#ive started sending the one of the kissing heart and the bacteria to all of my friends

[medic-simp]

the way that silco really got me like this all mf day

#lilith rambling #i love emoji kitchen #my favorite thing #ive started sending the one of the kissing heart and the bacteria to all of my friends #bacteria sending you love

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry, Ch. 1

Chapter 2 ->

Summary: Surviving being bitten and burned alive by the Red Dragon was the easy part. Frederick Chilton has a long road ahead before things will ever be close to normal again. But your fiancé is a fighter, and you’ll be with him the whole way. 

Sequel to A Punchable Face That I Want to Kiss

CW: hospitals, surgery, major injury recovery. Sorry for the silly title, this will, in fact, be an angst-fest. 

2,368 words

He seemed fine that first day—as fine as anyone could be after surviving what he had. His skin was red and cracked from being set on fire, and both his lips had been violently torn off—but they had found him in time. He was in the hospital recovering. Talking. You were able to speak with him, and reassure him that you still wanted to marry him, however long his recovery would take. Lips or no lips. You loved him.

You thought that meant he was going to be fine. The Red Dragon didn’t kill him.

But it wasn’t that simple.

His kidney started failing. Dehydration. He needed a massive amount of IV fluids to replace what he had lost and save him, but that volume of fluid had consequences. It made his body swell up to the point that you couldn’t recognize him—to the point that his airway was swollen closed and he couldn’t breathe on his own. And his single, struggling kidney might fail anyway.

Just a day ago he was talking to you, laughing as you teased him, telling you that you didn’t have to stay with him, and crying when you said you would. You had yelled at him for being such an idiot.

When you walked in the next morning, he was gone.

Overnight, he was like a cadaver, lying unconscious with ventilator and feeding tubes stuffed down his throat. Why did you yell at him?

You were so helpless. There was nothing you could do to make any sort of difference, not even encourage him with tender words or a joke. He couldn’t hear you. He was gone. Every snarky, sassy, smug, self-important, dramatic, gossipy remark was gone—silenced—leaving you with a body and no idea when or if he would wake up. All you could do was watch as he swelled, and hope that the fluids did their job saving his life before they killed him. All you could do was be grateful for every breath, every stubborn heartbeat, and pray they didn’t stop.

A doctor told you his chances of waking up would be slim for a healthy person. With ninety percent of his skin destroyed, bacteria could easily enter his bloodstream, and he could rapidly die of sepsis. The complication of his previous organ damage—especially the kidney Abel Gideon removed—made his probability of recovering next to zero.

“You don’t know what he’s lived through,” you seethed. “He did not survive three different serial killers just to die now. So you are not going to treat him like a lost cause, or…” You tried to think of what he would say, “Or I will sue this hospital for malpractice! That is the renowned psychiatrist and bestselling author Dr. Frederick Chilton, and you will not give up on him.”

Blustering didn’t suit you. And haughty threats couldn’t bring his swelling down. The doctors were doing everything they could, but the internal pressure became too much for him to breathe, even with the assistance of a ventilator and oxygen tubes in his nose. They carted him away to the operating room to cut more holes in him.

All you could do was watch.

“It will cause additional scarring,” a very kind nurse with curly hair explained to you as you blinked vacantly in a waiting room, trying not to break down, “but it should allow his chest to expand and save his life.”

You nodded, arms wrapped around your chest. He wouldn’t even notice a few more in the highway map of scars that his body had become. So long as he survived. You were supposed to get married. You just wanted him to wake up.

  ***

Frederick Chilton awoke in a bare and lonely hospital room.

A nurse came in to check on him after a few minutes of blinking groggily and trying to get his bearings through the static fuzz clouding his mind. She explained what had happened, reviewed the medications he was on, showed him the button to press to call for help, and handed him a remote control. No visitors to announce. No one waiting in the lobby all night, haggard with worry, for him to regain consciousness. No flowers crowding the bedside table.

The small television attached to the far wall, which he could barely see or hear, was less than useless, and the morphine drip prevented him from being able to focus enough to read a book. So he lay in bed, alone, in silence save for the tedious beep of the heart monitor.

It was so dull, he was grateful for having been unconscious for the last thirty hours, which was how long it took for the surgeons to get all the organs back inside of him that Abel Gideon took out, determining which ones were viable to go back, and which would go septic and kill him. Like a jigsaw puzzle. Humpty Dumpty, and not all of the pieces could be put together again.

Days passed, and his only visitor was a police officer there on a formality to take his statement.

He would have thought being disemboweled would make a man more popular. Of course it didn’t. This spared him his pride, at the least—he couldn’t tolerate visitors seeing him pale and clammy-skinned, whimpering with pain in a miserable little hospital gown—and for that he was grateful of his churlish nature, which pushed everyone well past arm’s length.

And yet, he wished they would at least try. He wanted people clamoring at his recovery room door so that he could send them away.

He would never be subjected to the indignity of being seen so weak—and yet, what he wouldn’t give to walk in to his office on his first day back and have all of his employees treat him softly, like he was some fragile thing, and not the tyrant they despised. To have them ask if he was all right.

Why didn’t he have more visitors? More flowers? More cards?

He was not well-liked, but he was distinguished. That warranted somebody stopping by with condolences. It was just that there was so little in his bare hospital room to distract him from the pain.

As the anesthetic wore off, a throbbing soreness radiated out from his abdomen, growing sharper with time. It was agonizing. With every breath, the contracting of his diaphragm and the expanding of his lungs and ribs tormented the stitches in his skin and the abused organs inside. He was either pumped full of so much morphine he couldn’t stay awake, or was clear-headed and wishing they would pump him full of more drugs so he could not be.

His mother sent a card, and so did the staff of the Baltimore State Hospital For The Criminally Insane. Both had flowers on the front, watercolor roses, and flowing script font in gold, and both meant equally little.

Perfunctory.

The one from the hospital had been insisted upon by the administrator, who had forced the staff to sign it. Each message was generic and impersonal, like they’d been taken from a standardized get-well form letter—although a few were kind enough to make him close his eyes and pretend they were genuinely meant for him. “We miss you, and wish you a speedy recovery!” His heart turned to think one of his employees really missed him and looked forward to him returning. He found the name signed under the message. He had no idea who it was, but he was certain he had never spoken to them.

The one from his mother had most likely been picked out by a maid, presented to her to mark her signature, and then mailed by said maid. It served mainly as a reminder that she hadn’t bothered to visit in person.

Both stung more to receive than if he had no cards at all—written proof that the only way anyone cared for him was as a formality.

There was a third card, however. The only one sent by someone who wasn’t socially obligated to.

You.

Unlike the others, it was completely unexpected. Jack Crawford, Alana Bloom, or Hannibal Lecter he would have understood, but you were last person he expected to hear from.

It wasn’t even a real card, but printed at home on plain, flimsy printer paper with a cartoon dog wearing a cone-collar that said “Sorry you’re feeling ruff” on the cover. The inside had a short, hand-written message: Glad you didn’t die.

Childish. Cheap. He should have been insulted. The whole thing was obviously intended to convey how little you cared. But he kept the damned thing long after he’d thrown the other two in the trash. He wished you would come visit so he could tell you how tacky you were to your face. Perhaps it was best that you didn’t—he would have wanted to buy himself flowers to fill the room with first, so it wouldn’t seem as if you were the only one who cared, or that your tasteless little gesture was anything of significance to him.

He was Dr. Frederick Chilton. It was important for you to know that he didn’t need you at all.

  ***

Frederick’s eyes moved behind closed lids. The swollen purple lids began to twitch, then slowly creep open. The room was hazy and bright with colors streaking at odd geometric angles away from the lights that produced them.

All he could make out were flowers. Dozens of them, hundreds, surrounding him in a resplendent cloud cloud of white and lavender. Either he fell asleep outside in the garden, or he had died and somehow gotten into heaven.

“No, you’re alive, Frederick,” you said from somewhere close. He must have been whispering to himself out loud. Your voice was wavering with powerful sobs that you shoved down to force it to sound soft and patient, but he could hear the laughter in it, too. “You’ve been out for awhile, but you’re doing really well. You just had a successful surgery. They finished debriding your burns and installing temporary grafts so you don’t go septic. Oh, and they were able to get a skin sample! It’s already in the lab so they can start growing you some of your own new skin.”

“Where…?” he blinked a few times, and tried to move before realizing he couldn’t. His body was heavier than lead and a dull ache like paper being torn pulsed beneath his skin at odd intervals. He went to lick his lips, but they weren’t there. His tongue hit empty air above his teeth, and then nothing until it encountered a gauze bandage and a plastic tube going into his nose.

That brought everything crashing back, and he groaned at reality, missing the previous few moments of anesthetic fog when the Red Dragon was just a dream.

You sat beside his hospital bed, on the side of his good eye, watching over him with a hopeful smile, rambling on about how happy you were that he was awake. There was a blue hospital blanket folded over the arm of the chair, and your hair was a mess—he wondered how long you’d been there. Every inch of surface space that wasn’t needed for medical purposes was covered in roses.

“You bought out Holland’s entire stock of flower exports.”

The way the words scraped sluggishly and humorlessly from his hoarse throat, his eyelids drooping lifelessly, made it sound like a reproach—but you laughed. You always laughed at his jokes. 

“They’re all fake,” you admitted. “Hospital rules—you’re an infection risk.”

He wanted to flash you a charming smile, but he couldn’t. He did not know if his face would ever be able to produce a smile again, or how many agonizing surgeries it would take before it could. You wanted to squeeze his hand and kiss him softly, over and over, but you couldn’t. It would be weeks before you could casually touch his skin without the risk of it ripping off. At least now that he was wrapped head to toe in thick gauze, you could reach out and gently rest your hand on top of his. It stung bitterly, but he didn’t show it—he didn’t want you to take your hand away. The pressure was comforting, and your engagement ring sparkled on your finger. 

“I am… glad to see you. These places can be so dull.” He met your gaze, hoping his one functional eye could shoulder the entire burden of body language in conveying his gratitude. He felt so defeated. Hollowed out. He stared up at the plain white ceiling. His words were often callous; it was physical passion which had brought you together in the first place, and without it, he feared he may begin to push you away like everyone else.

“Frederick,” you smiled, but your eyes looked like they might cry. “I’m glad to see you, too. Really glad. I don’t know who was there looking out for you the last few times you were in the hospital, but I wanted to make sure you know how loved you are this time. I’m going to be here every single day with books, and podcasts, fake flowers, and anything you want that I’m allowed to sneak in, until we can go home together.”

He didn’t want to say something trite like, “I couldn’t do this without you.”

He could.

He had before. But he didn’t want to. He never wanted to again. You had wormed so deeply into his heart and given his world color and meaning he had never known, even in his darkest moments. You made the biggest things seem unimportant, and the smallest things monumentally significant. He could never tell you how important you were to him, what it meant to not be alone.

The heart monitor betrayed the warm fluttering in his chest as the slow, steady beeping rapidly increased. You glanced up at the machine with concern, then back down to him, a sly grin spreading across your cheeks. Prideful embarrassment was written clearly all over his face, even with only part of his face left.

You wished more than ever that you could kiss him.

#Frederick Chilton #Frederick Chilton x reader #hannibal #Raúl Esparza #burn recovery #bryan fuller was letting Chilton get away with his burn way too easily tbh #actually so I am by letting him be conscious and also not dead but hey #this is a bit more like it #my writing

[gilmoregirlsmom]

Testimony

It was this time, one year ago (April 2018), that Ben and I found ourselves in one of the scariest, most vulnerable places in life. He had been sick for over a month with no relief from rest or antibiotics. He had been diagnosed with strep when the fever and sickness initially started. Throughout this month of sickness, we had a 3 year old who had just had a tonsillectomy, a 1 year old, and a newborn who was born 2 weeks prior to the tonsillectomy and when Ben’s sickness began. Sleeping in bed was beyond uncomfortable for him; he could not sleep for more than 2 hours at a time, night sweats, high fevers, his body temperature dropping at one point, extreme exhaustion/fatigue. At one point he had stabbing back pain so bad that I had to take him to see his primary care physician, knowing something wasn’t right. It was there that the initial blood tests were run. After receiving results from the blood tests, we were advised to go straight to the ER due to high white blood cell count, typically signifying an infection in the body. The trip to the ER resulted in more blood work taken, a chest x-ray, and being told to see a Hematologist (AKA, Oncologist). BAM, it felt as though someone had doused me in the face with the coldest bucket of ice water you could ever imagine. Going to an oncologist at 29 years old with my 30 year old husband was never something I would have imagined happening to us. During the appointment with the oncologist, more blood work was drawn for further testing and another chest x-ray was taken. The oncologist then sat down with us and stated that at that point we were checking for leukemia or lymphoma. She then ordered up a bone marrow biopsy for the following week and instructed us to go straight to the ER should his symptoms worsen. I could see it in my husband’s eyes, this was the moment where I knew he was scared and fearful of what would happen to his family if something happened to him. Let me tell you all, my husband is an affectionate man but he does not show many emotions. Let me put it this way, in the 15 years we had been together (dating and married), I had only seen him cry twice, when his papa passed away and the miscarriage of our child. So seeing the tears on my husband’s face while driving home from that appointment and facing the reality that he was potentially really sick broke me. I am typically the one that wears my emotions on my sleeve and it was in that moment that I knew, somehow, some way I had to pull it together and walk beside him to let him know that he was not alone in this that we would fight against whatever was thrown our way.

The next Saturday, my oldest nephew had his 1st confirmation and communion. Ben, of course, didn’t want to miss such an important moment in our nephew’s life so he decided to go with us. Plus, he told me was feeling a little better that day. However, during the service he asked me to take Bradie (our newborn) whom he was holding, signifying that he was not feeling well once again. Once the service ended and we had walked over to the parish hall to celebrate my nephew, Ben told me he needed to go home. As we were walking to the car, his lips started turning blue, and no, I am not exaggerating! I explained calmly (at least I tried to be) that we needed to go to the ER, and typically man that Ben is, told me he was fine and to take him home. We settled for a compromise that we would go home and if his fever was 103 or higher then we would go back to the ER. Well wouldn’t you know, I ended up dropping off the girls with my parents and off to the ER we went. What was his temperature you ask? 103.9 degrees. Once we go to the ER, I started throwing out orders (I’m bossy if you didn’t already know) for them to take a CT scan and that we would be admitted into the hospital to stay, per oncologist orders, as well as to call his oncologist if need be for verification. After a long night of scans, blood tests (yes, more!) and little to no sleep, the attending doctor gave us some good news (if you want to call it that). It was not cancer but he did however have a large abscess in his right lung. Why would it not have shown up on a chest x-ray? That was my question and the answer is that the chest x-ray is one-dimensional and the positioning of the abscess was tucked up in the corner of the right lung behind the heart. Therefore, his heart was blocking the abscess and it took the CT scan, a multi-dimensional scan to allow the doctors to be able to see that large abscess.

​Ben was immediately placed on high-powered antibiotics through an IV and when I say high-powered, I’m talking blood-testing daily to make sure they don’t do any damage to his kidneys. End of story…so you would think. My poor husband endured 2 weeks of IV antibiotics and daily blood draws (sometimes 2x/day) with no relief. Fever’s kept spiking, still unable to sleep for more than 2 hours at a time, continued night sweats, and pain in his back. He was STILL miserable! By this point, the oncologist was taken off the case and we now had a pulmonologist and infectious disease specialist to try to figure out what caused the abscess and how best to treat it. The pulmonologist on the case recommended we try switching to a different antibiotic combination and after yet another week with no relief, I was so conflicted with whether to keep him where he was or move onto KU Med, or even Mayo Clinic. My maternity leave (looking back I wouldn’t call it that) was coming to an end and I would go back to work the next week so I really hoped that I would see improvement before going back. Oh ye of little faith, this nice little reminder came from my brother (not exactly how he said it) to help remind me to have patience. My brother happens to be a nurse in the pulmonology department and a GREAT nurse at that! He was so helpful when it came to helping me stay informed and explaining things that I was not able to comprehend. But enough about my awesome brother, Ben and I agreed that we needed to get opinions of other medical professionals in the family, my Uncle and Ben’s Aunt. The first piece of advice was to switch pulmonologists, solely for the fact that Ben had seen another pulmonologist as a young man for his asthma, so this doctor would be familiarized with Ben’s medical history. But let’s be real, I’m sure there were multiple specialists that we didn’t even realize were looking over Ben’s case. Having family in the medical field that could help give us sound advice was worth more than I could ever explain, we are so grateful for my Uncle and Ben’s Aunt for all the help and advice they gave to us.

​After a few days with the new pulmonologist heading the case, he came by for his morning rounds and told us that he had woken up at 4am out of a deep sleep and decided that a bronchoscopy was the way to go. This is where they basically flush out the lung and to try to obtain a sample to see if they can pinpoint an exact bacterium. The tricky part is being careful not to disrupt that abscess which could spread the infection throughout his body and potentially kill Ben. We were told that there was only a 13% chance of the bacteria actually growing from the sample. The pulmonologist was so confident in his decision that I knew this was the route to take. It was also at that time they decided to place a picc line in Ben’s arm because the veins in both of his arms were giving out from so many blood draws and IV’s. The pulmonologist so kindly explained that this was his last ditch effort before sending us on to Mayo clinic. The procedures to flush out the lung, obtain a sample, and place the picc line were all performed my first week back to work. Luckily, my co-worker and boss are amazing and allowed me to work 2 days (part time) until we could get Ben out of the hospital. The following day after the procedure, the infectious disease specialist found us out on the rooftop patio (Ben needed sunshine to help him mentally stay in the fight) where he gave us the miraculous news that the sample was growing bacteria! He reminded us that they would need more time for it to grow but that the key to getting Ben healthy was in the works. Sure enough, they were able to identify the bacteria causing the abscess and switched him to yet another antibiotic regimen. Finally, finally, after a couple more days with the new antibiotics, the fever started declining, the night sweats ceased, and a restful night’s sleep had come, along with more comfort during the day. After one week with the correct antibiotic regimen and a CT scan showing shrinkage of the abscess, he was finally going to be released to come home! Might I add that when I was told he would be released I tried not to get excited because I had heard this before and every time, his fever would spike putting us back to square one. But that day came, where I walked him to the car, drove him home, and walked him in the house where we were greeted by 3 excited little girls that showered their daddy with hugs and kisses. After 3 weeks of antibiotics at home through his picc line and oral antibiotics, he was ordered another CT scan to check the status of the abscess. The specialist read the results while we were in his office, smiled, and gave us the news that the abscess was completely gone. PRAISE GOD! Oh no she didn’t just bring God into this!!! Yes, yes I did and here is why:

Maybe one month prior to Ben getting ill, I had joined a women’s bible study. Coincidence, I think not. God led me to these women knowing I would need women of faith to walk alongside me during the storm, to encourage and remind me to stay focused on God’s word, his truth and promises. The day that Ben went to his primary care doctor for blood work, I stayed in the car to finish up my bible study for the week. Let me to tell you, that Bible study helped encourage me and point me to scripture that I needed during this storm. When Ben came back to the vehicle and told me to take him to the ER, it was then that I fervently started praying. Yes, I had been praying but not like I should have. And when the point came to where we were told to see the oncologist, the first thought that came into my head was to ask everyone I knew to pray for my husband. That my friends was the Holy Spirit, preparing me and telling me it was time for battle, to gather up my armor, and gather all of my warriors- my prayer warriors.

When the day of the appointment with the oncologist came, while sitting in that parking lot before going in, I grabbed my husband’s hand and we prayed our hearts out right there in our black mini-van (yep, I’m a soccer mom J). After we left that appointment, my husband asked me how I had remained so calm in a moment where I should have been flipping out, instead of smiling and walking out as if the words leukemia and lymphoma hadn’t been thrown out. My response to him, “God was in that room with us, he was giving me the peace that I needed to remain calm amidst the chaos” (Philippians 4:6-7).

The night that I took Ben to the ER and he was admitted, we called his parents to let them know what was going on. Next thing we know, his parents are in the ER with us and Ben’s Aunt, Uncle, and cousin also show up. They came to administer to Ben and ask God to be with the nurses and doctor to figure out the cause of his illness and how to treat it. It was around 6 hours later, after we administered to Ben in a circle together holding hands that the attending doctor gave us the news that the cause of Ben’s illness had been revealed.

Now remember all, I am human. The first night I stayed away from Ben when he was still so sick and antibiotics were not helping, I found myself overwhelmed, anxious, scared, as well as many other emotions. I could not shake these thoughts that one of my worst fears was coming true, my husband was dying. It was when I was getting ready for bed that I dropped to my knees and started smacking my head, yelling for the devil to get out of my head. Yes, this actually happened. I am sure I looked like a lunatic and yes my kids were asleep, thank goodness but it was in that moment that I realized the devil is real. He was using my weakness, my fear of losing my spouse against me. He was trying to steal my focus away from God and wanted me to crumble under the weight of this storm. That was the devil’s play and I was allowing him to succeed. So after slapping the devil out of my head, I picked myself up off the bathroom floor, went into my room, and grabbed my Bible. I turned to the one verse (a dear friend had text to me) that gave me comfort during this storm. Isaiah 41:10 “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” I did not need to worry or fear because God promises us he is with us always. He will lift us up with his righteous right hand (Jesus) during the storm, giving us strength, peace, and comfort. But in order for him to do this we must have faith and trust in him, we must communicate with Him, much like we would with our parents here on Earth. To have faith and trust along with communication, we must actively seek these promises and truths through scripture and prayer.

The day of the bronchoscopy, as I was driving to the hospital on a gloomy, cloudy day, the clouds parted and a ray of sunshine so bright was shining down directly on my vehicle. It was in that moment that God was showing me his presence, wrapping me up in a ray of sunshine (symbolizing his loving arms) to comfort me and give reassurance that He was with me and would make good out of this storm. God was not only evident to me, but his presence was shown through the 2nd pulmonologist that took over the case and decided to perform the procedure. When he told us that he woke up at 4am out of a deep sleep with the decision to perform the procedure, that my dear friends was God. God brought down the Holy Spirit upon the pulmonologist to wake him and place the decision to perform that procedure in his head. God knew this procedure was needed in order to heal my husband. Let’s take it a step further, that sample taken during the procedure, the one that only had a 13% chance at most of growing the bacteria, it grew. Let me reiterate, it grew! God strategically planned for the Holy Spirit to reveal itself to the pulmonologist for him to perform the procedure and from that sample collected God would allow the bacteria (that had little chance) to reveal itself so my husband could get the healing his body needed.

Yes, our journey seemed long and tedious, especially with all of the doctors/ER visits and testing. However, if we had missed any of those appointments, doctors, tests, or if those sequence of events hadn’t happened in the exact order they did then we would not have had the same result. God lined up every moment start to finish; he put us in the hands of each doctor to help us get to the finish line of Ben getting healthy. Again, had we skipped even one step the end result WOULD NOT have been the same. Once again, I again admit that I am human, a sinner by nature, so naturally I did not see all of the blessings amidst the storm. However, once those storm clouds cleared, it was then that I saw all of the blessings that God had bestowed upon us during that time.

The blessing of faith, of the fact that I know and serve a God who promises to make good of every situation, and God has never been known to break a promise. The blessing of a spouse, a partner that God designed with me in mind, to walk alongside, support, and love me through this Earthly life. Someone to help me raise Godly children who have a passion to know and serve our Lord, at least that is our goal for our children. The blessing of family, who dropped everything to help Ben, care for our girls, and support me through a scary and stressful time. The blessing of friends, church family, and a community (more like a whole county), who rallied behind us in prayer, with cards of encouragement, hospital visits, meals, monetary donations, and much more. The blessing of hospital staff that want to help aid in the healing of others, who genuinely want to see us all walk a healthy life here on this Earth. The blessing of an understanding and compassionate boss and co-workers who worked with me to allow me to be there for my husband and girls when it was all on me. The blessing of belonging to a bible study with a group of women, who sent me daily scriptures and words of encouragement to help me keep my focus on God, who understood what I was feeling, and being some of my biggest prayer warriors. While I know, there are many other blessings that I could mention, these were the few that came to mind that I wanted to share. But not only did I see the blessings, there were also many things that I took away from that storm, teachable moments that God gave to me.

​First, never take your spouse for granted because they are truly a gift from God. But also with that in mind, it is important to realize that they are just that, a gift from God. A gift from God but they are NOT God. My biggest fear in life is losing my spouse or a child. God helped me realize that I was idolizing my children and husband because I was putting my love for them before God. My husband and my children, they are not mine, they are His. At some point in life, I will lose someone that I love dearly but instead of living fearfully, I now try to live in the joy of each moment that God allows me to spend with those around me that I love. I try to love each person with an intent and purpose, to serve them in every way that I am able. I also now know that I cannot control God’s will for my life or anyone else’s, I must succumb to his will and trust that like he promises time and again in the scripture, when hard times are upon us he will make good out of every situation.

Secondly, I learned that being a single parent is HARD WORK! And to be completely honest, I wasn’t even doing it fully alone, like so many that do. I still had family and friends helping with the girls when needed. With that said, kudos to all the single parents out there struggling to keep it together. Which brings me to my third realization. I was able to catch a glimpse, more like a fraction of what it is like to care for a loved one with a major illness/medical condition. With that in mind, I was only a caretaker for a short time for my husband. And to the single parents and care takers, please hear this: in the moments where you feel like you don’t have the strength to move forward, when you feel as if you are unappreciated for all that you do and how hard you work for your loved one, you are wrong. YOU ARE SEEN! You are seen by a God who sees you serving your loved one(s), which in turn is you performing God’s will for you. You are in his favor because you are serving him. God called us to this Earth to serve him by serving one another just as Jesus served during his time on Earth. So you see, God is smiling down on you (seeing you) and saying, “well done my child.”

Fourth, I learned that when we go through trials, storms, seasons of life (whatever you want to call them and yes they happen to everyone) if we focus on God’s truth and open our hearts and minds to him, he WILL reveal himself to us and give us all that we need to get through those times. I know this because I experienced all of these things, which you read up above, my testimonies.

Fifth, I learned that God wants us to serve one another. Whether it is a spouse, family member, patient, neighbor, or complete stranger, we are commanded to love and serve another. If God wanted us to carry the burdens of life alone, he never would have created Eve, or even procreation for that matter. That is why the Bible also discusses “the church,” the fellowship that we must have with one another to truly love and serve others.

Sixth, I was taught the power of prayer. I have another testimony on the power of prayer from my prayers alone, but this is my testimony about the power of prayer in numbers. I am beyond humbled by the amount of people that prayed for my family, particularly my husband. God heard all of those prayer warriors and answered. How do we know that God heard those prayers? Hello, have you been reading this testimony at all? He answered.

Lastly, I learned to wake up each morning and thank God that I am able to spend another day on this Earth with my loved ones. None of us know God’s plan or will for our lives, for most of us we won’t get a warning or a time to prepare to leave our loved ones behind. So live each day with a grateful, joyful heart, with the purpose and intent of loving and serving one another. Psalm 118:24 “For this is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

So for many of those who have asked or wondered how I managed to get through the storm with such strength and grace, my answer comes in the form of one word, a noun….GOD! He showed me his presence time and again, he gave me the strength to push through all of the difficult moments, he placed all of the people in my life that would help us wade through the rough waters amidst the storm. To all of those people who helped us make it safely to shore, thank you is not nearly enough. I want all of you to know that our family is forever grateful and I pray that God will place his hand favorably upon you and your loved ones, that he will help you live an abundant life for the acts of service you so selflessly bestowed upon our family.

Would I still feel all of this had the outcome been different for my husband and family? Yes, but I would have experienced much more heartache, seen many more blessings, and learned much more along the way. I could not imagine having gone through this storm without giving it all to God, I would have been a flat out mess. I would’ve given up and not been the wife or mom that I needed to be during that time. God never promised a life without pain or suffering, God does not punish us and give us consequences when we make bad choices, and let me tell you I had to do a lot of searching in the bible to understand why bad things happen to good people. What he does give us is free will and because of that we will experience pain and suffering in some of the choices that we make but he also gives us everlasting love, grace, mercy, compassion, forgiveness (there is no sin too big for God to forgive), strength, and peace. Shall I keep going? I think you get the point, God is good and he wants good for our lives. In order to get the good we must completely submit to him, in all our ways acknowledge him and he will make good on all of those promises. He also promises in the Bible, that he will make good out of every situation we face (Romans 8:28 & Philippians 4:19). Suffering is a part of life, a part of my life but I firmly believe that God will always keep his promise to me. He will create good out of any situation and bless me in ways I could never imagine. When that day finally does come, when I lose someone I love so dearly or I face another hard battle, this right here, this testimony will be my reminder of His promises! And when that day of battle comes for you, dear friend, I pray that you give it all to God and allow him to give you the strength you need to fight your fight, to take up your armor and gather your warriors to help carry the burdens of your battle. For those who have not opened your hearts to our heavenly Father, I pray that you know that when the time comes for you to fight, that you are not alone. HE WILL meet you right where you need him.

Here are the facts, here is the truth…GOD IS REAL, HE IS ALIVE, HE IS GOOD, AND HE LOVES ME! Psalm 136: 1 “Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good. His love endures forever.”

​​​​Love and blessings to all,

Brittani