TITLE: Poisoned By RJ Shipman 11/15/06 |
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I’m writing this story for myself—because I need to tell it “for me” more than because I feel it needs to be told. My intentions are not to accuse or point the finger at any person. My intention is to let you know what happened to me over this last month and also to debrief myself so I can sleep again at night. And to let it be known to those who are spiritually ‘sleeping’ that there is a real spiritual battle going on.
I went to the states in July to receive doctor’s care for hypertension and for diabetes, which had both gotten out of control in the first half of the year. My blood pressure at that time was spiking to 210/110 at times and the lowest we could get it was in the 160-170 range. Along with that, blood sugar levels rise. The two go together it seems. Blood sugar was 180-330 depending on when I took the reading. I had decided to “play this out to the end” with the doctors and do exactly what they said, even if it meant staying stateside longer than my usual period of time. I ended up staying in the states for 2-1/2 months, seeing doctors, doing lab work, ultrasounds, etc on a weekly basis for the most part and at times more often than that. I cancelled other trips I had planned within the states to be consistently available to this group of about five doctors who I was told consulted weekly.
Yes, this is the right thing to do…write. I feel better already. It is like a debriefing, and that helps me to think clearly and focus once again.
After a month of testing and trying out various meds, there was still no real improvement in blood pressure past the 160 range. With one kidney, that is just TOO dangerous! The doctors began prescribing more and more meds, until finally we were up to eight prescribed medications! This jolted me because I have done most everything through nutrition for years. I told them from the beginning that my goal was to get off the meds, but I also wanted to be obedient to follow their advice.
About 24-48 hours after filling all these prescriptions and taking them for the first time, I left for a ministry trip to the east coast. On the way to the east coast I began getting quite ill. I thought honestly that it was some bad Mexican food I ate too late one evening. Stomach cramping and diarrhea began pretty much full force. The trip was intense and full of very heavy spiritual warfare. The whole time I was sick. I had hot and cold sweats at night and diarrhea and cramping with every bite of food that entered my mouth.
I returned from the trip, energy spent, and went back to the doctors again, telling them I suspected that I either had a parasite or a reaction to taking all those medications. I asked if we could stop some of the medications. Although they did reduce the dosage of one medication, they would not allow me to stop any of them even with side effects. They said they wanted me ‘stabilized’ before going back overseas again. One doctor said he would prescribe ANOTHER drug to help with the acid reflux! I wouldn’t take it. And so my energy level drained…
Up until this time I had been exercising regularly an hour a day. During the time of the east coast trip is when all that stopped and never picked up again. I just couldn’t get the energy to do it. Most people thought I was just tired and getting sort of lazy.
My appetite dramatically subsided…I lost 25 pounds in a month!
It was time for a family get-together at my daughter’s home in Arkansas so I went a few days early to help out and also to celebrate some birthdays with my daughter’s family. By this time, “grama” was not her usual, playful self with the grandkids. And I was cold all the time—really freezing—so much so that I borrowed my son-in-law’s fleece jacket and wore it everywhere. Before meeting up with family, the doctors had insisted on giving me three additional medications for cholesterol-related issues. It was also my first day to take those, making the total prescribed medications now up to ELEVEN.
While we were having the birthday dinner that evening, I suddenly felt on fire! The people could see red coming up from my neck, and I broke out into a rash all over. I was wondering if I should go to the hospital, suspecting I was having a reaction to one of the prescriptions I was taking.
I felt ashamed and embarrassed because I thought everyone there would think I was trying to be the center of attention or something at the party. This was the first time I had been there for my daughter’s birthday in years, and her dad and family were all there too. It was like the ultimate restoration of all things from God! I didn’t want to wreck that. I didn’t know what to do. I thought immediately about new medicine prescriptions. I had taken two of the three at different times before and had no reaction. We prayed together about the side effects and I immediately stopped taking the third medication on my own. Some people told me after this that my body was just “in rebellion” to these medications.
The next day I was cutting up vegetables to serve when all the family would arrive. It was like something hit me from behind me knees all of a sudden and buckled my legs. Strength went out. I had to sit down to do the rest of the cutting.
The family reunion time was real difficult for me because I just plain didn’t feel good. I love my family, and it was so hard to be absolutely freezing [with people thinking I was joking] and playing games and “pretending” to feel good and happy. And the diarrhea and cramping and weakness continued and got worse.
I was trying to pull the little kids to the corner in the wagon and just didn’t have the strength to get them back home. I remember feeling constantly, “This is no way to live. This is not LIFE.”
So… back to the doctor I went, determined to “play this thing out to the end.” I can see now how stupid it was. I thought I was being obedient and putting my health before my calling to ministry overseas. Dumb. I forgot to also use my brain. But that’s how deception works.
I told them once again I thought I either had a parasite or that the meds needed to be adjusted. The doctor I was talking with had evidently had a bad day. I can’t remember what he said, but he acted as if “Oh, YOU again.” He told me he would NOT take me off any meds and never did deal with the parasite issue. He did order a stress echo test to be done and advised me I may want to postpone my return flight to Jordan.
I went to the health food store and bought some wormwood for parasites and began taking it with meals.
That was my last “in person” doctor/clinic visit. That night they gave me enough free meds to last me six months overseas…all eleven of them. I didn’t tell them I had stopped the last med by myself without telling anyone.
I remember determining to exercise one day before I left the country again, so went out on the street early in the a.m. before the heat was too strong. I made it two blocks. My energy was finished. Diarrhea and cramping.
The day before I left the states, a representative from the clinic called me. I visited with her on the phone, since by this time we had become friends on a first-name basis. She gave me the results of my stress echo test and said the doctors had cleared me to go ahead and travel. I mentioned once again about the parasites or side-effects of the meds and the problems I was having. She told me to please stay on the meds for my health benefits and that my body would adjust. My blood pressure and blood sugar levels had been within normal range with these meds.
Five doctors said they were consulting weekly, and none of them would change my meds or look into this matter further!
The day of my return, I could not carry my suitcase down the stairs or to the car--or into the airport. I could barely deal with my own carry-on luggage. No problem. I had friends helping. I felt terrible and sick, crampy with diarrhea.
I hate plane rides—especially long ones. There is nothing glamorous about it. Your feet swell, and the food is not good [except for the yoghurt in Europe]. The trip home was no exception--except that I felt horrible from beginning to end.
Where I really knew I was in trouble was when we landed in Paris and I had to change planes. For some reason I wasn’t aware of at the time, it took Air France an hour to “deboard” us. [Is that a word?] That meant that together with my hand luggage, I had to hustle to make my connecting flight--something that would not normally upset me because Charles de Gaul is one of my least favorite airports to wait in [if you’ve been there you would understand this].
Instead of running to catch the next flight, it was like the very best I could do was to walk in s-l-o-w m-o-t-i-o-n. It scared me, but by now I was committed to get back to Jordan. I prayed for the Lord to hold up the next flight in order that I could get on the plane before it left. He did. I was the last one through the gate.
People on the plane helped lift my carry-on luggage into the bin. I couldn’t do it.
Upon arrival in Amman, I was praying about the getting the right taxi driver who would also be willing [for a fee of course] to carry my luggage and EVERYTHING to my flat from the taxi. Well, it didn’t matter. My luggage--with all the prescriptions meds--didn’t arrive. I had also put a copy of all the written prescriptions in each suitcase to make sure I could clear customs without being arrested for selling drugs or something. So now, both the meds AND the prescriptions were lost with the luggage.
You are probably thinking about now—oh, good! Delivered! No!! Before I left the states, I compiled a list of all the prescriptions, the dosages, when they should be taken, AND the side effects and precautions of stopping or not taking the meds. In each and every case, the side effects of coming off the meds were listed as “extremely dangerous to do without a doctor’s supervision”! Some of them listed precautions as severe side effects, cardiac arrest or possibly fatal to stop the meds without being strictly supervised by a doctor.
This is proving to be therapeutic for me and very beneficial to write this story. It is an exercise in concentration also!
When I got to my apartment and the landlord’s wife was there waiting at the door. She carried my carry-on and my purse to my door for me because I no longer had strength to lift it. Ah, home. I went directly to bed. That is where I stayed pretty much for TEN days.
By this time, taking meds, swallowing a glassful of water, or eating ANY food made my stomach retch. I still thought maybe I had an amoeba or something.
When I left the states, I had a five-day supply of the pills with me in my hand luggage. Usually that would be enough for two days travel, plus extra if any luggage was temporarily lost. I used it all, and still no luggage.
The pharmacy was only one block [uphill] from my apartment in Amman. I decided rather than risk cardiac arrest and a host of other severe scenarios or fatality, I would try to climb the hill and beg for favor with the pharmacist, explaining my situation.
It took a long time to get up the hill. I crawled through the door of the pharmacy and had to sit for a minute before I could even speak. Then my stomach cramped and I got the dry heaves. No matter. Nothing was in my stomach anyway except yesterday’s meds and half a cup of water.
For some reason, I had favor with the pharmacist. I had been trying to establish a relationship with her for some time in order to witness to her about Jesus, but she was really a tough nut to crack so to speak. Maybe it was the dry heaves.
She told me if I got on the internet and translated the American drug names into their scientific names, AND if she had them or could get them, she would do it. Well, for $150 I was able to get a two-week supply of eight of the ten drugs. I thought I’d take my chances on the rest since I didn’t have the strength to go all over town looking for them or for trying to make deals with other pharmacists. So I went home, organized my pills, and went back to bed.
Probably the best and brightest thing I did in all this was to call my friend, Donna, at Associated Press and tell her I was back. Some folks in the office were waiting for me to come, as I had been leading prayer sessions there and they want to begin to study the Bible. Glory!
I never did get to the office. Donna sent a mutual friend visiting from Syria to my apartment looking for me. I sat on the couch with her and could hardly serve her tea due to lack of physical strength. She had to help me. She was concerned as she knew me well.
The next day we met Donna for breakfast. It was the first time Donna and I had seen each other since I came back. She was alarmed at the sight of me! She later said I was unresponsive at best and she could sense death all over me.
Donna took charge! Friends at AP were calling about Air France’s strike [as it turns out] and contacting people in charge about my luggage. I really don’t know what all they did except that eventually on Oct 12 [nine days after my arrival], my luggage came in, although it did not all arrive together.
Donna and the AP staff contacted a doctor and set up an appointment. They sent their driver to take me and wait while I saw the doctor. He was doctor number SIX. I was dry-heaving about 30 times a day now and absolutely WHENEVER I thought about eating or drinking anything, including water.
I took the list of meds with me and described my symptoms to the doctor. I told him I had tried to treat myself for parasites even. He told me he would NOT help me to get off any of those meds and that I should do what those other five doctors told me. He did give me some pills he said would stop the nausea and dry-heaving. They didn’t. Donna says he didn’t help me because he was scared to. He was the personal physician of one of the other reporters.
I guess all this got on Donna’s last nerve because her ‘reporter’ side kicked in big time. She called another friend of hers and asked about HER doctor—who just happened to be world-renowned and who had attended the former king of Jordan himself. Now that sounded like a possibility! Doctor number SEVEN.
Her friend had seen me and was very aggressive at trying to get an appointment for me with this doctor. He said “No.” He was really busy and booked far in advance with appointments. But she insisted. She told him she was bringing me to see him anyway.
By this time I knew I was dying. Actually, I pretty much felt it from the beginning. I was trying to tell people before, but I had to say it in a way that “word of faith” people like me would say it instead of just saying what I felt: “I FEEL DEATH ALL OVER ME ATTACKING ME AND SUCKING THE LIFE OUT OF MY SOUL!”
I was in my bed or retching now 24/7. Sorry, but that’s how it was. I would lie down and I would feel death. I know now what it feels like, so I recognize it. When you are being poisoned to death, it is definitely NOT the same peaceful thought as “going home to be with Jesus.” No! I’m talking about BEFORE that victory comes.
I would lie down and feel something pulling me backward and down from behind into—all I can say is—COLD. Black cold. It was the loneliest thing I’ve ever been through. To be alone, falling backward into black cold.
Then I would jerk myself to try to stay awake! I knew if I allowed myself to go to sleep and fall back into that, I would die. But I didn’t have much fight left. It was getting too hard.
Funny [not really] the things God puts there for us at times like those. I was thinking, “Where are You, LORD?” “WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?” And thinking these thoughts, I would fuzzily gaze at the large needle point hanging beside my bed with the Names of God stitched on it in large purple letters, first in English transliteration of the Hebrew word, and then in English.
I kept being drawn to one name: “QANNA”, which means “JEALOUS“
I don’t know why I remember that, except that now I know now that God was/is JEALOUS for me…jealous enough to not let death have me in this way or at this time.
I thought I would die in the car on the way to the doctor’s office. The sun was hot. No air conditioning in the car. Traffic was incredible. It was Ramadan rush hour traffic.
I knew I was going to die. My only thought now was to not die on the way.
The doctor had been delayed with some surgery at one of the hospitals. I tried to wait in the waiting room, but could no longer sit up in the chair. Donna and Jill MADE the doctor’s secretary give me a place to lie down. Turns out, the only place to lie down was in his office. They TOOK IT for me.
The doctor was really a man with “presence.” He was VERY commanding, and seemed irritated when he came in. I don’t know if it was because we had taken over his office or if there was some other reason. All that for me is blurry now.
I could no longer think of, let alone describe, my symptoms. I didn’t have strength to lift my hand up and brush my hair back off my face. I couldn’t hold my purse. I couldn’t think. Donna and Jill did all the talking…and fast.
The doctor never even looked at me. I was behind him. He listened to Donna and Jill. He thumbed his pen. Then he told them to get me to the hospital as fast as they could drive and quickly scribbled some notes for us to take with us to give to admissions. He said he would be right behind us. Before we got out the door he had already finished barking orders on one phone call and was on his second.
I had to be pretty much drug to the car this time.
We arrived at the hospital one hour before the breaking of the fast during Ramadan. During Ramadan things usually close about that time and open again several hours later after the “if tar” [time of eating and breaking the fast at sunset]. It’s almost impossible to even get a taxi during that time [which means if you are healthy, it’s a good time to take a walk!].
A radiologist immediately did the kidney ultrasound and a bunch of things I don’t remember.
Then they insisted I drink FOUR glasses of this white milky looking stuff to do a CT scan. I almost started crying because it was equal to the amount of liquid I had drunk total in the past five days. I told them I would vomit.
Somehow I kept that liquid down without retching. They asked me to hold my breath for 15 seconds at a time during the CT scan. I couldn’t even hold it for five seconds. They had to go picture by picture, frame by frame.
Finishing that, I really thought the only thing keeping me alive was that I was now in air conditioning. Admissions assigned me a room, and the man that was taking Donna and me to the room was annoyed that I wasn’t walking faster keeping up with him so he could finish and eat. I could hardly put one foot in front of the other even with Donna’s help. I needed a wheelchair, but it was time to break the fast and I was the last thing standing in the way of eating. Besides, I am American…and a woman. Low person on the priority list most likely.
They left me in the room with Donna. I don’t know how long we were there…probably not long at all. All the sudden our famous doctor burst through the door. He asked me, “How long have you been here?” I had no idea even what he said, let alone how to answer him. Out of my mouth came, “About an hour.”
He was like a volcano that exploded! I couldn’t honestly imagine keeping up with this brilliant man all day. Working around him would be so intimidating. And apparently he seemed to be on my side!
He raged into the hallway and began screaming at everyone! I mean EVERYONE! Like he was the big cheese or something [I found out later he WAS the “big cheese.” Even the chief of staff bowed down to this one!]
ONLY ONE KIDNEY! NO KIDNEY FUNCTION!
Within five minutes there were at least two IV’s going and oxygen being administered. He was shouting at them about my potassium levels being around “8“ and a bunch of other stuff.
Some doctor put the oxygen mask over my mouth, and I all of a sudden I had “fight” in me once again! I was fighting them as much as I could with absolutely no strength left. I didn’t know it was oxygen. I thought it was ether and that they were trying to kill me. The doctor was shouting at me to “BREATH IN!” I wouldn’t do it. Finally, he put the mask on himself to show me. Like I said, I was pretty much out of it. Most of this is from the memory of others along with my blurred perceptions.
And so it stayed for three days…
And after three days…hmmmm…never thought about that until now.
Guess that first night after my rather hasty admission to the hospital is when Donna went to my place, ransacked my phone numbers and whatever she needed to get, and called all over the world raising prayer support for me.
From that time on, I stopped fighting and somewhere others were carrying me instead, and what they prayed was answered within 12 hours—always--and is still being answered.
On the fourth day, I was able to leave the hospital with ALL levels registering ‘normal’, including blood pressure and blood sugar…and I am currently taking TWO prescription meds.
All praise to Jesus, who is still cleaning the toxins out of my body as I write.
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