I kept trying to go on. To work, to feed missionaries, to take care of my family as I got worse and worse. Every time I went to work I reacted to something new, just forget going to the store.
Finally came the day I went to the doctor for an urgent reaction at work and she asked me “what was I doing there?” I said, here at the doctors? She said no, at work. I was on automatic, no one had said I shouldn’t go to work so I just kept going as best I could. I clearly didn’t understand what was happening to my body.
At that appointment I was so sick and having such a hard time breathing that the doctor wouldn’t even let me drive home and insisted I have my husband pick me up, particularly as I work 40 minutes from home.
I was so out of it I didn’t even realize how sick I was. When I finally stopped, it hit me like a Mack truck. I slept for over a week only getting up to take medicine, I hardly ate as after I ate my body freaked out. Eating, well, processing what I ate put tremendous pressure on my body. I have never felt so physically stressed in my life.
During this time I was able to see an allergist and they told me I had severe asthma and that it was likely a chronic condition I would need to deal with for the rest of my life.