More About Me
How I discovered to breathe deeply and find my purpose… again.
At the age of 50, I was in what most would consider peak physical condition. I was a gym owner, a personal trainer, and a health and nutrition coach. I worked out hard doing HIIT (high-intensity interval training) and strength training 4-5 times a week. I felt strong and was very pleased with what my body could accomplish as a “mature” woman. My diet was impeccable. I counted calories, monitored macros, and rarely ate foods that weren’t nutritious. I was the picture of health and living my purpose – helping others reach their health and fitness goals.
That was until everything changed in 2020. My fitness performance began to decline in January, but I chalked it up to overtraining. You see, in addition to my own workout regimen, I was also leading small group classes and training numerous clients. Our gym was doing great, and my focus was entirely on health and fitness – mine and my clients.
Exhaustion and irritability struck in February and continued through March, but I kept pushing my limits. Then, COVID-19 hit our country. Gyms were mandated to close in North Carolina on March 25. I was forced to quickly change directions and find ways to offer my clients virtual training while I was unknowingly facing my Goliath.
At the beginning of April, I experienced a Cytokine storm, which included severe swelling in my joints, a rash, and a low-grade fever. By April 20, I was struggling to breathe, and my husband insisted on taking me to a respiratory clinic.
When we arrived at the clinic, the doctor on duty met us at our car. He quickly listened to my lungs and immediately asked me to follow him inside for further evaluation, where he found my oxygen saturation to be 69 percent! To put that in perspective, 95-100% is considered normal. I was told I would be going to the hospital in an ambulance immediately following a few x-rays, and because of the COVID-19 pandemic, my husband, John, was not allowed to go with me. I only had enough time for a quick hug and kiss in the parking lot to say goodbye to him; then, off I went with medics and Jesus. After 12 hours in the emergency room and three negative COVID-19 tests later, I was officially admitted and taken to the room where I would spend the next ten days.
While the doctors and nurses spent the week of April 20 trying to find ways to increase my oxygen saturation, I spent it praying and trying to breathe. I had moments when I felt some improvement and truly believed I would be going home soon. However, with God’s reassurance that I would not be alone, I was moved to ICU on April 30, where my health declined quickly. At 9:00 that evening, I was put into an induced coma and on life support. John was told to call my daughters and prepare for the worst. They were allowed to be with me at this point because the doctors were not confident I would survive.
I was diagnosed with a rare autoimmune disease called Dermatomyositis with the marker anti-PL-7, which attacks the muscles and lungs. I needed new lungs, which would happen at Duke University Medical Center. While still in a coma, I was airlifted to Duke on May 12. I wasn’t aware of the seriousness of my health crisis until being brought out of sedation several days later. I would be without visitors again until COVID-19 restrictions were lightened on June 24, John’s and my wedding anniversary. During these endless days alone, I spent many hours in prayer, and Jesus comforted me by saying, “We are with you. You are not alone.”
I was placed on the lung registry on May 20. Five days later, at the expense of my donor and their family, my new lungs arrived. My double-lung transplant surgery began at 11:00 am, and by 4:00 pm, I had taken the first breath of my new life.
After six weeks in a hospital bed with a disease attacking my lean and muscular 120-pound body, I had nothing left to show for all the work I had put into making my body fit and strong. I was 80 pounds of skin and bones with multiple chest tubes protruding from my sides, 72 staples running across my chest, and a tracheotomy in my neck. I didn’t have the strength to lift my hands. Sitting, standing, and walking had to be relearned. My life had certainly changed. I had no idea what my new purpose would be, but I was assured once again that I would not be alone.
By the grace of God, my recovery went incredibly well for nearly eleven months. But my story took another turn in April of 2021 when I began experiencing chronic rejection. This rejection is the type that cannot be cured. After several tests and medications, we started fighting to save my gifted lungs through photopheresis In June 2021. My lung function is currently stable. However, if the treatment stops working and my lung function begins to decline again, I will be facing a second double-lung transplant.
Even given all that, I would not be where I am today without God’s mercy and grace. I’ve become more aware of the miracles happening all around me. I’m also aware that the time and effort I invested in my health and fitness before these events have played a large part in my recovery. My doctors have repeatedly told me that I wouldn’t have survived had I not been in such great physical condition. I will never be cured. Transplants serve as a bandage, and the reality is that no one knows how long it will hold. I’m prayerful this first bandage will last for many years, but tomorrow is never promised. Whatever the future may bring, I will do my part to live every day chasing after God and encouraging others.
The overwhelming support and words of affirmation from my family and friends through the GroupMe app lifted my spirits daily and helped me face each day with confidence. The multitude of prayers that flooded heaven’s gates carried my broken body to our Heavenly Father for repair. The skilled hands of the surgeons, physicians, and nurses took care of all my medical needs. My strong, caring husband held all the pieces together and loved me unconditionally as we navigated through this unknown world. God granted me a life-saving miracle through transplantation. For these things, I’m eternally grateful.