Flashback: My Symptoms Began

Let me set the scene for you... My second to last transfer as a full-time missionary. Only a five week long transfer. I was training. We opened a new area that hadn't had missionaries living there in over 25 years. Nothing in the area book. Lots of getting to know the people. Mid February. Snow still on the ground. 

I was moody. Getting out of bed, which had not been hard my entire mission, was now near impossible. I would be awake in my mind but couldn't open my eyes or move my body. I couldn't speak. I thought I was dieing when that happened. It happened whenever I dropped off for a short nap or waking up for the morning. I was terrified of sleeping. But this was a catch 22, I couldn't stay awake! I was so fearful. 

But I was a missionary! I had to get up. I had to excersize. I had to study. I had to go out and teach people. But my body had shut down. I'm pretty sure I was a depressed because we ended up staying inside for more than any good missionary can stand. We missionaries like to be out of the apartment as much as possible among the children of God, serving them. 

I called my mission president's wife and told her what was going on. I went to a doctor, and was told to just get more rest, I had burnt myself out with all the missionary service I had done already. That seemed plausible, but the next three days I slept and relaxed with no improvement. In fact it was getting worse. I had blood work done. I was picture perfect healthy, but may be getting over having mono. Mono?! Really!? I'm a missionary. I shouldn't have the kissing virus! Impossible. That couldn't be it. Again I was told to rest up and that I'll be fine. 

It got worse. Within three weeks of beginning to go downhill, I was a complete wreck. I got priesthood blessings. All of them told me I'd be strengthened. What I really wanted was to be cured so I could back to missionary work again. 

In the fourth week I got a call from my mission president asking if I felt it was time to go home- a transfer earlier than scheduled. I cried. All I wanted was to be healthy and serve The Lord. I only had one more transfer!! Couldn't The Lord make me healthy enough for one more transfer?! Then I could be as sick as a dog, I wouldn't care. But the spiritual witness was extremely strong during that phone call, and I can't deny the answer. I was to finish my mission a transfer earlier than planned. I cried. 

My parents were notified. A week later I flew home. I had a very nice gentleman escort me around the airport in a wheelchair. Walking was just too much. But I couldn't let the first time my family see me in a year and a half be in a wheelchair, so I forced myself to walk the last leg if the terminal. That same determination pushed me through the hard days that followed. But that is for another post:)