and just like that, i changed.

Those of you who know me well know that 2017 was a rough year riddled with heartache and loss. And beyond that, 2018 has, to date, been just as rough, particularly in terms of my health. Not long before the new year I contracted Influenza-A, and my gynaecologist found lumps on my cervix and ovaries that we are currently working at shrinking to prevent surgery (again girls, get your checks!)

Fast-forward to April, in what has been the most stressful year of my career to date, for a number of reasons, and I began coughing in what can only be described as "a chain-smoker for 70+ years" type of state. I rested in bed for 6 days of my holiday break, and took a whole lot of natural remedies, alongside pharmaceuticals, before returning to school in the new term. Things went from bad to worse. I was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe, so I visited an ENT specialist who put me on medication to open my airways, as well as antibiotics to kill the bronchial infection she found. I took another four days to rest, and on the fourth day woke up to what seemed to be some form of attack that was trying to claim all my air, and, what felt like, my life. Petrified, I went to a different ENT at a private hospital, who feared Tuberculosis but was able to rule that out, and prescribed me different medications and antibiotics to kill what had been diagnosed as Acute Bronchitis, and, thankfully - since I had been working with my children, not contagious. I returned to school the following day and worked the full week, during the busiest time of the year, pushing my health aside and focusing all of my attention on school and all that needed to be done, because there really was no other way. Or so it seemed.

That Friday afternoon, whilst packing up my things in the classroom, chatting to a dear friend, and preparing for a post-work glass of wine, I had another one of those attacks, intensified by 1000. My face went white while my eyes turned demon-red, before my face went a sickly shade of red and blue. I struggled to breathe for a full 12 minutes. Alas, the wine date was off, and off to the hospital I went to get a check-up. One listen to my lungs and the doctor immediately ordered I was to be admitted, as my breathing was so shallow and I was unable to get air in effectively. All of this happened so quickly - I was being wheeled off alone, going through x-rays, a series of tests, IV insertions, hurried conversations through a series of doctors, while Izzy was out of town at a rugby tournament. I was petrified. Beyond petrified. I was quite literally shaking in fear.

A week in hospital changed me. I honestly expected to be there overnight, and back in at school the next morning to get ahead on some work. There were good days and bad days. Just when I thought I was improving, I started spiking mega fevers - a sign that I was not responding to the new antibiotics in my IV line, and all of my symptoms got a lot worse. The doctors were scratching their heads, and meeting together to discuss what to do next, as they already had me on their strongest antibiotic. At this point I realised how terrified I was - I was on a whole cocktail of medications, and I was not responding. In fact, I was getting worse. I had assisted breathing and a nebuliser pumping steroids directly into my lungs every few hours, but I was not responding to that either.

The nurses were getting frustrated with me, because even after I got blood in my IV line the first time, and they lectured me about slowing down and letting other people do things for me, like taking me to the bathroom, getting me water, etc... I didn't listen. I took myself to the bathroom and got blood all the way into both of my IV lines - almost all the way up to my shoulder. It was past midnight, and I had to do a full IV change - all lines drained and reset, and the needle removed and reinserted into my right hand. I lay there, so angry at the whole situation - at my independence being taken away, at upsetting the nurses, at being sick and not getting any better. I turned my face away from the nurses and for the first time in all of this, I cried. I cried silent tears and my heart ached. I wanted to be healthy. I wanted to be in the classroom with my children. I wanted my beautiful and full life back.

And through the tears, it hit me. God is so much bigger than any superbug multiplying in my airways, or any form of asthma riddling my lungs. And so I prayed. I prayed and I begged and I pleaded as I fell asleep with a high fever...and by morning, the doctors had miraculously come up with a new treatment plan. And it worked!

I was ordered to stay longer, although no end date was given, and I focused hard on resting and on listening to the nurses (teachers pet at heart!) Later that day, against all expectations, the doctor agreed to discharge me the following night, ordering more strict bed-rest at home, and not an ounce of work. As I lay at home in bed, I reflected on my time in the hospital, and all that I had learnt. I reflected on the people who so selflessly poured into me - the doctors and nurses who so patiently cared for me and searched for answers, and who even came in on their days off to check on me, the visitors who brought sunshine, delicious treats and beautiful gifts into my room, the children who sent me a larger-than-life bouquet, the friends who called each day and who prayed for me, the husband who tirelessly did everything for me because I could not do it for myself. And I realised just how much I had learnt about myself.

Thinking back to my first blogpost of the year - the post about how I don't set New Years resolutions. My word this year was softness; I set out to focus on finding my softness again, after 2017 had turned me stone-hard. This is one thing that I have been conscious of recently - my heart is so hard and so guarded nowadays. I no longer exude love and light the ways that I used to. I no longer reach out to love on people at every waking moment. And that makes me sad - I miss being a deeply loving person.

But, hospital began making me soft again. It forced me to stop, to reflect and to truly depend on others. It began to open and soften my heart in the most delightful of ways.

I recently read something beautiful from Viola Davis, "they tell you to develop a thick skin so things don't get to you. What they don't tell you is that your thick skin will keep everything from getting out, too. Love, intimacy, vulnerability. I don't want that. Thick skin doesn't work anymore. I want to be transparent and translucent." My hardened heart was keeping me guarded, and keeping me safe from harm, but it was also preventing everything from getting out - my love, my intimacy, my vulnerability. Until I snapped. My body broke and I snapped. I lay in hospital for a week, and my own bed following that, and after I snapped, I softened.

I'm baaaaack. My soft and giving heart is making a comeback, and I couldn't be happier.

My strength is in my softness ♡