Yesterday marked the beginning of my journey on a new, self-injectable medication called Enbrel. It took phone call after phone call, appointment after appointment, and even some weight gaining to get me approved by our insurance. The first stage of the journey was a long, exhausting one... But I'm still remaining hopeful it will be the medication that puts my arthritis into REMISSION!

The medication showed up on the doorstep on Tuesday. My mom and I had already spoken with my new home nurse and set up an appointment for Thursday right afterschool. At this point, I pretty much started to freak out.


I repeated those things in my mind over and over again while silent tears fell and my body went into a deep sleep. I woke up yesterday morning and I still worried throughout the day because I knew giving myself that first injection would be hard, but I also knew (and KNOW) that God has not carried me this far to forget about me now.

When I got home from school yesterday afternoon, my home nurse was sitting at the table talking to my mom. We got right down to things and before I knew it, I was holding a syringe in one hand and squeezing my skin together with the other. Suddenly it hit me.

I didn't cry right away. In fact, I laughed. My home nurse said she'd never seen anything like it. But after staring at that needle some more, my hands started to shake and the tears seemed to come out of nowhere. There I was, standing in my kitchen in a sports bra recalling all the times this disease has tried to ruin me.

I looked back to before my diagnosis when I dealt with depression and anxiety.

I looked back to the kidney stones I battled with for an entire summer.

I looked back to the nights I laid motionless and exhausted on the bathroom floor after puking my guts out from medications I was allergic to.

I looked back to the months I spent in physical and occupational therapy to normalize my life.

I looked back to every talk I'd ever had with my psychologist about how angry my pain made me.

I looked back on the ER trips, MRI's, x-rays, and CAT scans that always terrified me.

I looked back to being told I would never run again.

So many moments flashed through my mind and the tears wouldn't stop falling. I felt robbed of my childhood. I felt hurt. I felt worthless, used up, and exhausted. Any negative feeling one can think of, I felt.

Those feelings were the momentum behind that syringe yesterday. They were the reason I was able to look past all my fears and recognize that this medication just may be the answer and solution I've been searching for since day one. The hurt and the fear motivated me to do what I needed to do... And I can also apply that to my faith life.

Truth be told, I would have taken my life a long time ago had I not known that God has a divine purpose for my pain. Whether He uses me to inspire someone or simply keep it real, I know that I've been given this disease because I am strong enough to overcome it with the help of an awesome, awesome God. A God who is more than able to heal.