What could be better than that?

Tonight on Facebook I got a real education.

I learned that naturopathic doctors are getting murdered by the pharmaceutical giants and that chemotherapy never works.  Obamacare may be exposed for what it really is and I can sign a petition  with a few strokes and clicks to make everything all right again.

I learned that the media says that Clinton is leading Trump in (crafted?) “polls” and that extremist demonstrators stabbed a bunch of people while I baked cookies on a beautiful night.

I learned that all I have to do to clean my colon is to drink a blueberry concoction and that the sunset over our town was a blessing from God.

I learned that the USA should withdraw from the United Nations now that the UK has withdrawn from the EU but the vote may be reconsidered too.

I learned whose family did what this weekend, the anniversaries that were celebrated, and the babies-n-pets who have done the cutest things lately.

I learned that those with chronic illness, chronic pain, chronic fatigue, and the like are still suffering out there making me really sad.

I learned some cute slogans to remember with some attached to Bible references and cool photos.  Are they be real or photo shopped?

I learned who is selling what, whose stuff is still cool to look at, and what stuff we should all win/buy/enjoy before we die.

I learned about the upcoming webinars that will cure this or that, make fat melt away, or make my business succeed if I really tried hard enough to win!

I learned how to waste just under an hour pouring into the what-you-can-see lives of others and the social media marketers of fairy tale realities, stuff, skills I need, emoticons, or whatever advertisements to distract me from living my own life.

I learned that God is more popular than Jesus . . . as a matter of fact I did not see the name Jesus Christ mentioned at all.

Most of all I learned that my daytime spent sick in bed was probably still better than the mindless, numbing, lying, evil crap that often goes on in the world around me and gets posted on Facebook.  So please send me pictures of puppies and maybe a cute kid or penguin.  Scripture rocks too.  The rest is quite meaningless.

We’ll see if tomorrow on Facebook is any better?  (I never learn!)  JJ

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The Dad that never left

Perhaps it is more of a blessing than anything else that I have more time for reflection these days.  After the double-loads of laundry, medical management, treatment-and-recovery, self care, and various household duties are completed, there are generally more hours than in my past to think about the stuff of life.  On Father’s Day yesterday, I started to notice some new parallels between my past and present.  It went something like this.

I was posting a picture of my Dad and me on Facebook when I realized how his generosity when he stepped back into my life has become an important part of my current recovery from serious illness.  His gift about 6 years ago allowed me to create a garden oasis in our backyard.  Here are two of my favorite areas:

Creating the flagstone patio area required graph paper, a ruler, tape measure, and endless gazing from all angles to make the kidney-bean shaped layout meet the vision the Lord had given me.  In the next 2 years the process continued with a pair of 8-foot custom steel trellises then a “secret garden” area (basically a re-purposed dog pen!).  The planting beds came later as I decided that we needed more privacy from our neighbors behind us and that I wanted to have a garden-view beyond each room of the house.  The bed on the right in the 2nd picture is largely of native plants and a key component in earning a Sustainable Garden designation from our local cooperative extension office.  The aqua custom shade sail was an incredible find from the “sale” page of a company by the same name.  Now that the design is complete the plants have matured and my heart is home.

Dontcha know that my mom was a gardener?  She would hunt down the groundskeeper at the local zoo if needed to obtain a plant start of a specimen she just needed to have in her yard.  Composting, vegetables, a mounded hill, hanging baskets around the hot tub spa . . . she had all the elements that made her heart happy out there in her suburban back

Mom in Spa

yard.  Her creation came together because of the generosity of her parents too.  Some may call it an inheritance.  I call it the chance to create something beautiful from the sorrow of a lost family member.  And I think it’s o.k. to spend some of it to make the process of going on without him or her a little nicer.  Do something that makes your heart happy!

Flash forward 4 years from when the “bones” of our own garden were installed and I am exceedingly grateful for what the Lord has allowed me to design, to create.  Lying sickly on that chaise lounge last summer when it looked like there would be little hope for recovery, brought solace of sorts.  Lying sickly on that same chair this summer after taking treatments that are slowly giving me my life back is bringing hope and the flow of some new creative juices.  My husband, Steve, just smiles a bit when I talk like this.  He knows that could mean a little more trimming around a new garden bed or hauling of something heavy to make it happen.  Oh how he loves me so!  Well I’ll let ya all know how it turns out for sure!

Steve brought me to see this home on our fourth date.  He wanted to know, “if things worked out between us could you see yourself living here?”  Talk about pressure!  I was visiting him in Indiana for the first time from the Chicago suburbs and certainly was not about to make a decision on the spot.  At least out loud, that is!  But I knew that the bush in the front-and-center of the bay window was a Miss Kim Lilac and just like the one I had lost with the townhome when my former spouse left me.  I also knew that the bush next to it was a burning bush that gets a magnificent, fiery shade of red in the Fall and just like the one I . . . well you can see where this is going.  It’s like when I viewed Steve’s profile on Yahoo Personals and saw a picture of him with a radio-controlled airplane that reminded me of the flying competitions in which my dad and brothers flew line-control planes when we were kids.  Of course I knew that the house was a great idea; I just wasn’t going to tell Steve anything just yet.  The home he purchased before we were married became a blank slate for me in remaking so many years that the locusts had eaten . . . . (Joel 2:25)

So I hope you can see how a simple thingy like some flower and vegetable gardens can be so meaningful to someone like me.  The draftsman in my Dad has become the designer in me.  His surprise generosity allowed me to create a living oasis that was an interest I shared with my mom when I became an adult.  Finding a loving place to realize these gifts would come in a way like never before when I found my intended beloved in the arms of my Stevers.  Solace, restoration, and hope were all set in motion regardless of my life’s circumstances according the plans of my Heavenly Dad, my Heavenly Husband; He knew all along the seeds He had planted in my heart long before I could ever dig in the dirt of life myself.  And just as life on this green earth began in the Garden of Eden, so do our own lives thrive in the planted spaces in which we are tilled and turned, watered, pruned, and nurtured until beauty bursts forth in scented color, in hope beyond that which we can see.

How can I be sad about the losses in my life when my Heavenly Dad has always been there with me?  From my garden bench I bid you a “Happy Father’s Day,” Gentle Reader.  I pray that you, too, will live in the fullness of life that grows more grand with each passing day:  a garden oasis in your soul where the One Who knows us so well can make everything meaningful, anything beautiful in the noon day sun or under the shade tree too.  JJ

Dad & me at his trailer

 

 

Spacey but upright

There’s no pretending when the story gets bizarre.  I mean who could make this stuff up?

As the grace of the Lord has blessed, I am not bedridden thus far in the ramp up of treatment for a serious protozoal infection.  Just headaches, increased convulsive episodes at night or morning, achiness, and fits-n-starts of my ability to function.  While this is certainly awful, I was sick like this every day for the middle years of these 4.5 years of illness so I am kind of familiar with it.  This time we can call it a “herxheimer” (die-off) reaction and temporary!  I am thinking that I have benefitted from a pretty comprehensive protocol that has finally come together:

  • Ongoing IV Rocephin and fluids via home infusions 3x per week for the treatment of chronic Lyme disease, per my Lyme Literate Medical Doctor (LLMD).
  • Weekly injections of a compounded B-vitamin and prescribed nutritional suspension.
  • Weekly injections of a bio-homeopathic treatment for a newly diagnosed autoimmune disease (to start in 2 days).
  • Additional IV fluids now pending to combat dehydration and the effects of the anti-fungal protocol.
  • Supplements to improve calcium trafficking as prescribed by my naturopath and genetic coach.
  • Pharmaceutical grade supplements including an iodine protocol.
  • A switch from filtered water to non-fluoridated, purified bottled water.
  • Anti-fungal and biofilm busting treatment of protomyxzoa rheumatica (formerly known as FL 1953).
  • Continued mold/sugar/sweetener/dairy/gluten-free, low oxalate and glutamate diet.
  • Mineral baths and celtic sea salt supplementation.
  • Detoxification via far-infrared sauna, nutritional binding compounds, and periodic colon hydrotherapy.
  • A fabulous support system.
  • Rest.  Gardening when possible.  Rest.

Unfortunately the bills are piling up as Steve and I go along.  At some point we will need to decide how comprehensive of a plan is really needed long term due to the significant expense when insurance covers virtually nothing.  For now all I can say is that I continue to move in a direction of recovery and we will figure out the rest as the Lord leads.  Our prayers, your prayers are being answered.  Thank you for praying.  Praise the Lord!

 

Thank you Jesus for the hope we have in you and that I can see in my life.  And please bless my faithful husband, Steve!  Lord willing, I am going to get well!  :JJ

Psalm 20:7 (NIV)

Some trust in chariots and some in horses,
    but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.

Anticipation

One could say that the days before a cross-country trip are usually filled with a multitude of tasks and anticipation of the good times to come.  I’ll give a “yes” to both accounts and now we are back from coastal Alabama with pictures to share.

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Paddling the Stellar S16S felt good in Perdido Bay off Alabama/Florida waters
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Steve and I congratulated Elizabeth and her husband Daniel as she earned her wings to become an Army Blackhawk helicopter pilot

 

 

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Our happy travelling companion Elle
helicopter, flight, pilot, family day, Army, ride, flight, school
Elizabeth piloted a helicopter ride for each of us after graduation. Awesome!

I did a lot better travelling this past week than our last trip in November of 2015, that is for sure.  I was able to attend all but one planned activity by pacing myself, meticulous planning, and some improvement in my overall health.  The convulsive episodes that still accompany the serious illness I am battling kept themselves largely to the overnight hours and travelling in my truck.  And they were much less!  Yeah God!  It’s amazing how much life can fit in between the setbacks these days . . .

Now that 11 loads of laundry are done, the travel trailer and vehicles are cleaned, and even some garden chores completed I am ready.  A nasty new treatment begins later this week.  Resuming the infusions of IV antibiotics, a few scheduled appointments, grocery shopping, and making sure our support systems are in place come first before the darkness falls.  It really could be that bad.  Or maybe not?

They say that breaking up stealth biofilm and killing protomyxzoa rheumatica (formerly known as FL1953) can render a person useless.  Or bedridden.  Or really, really sick.  Then after around 4 weeks, there can be miraculous improvement.  My trial run 2 weeks ago of 1 capsule of the anti-fungal brought dizziness, light-headedness, and cognitive slowing.  My Lyme Literate Medical Doctor was thrilled when I told him.  (He is kind of kooky that way!)  “It’s affecting your brain!  That is good!” he exclaimed in a way that only a master diagnostician can.  Oh boy.  “I wonder what the full dosing will be like?” was all I could think about.  And how will I eat?  Get to the bathroom?  Keep up with all of the treatments while home alone when Steve is at work?  So many questions remain unanswered at this point.

This is what I know for sure.  In a way, the break in treatment for a week of vacation came too soon.  I was not ready to go without the IV antibiotics and daily routine that has facilitated this turnaround without some extra struggle.  There was a lot of stress amidst the good times.  In another way, the break fed my soul!  I got to see what living was like for everyone else while being with everyone else.  I got to kayak with my beloved River Bear . . . . TWICE!  I did more than one thing each day and did alright trying to do so.  When we got back home I got to work in our garden two days in a row.  Wow, Lord.  Then I read an adventure novel in 2 days!  How lovely it was to immerse myself in a bit of life again.

So for the unknown treatment coming in a few days I will say this:  bring it.  I have faced worse than lumbrokinase and prescription Lamisil.  I will go slow if I can and employ every herxheimer (aka die off) remedy I have in my arsenal if needed.  The Lord has brought me through near-death experiences, daily hell on earth, despair beyond belief.  I have been given a taste of life again to encourage me and those around me as well.  It is time to dig a little deeper, literally.  We have found The Beast in the recesses of my brain tissue.  This is war.  Lord willing, I am going to get well.

If we don’t chat for awhile, please pray for me and Steve, k?  Thanks a bunch Gentle Reader.  I am grateful for you.  With love, JJ

Julie BH Crop

When the hospital comes home

We all need our spaces, our places of retreat.  Is it that corner where you curl up with a favorite magazine or book?  Maybe there’s an oasis in the backyard, coffee shop, or park down the way that brings a bit of renewal sometime during the week?  Perhaps in a busy household a mother of small children finds solace in the bathroom behind a closed door when sitting for a spell?  During a stressful transition in my life I would drive to downtown Chicago on a Sunday just to “see water” along Lake Shore Drive.  Yes, those moments are precious and necessary for sure.

For those with a special love to share one’s life, the hours alone together can bring refreshment in a whole new way.   Take a moment to enjoy the words of Christopher Marlowe who invites his lover to come hither to a far away place . . .

 Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods or sleepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
 Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
 By shallow rivers to whose falls
 Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses
 And a thousand fragrant posies,
 A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
 Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool
 Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
 Fair lined slippers for the cold,
 With buckles of the purest gold;

A belt of straw and ivy buds,
 With coral clasps and amber studs:
 And if these pleasures may thee move,
 Come live with me and be my love.

The shepherds' swains shall dance and sing
 For thy delight each May morning:
 If these delights thy mind may move,
 Then live with me and be my love.

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
Christopher Marlowe

Ahhh, the delight of romance!  Is there any greater pleasure in life?  Well maybe yet perhaps we can agree that there are very few?  😉

During these years of serious illness, my refuge is largely our home.  For now what was once our retreat for romance and the stressors of life has been transformed into a place for a different kind of healing.  Indeed we have created a safe haven from noxious exposures that can make me quite ill elsewhere in the world.  I have become increasingly grateful for the work I had done a few years ago to decorate our dwelling place in pleasing colors with a lovely landscape to view out each and every window.  Little did I know when we were settling in here that I would spend most of the past 4 1/2 years housebound.  Little did I know that right when I started to get a little better, the comfort I found at home was about to drastically change.  I really don’t like it.  See what you think.

Three days per week a nurse comes dressed in medical garb to administer IV infusions.  Our living room morphs into a hospital outpatient clinic for nearly 3 hours with linens draped over the furniture to protect me, to protect her.  Packages arrive via Fed Ex at least one morning per week with bags of drugs on ice, medical supplies, and no presents, no card from mom.  The pup with the big brown eyes is sequestered in a back bedroom lest her presence or fur flying through the air risk breaking the sterile field needed to access the power port in my chest wall.  She whines and yelps for a time then drifts off to slumber as the drip, drip, drip of the IV bag empties into my body.  Gratefully my nurse is very skilled and unassuming.  She has the perfect temperament for all this stuff too.  I just wish we were out shopping instead, ya know what I mean?

I have tried very hard to pack everything up afterwards and in between home care visits.  The IV pole goes behind a door in a spare bedroom and the supplies fill a couple of bins and boxes in our office.  The laundry quickly goes into the washer after Michelle leaves to diminish the fragrance of her favorite laundry soap that lingers no matter how hard we try to avoid it.  Her shoe covers and all the used medical supplies get tossed into our makeshift trash bin and sharps containers.  Within the hour after my “visit” ends there is no trace of the intrusion that these treatments bring to our private spaces (except for the wooden sauna that rests where an entertainment center once was, that is!).

Oh well.  Thereafter with a foggy fatigue and soreness above my breast (from accessing and deaccessing the port each time) I make my way to bed for a very long nap.  The seizure attacks are coming down giving way to a time of rest.  At least I can retreat with a little more peace to the one place that remains undisturbed!

Perhaps one day I will find an internal space that refreshes when those around me can’t quite get it done.  Oh wait, yes, there it is in the shelter of the wings of my Savior, Jesus Christ.  He protects me and refreshes me from the trials, the troubles all around.  With Him I can face another day with renewed strength and courage.  You are my resting place, my hiding place, my refuge, my shield, my home.  Sigh.  This is good.  This is really good, thank you my Lord Jesus. With you I am truly home no matter where I am.  JJ

Psalm 142:5 (NIV)

I cry to you, Lord;
    I say, “You are my refuge,
    my portion in the land of the living.”