My life took a sharp turn down a very rocky road about five months ago. Anyone that knows me personally might be tired of hearing how this event has impacted my life. I don’t think anyone can fully comprehend the power such an experience can have on your mindset until they’ve experienced it.
My son was hospitalized in isolation twice, for a total of seven days, due to what turned out to be a dermal strep infection that covered much of his little three year old body. The months that followed were positively filled with anxiety, worry, stress, tears, pain, depression and more. He’s finally healed now and has been for about 5-6 weeks, but I’m still picking up the pieces of my former life.
Before I decided to write this post, I was lying on my bed trying to soothe my anxiety. After praying and sitting quietly for a little bit, I opened my eyes to look at my messy bedroom. When my son was hospitalized, I was in the final stages of following the KonMari Method of getting rid of things and organizing the home. I glanced at my dresser and saw stacks of books that still needed a final home. There was a vase that I’d decided to keep, but never found a home for. There were a few miscellaneous office supplies that needed to be put in my desk… a desk that’s seven feet away, and yet the stuff had been sitting there for months.
I quickly realized that there were as many physical “pieces” of my life that needed to be dealt with as there were emotional ones.
I was not the most emotionally stable person to begin with. I’ve struggled with severe bipolar mania and depression. I’ve overcome serious psychiatric issues, thanks to my faith in the Lord. Psychologically speaking, the last four years have been the best of my adult life. I had overcome bipolar and was medication-free for three years, I was nine months into recovery for food issues, I had lost sixty pounds, I was going to the gym regularly, and my home was more organized and tidy than ever. I was happy and healthy.
But when my son was in the hospital… it crippled me. Minutes feel like hours when you’re locked in a hospital room, staring at your child that’s lying in a hospital bed, being pumped full of several IV and oral medications. When he was lethargic, it was scary. When he was wide awake and begging to leave the room, it was heartbreaking. When I laid on the little sofa-bed at night, I did nothing but pray and cry. Those seven days were the hardest of my life. No exaggeration.
After we came home from the second stint in isolation, the infection came back for a THIRD time. I called one of the best dermatologists in Atlanta and begged to get in immediately. Long story short, at least eight physicians at Scottish Rite had seen him, and none questioned the original diagnosis (eczema herpeticum) and none re-tested after his culture produced a “false negative”. The dermatologist healed the dermal strep infection, but the months following weren’t much better. His body was bright red and incredibly itchy no matter what we did.
I spent the following months seeing different specialists, trying over fifty things, researching, talking to other eczema parents online, and more. My three year old son lived in footie pajamas 24/7. He couldn’t wear regular clothes. If he did, he’d claw his skin to pieces in minutes. That’s how bad it was. His struggle broke my heart every single day. I just wanted his “normal eczema” back.
My son has been healed for about five weeks now thanks to using the Dr. Aron Regime (praise GOD!), but I’m still very much recovering from the emotional damage of this experience. No, his issue wasn’t life-threatening, but his misery was my misery. His tears were my tears. I didn’t have the time or emotional energy to even consider myself or my sanity. Healing him was my only concern.
Very slowly, I’m beginning to put the pieces of my life and mindset back together. Eventually, I will be stronger for having gone through this experience. I named this blog ‘The Digging Spoon’ because when you’re working on improving yourself, changing habits and healing from hurts, it’s like digging yourself out of it with nothing but a spoon. There is no quick fix. There is no bulldozer coming to scoop all this pain and baggage off my heart. No one can heal me but myself and the Lord.
If you’ve read this whole thing, or even most of it, thank you. I look forward to sharing more of my journey to healing, as well as other life-changing topics, faith, parenting, personal development and more. Like my Facebook page for the latest posts and inspiration!