Struck

My health was failing. So was my marriage. I didn't want to live like this anymore

- By MARYANN GOGNIAT EIDEMILLER, Greensburg, Pennsylvania

On that July day in 2005, I watched from my kitchen window as the birds and the deer shared seeds and dried corn at our backyard feeders. It was so lovely and peaceful out there under the brilliant blue sky, but all that beauty just made me feel worse. I raised my fists to the heavens, tears rolling down my cheeks.

“Why have I been ill for so long?” I cried out. “I don’t want to live like this anymore!”

Suddenly, it felt as if a bolt of lightning—some hot and violent power—struck the top of my head and shook me all the way down to my shoes. I fell over and landed in a heap on the floor. I sat there in a daze, wondering what had happened.

“Well, that didn’t go over so well,” I finally muttered. I was convinced that God, tired of my complaints, had shut me down. I crawled across the floor and pulled myself up on a chair. It had been 10 years since I’d become seriously and mysteriously ill, and I still couldn’t get up on my own.

My life used to be good. Very good. I’d met my husband, Mark, in our parish, where I was a lector and he was a cantor. Our shared faith was a big part of our relationship. We married and had a daughter. We felt blessed.

I’d always been a strong, take-charge person, someone Mark and others could rely on. I was the one people turned to in a crisis—until I got caught up in my own health crisis. My nightmare began with weakness, fatigue and rapid weight gain. Before long, I’d put on a staggering 110 pounds. I could barely step up on a curb or get out of a chair. My hair thinned on my head, even as it grew on my face. I suffered from skin infections, high blood pressure, depression and other mood changes.