Sorry for the delay in getting this post out! I know some of you are following along day to day. The last few parts to this story may come out with a couple days in between. My husband, Anthony, and I are going to Sacramento to attend a seminar this weekend! I will try to and write as much as I can while I am gone!
Everything I was trying to ignore during this scary time (I believed that everything was fine though, due to all of the “It’s going to get worse before it gets better,” talk) had me desperate to get away. I decided to make the eight hour drive to Perryton, Texas, (the town I was born and initially raised in) to visit my great Aunt Lucy and several friends who lived in the area. A couple of days after July 4, 2013, I did just that – I loaded up my tiny green Fiat and left for Perryton.
When I got there, I had to explain to Aunt Lucy the crazy diet I was on several times. She was well into her 90s at the time and still thrives on chocolate. She knew a little but hadn’t really been told a lot about all of the “tummy troubles” so it was tricky for her to understand why in the world I wasn’t eating any fun sweets! I stayed true to my diet and took my gross supplements and drink things but I was barely able to tolerate any of it. I really don’t know how I was still able to function after that long car ride.
After a few days, I went home knowing I had a flight to southern California in a couple of weeks. I was going to visit Lukaza (a friend from the pre-college program at California College of the Arts) and my Aunt Judy! I was so excited about this trip. I craved getting away. I don’t know what it was – perhaps the desire to run away from what I knew was all bad news.
On July 22, 2013, my dad took me to Dallas Love Field to catch my flight to sunny California. He asked me several times if I felt okay enough to make this trip. My dad is cautious and asks questions and he knew that I was not doing well, but ultimately he supported my choices. I was so weak I had to be pushed through the airport in a wheelchair, but I was adamant that yes, I was fine and wanted to get on the plane to go to California.
As we waited for loading, we sat and talked and laughed in the waiting area. My dad recently told me that as the attendant wheeled me down the catwalk to the plane, a couple sitting near us in the waiting area had asked if I had just completed treatment for cancer. I was so weak and looked so bad that my plight was obvious to everyone (even complete strangers). Nevertheless, I flew out, with all my gross supplements and I was ready to enjoy some California sunshine.
I landed in Los Angeles where my friend, Lukaza, and her mom, Suchi, picked me up. I’m sure they were terrified just looking at me but they’re so sweet and didn’t say a thing. We went to their house in Santa Monica and they listened to me tell them all about this diet and the hopes I had for my health. Suchi took us to pick up a dinner that fit my guidelines. They were so accommodating.
In the middle of the night though, I started vomiting. The next morning, I was so weak I couldn’t get out of bed.