Illness as viewed by a nurse is so very different than when viewed as a patient. As a nurse, it was always in the objective case--something that I studied about, something that the patient had, something that I helped to relieve.

As a patient, it means pain, anxiety and a feeling of helplessness and hopelessness. It causes much emotional distress to the family. It creates tremendous financial burdens. At times I felt my world was painted black.

In my search for help, I went to internists, optometrists, ophthalmologists, ear, nose and throat specialists, a gynecologist, dentist, and a dermatologist. As my health continued to deteriorate and I felt that my life was coming to an end, I decided to leave the medical profession and search elsewhere to try to find help. Several people said to me that they were surprised that I, a registered nurse, would make such a decision.

At that time, my health was such that I could not have cared less about professional standings. When a nurse or anyone else becomes ill, I believe we are all the same. We do not want to die, and we want to find relief from our suffering.

By writing this book, I want to take you, the reader, with me on my journey back to health. So, I invite you to come along with me to learn, as I learned, many of the great, great secrets of health.

In March 1969, chronic symptoms that I had for many years (some since childhood) and many of which I thought were "just nerves," seemed to suddenly conjugate and accelerate at a deathrate speed. Shockingly, I realized that these symptoms were not of a neurotic nature. They had only been mild and chronic. Now, suddenly, they had become active and acute and my health was quickly leaving me.

Throughout my nursing practice, I had always tried to understand the feelings and emotions of my patients. I thought I could give them better care if I used a little empathy. I felt that I had been fairly successful in this.

But now, I realized I fell far short of that goal. Only someone who has actually had their health leave and knows how it is to be "going down for the third time" can understand the feeling that comes when life seems to be ending. Complaining about a few aches and pains is one thing, but realizing life is leaving is something else entirely.

Many people may accept their illnesses graciously and gallantly, but I wanted to live desperately. I loved my life and my family. I wanted to be around to see my children grow up. We all know that life does end, but I wanted to keep mine as long as I could. I felt that if I must go out, I would at least go out swinging. I always hated to go to doctors. (Nurses are worse than the average person, I believe.) I hated to have physicals, and I hated blood tests. However, my condition brought me to such a low ebb that I would have tried anyone or anything to regain my health.

All evidences, as I know them today, point to the fact that my illness had its origin when I was approximately ten years old. I had a very bad bicycle accident landing in front of a moving car. At the time, there seemed to be no apparent injuries except fright.

Later that day I became hysterical and had tremendous anxiety. It was so severe that it was necessary for my parents to call the doctor to come to our house. I can still remember screaming and my mother crying.

In a letter written at this time by my mother to my oldest sister who lived in another town she said that they thought I was dying. She said I "shook all over" and my heart was "fluttering."

This accident happened during the summer. My family owned a restaurant, and I had been staying up late in the evenings "helping work" in it. I had also been drinking quite a bit of coffee. The doctor thought I had become anemic and treated me with a vitamin tonic. He also said that I had had a "nervous breakdown."

Some time later, I was visiting at my sister's house in another town, and there were several explosions at a nearby construction job. This made me so upset that my mother had to take me to a doctor there. He gave me some "red medicine" to calm my nerves.

I can remember being at play and sometimes just walking alone and having sudden feelings of extreme anxiety. I would stop and say "I'm dying." These feelings would soon pass and I would resume my activities.

Uncle Noah, a semi-invalid man and a minister of our church who made his home with us, would, many times, sit me down beside him and talk to me calmly trying to allay my fears. These incidents I remember very well.

Also, I can still remember my friends laughing and talking about "Polly's fit." For them to say anything about my condition was "fighting words." I was very ashamed of being so hysterical and upsetting everyone.

From that time, I never voiced any feelings of nervousness to anyone. If a person complains, she is simply labelled a neurotic. I was determined to never let "nerves" get me down.

I grew accustomed to these feelings, and I did not think of them as abnormal. I thought they were "just me." This belief was reinforced after becoming a nurse for one of the most frequent statements that I've heard is "it's just nerves."

After the accident and hysteria, I was just considered a nervous child. I grew physically strong and can never remember having any pain associated with the accident. I have had no operations, serious illnesses, or known allergies.

I was able to lead a normal life being active in school, playing on the basketball team, and playing clarinet in the band. After graduating from high school, I hesitated about going into nurse's training with my sister and friends because of the nervousness. Therefore, I spent 2 1/3 years at Radford College studying business. I filled all my elective classes with health subjects.

My desire to be a nurse continued to be very strong, and I entered St. Luke's Hospital School of Nursing in Richmond, Virginia in January, 1952. I love nursing and have received much gratification from it.

My first physical symptom, other than the nervousness, started while a student nurse. Every two or three months, I would have a pain in my right side. It lasted for a day or two and would then relieve spontaneously. Once it was quite severe, and it was necessary for me to consult the students' doctor. I had nausea, low grade fever, and an increased white blood count. She suspected appendicitis and sent me to the surgeon for an examination. He felt that it was only ovulation and did not do surgery. I have continued to have this pain through the years.

Also, around this time, I had a routine eye examination and learned for the first time that I had a muscle imbalance in the eyes called "exophoria." The eyes diverged outward. Exercises were advised.

I had never heard of anyone doing eye exercises, and I thought the doctor was trying to give me unnecessary treatments. I did not take his advice. My eyes, at that time, gave me no apparent symptoms, and my vision was 20-20.

After graduating from St. Luke's, I worked in the delivery room at the Medical College of Virginia. One morning while waiting for the elevator after working all night, I had a sudden, severe attack of dizziness. This only lasted for a matter of seconds--just long enough for me to grab hold of a cart nearby. This is my first recollection of having severe dizziness. I thought it was due to having worked all night and drinking a lot of coffee in order to stay awake. This happened in 1955 when I was 23 years old.

In 1956, after my first child was born, I began having a problem with dry scaly feet. It was not a severe problem, and a doctor was not consulted. By using lotion on them and not allowing them to become dry, cracking could be prevented. They had some redness, but it did not seem to spread.

Also, after this delivery, I had three or four periods of feeling mentally disoriented for a minute or two. I thought this was a reaction to having a baby. At that time, I had a very low hemoglobin and during delivery had a retained placenta which caused some excessive bleeding. The placenta was removed manually.

This feeling was thought to be due to these reasons, and I did not feel they were serious enough to mention them to the obstetrician.

Slight weakness and nervousness were felt for several months. Vitamins and minerals were taken and my strength improved.

My next symptom, heartburn, started during my second pregnancy in 1959. The obstetrician treated me with alkalies which relieved the discomfort. My son was delivered breech. I had some ankle edema during this pregnancy, but there were no great problems. My hemoglobin was much higher after this delivery. I did not experience that disoriented feeling, the weakness, or the nervousness. I had nausea and vomiting during both pregnancies.