My Personal Witness: The Context

So the experience that I have wanted to share the most during this whole blogging experience is one that has touched many different lives other than my own. I have been thinking a lot about this one single, long journey the most of all of my experiences on my mission lately, because just about a week ago I hit the year anniversary since it all went down and started, and also because I have to live with the effects of it every single day and for the rest of my life. I have literally begun measuring time since this event; I will never be the same again.

Lemme 'splain and lay out the context for y'all. Just for y'all's information, right about NOW it starts getting personal. You'll see what I mean. About a month before I left for my mission (July 28th, 2010) I had a minor surgery on my chest. The surgeon removed a small cyst from behind my right nipple and just under the skin. Yes, I said nipple. Now get over it ha. This cyst was not cancerous, malignant, life threatening, or in any way a serious problem. More than anything, it was just an annoyance and a little painful. It was about the size of a quarter. I wanted it removed just so I wouldn't have to worry about it at all ever again and especially not while on my mission. It was a simple outpatient surgery. I was in at 8 a.m. and home by noon. I had a drain in there for a couple days, then they removed it, I healed up in about a week, and all was hunky dory from there and I left for my mission with no concerns whatsoever about my health. I had just come off of a year swimming on scholarship for Brigham Young University and I had never felt better in my whole life, physically or spiritually. I was leaving on my mission. What was there to really worry about? At the time, there wasn't.

Fast forward 8 months later. I'm serving in Woodland with Elder Van Gilder. I'd been there for nearly two full transfers. Things were going great. We were working hard and teaching well and I was having the best time of my mission so far. I felt the Spirit on a daily basis and my relationship with Heavenly Father was stronger than ever and I had no reason to believe that anything might go wrong.

It was the beginning of April 2011, and we had just helped move one of the families we were teaching into a new home. For some reason about that same time my chest (and specifically the area around where the surgery had taken place) began to swell, become sensitive, and drain fluid from the scar itself. I didn't really know what to do, so I cleaned it and dressed it and left it at that. Then a couple days later, I woke up feeling really sick. Flu type symptoms: vomiting, diarrhea, fever, sweats, chills, sensitive skin and muscle achyness. My fever was simmering around 101 or 102 and I felt horrible. Luckily, a local bishop in the Church also happened to be a doctor (for those of you who aren't members of my Church, there are no paid clergy of any kind. Everyone serves voluntarily in the Church at all levels to which they may be called as well as providing for themselves with their own work) and I went to him for a check up [Miracle #1: I was able to get to initiatory medical attention easily and quickly]. His name is Dr. John Bringhurst, and he is one of the most intelligent and scholarly men I have ever met. [Miracle #2: The medical attention I received came from one of the most qualified doctors I have ever known, and it was definitely not coincidence that I had just been assigned to the same area where he lived a couple months before this all began]. As I was describing my symptoms, he seemed confused. Had I had any contact with anyone that was likewise sick lately? No. Had I recently developed some sort of topical infection in a cut or wound? Bingo. I showed him my chest, he took one look at it and said, "Yep, that's an infection. You don't have the flu or anything like that. Your body is acting the way it is because it is fighting whatever infection you have in your chest there." He prescribed me some antibiotics and told me to get rest; I would be fine in just a few days if I got sufficient rest, fluids, and took all my meds as prescribed. I went home feeling comforted and confident that I would be okay and I would only be down for 5 days more at the most. This first day of being sick was Saturday, April 16th, 2011. I saw Dr. Bringhurst the day I got sick and got my meds that same day as well. I thought for sure that I would be back to the ol' grindstone by the following Wednesday.

Boy was I wrong.