chronic illness – Page 25 – Jesus is for the Wounded

Parking Lot Poem #1

Published on November 16, 2013November 18, 2013 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

Sure was a tough time in my life when transitioning from married life to single life. The refining fire was intense, laden with more trauma than I ever thought I would endure in such a short period of time. Separation, divorce, 5 moves, 4 jobs, 2 injuries, a condo fire, death of 3 family members, and my mother’s cancer story contributed to over-the-top stress. I have so much to be grateful for these days, that’s for sure!

So how did I cope? First my faith in the Lord grew stronger. Second, I needed counsel and found it through a few remaining close friends and a professional or two. Three different support groups related to grief and divorce convinced me that it was not me who was going crazy: my life circumstances were crazy! I began journaling more regularly too. Perhaps if blogging was in vogue in 2004 I would have started mine back then as well. But one of the most useful tools was the smallest: a little spiral notebook in the console of my car . . .

I’m not quite sure where the idea came from to journal in my car. I found a small pocket-sized steno book called the “fat lil’ notebook” and kept it with me for making notes to myself. One day it hit me when I felt completely lost that maybe I needed to write a little something more to clear my head, right there in the parking lot on June 10, 2004. The first entry that I can find went like this:

It’s another parking lot poem this noon

Alas a month later in the rainy part of June.

My new job must end to save my integrity

And the work ethic I’ve carried with me for decades.

So now which way to turn, oh Lord

The great authority and provider of my life?

This makes no sense and yet it does:

To trust you no matter the chaos my days do bring.

For in the end or looking back when down the road,

I’ll see this day as one leaned on faith

And be glad I knew you when and where

I napped in the parking lot before a great swim once again.

Years later it all made sense to me why the parking lot poems were so meaningful to me. When we take a drive somewhere, we park our cars and go into a business or residence of some sort and leave our vehicle for a time. We return later, put our belongings somewhere near us, turn the key in the ignition, and take off for our next destination. The time in the parking lot or driveway is a point of transition from one destination to another. We have completed one activity, gathered our things, and prepared to make our way to the next location. During the short time when we are sitting and stationary, we might have a quick thought about what has transpired (did we accomplish something or did we encounter difficulties?) and think about where we are headed next (how do I get there and who will I see/what will I do there?). The brief moment allows us to re-group, re-gather, re-launch until it’s time to go back home again. This time goes quickly for most folks, I reckon.

That time did not go quickly for me at all. I often got stuck in the parking lot when I was trying to move from one activity to the next. I cannot explain it exactly. I just know that the overwhelming burden of my life at that time made it nearly impossible at times to make transitions, change activities, or gear up for the next item on my “to do” list. Have you ever experienced this Gentle Reader? I just could not move on. I couldn’t even tolerate music or news on my radio as it became like noise in a crowded bus terminal laden with diesel fumes. I would often sit there in my little black race car (aka Honda Civic) in silence for what felt like a long time before I organized my thoughts and initiated the steps to get going again. This is where the Parking Lot Poems changed everything.

Poetry is a looser form of communication than prose. There aren’t as many rules in free form poetry, you can stop and start at any point, and emotions can blurt themselves onto the page in incomplete sentences. It gets the words out quicker, eh? Do you want to hear something else crazy? After that 3-year period of time when writing poetry was such an instrumental tool in coping and healing, I stopped writing poetry. I guess I didn’t need it anymore. Oh I tried a few times but the words simply did not flow freely. No more parking lot poems for me! My favorite poem that was initially written in a parking lot became part of a 9-foot mural on a wall in my home, the one with the custom window treatments I wrote about earlier this past week. I’ll save the story about “The Wall” for another time.

For this early morning writing, I’m just using my newer friend of blogging instead. I am having trouble sleeping this day due to some noxious events. Sure got some good thinking done tonight though and for that I am grateful. Better go park myself back in bed before the sun comes up and try to make a go of sleeping again.

Thank you Lord for your gift of words. Your Word is how we know you and fall in love with you. Hmmmm. Reminds me of a song. May I sing it in my heart to you Lord?

Words

The Next Step is Sideways

Published on November 13, 2013November 14, 2013 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

Sometimes you move forward. Sometimes you move backward. And most of the time you just go sideways or don’t move at all! Know what I mean?

When I worked in rehabilitation we had another phrase: recovery is always a jagged line. A person makes progress then might regress a step or two before making the “big gains” in strength, walking, functioning, and the like. Many times my patients would not believe me when I said this to them. I understood their frustration. In our fast-paced, achievement and results-oriented American society, it is really tough not to be getting ahead in some way every day. Well as the old Starkist tuna commercial used to say, “Sorry Charlie.” Sometimes it just doesn’t work out that way.

Not only does every person not always get where they want to go, not every person gets selected to try for his or her dreams. These can be a real bummer for sure. How we handle these delays or changes in the course of our lives may likely determine our character. Certainly how we respond reflects our maturity as adults, or for Christians, whether or not we are trusting in the Lord who promises a plan an purpose for our lives (Jeremiah 29:11). While there are probably other reasons we could explore ad nauseum, I’m going to leave it right here. Ultimately we must get over the failure to achieve the goals we have set for ourselves when it just isn’t going to happen. You just never know. Something better might be on the horizon . . .

Several times I have planned to complete a special project and was never able to start it. (This has happened a lot over the past two years!) In general, the main reason wasn’t even procrastination. The reason often has had to do with the reality that something better is waiting for me in the future. Take my decorating idea folder, for example. About twenty years ago when our drapery panels in our living room became damaged from the sun, I really wanted to create a custom window treatment that I’d seen in a magazine. Somehow I would need to design a tracking system where the wall met the ceiling before such systems were even available. We didn’t have any wood shop tools at the time and I was unfamiliar with the fine art of making draperies. However I did know how to sew and had a creative streak so that was enough for me to move forward and figure it out. Sadly, it wasn’t meant to be.

The townhome got sold with the sun bleached draperies pinned from behind to hide the sections that were threadbare. The problem? My former husband doubted my ability to complete the project. Where would we get the materials? How would we install it? Where would I find the time to make everything? All of the ongoing questions discouraged me from trying to find the answers. A creative person makes something happen along the happy journey of figuring it out. He or she doesn’t have everything worked out at the start unless there is a pattern or kit with instructions. This decorating project simply was too much for the two of us to come to an agreement. It wasn’t meant to be back then.

Flash forward about ten years later and it was meant to be. Through unfortunate circumstances I found myself single and rebuilding my life in another city; so much had changed. To pursue a creative project would become “occupational therapy” for me and help me to make my new place a home. I knew exactly what window treatment would adorn the sunny sliding glass door that overlooked the lush courtyard beyond my balcony. This time the time was right.

A co-worker told me about a textile company that sold unbleached muslin by the pound. Yeah, that’s right! Yards and yards of fabric would be super cheap and just right the right color and style for my project. I even found material to line the panels all through that poorly marked, rusted back door entrance to the factory. There were huge bolts of fabric everywhere! “Yeah God,” I said to myself. This is good!

The next challenge would be measuring and cutting an inordinate amount of material on the laminate floor of my 3rd floor condominium. To say my knees were hurting from crawling around cutting all that fabric, would be an understatement. Then I wondered how was I going to sew all this yardage at my modest kitchen table? The answer soon came when I was house-sitting in a lovely home a short time later. The man of the house was a contractor and had a HUGE desk in his office for viewing his drafting plans. That desk was perfect for sewing yards and yards of fabric too: spilling all over the place in their spacious loft. Cool beans. I sewed and sewed to my heart’s content. Cool beans again.

Now to make the tracking system to suspend the panels next to the ceiling. Somehow I stumbled upon a lumber store just off the railroad tracks in an industrial area of a neighboring town. The guys at Owl Lumber in Lombard, Illinois were great. Not only did they help me configure the crown-molding style curtain rod, they metered the corners and pre-drilled the holes for the mounting pegs for me as well. I installed about a dozen pegs into the crown molding, sanded, painted it white, and coated it with polyurethane. Now all I had to do was mount it on the wall . . . without a ladder . . .

Gratefully I had an extremely sturdy coffee table that became a suitable platform for the installation. (You simply could not kill that wooden beast so it followed me through 8 moves over the years. Finally it got sold on Craig’s List 5 years ago!) I got all the tools and supplies together, my friend Jeannie came over for dinner and a little window treatment project, and we gals went to work on a Friday night. The only problem was that the building was over 30 years old and there was concrete not wood studs underneath the drywall! My wood screws would never hold the weight of the solid wooden rod that measured about 8 feet long. Oh well. Back to the hardware store I would go for mega concrete bolts and a new drill bit. Of course I had a darn good drill that would handle the job. 🙂

The next hurdle was the fact that Jeannie was not available the next weekend to jump back into the project again. What was I do to? How could I possibly wait when I was this close to pulling it all together? This thing was massively heavy and I was hoping to mount it at a height that would require me to hold it at a height near the end of the reach of my arms overhead. How could I do this alone without dropping it on my head? By sheer will power and determination, that is! I figured out the measurements of the holes for both the wall and crown-molding rod and pre-drilled the holes. I figured that if I could slip in a few bolts by hand and tighten them, they would hold enough for me to get the rest of the bolts in as well. I also used my head . . . literally! And with only one close call, Lord willing, I gotter done! Success!

The finishing touches to hang the panels were beautiful silky-type cording that I found at a local drapery supply store. Wow: so cool to live in a large city at the time where I found a place where practically half of the store was drapery trims and tassels! I made a loop and tied it with a Josephine macramé knot, reminiscent of 20 years earlier when it was first vogue to macramé. I was single then too and had macrame’d lotsa stuff! Hand sewing the loops to the panels was a labor of love, quite meaningful for me. Then I was ready for my big reveal to, er, myself. Would it all come together? You be the judge. I loved it! To open it each morning I gently draped a loops hidden on the backside of the middle of the bottom of each panel to hooks on the wall along the outer sides of the panels. At night I released the loops and the panels closed like the massive curtains at the end of a theater stage play. Yeah, it was cool. Yeah, it was worth the wait. I was stoked and thanked the Lord for restoring the years the “locusts had eaten” once again. (Joel 2:25)

This is an important story for me to remember years later. I’m in a situation now where I can’t do projects like this as I recover from a serious illness. I am grateful for the Lord’s gift of writing and the warm reception to my eBook released a couple of weeks ago (see side panel for details). Just this morning I was wondering what would be next? Then I realized that I really can’t do anything more right now. The book got finished because I had some better days; those days are gone for now. I’m hoping to catch up on some long overdue regular medical appointments like an eye exam tomorrow morning. EEEEK! Will ya look at the time? Anyways, these next few weeks I won’t be moving forward. I’ll be taking care of the stuff on the back roads, so to speak. Perhaps there will be other types of meaningful discoveries along the way, perhaps not. For now, the stuff of life has my time and attention.

Maybe you can relate? Whatcha got going on this week, Gentle Reader? Do take care, k? JJ

Me thinks the lady dost protest too much

Published on November 3, 2013November 3, 2013 by Jesus is for the Wounded1 Comment

According to Wikipedia (and who can argue with the Big W?) The quotation “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.” comes from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, act III, scene II, where it is spoken by Queen Gertrude, Hamlet’s mother. In Shakespeare’s time, “protest” meant “vow” or “declare solemnly”. It also means that she is promising too much. Well I don’t know about the Queen but this lady is going to take it literally: I think my posting about illness is getting to be too much!

So I must digress for a moment into another topic altogether. You see, the failing of dealing with chronic illness (defined as that which lasts more than 6 months) is when the diagnosis becomes you. When I start to use words like, “my Lyme disease” or “my mold illness” then I am beginning to affix a permanent label to myself: a new identity as a sick person. Sure, I am a person with a serious illness. Yet if I am not careful, I will develop such a strong identification with the role of “sick person” that it will be difficult to embody or identify with other roles and activities in my life. It could be difficult to identify with healing when it comes; that would be bad! The tendency when wearing the “hat” of a disease too well is to talk about symptoms or treatment all of the time. I could constantly be complaining about the daily headaches and pain, difficulty concentrating, or pre-tic phenomena, etc. And if I do that, I simply won’t be much fun to be around. I will find myself alone more of the time and I’m already alone a lot!

So I must make a conscious effort, beginning with those closest to me, to focus on him or her and other things no matter how benign the topic. Gotta start somewhere! I can always find something to say about our cute pupster, the mail that came that day, or something for which I am grateful. I can always lavish in the goodness of the Lord, Jesus Christ and how he has given me a warm, pretty home in which to reside. I can always be grateful for the healthy food that is available to me in our smallish town from both local farmers and chain grocery stores. (For example, have you seen the great prices on organic, free range chicken thighs in the Family Pack at Wal-Mart?) And when in doubt, I can even brag about making it to Level 102 in the Facebook game Pengle. Hey, what else am I supposed to do when spacey at 2:00 a.m.? The game is not that easy and it’s kinda fun too!

One of my favorite topics is my husband Steve. He is an amazing man. Steve begins his day with an extended time of prayer before taking care of our dog and getting ready for work. I am often sleeping or returning to sleep as he is leaving for work; we chat by phone sometime later in the afternoon. By that time he has designed a cool aspect of a weather satellite or test instrument in his role as a mechanical engineer for a world-wide firm. At lunch he cycles. Yeah that’s right. Most of us take bike rides. Not my Stevers. He is a competitive athlete to the core even during his lunch “rides” where the guys crank out 20 or more miles, averaging 19 or so miles per hour most days of the week. Then on Tuesday nights during the warmer weather and most weekends until the St. Joseph River freezes over, you’ll find my River Bear in his kayak-on-steroids. Steve races in the United States Canoe Association circuit (K-1 Unlimited class) here in northern Indiana and at Nationals every year. His two little ditties are 21-foot carbon fiber surf skiis that weigh in at around 23 pounds each! The Epic V12 looks like a Tomahawk missile on top of his stealth fighter Dodge Magnum low rider transport vehicle. Then there’s the multitude of service activities to our church including worship, Bible study, and fellowship. It’s amazing that there’s any energy left when the dude returns home. Yes, there is energy left for me, with hugs and tenderness too. Even at midnight when I’m not doing so well on a work night.

USCA Nationals 2013: Steve racing the Mohican

I love Steve with all my heart. It’s a privilege to be his wife, a blessing from the Lord. I have never felt so loved, so cherished, so respected, and held in so high of esteem by anyone at any other time in my life. His sense of humor, common sense, and Godly wisdom enrich me immeasurably. He is often my “Jesus with skin on.” Thank you, Jesus for blessing me with an amazing man of God.

Ladies, amazing men do exist! Can you see one important reason why I strive with what little strength I have these days to be the best woman I can be? Sometimes all I can do is make my man his lunch . . . at 3:00 a.m. in the morning before I finally make it to bed. So I make it the best lunch I can possibly muster with my Heavenly Husband holding me together until it’s completed. Then the dog gets a scratch behind the ears and it’s time to collapse into whatever the darkness may bring. At least I know as I close my eyes each night that this lady has “professed” her best culinary care and it is not “too much.” I’m hoping it’s just right!

Oh my Heavenly Father, thank you for my beloved who cares for me and my heart in this life until we both can be in Your presence forevermore. And if it is your will Lord, I ask to be able to be with Steve a little more as husband and wife, sharing the joys of life and being together. Thank you for helping us to find some sweetness despite this season of illness in my life. Thank you for Your provision and helping me, helping us to endure this difficult journey. You have sustained us, carried us over and over again through much uncertainty, false hopes, unexpected setbacks, and complications. While all this is true, You have also allowed others to see You here and there when we somehow got it right. Oh Lord, I pray that we continue to be a worthy steward of all that You allow in our lives for Your glory alone. Thank you for a better afternoon and evening today. I love you too. In Christ’s name, Amen.

Helps to laugh!

Published on November 1, 2013November 1, 2013 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

Spring and Fall

Published on October 31, 2013October 31, 2013 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

My body will tell you tonight: it’s quite an accomplishment to finish our Spring and Fall yard clean up projects all within 24 hours! Whaaat? Such is life these days. All completed just in time for the long soaking rain storm outside my window as Winter approaches . . . the maiden tulip bulbs are going to be real happy in their new home!

I am exceedingly grateful to be functioning somewhat better despite the ongoing noxious episodes that occur most days. Then there were two noxious-free “holidays” within the past four days. THIS IS HUGE GUYS AND GALS! I haven’t had more than a one-day break per week since living in the hotel at the beginning of the year when we were remediating our home for mold. Looks like the IV magnesium treatments (counted #20 today) and sugar/sweetener-free cholestyramine are beginning to work a wonder inside of me. I am grateful and humbled.

Despite all of this good news for some reason I needed to cry a bit today. This year has been especially traumatic. When I’m in one of those hour-long to several-hour-long episodes my ability to think and reflect is gone. My mind is blank. No processing occurs of what is happening to me. I have heard patients with dementia describe his or her mind this way. There just aren’t any thoughts. Gratefully I do not have dementia. I often wonder, however, if there will be synaptic damage from the almost 2 years of seizure attacks. Then again, maybe the neurons just needed a little Spring cleaning, resetting, and the like. Anyways, I believe that to grieve the loss of my health is, well, healthy. Perhaps it will pave a comprehensive path to healing?

The end of Psalm 139 reads:

²³Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.
²⁴See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.

I have heard an application of this passage that it can describe the need to reflect upon and grieve a past trauma as part of a God-honoring healing process. The Lord knows me and my circumstances in addition to the outcome. By opening my mind and heart to His merciful grace under the shadow of His wings, I will find rest. I have prayed many times to “get” the purpose of all of this suffering and wondered if I was “there yet.” I asked my husband Steve, my God-honoring spiritual leader, if he thought there was anything I was not seeing. Was there some sin or character flaw that required repentance? Steve was gracious when asked these questions. We both saw the little lessons and unexpected blessings that were the “silver lining” to this illness. We have not become embittered. We have drawn even closer together and to Christ. Whew. Thankfully.

Blogging started as online journaling and has become so much more. I do hope that my writing will be used for God’s glory and point people who are going through serious trials, to the person of Jesus Christ. To the Gentle Reader out there, you have also helped me find a plan and a purpose for this time in my life. The process has become as meaningful as the lessons learned. One lesson learned yesterday: don’t leave a wheelbarrow full of mulch out in the yard! Put it under the covered porch. Six times it got rained on and rained in. Geez that was one heavy wheelbarrow!

A little humor helps fer shur. And my Stevers is a great model of the value of silliness in the middle of the crap-o-la-ski. (You were missing my Polish, I know, so here ya go!) Thanks for hanging in there with me. Wish I could hug ya, eh? :J