The oddest thing happened to me this summer. One day I was enjoying life and planning to celebrate my 39th birthday, then the next moment I woke up and couldn’t move my joints. I had never experienced anything like this in my entire life. I was struggling to walk, to bend, to make a fist with my hand. I chalked it up to feeling sore from a work out the day before, but as the day progressed I noticed my range of motion continuing to decline. By the end of the day I had to ask my child to open a can of beans for me as I prepared dinner. Again, I dismissed my symptoms and thought I would feel normal after a good night’s rest.

That night I tossed and turned. I could feel my joints swelling and aching. I succumbed to taking a dose of ibuprofen, which I never do. I am one of those weird people who despise taking medicine, but the pain could not be touched. I sat up for hours wondering what on earth was going on with my body. The next day the symptoms continued to grow worse. I could hardly use my hands at all. I couldn’t get dressed or make breakfast for my children. My hands were swollen and my fingers looked like sausages. Since it was now Sunday, I again waited to see if maybe rest would help me improve before going to the doctor. That night I was awake all night long with pain. The bed sheets felt like they weighed a million pounds on my aching legs. I had to sit upright and breathe through the pain.

Morning came and I watched the clock minute by minute awaiting my doctor’s office to open at 8:00. I knew something was very wrong. The doctor sent me for an autoimmune panel, but the results would take days to come back. She offered me steroids and pain medicine, but I am stubborn and didn’t want to take anything until I knew a definitive diagnosis.

That week my kids had to open the car door for me, hold my purse, and help with the house. I was so fatigued and the pain so intense that I have a hard time describing it. I couldn’t sleep, so I sat up hour after hour and prayed.

By Friday I had a call from my doctor. She wanted me to come in that day to discuss the lab results. I knew that my body was not okay, but now I feared the diagnosis she would deliver. I explained that it was my birthday and that I preferred to have a phone consult if possible. She would need to call me back. I waited all day and finally after office hours at 6 pm she called. She told me that I had positive antibodies for systemic scleroderma. She said my liver enzymes were extremely elevated from an autoimmune attack on my liver, and that I needed to see a Rheumatologist and Endocrinologist as soon as possible. She also prescribed medication to start treating the inflammation.

Unfortunately, because of my nursing background, I knew too well what systemic scleroderma was. It is an ugly, hard to treat disease with a life expectancy of 3-5 years from the time of diagnosis.

3-5 years…

What in the world? How could this be happening?

I cried. My husband held me and all of life seemed to stop in those moments. We were in the middle of packing for a trip to Yellowstone National Park the next morning. We had planned this for over a year. We decided that perhaps it would be a good distraction to go on the road and if a specialist could see me the following week, we would simply drive home early to meet with the doctors.

Saturday morning we left. Looking back on the photos brings mixed emotions. I see my protruding, swollen liver and abdomen sticking out of my shirt. I can sense the weariness in my face as I tried to enjoy the time with family and my children.

Praise be to God that my story has a happy ending. I’ll jump to that quickly as not to overwhelm you with concern. It took a solid six weeks to meet with the right doctors, repeat lab work, and finish medications, but eventually they determined I had been taking a medication that induced an autoimmune attack. I do in fact have systemic scleroderma markers, but perfectly healthy people can have these markers and go on to live long and healthy lives. I pray this will be my story. I will need follow ups to make sure it isn’t rearing it’s ugly head in an active form of the illness, but for now the markers are latent and doing nothing in my body. It will take a full year until I am “cleared” and considered fully healthy following the attack on my liver, but hopefully I stay away from that medication and this never happens to me again. It was perhaps a bump in the road. A pause for reflection.

Reflection….this is what I learned from those weeks after someone had placed a time limit of years upon my life. In those moments, I asked myself what my bucket list might be. What did I want to accomplish? To experience with my children? And the answers surprised me…

I did not desire a trip or grand adventure. I did not desire to go back into the work force and attain awards or accolades. I did not desire possessions or wealth. Nor did I desire to spend my precious moments pursuing vanity or temporary beauty.

What I desired were the simple things of life—the gifts we have in our every day that we truly don’t appreciate until they are gone.

I desired to sit outside on my porch swing and listen to my children laugh and play.

I desired to feel the warm sun on my face and the breeze against my cheek. I desired to hug my husband and feel the comfort and safety I find in his embrace.

I desired to write my children letters encouraging them to place their lives in the hands of our good and gracious God. I have shared this message with them daily, but perhaps at sixteen, fourteen, and twelve-years-old, they will hear it in a way that they didn’t at the ages of 6, 8, and 10. I would need to write this down in case I wasn’t there to tell them.

I desired to tell those in my life how much I loved them and what they meant to me.

I desired to put down my phone, hold my children and take in the smell from their sweet heads.

My desires spoke deeply to me about what I value, and where I should place my time and days. I am beyond thankful to the Lord for the good reports on my health, and I pray He allows me many years ahead to enjoy these rich gifts. Yet, I am also grateful for the wake-up call he gifted me. I am thankful for the time I was given to reflect on what matters most and where I desire to spend my limited and precious time.

Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. -Psalm 90:12

Live in wisdom today, friends.