Monday, May 16, 2005

How I Got Here, Part 53

Happy Monday.

Man, I get no respect around here. I leave y’all Friday with poor li’l moi rocketing down a hill to my certain death, and you all think it’s funny. Yup, just laughin’ your heads off.

Remind me not to ask for your sympathy if I’m ever on my deathbed.

So. Ron asked if I lived. Well, guess so. But here’s the thing. You wanna know what happened next?

I can’t remember.

Honest. Last thing I know, I was whizzing down the hill, straight for Mr. WFAB (Waitin’ For A Bus). Kathleen couldn’t catch me, no one else seemed to around, around WFAB clearly couldn’t care less.

Next memory has me in my room, shaking, calling my husband to try and figure out why the motorized cart won’t work.

In short, the whole scenario so totally traumatized me that all my memory of rescue is gone.

And you all laughed.

I have since asked my pals Kathleen and DiAnn what happened. I mean, curious minds wanna know—my own history. Evidently DiAnn was still in the area. Somehow she and Kathleen, when they saw I really was a goner, were given the divine strength to run like Superwomen, catch up to me, grab on to the cart and tug with all their might until I slowed . . . slowed . . . stopped. They must have been breathing like horses after a race. I must have been near catatonic. Well, evidently I was.

Yeeks. Surely ’twas an amazing scene. Wish I could remember it.

Still don’t know what happened to WFAB. The conference was just beginning that day. You think he’d have come up to me sometime during the weekend and said, “Hey, glad you’re all right” or something. But nope. I’m wondering if he really was an angel sent there to xray some super power to K. and D. Do angels work like that? Suppose not. Anyhoo, WFAB up and disappeared, and today I wouldn’t know him on the street if I saw him.

On the other hand, if I saw him, I might punch his lights out.

So. After death-defying rescue . . .

Idgit brain here called hubby, who patiently told her to flip the motorizing switch so go-cart thingy can zip me around Mount Hermon for the weekend. Idgit brain was incredibly grateful. And felt incredibly stupid. But, hey, I had Lyme. Great excuse.

As I told you Friday I managed to make it to meals and the book signing party that weekend—and that was it. As for my writing, Capture the Wind for Me was newly released. Third and final in my Bradleyville series. Thank you, God, for helping me write that book! That was the manuscript with the grocery store, and the bricks replaced around the store’s door after a tornado . . .

I know now why God allowed me that good week in the midst of such sickness so I could attend Mount Hermon. At one of the meals I was able to stand up (as best as I could) and tell everyone my situation. And the entire conference prayed for me. That was all part of God’s plan—allowing more people to be a part of praying for me, because of what was to come.

Because you see, more was coming right around the corner. Not all good. In fact, it would get worse before it got better. On the last day of the conference—the day everyone packed up to go home—I had to start taking my next round of medication. I’d been warned this one wouldn’t be easy.

Still, I never would have guessed how far I’d fall—and how fast.

Read Part 54


C.J. Darlington said...

WFAB needs to be your next villain. A hard, heartless man who would rather watch a wheel-chair-bound woman crash to her death than lift a finger to help ...

Unknown said...

I knew you'd make it! Honestly, I can laugh at wheelchairs bouncing down hills. But all that medication. Forget it. I don't even like taking vitamins and Advil at the same time. I was in a writing group (live, not online) with a woman who'd survived breast cancer. I had to crit her story. I couldn't take it anymore! It seems like they've got to bring you to the brink of death to cure you. Well, go ahead and get on with the nasty stuff. Heaven help me if I ever have to go through it. I'm such a whimp.

C.J. Darlington said...

Brink of Death. You know, that's a great title for a book, don't you think?

Rebecca LuElla Miller said...

Not ALL your BG's laughed at your harrowing ride on the run-away motorized thingy! ; l My consolation was that I knew you survived without too much damage. Of course, my anticipation was that WFAB would turn out to be your rescuer and not your victim. Horror! He just SAT there??!? Is chivalry dead??!? Thank God we don't rely on Man for our protection and safety.

Yikes! I thought we'd reached the worst of your experience with Lyme. (Did you ever find the disease-carrying tick??)

Anonymous said...

Newbie here. Your Lyme story has me afraid. Very very afraid. Last weekend, I went rapelling and got supremely ticked. I found ticks in my armpit and even one behind my ear during church the next day. The funny thing; I had never seen a tick before. I thought little spiders were crawling on me until one of the others on the trip saw one and screamed, "Tick!"

Mercy! Is there a Lyme-Away verse in the Psalms? Like, "You will tread on the tick. And you won't get sick?"

C.J. Darlington said...

Definitely read Psalm 91, Sara. "A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you." "Because He loves me, says the Lord, I will protect him." "You will not fear to arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence (Lyme disease) that stalks in the darkness".

And Psalm 103. "Who forgives all your sins, and heals all your diseases."

"No weapon formed against you will prosper." Isaiah ? And this is just the tip 'o the iceberg!