Lashed By Storms- CH 11

Chapter Eleven

Interrupted Plans

And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:19

            Christmas 1994 was hard, recalled Anne. “We were depressed and sad, and everything we did felt forced and artificial. Mike had a mystery illness, and this was our first Christmas without Barbara.”

            Rex spent four days with them, and much of that time, he was on the phone. He was in denial about Mike’s health, and the only time he seemed somewhat himself was after a phone call.

            “It was Barbara who made celebrating the birth of Jesus special for all of us. She also gave me a renewed sense of family. Without her, we didn’t seem to know what to do. We were grieving, and Mike was continuing to feel worse.

           “We soon learned the calls Rex was making and receiving were to and from an acquaintance of his who at one time had been his boys’ grade school teacher. We didn’t know at the time that Lorraine was offering a listening ear and comforting Rex as best she could.

           “Every day, Mike was experiencing dizziness, he was nauseous, he had spasms in his esophagus, and his skin was paler than normal. He told me the cramps in his legs were extremely painful.”

            A bone marrow biopsy ruled out leukemia. What the biopsy showed was Mike’s bone marrow was working harder, presumably to try to keep up with making red blood cells, but no obvious bone marrow cancer was seen. With no sign of losing blood and no sign of a problem making blood, Mike’s low blood count was most likely from some process that was destroying his blood. A urine test confirmed the process—his urine in the morning still looked like dark tea. His urine also tested positive for hemolysis, the process by which red blood cells prematurely rupture and are destroyed.

            “Mike told me there were several things on the list of possibilities for hemolysis, but we were still hoping some unknown mysterious virus was the culprit and that it would just go away. Realistically, however, we knew it wasn’t a temporary virus.”

            Mike’s doctors continued to be puzzled. They weren’t eliminating the possibility of cancer, but they couldn’t figure out what was going on. They sent him to the University of Washington hospital, in Seattle. It was the first time Mike walked into a facility, as a patient, where the sign over the door read Cancer and Hematology Clinic. He swallowed hard and paused for a moment before checking in at the desk. It was there doctors made a diagnosis of paroxysmal nocturnal hemoglobinuria, known as PNH.

            “We heard, for the first time, about a Dr. Haas, considered at the time to be the country’s if not the world’s, leading expert on PNH. He worked at Duke University in Durham, North Carolina. Because the test for PNH was seldom performed at Washington Hospital, Mike’s blood was sent to Dr. Haas’ lab, which confirmed a diagnosis of PNH.”

            The Schlegels learned PNH affects red blood cells (hemolysis) and it can also affect platelets and while blood cells. The disease progresses slowly and damages or alters bone marrow. It can contribute to clotting problems.

            At the time of Mike’s diagnosis, the anticipated life expectancy was ten years. Bone marrow transplants had been successfully done to treat the disease, but many levels of screening were required to find suitable donors. The first screening required matching six proteins in the donor’s blood against the patient’s. Mike’s youngest brother was tested and matched four out of six, good enough if Mike had leukemia. A better match was needed for PHN. Their brother David matched six out of six.

            “Because of the high risk of death, Mike wasn’t a candidate for a transplant at the time of his diagnosis. Instead, his doctors prescribed a high dose of steroids. We were told the drugs would treat symptoms and give him a better quality of life.”

A Tough Situation

            “Mike’s diagnosis added to the deepening depression I was experiencing. I couldn’t help but think how sweet it would be if I could just slip under water, fade away, and never be seen again. I desperately wanted to escape—it felt like I was being pulled deeper into the clutches of depression.

            “The only saving grace, most days, was taking Sam and Max for a walk. Because we couldn’t take Clear Creek Road, I loaded them into our old Toyota pickup and drove them to Bangor Naval Base. There were miles of trails there. The dogs didn’t seem to care where we walked—they were just happy to be back into their routine.

            “Walking the dogs each day was the one stable event I could count on. Mike’s temperament was unpredictable, but the dogs were always in a good mood.

            “I blamed myself for my husband’s changed behavior. When the steroids kicked in, he was able to return to work, but nothing was the same. One of the side effects of the drugs was mood instability. Mike’s personality wasn’t the same—he was irritable and sometimes short tempered.

            “While we were both grateful for a diagnosis, daily living had a new set of frustrations and challenges for both of us. Work changed for Mike. He could no longer dive, and he wasn’t deployable. He could still perform his undersea medicine duties as they pertained to submariners, though.”

            The Schlegels spent a good ten months fighting for Mike to not be discharged or retired. The legal loophole in their favor was that since Mike was able to perform his job as an emergency doctor, the Navy could not retire him.

            “We struggled with our future plans. Career options are very limited for physicians who have not completed a residency. With Mike’s PNH diagnosis, we wondered whether he should apply for a residency in emergency medicine. Would he be able to handle the physical demands of a residency? If he didn’t do a residency, what about our income? We wondered whether we should stay in the Navy. All those questions, and more, contributed to stress for both of us. It was a challenging time.

            “On top of all our questions, Mike was dealing with steroids and a disease that nobody seemed to have many answers for. We completed the paperwork to request a medical waiver so Mike could remain on active duty. After spending a lot of time in prayer, we decided to leave it in God’s hands, and apply for residency in emergency medicine. We also decided to try to stay in the Navy, knowing PNH would typically be a disqualifying condition for active duty service.

            “When we were later sent for a consult with Dr. Haas in his office at Duke University, I began to realize Mike’s behavior wasn’t in my control. We learned more about the full impact of steroids. Dr. Haas told us about drugs that could help with some of the symptoms. Mike wasn’t interested. He and a colleague were putting together a waiver request package and Mike didn’t want mention of any additional negative aspects.

            “It was so good to hear from someone who had seen PNH and who appeared confident with the disease. It was strange meeting other patients in the waiting room who had also been diagnosed with PNH. Prior to meeting with Dr. Haas, Mike had felt like a mutant. His was an interesting case—neither his primary care provider nor his two hematologists had ever seen a patient with PNH.”

            During one of her afternoon walks, Anne’s thoughts drifted to the time she laid her fleece before God. She had done that to protect her heart, but that didn’t mean she had accepted infertility. She still wanted children.

            “Ever so slowly, I came to understand why God hadn’t granted me the one thing I wanted most. On a warm July day in 1995, I fell to my knees, buried my head in a chair and wept. I cried for a long time—tears I hadn’t cried when laying down my fleece.

            “I talked to God. I told Him he had to take the infertility thing—I couldn’t handle anything more. When I listened to Him, I began to understand that infertility had nothing to do with me. Not anymore. That afternoon, I acknowledged to the Lord that in His wisdom, He knew what the atmosphere in our home would be like. He knew our home environment wouldn’t be a healthy place to raise children.

            “Later that afternoon, when I got off my knees, I felt a release from all the blame I had placed on myself for not having children. I could only thank God I wasn’t trying to raise a child. God knew I would have my hands full with Mike, his behavior, my job, and the house. He knew in advance what I had come to know—I truly couldn’t have handled more.”

             Anne decided to quit her job. Too many days of showing up with a smile on her face had taken a toll. She felt of no use to the veterinarian, the staff, the patients, or the patients’ “moms” and “dads.” She felt she couldn’t function anymore in that environment. At the end of each day, she was physically and emotionally drained.

            “Depression had become a constant in my life. I had tried talking to one of my good friends, but she couldn’t break through the thick wall I had built to protect myself.

            “I wouldn’t let anyone in. Satan had such a firm hold on me. Each day I obsessed about how sweet it would be to just slide under the water in the tub and disappear. There was one problem though—the bathtub didn’t hold enough water to slide under, and there was nowhere to disappear.

            “I’d convinced myself that no one could possibly understand the depth of my depression. It took every ounce of strength I could muster just to get out of bed each morning. It took even more energy to brush my teeth and to get dressed for the day.

            “I felt I was of no use to Mike. I was responsible for his happiness, and I had let him down. He’d be better off without me. And Max and Sam, well, they would be okay because Mike would take care of them.”

A Plan to Escape

            While she couldn’t slip away in bathtub water, Anne realized in the fall of 1995 there was something she could do to find release from her emotional pain and the blackness of depression.

            She could do what Mike’s mom had thought of doing! It soon became her sole focus.

            “The conversations I’d had with Barbara came back with sharp clarity. She had told me about every detail of the plan she had to take her life when she thought she couldn’t handle living with her diagnosis. I remember her telling me she couldn’t follow through with her plan because she had three boys to raise.

            “I didn’t have children. There wasn’t anything to keep me from doing what she had planned to do.

            “Satan was messing with my head big time. I felt Mike would definitely be better off without me. I felt I truly deserved the emotional abuse I was suffering because of him. I never knew what to expect when he came home from work. I’d never been on the receiving end of that kind of behavior from him, and I didn’t know how to respond.”

            Anne gave thought to the conversations she and Mike had earlier with Dr. Haas. It didn’t matter any longer. She couldn’t make her husband happy; she had tried, and she was tired. She’d given everything she could—God would forgive her.

            “It was time, once and for all, to end my pain and put a stop to my hurt.”

            The beach was less than three miles from her house. With energy unlike any she’d felt for a long time, she gathered what she needed and put it in a bag. She got in the car, excited to head to the beach. Soon she would be delivered from the hellish black hole, a hole that had continued to deepen. She’d be out of pain. She’d be free! Anne was excited—her plan was coming together.

            “Then I heard it—His voice.

            “Anne, you can do this if you want, but I want you to see a counselor first.”

            How dare God interrupt her fail-proof plan? She was forgiven, and He would forgive this too.

            “Anne, you will not do this. I want you to see a counselor.”

            Anne had never ignored God’s voice. She couldn’t do so now. With mixed feelings, she left the beach and headed for the house. She’d follow God’s instructions, and then continue with her plan.

            Back home, she threw her bag on the table and grabbed the phone book. A check of the Yellow Pages indicated only one Christian counselor, a woman. Anne carefully dialed the number, thinking how pleased God would be that she was doing as asked.

            “I was surprised when the counselor herself answered the phone. She had just gotten a cancellation, and she said she could see me in an hour.

            “When I got to the office, the counselor herself greeted me. My energy level was high. An hour, just one hour, and I could get on with things.

            “I quickly tired of that woman’s incessant questions. I was polite, but I kept my responses brief—first and last name, phone number, yes, I was married; yes, we were military; two dogs; no children; three siblings; yes, my dad was deceased; yes, my mother was still living . . . good grief—I thought that woman would never stop with the questions. Finally, she told me our time was up.”

            Anne declined the offer of a second appointment. It wouldn’t be necessary. She had seen a counselor. She had obeyed God.

            “If the counselor had been better at her job, she would have learned the real reason for my call.

            “I couldn’t believe all the energy I felt on my drive home. If that counselor had realized I was up to something, we could have had a real conversation. But she didn’t. Oh well. All I could think about was getting my bag and heading to the beach.”

            Once home, Anne took comfort in seeing everything was right where she had left it. She found a piece of paper and scribbled a note to Mike.

            “I love you, and I am praying for your healing.”

            As she turned to grab her bag, Max and Sam brushed up against her. Anne got down and buried her head between their shoulders, sobbing. They had been the one constant, even during her darkest days. Their love was real. Their love was unconditional. She petted them and assured them Mike would take good care of them. She clung to their fur for some time before she got up.

            “I could tell the dogs were disappointed when I didn’t grab their leashes for a walk. I couldn’t let them stop me. I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.

            “And then the phone rang.”

            Anne couldn’t ignore the phone. It might be Mike calling. She answered.

            “Anne, shortly after you left my office, I struggled to understand why you looked familiar. And then I realized who you were,” the counselor said.

            “Well,” Anne replied, “I didn’t recognize you.”

            “I was the woman in the van that stopped for you on Clear Creek Road. Why didn’t you tell me?’

         “At that moment, my knees buckled, and I dropped to the floor. It took me a moment to find my voice, and when I did, it was barely a whisper. I told her I didn’t come because of what happened that day—that it was so much more.”

            Anne was in shock. This was no accident. God loved her, and He had a purpose for her and her life. She wasn’t a victim. God had purposely and mightily intervened. He loved her! He cared about her!

            “I was still on my knees on the floor, phone pressed against my ear, when the counselor asked if I could come back in. She told me she could see me right away.”

            Insurance only covered another five visits—and during those visits the two women talked intensely, with Anne verbally dumping everything that was weighing on her heart and mind. She willingly responded to questions, hungry for answers.

            Solutions weren’t quick, but the suggestions the counselor offered gave Anne hope, enough to get her over the hump.

            “I started taking antidepressants, and realized there was nothing shameful about doing so. My counseling sessions helped me realize Mike’s short temper and irritability weren’t my fault. I listened, and began to understand I wasn’t powerless when Mike’s behavior was over the top.”

            The medication took time to work. Anne’s depression didn’t go away overnight. She took advantage of what she had learned, and when Mike’s behavior became emotionally and verbally abusive, she would choose to disengage, often walking away.

            It would be some time before Anne could tell anyone what she had planned to do before the phone call that day. Before returning to the counselor’s office, she emptied a stash of drugs into the toilet; it took two flushes before they disappeared.

“I was so grateful I had listened to God and so in awe of just how much He loved me.
I knew it wouldn’t be the last time I would listen.”

***

Anne’s story was incredible. Would those who had no experience with God marvel at how He worked in Anne’s life, or would they dismiss her experience? More than anything, Anne wanted readers to know there is always help, and hope. If you are thinking of hurting yourself, reach out—call the National Suicide Hotline at 1-800-273-8255. The number is toll-free, and support is available 24/7.

Chapter Eleven

Return to Chapter 10

Continue to Chapter 12

Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version,