change is something

“Life”…a word full of hope and elaborate meaning. I would have think that I’ve known the real significance behind it but I was wrong. Over the past 21 years I’ve thought it’s enough to live and love life as it is. Like crying when you feel down and laughing when you’re intoxicated. I thought that was enough. In the deepest part of me I wish that was enough but every single thing about my ‘oh so perfect life was shattered by a catastrophic event.

When I was married at the age of twenty-two and was expecting a baby we had terrible news regarding my health. That was the time I was diagnosed of having Stage 4 End Stage Renal Disease. My doctor advised me that it isn’t a good idea to have a baby in me specially that my kidneys aren’t functioning. It would just complicate everything. As a Christian I know it’s hard on his part to tell me to have an abortion for the sake of saving my life. But as faithful Christian, I’ve never seen abortion as an option. I know that in doing so I would never get over with my conscience ‘til I die. I know if God allows it to be this way then theirs a good reason behind it. So, I was given oral medications hoping that it was adequate to sustain me and my child.

As months goes by, my health was deteriorating. When I was six months pregnant I was bleeding and was admitted to the hospital where I was working. For the first time within those six months of struggling and coping up with stress I was deliberately crying. I was crying because I know that there was 90% probability that I’m going to lose my baby. The very child who made me strong for months. The reason behind my stubborn head to continue hoping. By then, I felt broken and alone. I couldn’t afford to lose him without giving him a fight. I love him so much it hurts. Then my husband decided that I should undergo dialysis to save both our lives (my baby & me). As I recall I was operated and the next thing I knew I was at the Hemodialysis Unit at 3am in the morning. I thought I was able to save the life of my baby, but it was too late. I’ve given birth to a premature baby boy. He’s quite sickly given the fact that I was ill when he was inside me. He lived for about a day. But he didn’t quite make it. When my husband told me that our child had passed away, I was so devastated. I had an overwhelming desire for the floor to open up and swallow me. All I wanted was to disappear out of my life and out of this world. I was emotionally bruised. Thinking makes me feel worst. I felt I was drifting towards a shadow that I couldn’t escape. When we had a simple funeral service for our child a couple of days after he died, it appears to me that my husband was drawing his strength from me. I discern that if I show the people around me I’m weak they might as well be. Instead of focusing on the events that happened that week, I tried to think beyond the box. I’ve put all my awful emotions aside like bitterness, hatred and disappointment. I convene my inner turmoil in loving the people that cared for me. The same people who believe in me. They were the few people who are keeping me on my toes always.

After the burial ceremony we went back to the city for my continued treatment (dialysis). But as we went inside our rented room, I was having an enormous bleeding. I decided to be admitted right away. The last thing I remembered that night was talking to my husband that everything is going to be okay. I remembered telling him I’m not going to leave him and will continue to be strong no matter what just for him. After that was total darkness. All I could recall was a faint memory of my husband whispering in my ear never to leave him. He was telling me to hold on to my promise. When I woke up I was in Intensive Care Unit (I.C.U.) and that was ten days after my admission. I never even recollect that I was transferred to other hospital, nor even knew what I was doing in I.C.U. but then it appeared to me that I was in a coma for ten days. Imagine how hard it was for my family and friends looking at me on that state for days. Some of my relatives had given up but the majority of them never lose hope. On the eleventh day I was conscious but I still couldn’t recognize people due to dozens of medicines. I still felt light-headed and disoriented. The only voices I recognize were from my husband and my elder sister. A couple of days passed before I managed to perceive what was happening around me. My husband told me the detailed events of what had occurred. He told me that the night on my admission I had a terrible seizure and was comatose. I was transferred to other hospital that best caters my case. Days have passed ‘til I woke up from an indefinite slumber. I remembered smiling at my husband and asking him why his crying, he told me if I were gone, he will be lost. I rest my hand on his and told him weakly, “I promised I’ll never leave you and I will continue to be strong for you”. I know the whole thing was a God given miracle and I thanked God for letting me carry my own cross like Jesus.

Months have passed since that dreadful incident. I, on the other hand continued my dialysis twice a week. I even went back to work so that I could sustain the expensive treatment. From time to time I’ve meet patients with different levels of anxiety due to illness. One time, a certain patient told me how cruel life was for her. She even cried while telling me how she wished she’s dead. I told her that God has planned something for us. We may know it when time comes or we may not, but the important is that we trust Him with all our heart, body and soul. I told her what I’ve been through at an early age. She was stunned to realize that life wasn’t good for me either. She thought I was nothing beyond sick for I was smiling and working. She only saw herself having the pain and suffering. It never occurred to her that everyone has its own story to tell. She felt enlightened when I told her that we need not complain to the thing that comes our way for everything has a season under the heavens. We may think we’re major losers or we may ask God why it has to be us, but the truth is these lives we had are just borrowed. We don’t own this. So, instead of being unreasonable, why not try praying and build faith, hope and love in our lives. Many people who cared and loved us need our hands. They need our strength more than anyone. After our conversation, she smiled and patted me in the shoulder and informed me how glad she was to meet me. She had made a new perspective about her life. She said to me that if I’ve made it this far, she too could. I was pleased to hear that I’ve alter her grounds regarding on how she must live her life while still fighting for her infirmity.

I’m twenty-three now and was hoping that sooner or later I could undergo kidney transplant but unfortunately I don’t have the funds to go through the process. I wanted to live not because I like to but because I wanted to be a light at the end of the tunnel. I wanted to continue helping people by showing them how great God is. That life never ends when a doctor told you your life is terminal or you have a disease that has no cure. Life deserves a fight from all of us. We shouldn’t give up because we’re scared of losing but instead we struggle for the people who cared and loved us. -kentrena