LifeStory
Glacia Robinson
27
I remember when all my veins collapsed and the doctors persistently probed my limp body for hours, in search of just one vein, but inevitably they had to resort to odd portsto fuel my sustenance.
Insistently grave, my condition took me to some of the lowest moments I’ve experienced in my entire life. It got to the point where I could not even digest water. My body weight plummeted to less than 90 pounds. (A size zero was too big for me - I was skin and bones). There were days when I could no longer count from one to
ten, my hair fell out, and my skin broke out in hives.
I felt like I was literally out of my mind, at times even the
recollection of my own name was distant.
My doctors told me my organs were functioning at the rate
of a seven-year-old child.
My eyes reclined into scrawny sockets, my tongue draped
from my head, my speech hobbled with a drawl.
My bones, joints and muscles sagged beneath the weight and the presence of a pain that I could not escape. I seemed stricken with old age and I could not be left alone. All nutrients were given through intravenous methods. But the constancy of my mother’s care was tantamount to my recovery, as she was forced to relinquish her job and other daily duties in order to supervise my care.
Days turned into weeks, weeks into months and months turned into years... five and a half (5 ½) years. Still, I laid bare in the hands of rescue, as this illness limited my wisdom to the prejudice of its own council. Trapped by its cruel dictates, which tried to ravish the potency of my dreams and silence the rhythm of my existence and the hopesthat I breathed.
Sufficed by the loan of oxygen, with sleepless nights in the intensive care units and often guarded by the patrol of heart monitors, and a loyal network of wires, ticking electronic devices, fierce cables, intravenous lines, a barrage of uncomfortable tests and a million injections, militant tubes were drilled into my nostrils to collect the steady stream of internal bleeding.
Despite the widespread rumors of my death and the fact that people even called my house to ask for the time of my funeral. Even though I lost every thing I had and although so called religious leaders said they were “Tired of praying,”and “if God’s going to take her He should just take her now,” I knew it was not over for me because God’s purpose for my life was not yet complete. When my body would shut down and even though the doctors told me that there was nothing more that they could do for me, I continued to hold onto the word of God, which says
“I SHALL NOT DIE BUT LIVE
TO DECLARE THE WORKS OF THE LORD”
Psalm 118:17
There is Life is the Word! There is Healing in the Word! There is Hope in
the Word! Thereis Deliverance in the Word! THEWORD OF GOD!
I knew God’s plan and purpose for my life was not even partially complete. I
BELIEVED that God would raise me up and restore my body.