As many of you know by now, I picked up a parasitic friend last summer in the Dominican Republic. My parasite is/was affectionately know as Diablo (devil in Spanish.) What started in October with weekly vomiting morphed into intense pain when I ate anything but bland food. December landed me in the ER, and I was discharged after 7 hours, a CAT scan, an X-ray, and an ultra-sound, finding a benign lesion on my liver. A few weeks later I drove to Iowa for 3 weeks for an extended holiday stay. Within the first week I saw 2 doctors and had an MRI, only to have less answers than before - my vomiting and pain weren't caused by my liver. After "smelling my way" through Christmas (smelling fudge and cookies is better than nothing, right?) I had another test to see if there was something wrong with how my body processed food. Basically, I ate eggs laced with radioactivity and got to see my stomach on a screen.
If nothing else, I've learned way more about the human body than I ever knew before. I returned to Minneapolis without answers, and went to see a travel doctor. After 4 doctors, 6 hospitals, and 2+ months of not being able to eat, on February 9th I found out that I had, in fact, picked up a parasite and I'd be given a one-time antibiotic that should take care of it.
It's been a few weeks since I've been able to eat again. I think somewhere between saltine crackers and bowls of oatmeal, I found myself again. I'm not going to pretend like any part of it was easy. Those few months were dark days, and there were times where I felt like I was fighting for my soul as well as my body, but I never fought alone. I'm grateful for God who doesn't leave me even when I don't want him. I'm grateful for a God that loves me at my weakest - when I turn my face from him and say "don't look at me like this" - but reminds me that He is strong for me. I'm sure that won't be my last run in with a parasite, it's kind of part of the territory.
Thanks for your prayers, from the bottom of my heart.
