The year was 2000, I was ten years old. The weekend had started like any other, preparations for my dance pictures and baseball tryouts. I awoke at a strangely odd hour for me, about 7:00am. I got up and immediately went to my moms room. The next thing I can remember I was throwing up. That day, seemed like just a flu, or food poisoning. But it was only the beginning of what would be a long, and torturous road for me.
The next day came, I was so weak I couldn’t even get out of bed. Later on in the day, my mom had made the decision to take me to St. Mary Mercy hospital in Livonia, Mi. I was only there for a short time, but it was enough time to put me through someone of the most intense pain I had ever felt. Pain has a new definition to me, look it up in Caitlyn’s dictionary, and it says “spinal tap.” Meningitis is the first thing that I was tested for. When my temperature was taken, it read 104 degrees. My mother, couldn’t even be by my side during the spinal tap, because child services was questioning her as to why she didn’t bring me to the hospital when it first struck. It wasn’t because she didn’t care, but because our home thermometer was broken.
In a short time I was moved to Henry Ford Hospital in Detroit. It was there that I ended up in the ICU. Diagnosis: Bacterial Pneumonia. My family couldn’t believe it. But I remember, my first visitor was the youth pastor at my church, Frankie. Every other memory I have the first night there is just a blur, but I can tell you exactly what Frankie was wearing that day, and what she was saying. The first thing she did, was pray for me.
12 days, surgery, chest tubes and a couple of scars that will never go away dug the roots on what is now my growing and strong faith in Jesus Christ. I had never even come close to understanding the ways that Jesus heals, but I can tell you now, personally, that Jesus is a healer.
He saved my life. Some would say that it was the doctors, or the surgery. Yeah, they helped, but the only reason that I am still alive, is because of God. He has a plan for me, and it wasn’t my time to leave yet. It was just his way of uniting my family. My family always jokes about the “Easter Pizza.” In reference to the Little Caesars pizza we had for Easter dinner, my whole family in my little room.
I went though so much pain, but at such a great cost. I now know God’s love for me, and the love that I can feel, through so much pain. The scars on my chest are not bad reminders, but ones of faith, love and healing. The only kind of faith, love and healing that Jesus can provide.