In 2019, I celebrated my 50th birthday! My husband and I had recently bought an Outback Camper, planning to use it when he retired. In my mind, that day was coming soon— in his mind, not so much. But I wasn’t waiting. So, on the morning of my 50th birthday, I hooked up the camper to our Suburban, loaded up our five youngest kiddos, and hit the road!
For the next nine weeks, we traveled—exploring beaches, visiting state parks, and making memories we will all cherish forever. We spent a month in Naples, Florida, where one of our older sons lived, and on the way back, we even had to outrun a hurricane—but that’s a story for another day! We made it home just in time to celebrate the holidays.
After the New Year, something felt off. I wasn’t myself. I finally went to the doctor, thinking I just needed a reset. What followed was an exhausting journey—over the next 18 months, I saw 17 different doctors and specialists. Eventually, I was diagnosed with an autoimmune liver disease called Primary Biliary Cholangitis (PBC). I was already at stage 3 liver failure. The doctors told me I had three to five years to live.
But that wasn’t all. As the months went by, more diagnoses piled on—Sjogren’s disease, Oromandibular Dystonia, high blood pressure, lesions on my lungs, adrenal gland issues, and shingles. I had two surgeries for carpal tunnel. I even suffered a miscarriage. I was put on nine different medications, each one making me feel worse. The pain, the brain fog, the complete lack of energy—I was dying, and I felt it.
Most days, I could barely function. I’d get up, make breakfast, take a shower, and then crawl back into bed. My husband had to go to work, but he hated leaving me like that—crying, hurting, afraid. Our youngest son, Blayde, was only six. He would play quietly in his room or just lie in bed with me. He knew something was wrong, even though we tried to shield him. My older kids were devastated, each dealing with the reality of losing their mom.
It was a dark, dark time.
Every doctor’s appointment just made things worse—more tests, more medications, more bad news. I started to lose hope.
Then, in 2021, two of our daughters were graduating from homeschool. They wanted to celebrate—and honestly, we needed something to celebrate. They planned their own party, keeping it small with just close family and friends.
That night, a neighbor and I slipped away for a quiet conversation. She was a registered nurse and a two-time cancer survivor, so she understood what I was going through. What she said to me that night changed everything:
“Janet, do your own research. Stop taking everything your doctors say as gospel. Look into alternative medicine, natural healing. God created our bodies with an amazing ability to heal—trust that.”
Right then and there, I made a decision.
I was not going to die. I was going to live.
I was going to see my little boy grow up. I was going to celebrate more birthdays, graduations, weddings. I was going to welcome more grandbabies into the world. (I have 20 now, with another on the way this fall!)
That night, I took my life back.
I dove into research, reading everything I could about PBC, functional medicine, and natural healing. The first step? Getting off the medications that were making me sicker. I asked my doctors for help, but they refused. They told me, “If you stop these medications, you will die.”
But I knew better.
I weaned myself off, little by little. It was brutal—pain, shakes, chills, sweats. But I pushed through. It took nearly three months, but once I was free of the medications, I felt free.
I finally found a Functional Medicine doctor who truly listened. I enrolled in a 12-month program to rebuild my body, heal my gut, and undo the damage. It wasn’t easy, but it was so much better than staying in that dark place.
I had a dream—to live. And I fought for it.
And now? I am thriving! I am strong, healthy, and in better shape than ever. At 56 years old, I even became a certified yoga instructor! The doctors told me I’d be dead by 2023. Well, guess what? I’m still here!
My youngest son is now almost 13, and he has a mom who is alive—a mom who is healthy, active, and fully present. I have a career I love, and for the first time, I’m contributing to my family’s finances in ways I never thought possible.
I love my life. And I’m just getting started.