Suffering: My Story

By Judi Coats

My efforts to settle on an analogy for the recent 2 years of my life have eluded me until now. A hurricane or tornado best describes what I have experienced. I have lived through literal hurricanes and tornados (several times when we lived in Haiti). But the storm that tossed me about in these past almost 2 years in total was physical. Please allow me to explain the suffering before drawing analogies to a storm. In August 2024, I climbed the stairs to begin the afternoon at my job working at home for a structural engineer. I felt the crushing weight in my chest and knew immediately it was a heart attack. That recognition was a God-thing, so I grabbed my wallet, told Dave I was having a heart attack, and out the door we went to a local ER. The medical team flew me by helicopter to Swedish hospital in Denver where a cardiologist located a clot and repaired my heart. I did have a minor stroke where I lost the ability to use my phone, could not figure out the keyboard, and could not arrange numbers sequentially. Thus began the road to recovery. Dave was a wonderful care-giver. Six months passed and I was weak and needed time to relearn several skills. But I was progressing.

In January 2025, towards the end of the month, I kept having pain in my upper right, inner leg. I thought I needed an adjustment at the chiropractor. I also tried pain killers and heat on my leg. No one knew what the pain was from. I was able to go onto pain meds, strong ones, because of the pain. Finally, one day in March 2025, I told Dave I could take it no longer. We went to the ER where they took scans of my upper leg. The black mass appeared to be a foreign body looking like cancer. To summarize, several surgeons did not want to intervene until one told us that he was willing to biopsy the mass. In late April of 2025, the surgeon tried to biopsy the mass but that mass exploded in the operating room, so a tube was attached to my side for draining what had been a large abscess. What followed was a nightmare of an inability to walk because the abscess had cut off the circulation to the right leg, a drain on my side, little sleep because of bed sores, sleeping in a chair, weaning off of strong pain meds, physical therapy visits, operating with a walker, then a cane, and they limping through 6 months.

Here we were at August of 2025. I hadn’t had general exercise in a year. And I was losing my hair as well. Two months later, I had hope for recovery; as I sat in a choir practice, I felt my heart race and vibrate in my chest. At the ER, the attendant’s eyes grew large as my heart rate was between 135 and 150 beats per minute. Before this event, I was just beginning to feel like I could see hope for some recovery, and now this. What followed were three months of heavy meds (lost sleep and appetite), an ablation procedure, and a few cardio-versions. I was weak, frustrated, and tired. And my loving husband was walking through all of this with me.

As of January 2026, my heart stabilized, and a switch in medication allowed me to sleep and to have an appetite again. I cannot guarantee tomorrow, but as of the writing of this article (May of 2026), I am almost feeling like myself again. My efforts to manage this post-trauma period in which I lost my perspective have brought me to the analogy of the severe storm. Writing down my thoughts will help me and will perhaps help someone else, I hope. God also gave me some stronghold verses for each stage. I share those as well. Let me break it down:

•  A storm comes up with little to no warning. We do not know what a day may bring, but amidst the surprise storm in my life, it caused a fear of dying in my sleep, a sadness that I would never be happy again, death-wishes of sorts with
  no plan of exiting this world. I could not think straight during the storm. Tethered to Proverbs 3:5,6 to trust in the Lord with all my heart, I clung to that trust in God as the winds blew and the dust swirled and the tree branches fell all around me
  figuratively.
• A severe storm leaves devastation. Many travel plans were cancelled; purchases like a walker, bandages, gauze, a cane became the focus; visits from home health care took up the days; physical therapy was on the agenda; a wound specialist came once per week; everything turned upside down for months and months. I clung to “Draw near to me, and I’ll draw near to you.” I begged God for nearness.
• A severe storm obscures future hope. As I mentioned, losing perspective is prevalent during this storm. I was in despair of never feeling joy or happiness ever again. Seeing a home destroyed following a storm leaves a person unable in a sense to imagine any kind of hopeful future. That was me. Sad, confused, desperate, managing the minutes of my life—going crazy sitting up in our bedroom day after day. I missed fellowship, corporate singing, gathering, friends, family. I rested in the image of “when you pass through the waters, I will be with you.”
• After the storm, the clean up is difficult. Where do I begin? What was the aftermath for me? I had not walked substantially for nearly 2 years. I had had little exercise. I limped and continued to have numbness of my right side of my
  upper thigh. I was monitoring my heart with frequent visits to the cardiologist. My appetite was slowly returning. I really had not been in a store in all that time with few exceptions. Dave had done all the shopping, all the cooking, all the cleaning,
  all the care for my needs. My normally joyful heart was flat-lined–utterly. Where was joy? Psalm 16:11 was my answer: “In your presence is fullness of joy.”  Spend time with God.
• After the storm, can I enjoy the sunshine? Someone said that after that kind of episode of trauma, we understand the pain, the anxiety, the fear, the dread, the hopelessness; but we do not know how to experience joy and happiness again. One indicator for me was that I love to sing and hum songs, but I had lost that practice completely. Recently, I was humming one morning and realized that was the first time in months. Joy was possible—my sunshine was returning. Another strange feeling of life’s joy returning was walking into a store by myself and wanting to shout, “I am doing this on my own again!” Doesn’t that sound strange? But to me, it was an indication that I could be happy again in the small life gifts. Once again, I am trying to verbalize what I went through to help someone else to identify with my storm experience.

Where do things stand now? As I said, I don’t know what a day may bring for my future, but the spiritual warfare of the recent past was brutal; and the tug of war to doubt God nearly won. But I firmly believe that when I could not pray, people were praying for me; when I could not feel anything, God was and is near; when I despaired of life, God gave me the hope of His Hand upon my life; when I wanted to give up, my loving family and church family reassured me of their love. Groceries showed up on our doorstep twice, notes were sent our way, gift cards paid for needed items. Today, gratitude fills my heart. I still limp, and I still monitor my heart daily; but I am not in the storm or the aftermath. I have moved beyond that storm. I am living in joy once again in my walk with God. I thought I had lost joy forever. But “in Your presence is fullness of joy (Psalm 16:11).”