Déjà Vu in the Hospital
In that moment, nothing mattered besides saving my one remaining leg.
I was in shock and attempting to suppress my emotions; I couldn’t allow them to dictate my actions - and yet, the fear and pain were overwhelming. I was in the emergency room of Greenville Memorial Hospital - waiting. Have you seen the old Star Trek episodes wherein a character such as Jean-Luc Picard lived an entire lifetime in an alternate universe while the U.S.S. Enterprise was still proceeding in “normal” time? Picard had a wife, children, career, and grew old, all while some ensign was having cocktails in Ten Forward.
That’s how I felt - I was spending a lifetime waiting to hear whether or not I’d be able to keep my remaining leg. Time had stopped in my bubble; the world could proceed as quickly as it wanted, as far as I was concerned - none of it mattered anymore. The pain in my shoulder became irrelevant; my frustration with not being able to follow my training program for my first appearance on stage was as far away as another galaxy.
I brought my knitting to the emergency room in a (fairly futile) attempt to take my mind off of the situation. At this point, I still didn’t know whether I’d be able to keep my leg or not.
I had contracted another infection in my ankle - this time, on my left side. It was developing into quite a nasty looking, pus-filled situation, and if the infection had spread to the bone, amputation would be recommended. It was exactly what happened in May 2025 during Meatstock. In both instances, my skin grafts had opened up, allowing bacteria to enter which developed into MRSA.
Promising to Prioritize
I pledged my priorities to the Lord that day. I know I am called to honor the Sabbath Day and keep it holy, but I haven’t been. Slowly I have been shifting focus to my body and appearance instead of what truly matters: living out God’s purpose while I’m here visiting on Earth. Frightened, I turned to the Lord and humbled myself. “God,” I prayed, “I acknowledge how powerless I am without you. I promise - if you just let me keep my leg - I promise to honor you and not this human body. I will take Sundays off of the gym and rest, as You did after creating this world. You will be first in my life. Please, God. Please.”
“Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.”
We all know that life is a sexually transmitted disease with a 100% mortality rate. None of us is making it out alive! This body is a rental, a temporary vessel for me to use while I’m on Earth - and I have the faith that one day, I’ll get a new one! It’ll be the latest, shiniest model with all the bells and whistles. I’ll even have two legs and be able to run around again! How amazing, and I’m looking forward to spending eternity in that body with no pain. But for now, I am on a mission. I have work to do.
Now, just because God gave me this “rental” body for a short while doesn’t mean I will treat it the way most people treat their rental cars - no hard braking or street racing. I’m not going to run it into the ground, abuse it, or put diesel fuel in it when it needs 93. I will do everything I can to nourish and strengthen this body - but not for my vainglory. My priority must be fulfilling the purpose God has for me, and how can I do that in a sick, malnourished, weak body? The key, however, is remembering why I am taking care of my body: Not to look good on stage, but to accomplish God’s purpose and honor Him.
Speaking of the stage, my hospitalization gave me time to reflect on my recent entry into the OCB South Carolina Classic. In a recent blog post, I spoke of inspiring others with disabilities to pursue their goals, work on my own discipline, and overcome the fear of revealing my body to the world. But in that hospital bed, I realized I’m not ready for this competition - not mentally, anyway. I was slowly allowing my body and the competition to become my idol. I had placed more emphasis on my appearance than on bringing glory to God - and it bit me in the ass.
The Hallway and Beyond
While this spiritual and emotional turmoil occupied my thoughts, snow was falling outside. My home in Greenville, SC received what for us amounted to a “snowpocalypse,” a stunning 6 inches, and caused significant traffic and business interruptions. The hospital was apparently overcrowded, which meant I spent nearly my entire stay on a makeshift bed in the hallway.
I was finally moved into a proper room on the day of my discharge. I was unable to sleep because of the unrelenting fluorescent lighting and staff and visitors constantly walking past me as I sat against the wall watching the IV slowly drip into my arm. Feeling so vulnerable, exhausted, and exposed was incredibly stressful, and I admittedly threw myself a pity party more than once.
Once the results of the MRI indicated no signs of osteomyelitis, however, the party really began. I couldn’t physically get down on my knees, but my soul bowed to God with a full and grateful heart. I would keep the leg - and I would keep the promises I had made. God mercifully gave me another chance to properly prioritize my life, and I’m jumping in with all my remaining limbs!
