The Gift of Pain - Chapter 4

For Chapters 1-3 of My Story - The Gift of Pain, click on the link at the right.


Finally, I had been seizure-free for six months and I headed to the DMV to renew my license. I was heady with excitement and talked for days about all the places I would go when I once again had my independence.

I filled out the forms, and handed them over with a smile. My joy was short-lived when I was denied my renewal because of forms that had been incorrectly submitted by my doctor. I felt so desperate that I literally stood at the counter of the DMV sobbing and begging. The lady apologized and said her hands were tied. I would have to return once my paperwork was in order.

Another four months passed. I filled out forms, received doctor’s clearances and jumped through hoops. Finally, on July 16, 2004, I took the written test for the State of California Department of Motor Vehicles and I passed! The huge smile on my driver’s license said it all. I had my freedom back.

When I drove the car home, my family was waiting at the curb for my arrival.  My children and family wept with me, thanking God for answered prayers.  That evening I got in the car by myself, cranked up the stereo and drove for hours along the California coast. It was truly one of the happiest days of my life.

I decided to have a celebration party. Steve said he would cook and asked how many people to expect. I told him around thirty and started calling everyone I knew. That Saturday, we threw a party. At the final count, eighty people showed up to celebrate with us.

I had them take the written test for the DMV to see how many of them would pass.  Trust me, it's harder than you think!  I studied hard to pass that sucker.  I wanted to take the time to thank God for his healing and thank my family and friends for their support and prayers. I would not have made it those years without them. Little did I know how much I would lean on their support and prayers in the years that followed.

(Yes!  These are all their children, with a few missing!  We miss you Pryer Family!)

At the time, my brother-in-law owned a vintage VW Beetle. I had my friends pose in the car as a memento of that incredible day. I know the pictures are grainy and everyone looks a bit creepy with red-eye, but these pictures make me smile.

Life returned to normal, with my seizures in check, and I began to enjoy life more than ever. I started up a small purse design business, named Jenny and Lucille (the precursor to Jenny and Pearl) with my dear friend Doneanne.

Doneanne is one of the most creative people I have ever met and it was such a joy working with her. (Congrats to you, dear friend and your handsome hubby as you look forward to baby #4!)

Every week we would load up the van with our pop-up tent, tables, and product and head to the Huntington Beach Pier for the weekly craft show.  We loved coming up with new designs and the feedback from our customers at home parties and boutiques was very rewarding.  That period of time was a wonderful reprieve and shored me up for the challenges ahead.

Steve had been suffering from pain and pressure in his left arm for a while. We weren’t too concerned but took him to the doctor to have it checked out. They did some blood work and had him run a stress test. Everything came back normal and they sent him home, saying it was a touch of the flu or a pulled muscle.

Thursday, January 12, 2006 was a beautiful sunny day. I was out shopping when my brother called, asking if he could pop by our house to pick oranges off the tree. I told him I would meet him there and in the early afternoon I pulled up to the house, surprised to see Steve’s car in the driveway.

I went in the house and found Steve lying in bed. He was sweating profusely. I was immediately concerned and told him we needed to get him to the doctor.   He argued with me, claiming they would just send him home again like they had previously. All he wanted to do was take a nap, certain he would feel better when he woke up.  My brother and I stepped out and talked about Steve's condition. Something just wasn’t ‘right’ and we agreed that, if Steve wouldn’t go to the doctor, we needed to call 9-1-1.

Back in our room, Steve was struggling to breathe. I grabbed the phone and dialed emergency. Thankfully, there is a fire station just a stone’s throw from our house and within seconds, I could hear the siren in the distance.