coping – Page 7 – Jesus is for the Wounded

When the hospital comes home

Published on May 18, 2016May 19, 2016 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

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)

⁵I cry to you, Lord;
I say, “You are my refuge,
my portion in the land of the living.”

I learned it from Charlotte

Published on March 10, 2016March 10, 2016 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

She was wearing an oxygen cannula 24/7 and needed to take a break to rest after walking from one end of her house to the other. Having battled breast cancer years ago, she had come into the late stages of another bout of cancer that would take her life a year later. She was no longer able to leave her home except for medical appointments and did so with a supremely taxing effort. Too weak to perform all but the most basic of daily living chores, she still had an amazing ministry that reached across the country . . .

Grief Share, friendship, mentoring, older women, younger woman, grief, loss, grieving, fellowship, Charlotte — From left: Julie, Miriam, Charlotte, Mary, and LuAnn from a Grief Share Ministry in 2007

Charlotte prayed for persons that she had found in an online “care” ministry. These patients had opened up a personal webpage usually when in the hospital to facilitate communicating updates on their medical status to loved ones. Charlotte searched the database for individuals that spoke to her heart then enlisted prayer warriors she knew via email and social media to pray for them too. I was in awe of her outreach! Exhausted from chemotherapy, radiation, or just taking a breath was no deterrent for a woman with a heart bigger than anyone’s I had known. “I have the time,” is all she would say about it. And time was her greatest gift as she spent it in the service of others, lifting them before our heavenly Father’s throne of grace.

So when I have been bedridden over the past few years, I have taken on my own version of Charlotte’s prayer ministry. I pray for everyone I can think of until I can get out of bed again. I was often amazed that once I got started, the Lord would bring so many names and faces to mind: persons I had met online, an individual named through a prayer chain, or maybe someone I saw in public when able to leave our own home to go to medical appointments. “I had the time,” so humbly to pray would be the best use of it. It has been amazing to me when these instances occur . . .

Today a bunch of folks came to mind during 2 hours of continuous seizure attacks after injections of antibiotics at my doctor’s office did not go so well. I lain on a hard treatment table in the dark to shield my eyes from the bright lights, hoping that the hell would not go on as long as it had during treatments earlier in the week. My neck throbbed from the violent shaking, thrashing, odd posturing, wailing, repetitive pulling forward of my flexed torso, and general torture of it all. (Unfortunately the facet block injection in my neck 3 weeks ago had already worn off!) Sure, the nurses checked on me every so often; they had seen these episodes many, many times before and knew the score. There was an agreement however, that if the convulsions persisted they would call an ambulance to take me to the emergency room of the hospital adjacent to their office building. I doubted if that would do any good. Would she be making the call the next time she came in the room? The next time after that? The total duration had already exceeded 90 minutes which was well beyond our agreed upon period. “Is there anything I can do for you?” she would ask in plain English. Sigh. Not really.

Then she came back again and I squeaked out to yes, please ask the doctor if he could do a chiropractic adjustment on my neck. It might help stop the wretchedness as it had in another appointment in the past. Finally another nurse came back with the good news: the Doctor would see me! I began to cry . . . then praise the Lord . . . then pray some more. Soon my time thrashing about whilst laying flat on my back and mighty sore gluteus media from 6 injections this past week would be over. I had so much to do later this evening before a surgical procedure tomorrow. I had better get my time with the Lord in now not knowing how the rest of the day would fare.

Things got better after more gut-wrenching yelps, yells, screams, bursts of hot tears, yada, yada with the chiropractic adjustments and I was finally able to leave the building under my own power about 20 minutes later. Whoa! Shell-shocked I had made my way to the bathroom, put on my coat, and gathered my things to leave as if moving slow-motion in a black and white flick from the 1950’s. But the evening was just getting started so miraculously the pace revved up a bit from there.

Within the hour I would be tossing all precaution to the wind and digging in the garden with our pup chewing a bone nearby! Whaaat? Hey, I figured that I’d get the borders of 2 flower beds tidied up knowing that I would likely be on a lifting restriction after placement of a power port in my chest wall early the next morning. SO I DUG, DUG, DUG LIKE THERE WAS A TREASURE OF GOLD HIDDEN IN THERE SOMEWHERE!!! Even the darkness and the drizzling rain did not stop me from doing what I love, doing the most that I could possibly do in some sort of a cathartic shedding of my personal hell on the way to and earthly Garden of Eden. Well, sort of!

Maybe Charlotte would smile at how things turned out for me this evening. It’s been about 7 years since her passing. She had an impact on my life for sure. If she were still around I would give her a call and listen some more to her wisdom that helped transform my life at another tumultuous time. Well I guess that is happening again dear friend.

Thank you Jesus for Charlotte’s legacy. Perhaps someday together we will tend to the sumptuous riches in the gardens of our Savior’s wondrous dwellings that You have prepared for us to bask in Your glory one day and forever.

There is so much to look forward to Gentle Reader. I hope to see you there too. :JJ

The County Sheriff and a mobile compost pile

Published on February 19, 2016February 19, 2016 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

Sometimes the dirt in your life follows you around for awhile . . . literally!

The weather was unusually warm here in the Midwest of the United States this past December. By “warm” I mean that it was still in the 50’s and that was all I needed to do a little gardening project still left undone from the prior season. Factor in the heartache of having been too sick to do it earlier, you can see why I jumped at the chance to get some dirt under my fingernails before the snow was set to fly!

And so I did. The borders around the flower beds and tree in our front yard were re-cut and tidied up for the wintry freeze to follow. A Master Gardener simply cannot have her front yard unkempt when visitors were set to come for Christmas celebrations . . . even if they are not into landscaping! Afterwards I felt a little better about the whole thingy. The cuttings went into the bed of my truck like they always do with the intent of making a quick trip to dump it at the town compost pile. That never happened. Such a bummer being sick virtually all of the time . . .

Flash forward two months. I was headed in my truck to my doctor’s office, hoping that they would see me on time. Usually we patients can call ahead to see how far he is running behind and to leave our phone number for a call when they have an exam room available for us. The phone lines were either turned off or unanswered when I had tried to call so I hurried to get on my way, lest I lose my appointment altogether! This arrangement is a minor inconvenience for most folks but a major undertaking for me these days. I had a more severe seizure attack waking up that morning and barely had enough time to get ready, grab some of my special food for the day (these appointments require 3+ hours plus I had an IV treatment at the hospital next door for another 4 hours later on), and focus enough to get myself out the door. Maybe I should have had Steve drive me to the appointment?

Clearly I was a little distracted. The purpose of the appointment was to re-evaluate the first month of IV treatments for Lyme disease. I had first treated Lyme disease 4 years ago and it was a disaster; the next 4 years were spent taking down other infections and toxicities to get ready for intense treatment of Lyme that likely had been underlying ongoing health issues for a very long time. The process has been most difficult. I would learn in this appointment that the burning in my forearms that occurred during the past 5 infusions of the antibiotic (Rocephin) had caused superficial phlebitis! All I knew is that they hurt. More treatment recommendations would follow to add to my already complex treatment regime. Everything came clearly into focus when I saw that beige-n-brown Dodge Charger sitting alongside Auburn Road.

As soon as I saw him I knew that I was in trouble. That’s the color of the County Sheriff vehicles and I was traveling 14 miles per hour over the speed limit! I thought I was only 9 MPH but unfortunately I did not see the traffic sign until my trip home! He followed me for a block or so before turning on his flashing lights. I sat stunned by the side of the road. The Sheriff turned out to be friendly young lad, albeit dressed in his intimidating finery. He recognized my last name and asked if I knew someone that he did by that name in another town? Nope. I could hardly speak. “May I call my Doctor’s office? I am running late for an appointment,” I asked. “Sure,” he replied as he took my ID cards and walked back to his beast on wheels. If he was friendly did that mean that he would have mercy on my story and not give me a ticket?

Nope again. The “icy” conditions warranted a citation. He spouted off more instructions than I could understand then left me with a cheap ticker-tape style TICKET. All I could do was pull over onto a local street to gather myself to figure out what to do next. The Doctor’s office finally answered their phone, apologized for not picking up earlier as they were short-staffed and stated that the Doc was running 1 1/2 hours behind schedule (as usual!). “Would I like to leave my phone number for a call when they were ready?” Sure, no problem I thought to myself . . .

Somehow I managed to contact my hubby at work and return home. The struggle to leave the house earlier that morning resulted in a very expensive speeding ticket with funds earmarked for adjunct treatments not the county coffers. I was upset at myself and upset at this wretched illness. I was guilty of speeding. I had not even looked down to see how fast I was travelling. Driving a truck makes you a little over-confident in inclement weather and that false sense of security had caught up with me. Gee, did he also notice that I still have a quarter of the bed of my truck filled with dirt, plants, and sod pieces in the middle of winter? Perhaps not. The pile has already begun composting into a fertile loam on sunny days! They should make a nice, top-dressing the vegetable bed by Spring! Maybe I’ll just leave it in there?

Sigh. Life goes on and sometimes the State trooper is the one to remind me of this. Regardless, if it really does get to 57 degrees tomorrow (on February 19th!) I will be digging some, Lord willing. There’s much to do and the IV treatments are helping me feel some better. Besides, I have a lot more room in the bed of my truck that needs to be filled dontcha know? You can never have too much of that “black gold” stuff anyways. :JJ

compost, gardening, truck, Nissan Frontier, garden, load, dirt, — How the professionals load compost!

A different kind of Christmas

Published on December 27, 2015December 27, 2015 by Jesus is for the Wounded2 Comments

Perhaps it is a sentiment of many Dayspring and Hallmark greeting cards to define Christmas as “the most wonderful day of the year.” For a believer in Jesus Christ, the day is one of the most meaningful: celebrating the birth of our Lord and Savior. But perhaps the most significant holiday is actually celebrated on Easter Sunday as we recall the sacrifice that Christ made in dying on a cross for our sins such that we may have everlasting life. No sentiments are implied or required: the truth is that He came to save, the truth is that He is Lord of all!

Isaiah 9:6-7New King James Version (NKJV)

⁶For unto us a Child is born,
Unto us a Son is given;
And the government will be upon His shoulder.
And His name will be called
Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
⁷Of the increase of His government and peace
There will be no end,
Upon the throne of David and over His kingdom,
To order it and establish it with judgment and justice
From that time forward, even forever.
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will perform this.

I can almost hear the victorious singing of Handel’s Messiah in the background as I read these words. Such is the confidence that we have, the joy we know as believers in Jesus Christ!

Many days when my life is a “nothing burger,” these words are just about all that I have for comfort. My Christmas and Easter in 2015 were not filled with either the people or activities of a typical Christian holiday. There were no church services dressed in better finery, homemade treats enjoyed in the basement afterwards with the dearest of friends, or family dinners filled with laughter and much feasting. The décor around here was the same as it is every day. I could go on with all that was cut due to the ravages of severe illness but I won’t. Perhaps you get the idea Gentle Reader?

I spent each of these holidays staring into nothingness for much of it yet also with nothing to distract me from seeking the face of my Lord. My prayerful meditation was uninterrupted and peaceful. Warm, loving glances came from my beloved Steve whose presence is one of the greatest gifts I could ever ask for in my life. Even our furry friend Elle is always a special delight with the gentlest of brown eyes, the softest of fur coats. I did get somewhat of a break during the middle of the day on Christmas in which we connected with family via Skype and the phone, MacGyvered a tasty meal of sorts, and opened some sweet gifts for our eighth Christmas together as husband-and-wife. Yeah God for special moments like these!

In two days we will continue and conclude as many of these traditions as we can in a gathering with my husbands adult children and their spouses. They graciously will attend to the mold/fragrance-avoidance practices needed for me to host them in our home. Since it may be my only time to see them when they are in town from their respective States and countries, I do pray that I may be able to participate in every moment available. They are wonderful young adults and I do love them so! I have simplified our menu and Steve has begun the preparations. We have spent extra time finding special gifts that would be meaningful; one of them may even serve temporarily as a different kind of “Christmas tree!” We’ll see. I still have to pull that one together! Eeeek!

So if you too have changed things up a bit for this Christmas season, know that you are not alone. I understand completely. It’s o.k.! This holiday along with Easter in the Spring have nothing to do with Santa and the white bunny carrying chocolate eggs. These special days have everything to do with a decision we each make in our hearts about Who we will serve as Lord over our lives. Where have you placed your trust dear friends? With a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, we will have a celebration that will never be limited to a date on the calendar.

Nothing beats a Charlie Brown Christmas message:

And with that decision made to follow Christ, every day will be a different kind of adventure that transcends the moment into all of eternity. Yeah, I’m on board for that one. Will you be along too? JJ

Known in the Gates: Part 2, The Inside Story

Published on September 19, 2015September 19, 2015 by Jesus is for the Wounded4 Comments

One of the movies that has really resonated deeply with me is, The Breakfast Club. Please see my previous post for the catchy theme song that underscored the film and one of the most poignant scenes that is also pertinent to Part 2 of this 3-part blog.

In Part 1, I described the isolation that I have felt when enduring a serious illness and how the Lord still gets me through the toughest of days. His Word is my greatest comfort; the leading of the Holy Spirit and His presence are my greatest companions. I ended with a question,

But how well does he really know me?

Sure, my Lord crafted me before I was born and set forth all that I would be, all that I would endure and accomplish. His Words in Psalm 139 declare that He knows my “innermost being.” Does this include the longing of my heart as well? If it does, why has He allowed me to become so dreadfully isolated?

Maybe someday I will get to see why so many family and friends have chosen to “walk on by” me as it says in the theme song of The Breakfast Club. Have I not been a good friend? Maybe I was not. I remember about two years into this ordeal someone contacted me and asked me about getting together for coffee. I replied “yes” and then I never heard from her again. My spirits had soared then crashed and burned. For believers in Jesus Christ, the answer to the “why” question is usually left for eternity. We simply may never know “why” this side of heaven.

Those of you not living in isolation may not have any idea how much Satan uses this experience to tear a person down. He can prey upon all of our negative emotions and be allowed to create havoc in our lives. (Yes, ultimately God is still in charge!) Yet I know that it’s really not about resisting Satan or about losing the people in my life. I resist the devil and his demons with the sword of the spirit: the Word of God as described in Ephesians 6:10-17. People come and go in our lives and that is the normal ebb and flow of life. It really is about my response to the taunting, the loss of these relationships.

My challenge has been particularly great due to the effect that this chronic illness has had on my brain. Responding to Satan’s lies and the loss of relationships has been affected by the change in brain chemistry that came with chronic illness. My ability claim victory in the name of Jesus Christ and fully embody the companionship of my Lord have been affected. Satan’s lies have been magnified. My social skills have eroded. My ability to think clearly has been altered. And I struggled to override these skill deficits but could not, even if I tried. Allow me to explain.

Only recently did we discover that excessive neurotransmitters called catecholamines (epinephrine, norephinephrine, and dopamine) are likely contributing to my mood changes, thinking and communication skills in addition to possibly causing the convulsive episodes. This is happening due to the expression or “turning on” of polymorphisms (SNPs) or breaks in several enzymes that help form my DNA code. The DNA code is the instruction manual or blueprint from which the body functions. Everyone has a unique combination of broken SNPs that get turned on by illness or significant stressors in the environment (such as exposure to mold). For me the factors included everything that I have written about in this blog: biotoxin illness/hepatitis, latent Lyme disease, Candida toxicity, mold illness, infected root-canaled teeth, and mercury toxicity. That’s a lot of stressors! These illness and environmental challenges became a trigger for disaster. I even have the data to prove it, all of it!

methylation cycle, Dr. Amy Yasko, SNPs, Lyme disease, mold illness, mitochondrial, mito disease, methylation, B6 deficiency, CIRS, mold illness, — One version of a methylation cycle from http://ihateticks.me/2014/10/06/methylation-for-dummies/

For some people this process manifests as a Mitochondrial Disease or a disruption in the methylation cycle inside the nucleus of the cells of our bodies. My thought life was affected. My mood was affected too. I had waking and nightly nightmares not based in any reality past or present. Those were internal things that my beloved husband, Steve, and the healthcare community could not see very often. Several healthcare practitioners labeled me as having a mental illness of sorts, often without even completing a mental status exam or workup! Gratefully, Steve believed me. They all saw the wretched convulsive episodes that have plagued me for hours every day for 3 1/2 years. And Satan was allowed to enter into the whole dynamic with lies and attacks that I will definitely write about at another time. Absolute mental and physical wretchedness.

But now the gig is up! Two days ago I woke up from a lovely nap after starting to treat this condition. I had my first 16 hours seizure-free! It’s as if someone turned on the lights in my brain! Not only do I have a formula for correcting the brain-part of the process but the prayers of deliverance against the spiritual warfare are taking hold. The cascade of negative mental, physical, social, emotional, and spiritual suffering is beginning to turn around. Lord willing, I am going to get well!

My Jesus knows all about every aspect of what I have described here. He also knows the desires of my heart. How do I know this? My prayers long before this illness began was to become whole. I had been broken by the consequences of a hard life: events out of my control. Many times during trauma the Holy Spirit would bring encouraging scripture to me that kept me moving forward. Yeah, finding hope and finding myself has come through horrible, ongoing isolation and trauma. I have worked hard to recover from so much suffering in my heart, my mind, my body. Each step of the way has been both painful and meaningful. Yet I tell you, Gentle Reader that nothing has been wasted! I have learned to trust the process in EVERY CIRCUMSTANCE under the protection of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. And now the desires of my heart are being realized. Cool beans.

So how does one rebirth the desires of one’s heart?