti-nausea tablets, which I couldn’t keep down either. On the fifth day we returned to the doctors to discover I was dehydrated. They gave me some rehydration treatment and an antibiotic to take with the anti-nausea tablets. They also took some blood tests and other samples which were not fun for me…although I’m sure less fun for the pathologists!

In those five days I had lost 4kg.

The new tablets seemed to help and I could at least now shuffle out of bed although I was still feeling very lousy.

To be honest, I was absolutely wasted!

Then the craziest thing happened: I sprained my ankle—in bed of all places! My body was aching so much that I would find myself in all these awkward positions trying to get comfortable in bed, and somehow I managed to sprain my ankle! It was swollen and throbbing…and when I finally pulled myself up, I could only hobble around with a limp.

At this point, school had started for the year and I was supposed to be back to work, so for the next two weeks I attempted to muster the strength to return to my job.

After two weeks I had completed two courses of the antibiotic. On the same day that I took my final tablet, I developed what I thought was a bad cold with flulike symptoms. I didn’t really want to go back to the doctors because I didn’t like taking antibiotics and was convinced that’s exactly what they would give me. So, instead, I went to see a Naturopath. I came back from my appointment with a handful of vitamins and two liquid concoctions she had formulated that I swear had been scraped from the floor of the pits of hell! It was a black, gluggy muck that tasted so, so, so (there aren’t enough ‘so’s’) disgustingly vile! But I obediently swallowed everything she directed me to, only to go back a week later—with no improvement. In fact, after examining me, she thought I seemed worse than when I had seen her earlier. She advised me to make another appointment with my Doctor.

By now I had been sick for over a month, and I was struggling with life. It was all just so hard, therefore I conceded to see my Doctor. He ran more tests and referred me to a specialist. One of my best friends in the whole world drove me to Launceston for my appointment. I was so grateful for her help because in my condition there was no possible way I could have driven that far. After two appointments with the Specialist, a colonoscopy, an ultrasound of my liver, stomach and gall bladder, more blood tests and then returning to my local GP, it was decided that I originally started with a Campylobacter bug, then developed Mycoplasma Pneumonia, which bought on a reoccurrence of Glandular Fever (which I had in 2001). I was finally diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and a severe and acute case of Post Viral Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.

My colonoscopy was on the 2nd April 2007, our 19th Wedding Anniversary. We couldn’t do anything special to celebrate this occasion. In fact, I remember saying to myself, Congratulations, and by the way, up yours! (Sorry, my sense of humour is terrible.)

Just to give you a little bit of insight regarding my level of lethargy at this point… Before surgery they had to wake me to administer the anaesthetic, and then after the procedure the nurse in recovery couldn’t keep me awake. She would try to rouse me, but apparently I’d stir a little, only to fall back asleep. The anaesthetist came around to check what the problem was and the nurse advised that there was no problem: I was just sleeping. In the end, she was so exasperated she couldn’t keep me awake, that she called a staff member from the ward to come and collect me.

By now it was Easter, and I had used all the sick leave due to me from three years of working at the school. However, I was still in no condition to return. My Doctor recommended I take a few months off work to give my body a chance to rejuvenate. The normal time period to recover from pneumonia and glandular fever individually can be up to six months, so considering how long I had already been sick, theoretically I should have been improving after a few more months. I was very reluctant to take leave from work, so after discussions with the Business Manager at school and my Doctor, we agreed that I would try working two hours for two days one week, and then four hours for two days the following week to see how I coped…

In a nutshell—I didn’t cope very well! Over the next two weeks, those few hours was all I could manage. I was in bed right up until I left for work, and then tucked back into horizontal mode as soon as I returned home.

As a result, I took a leave of absence…to everyone’s relief, except mine. It was so difficult for me to make that decision. It felt like I was giving up, admitting the severity of my condition…consenting to being sick. I hated my situation and I was miserable.

The Doctor’s advice was to rest as much as possible, but attempt to include some non-aerobic exercise, like short strolls or a few floor exercises. He suggested I socialise as much as I was physically able. He said to ‘do coffees’ and have lunch with friends that I usually wouldn’t be able to because of work. He explained it was very important that I kept trying to live a normal life—as normal as someone in my health condition could. We decided to make an official ending date to this little ‘sickness sabbatical’…that I would aim to return to work at the beginning of term three, the middle of September 2007.

I remember deciding that now I had so much time on my hands, I would endeavour to spend my extra hours drawing closer to God. When I was working fulltime, I found my quiet times could be quite rushed. I have always been a person who talks to God on and off throughout the day, but now my desire was to give Him uninterrupted, quality time—where we actually had a conversation which included me listening to Him rather than just rambling on.

So I allocated time each morning after I woke up… to spend intentionally with God. I am so thankful to Him for helping me form that routine as a habit. This is something I have been able to continue since that original decision. I have to be honest and say that there were times when I was either too sick or in too dark a place emotionally for our conversations to be of a quality standard, but in those particular instances, our time together changed from a conversation to the simplicity of just hanging on to each other. I would moan and groan in either physical or emotional pain (or both), and Jesus would hold on to me, comfort me, bring me peace and fill me with inner strength.

I attempted to live a normal life for those few initial months, however socialising drained me of so much energy that each time I went out it would take literally days to recover. But (and it’s an important but)… spending time with my friends was like medicine for the soul. It would lift my spirits and fill me with happiness, so I came to view these times as sacrificial, yet worth the cost.

CFS (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome) is the most cruel and demoralizing illness…despite how much I would rest, my body failed to improve. I consistently felt weak and helpless. What seemed to occur regularly was that if I rested—all day even—I would maintain a certain level of energy. That is, I wouldn’t gain an extra boost or feel any better after waking from a nap, but if I didn’t rest, I would feel even worse.

September came and went and there was still no improvement to my health, so my Doctor and I decided that the next achievable date to aim for would be January 2008. This would mark twelve months with CFS.

The ‘Finish Line’ was moving, and I did not cope with that well.

Do not be anxious about anything but in every situation, by prayer and petition, With thanksgiving, present your requests to God And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

PHILIPPIANS 4:6,7 (NIV)

Be still, and know that I am God.

PSALM 46:10A (NIV)

CHAPTER TWO: HELP IS ON THE WAY

My head is a mess

Nothing seems to make any sense

Can’t see through the haze

Is this my lot for the rest of my days?

Is there anyone who can help me?

Someone who can stop me from going crazy?

What I need is a helping hand

Someone who’ll listen and perhaps even understand

Most people have experienced a bad flu or cold at some point, so to communicate how I felt on a day-to-day basis, I generally try to explain that it was like having the worst flu—every day—suffering with lethargy, body aches and pains, loss of appetite, headaches… (I could go on and on!) As a result, my motivation and ability to get mobilized about anything was seriously thwarted.

Most of the time I was in pain. I suffered from an arthritic discomfort throughout my joints, and I can only explain my body soreness as a deep bone-ache. My muscles hurt from a strange sharp contracting sensation…this began mildly, but continually increased in intensity until it peaked as a stabbing torment. It would then ease off for a few moments or seconds, only to start up again. Some days it drove me mad. I was on pain killers which certainly helped, most of the time. I was also impaired with an irritable bowel and inflamed stomach, so I couldn’t eat much. Nothing settled well in my tummy. In addition, I think that the pain killers suppressed my appetite, therefore I didn’t feel like eating anyway. What I looked forward to and enjoyed each day were the pots of tea and the coffee that Glenn and I caught up over when he came home from work.

I was also affected by sensory overload. I don’t know how to describe it apart from saying that noises hurt. When I was out, if everyone was talking at once, my body would just start to ‘freak out’. My heart rate would speed up and my mind would be going so berserk that I wasn’t able to concentrate. I couldn’t focus my thinking and I’d become clammy and sweaty to the point where I wanted to run away. Unfortunately, I didn’t even have to be out for this to happen; it often occurred at home. For example, if the television was on as well as people talking, or if there was music playing while the dishwasher was running…multiple sounds at the one time just made me crazed.

In fact, any combination of sensory stimulation could have this affect. For example, sometimes it was the temperature. If it was cold outside and I transitioned into a room that was warmer, my body would find it awkward to adjust and respond by frantically trying to shut out the extra stimulus. Glenn said I would turn a very pale grey and then break out with red blotches across my chest, neck and face. Thankfully, whenever he noticed this happening, he would swoop in to rescue me.

In a nutshell, I never knew how my body would react at any given time. I could no longer trust it.

In addition, I had a diminished immune system and would easily pick up any bug or virus doing the rounds. It would sometimes emerge as a cold or flu or perhaps not actually develop into anything at all, however, my body would stress out just trying to counteract something that I wasn’t even aware I had.

Then there was the fatigue…it is so hard to convey how depleted I felt. There was nothing…ever…in my energy tank—no fuel to ignite my day, no strength to stand for long, no vitality to walk very far.

Sometimes I couldn’t even source the vigour to hold a cup of tea or a fork to my mouth.

My routine each day would be to try to stay up at night as long as I possibly could, just to be with my family. We would usually watch TV before retiring to bed around 9:00pm. And ‘bed’ is exactly where I remained until about midday the next day. I know that sounds unbelievable…but it’s true. To be accurate, even at midday I was never ready to wake up—and certainly never thrilled to actually get up—but I would force myself to move. I tried everything to provoke myself into rising earlier, but the consequences on my body were not worth the effort. Each day I would be up for two to three hours before requiring more sleep in the afternoon. Then I hoped to have enough moxie to get me through until bedtime that night.

My goals for each day would be to prepare dinner for my family, make the school lunches and start the washing machine…someone else would have to hang out our laundry and bring it in. Every morning when I dragged myself from bed, I’d throw my legs into my trackie daks, zip up my jacket, then shuffle over to the jug for my first pot of tea. After consuming this first pot (whilst sitting), I’d have a wash and make the bed, only to be desperate for another sit down and rest. I would force myself to chop veggies for our evening meal, and then need to rest again. After that, I would do some more preparation towards dinner and require another rest. Each ‘recovery stop’ would be at least thirty minutes to an hour. This ensured I was able to move again. Most times each rest consisted of another pot of tea or some kind of nourishment.

This went on day after day after day. And was exhausting! Some days were better than others, but I could never describe those days as being ‘good’…they were just not as ‘bad.’ It was taxing in the physical sense but also emotionally.

Having lived such a full and active life previously, this debilitation was mind-numbingly distressing and frustrating for me.

It was shattering that all I could achieve were such minuscule household duties…and those tasks cost me such an immense amount of effort! It made no sense to me. I literally could not achieve even the most minimal everyday chores, which required hardly any output at all.

Although this was going on, most days I would try to masquerade a smile. I had learned a long time ago, that whatever disposition I was in when everyone came home from work or school…that was likely to become the mood they adopted shortly thereafter! For example, if I was feeling down and miserable, it wasn’t long before Glenn and the boys became very quiet, tip-toeing around. Glenn would then start growling at the boys if they were too rowdy or bothering me. If I was simply irritated or angry with life (mine in particular), they would become grumpy as well. Obviously, this didn’t make for a peaceable or joy-filled household. So, I would adorn the bravest happy face I could rally, no matter how much exertion it took. When they arrived home, I sat with them and inquired about their day. Glenn was well aware of my ‘faking it’, so I couldn’t really pull it off with him, but he understood my attempts and that it took less energy for me to listen than talk…so, like any chivalrous gentleman, he indulged me.

The set date of returning to work in September clocked over without any signs of improvement. Everyday life was drudgingly difficult. Leaving the house and attempting to take part in any kind of activity took such a huge toll on my health. All this considered, I began to realise that my life as I knew it had ended. And I was now uncertain as to