Tag: Jeremiah 29:11

Puffy white clouds and 5 sparrows

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 6 Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. 7 Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.  Luke 12

At first it looked like a gentle breeze flowing through the branches of the variegated dogwood bush outside our bedroom window.  Puffy clouds drifted past the backdrop of the truest “sky blue” you could desire on an early summer afternoon.  Such a simple scene, peaceful too.  Then again the rustling appeared to come from below my view.  Was there, wait, yes maybe there’s a little critter in there moving the branches about?  And lo there she was:  a lone house sparrow spritely jumping about within the leaf cover in and out of my view just a few feet away.  Better not move a muscle or I might disturb the work of my feathered friend.  Does she know that I could almost reach out and touch her marbled wings if the screen window didn’t separate us, didn’t provide secluded freedom for your Saturday play . . .

The little one flew away as my gaze returned to the light blue walls next to the bed inside the window.  Maybe if I waited just a little longer another visitor would appear?  To my delight the green-with-white birdhouse was rustling again from the top, the bottom, and even just beyond my view!  Let’s see:  there’s one, two, three . . . a fourth appeared and darted deeper into the cover of leaves as a fifth little birdie perched right in front of me too.  Silly little one.  He began preening his ecru-colored chest feathers without a care in the world as the branch bobbled up, down, and all around.  He reminded me of my brother’s childhood parakeet, Perky.  How they flex their necks so steeply to reach the soft feathers that form a collar of fluff I’ll never know.  Such a curious, skittish, carefree creation indeed.  Then in a matter of a few seconds, they all flew away . . .

I was alone again.  Maybe I could try to move my head and adjust the comforter covering my chilled shoulders?  Yes, that’s good.  But to move my legs and arms was not to be just yet as my attempt to do so triggered another mini seizure attack episode.  Sigh.  I thought I would be recovering by now.  Not so.  Oh well, when my husband comes back I’ll ask him to bring me the lunch I had made myself earlier and put into the frig in case we were to go out on our tandem outrigger canoe this afternoon.  What a nice treat I thought it would be to have something made ahead of time that fit my special diet and tasted yummy too.  Not quite.  Gratefully it wasn’t too long before he returned to check on me, brought me the container of rice paper finger sandwiches and fed me several bites, one by one.  Then he put the bicycle water bottle to my mouth so I could sip some water and wash down the food sticking to my throat as I lain sideways on the bed.  A few bites, a long sip, a few bites, a long sip.  He has this routine down pretty well by now.  Thankfully these complete neurological collapse episodes only happen every 10 days lately.  They used to be every couple days . . .

In time my strength returned and I was able to put a pillow under my own head and feed myself.  Unfortunately something triggered a major seizure jolt when my beloved returned, setting me back again for awhile.  He was sitting close to me and I suddenly needed some fresh air from outside the window.  Stevers obliged then left me alone again to recover per our routine for these sort of things.  Again I revived.  Eventually I was able to weakly get out of bed and start to put on some clothes.  That’s a nice thing to do after a shower at 2 in the afternoon.  I was feeling a little funny lying there naked rolled up in the comforter.  Oh well.  It’s the best I could do after beginning to collapse in the shower an hour earlier, struggling to dry myself off, and Steve helping me lie down as it appeared I would be falling over any moment.  Flash forward almost two hours as the episode was resolving I was grateful to be able to move my left arm again.  Looks like I would be o.k. albeit shaken for several more hours anyways . . .

Sitting outside in the sunshine helped me regain my strength.  Of course I had another one of my low oxalate snack concoctions (white chocolate!) and a refill of cool water in my trusty Summit City Bicycles and Fitness water bottle.  Little did the guys at the shop know how helpful that bottle had become when I needed a special flow-control mouthpiece to refresh me when in bed, not on the Fort Wayne River Greenway!  Maybe someday soon I’ll get back on my bike.  I am grateful to have had a test run of two miles earlier this Spring; I should be able to repeat a short ride on a better Saturday afternoon really soon, Lord willing.  How hard could it be to peddle a few miles?  Well anyways sitting outside on our patio later this afternoon with pretty gardens all around me and the sun still shining brightly overhead did me a world of good.  The puffy white clouds still filled the sky and I could hear sparrows, robins, and more in the distance.  I got up to pluck a few weeds, pick a few radishes, tinker here and there before returning into the house.  Perhaps my beloved would understand that this day would be better spent at home than paddling on a lake somewhere?  Change of plans.  Enduring these kinds of afternoons together makes it obvious what we should do, more than words can ever say . . .

The rest of the day was decent as I prepared a nice dinner and some food for tomorrow in case we are able to reschedule our outing on the water together.  I do try to be hopeful, eh?  As most Gentle Readers would recognize in this blog we tend to live our lives over here a bit spontaneously:  making plans more at the last minute, in the afternoon or evening, and after checking the weather report/Julie’s snack supply/whatever we can reschedule to be able to get away . . .

This evening?  Not so nice.  We are just not sure what is going on with these wretched evening episodes again.  After a full year of 1-3 hour episodes virtually every night after dark and up to 30 minutes most mornings, you would think one of these specialists I’ve seen would have figured it out!  Yes, my melatonin level is off the chart and melatonin levels change at night.  I am getting out in the sunshine just about every day, exercising at night, avoiding foods with tryptophan (that tends to elevate melatonin) and more per my internet research on the subject yet the excess must be persisting.  (Labs to follow!)  Then my new biotoxin doctor laid a good one on me yesterday, saying that if anyone could figure out what to do IT WOULD BE ME SINCE I KNOW MY SITUATION THE BEST.  Whaaaat?  Why do you think I pursued your clinic out of State?  I was hoping YOU could figure it out!  Even my brilliant functional medicine doctor in addition to your brilliant functional medicine colleague have largely set me adrift.  Now you are saying since I cannot tolerate Dr. Shoemaker’s biotoxin protocol that you cannot help me either?  If you think I was able to figure this out would I be calling you?  Geez oh man.  Lord, come what may . . .

Back to the story of the bird in the hand is worth two in the bush OR wait a minute:  there aren’t any birds here right now since it’s after 4 in the morning!  Yes, I’m back to my late night schedule again.  Let’s see . . .  perhaps Luke 12 can remind me that just as the Lord provided me a sweet distraction of His delightful creation in my time of distress, He cares for me and for Steve in our times of distress too.  He has provided for our needs despite the incredible expenses, sustained us during multiple special events when extraordinary measures were needed to keep me as safe as possible, and granted me the time and space to get well when I cannot work.  I am grateful for my incredibly loving husband, a pretty home and gardens to enjoy when I cannot go out, and sparing of my abilities to think take care of my basic needs.  Sometimes I need to wait for the Lord’s timing on some of these things which is o.k. too.  I have learned to appreciate blessings in smaller packages with gratitude as they present themselves each day . . .

So I choose to take to heart His statement, His promise to care for all of the details of my life.  He knows all about what is happening over here and desires for me to be courageous, not afraid.  He has laid it on my heart that He has a plan and a future for my life (Jeremiah 29:11) and that nothing will separate me from Him or His will (Romans 8:38).  I get this.  Perhaps it’s why I don’t spend as much time crying anymore when the wretchedness comes.  Instead I’ll say,

3 Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, 4 and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, 5 and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.  Romans 5 (ESV)

With the lightness of heart shown to me by my Creator God this afternoon in my time of need, I’ll take the last word of the paragraphs granted by His grace and noted above:

This new day will come anyways, and no matter what may come or others may say, I will find a way to play with lightness of heart in celebration of the One who goes before me and will never go away!

Thank you Jesus for your Word, for your gift of words.  Thank you for helping me get through that to which you have called me and should any good shine through may it be for your glory Lord.  If it is your will I ask for your healing mercies and a time of blessing.  I lift up my husband (Steve), and my brother (Mike) too for your anointing and blessing.  If there is anything hindering our walk with You, please guide us, restore us through your Holy Spirit so that we may delight in sweet fellowship with you all of our days.

In Jesus’ name I pray.  Amen.

HouseSparrow

The Next Step is Sideways

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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)

That's me in 2007
That’s me in 2007

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

From one extreme to the other

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So much of the self-help genre coaches the weary traveler in achieving a blissful and balanced lifestyle.  When I was an occupational therapist working in psychiatric hospitals, I would often lead a patient group in a goal-setting exercise entitled, “Achieving a Balanced Lifestyle.”  It was always my favorite therapeutic activity to do.

Each patient received a worksheet with the title at the top followed by two large circles, one at the top of the page and one at the bottom.  Both circles were divided into the same 5 sections labeled:  Physical, Emotional, Social, Intellectual, and Spiritual.  The exercise began with the group members filling in each section of the top circle with activities that fulfilled that particular need.  For example, Social might include visiting friends and Spiritual might include Bible study.  Often patients struggling with mood disorders had very little in the emotional and social areas.  Persons with depression had very little on the page at all.

The lower circle was for goal-setting.  My hope was to help the individual begin to see beyond the crisis that led them to the hospital and think about what he or she might do during the day to use time effectively as a coping strategy.  I only asked for one activity in each of the sections.  Of course we had already brainstormed a list of activities as a group and these were written on a large white board at the front of the room.  Eventually each person had a plan and something to share with the rest of the group.  Since so many things are discussed in a person’s life during a short hospital stay, I asked each person at the end of the session to name just one activity as a starting point.  Virtually everyone was able to identify something, a place to begin.

Geez, if I were to complete my own plan for achieving a balanced lifestyle, I wonder where I would begin?  Let’s see, I’d have one worksheet for a sick morning and one for a stable afternoon.  Then there would be another for when I’m most likely to be functional in the middle of the night and another during IV magnesium treatments at the hospital three times per week.  I might be tempted to tear the page in half and add various goal-setting scenarios based upon my feelings at any given moment.  IN OTHER WORDS, setting goals sometimes just doesn’t work!  My best intentions are often met with a 180 degree turn of events.  This requires me to live in the moment on a moment-by-moment basis!

Last night was a crazy example of this.  At 9:00 p.m.  I was with my husband sitting around a campfire outside at our friend’s house roasting hotdogs over the fire.  Within the hour we all were wielding shovels and pitch forks emptying the bed of my back truck of yard waste into a ditch on his property.  But within another hour I was writhing on a bed seizing with convulsions, unable to speak or move very much at all!  The next hour was filled with my husband providing virtually all of the physical care needed to transport me to the bathroom, wash away the sooty residue from my hair and tender frame, and bring nourishment for me to eat huddled under the covers in bed.  Sigh.  So what was my goal by the end of the night?  Get up to use the toilet with my own strength.  Check.  Goal achieved for the Physical section of my paper-and-pencil exercise in my mind.

Almost every day is like this.  Yes, I’ve had 3 days with no seizure episodes in the past 3 weeks and there are about a half a dozen fewer episodes per week overall.  I guess if I could stay in my safe home bubble, I might be able to knock down a few more.  Yet after 2 years of illness I tend to forget and “go for it” when I feel stable, trying to get out of the house to do something meaningful not realizing that the setback pushes me back to “Ground Zero” of the recovery process.  The goal is to not react at all.  Each reaction re-sets my immune system at some arbitrary level, sensitizing me to be more vulnerable to the next exposure.  I may be able to anticipate that exposure and I may not.  Sometimes the cause is hidden.  When our friend placed a log covered with some type of blue fungus on the fire, I had a feeling something bad could happen at some point . . . but we were having fun  . . .

Such is life in the world of Chronic Inflammatory Response Syndrome when you have a genetic disposition that is vulnerable to mold illness.  I have no idea anymore where the Lyme disease fits into the matrix of illness.  Right now the focus is on the mold illness.  And today the focus was on recovery.  Then this evening I got a do-it-sick burst of energy and spent 3 hours washing the composted dirt out of my truck!  Later I made dinner, kale chips (yes & they are pretty weird actually), and a lamb/turkey meatloaf for tomorrow.  I’m sitting here sore, pleasantly fatigued, and sensing a pre-tic syndrome rising up from within.  And so it goes from one extreme to another once again.

Perhaps a better exercise than filling out a worksheet would be to meditate on some Words of wisdom:

5 Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; 6 in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.  (Proverbs 5)

Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the LORD’s purpose that prevails.  (Proverbs 19:21)

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.  (Jeremiah 29:11)
In their hearts humans plan their course, but the LORD establishes their steps.  (Proverbs 16:9)
So I end with my charge in all of this:  Whatever happens, conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ.  (Philippians 1:27)  Whether it’s with tears hidden in the soapy shampoo water or standing outside in the dark soaked with silt-laden overspray from the tailgate of a truck, I will lean into my Jesus for the strength to carryon.  This kind of power is supernatural.  There is no way I could endure all of this and persevere on my own; I am too broken.
I wonder if you have been there too, Gentle Reader?  Have you been in a place where you must do something but you cannot do anything?  This is the very place to come before the throne of grace and meet Jesus, face-to-face.  His infinite love will transform the moment beyond what we could ever imagine, ever wish for, ever plan for.  We only have the moment in which we are breathing anyways.  When your time comes as I have described mine here, I do pray that you will reach for the One who understands and can make a difference now and forever in the course of your life.  His loving presence will transcend the circumstances and lead you forth, with purpose and meaning.
He did it for me.  He does it for me every day.  Perhaps He has carried you before you even realized Who or What was guiding you?  He is here for both of us, transcending the extremes of our times.  I can think of no better way to achieve peace.  Can you?

Treatment Scorecard

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In January of 2012 I was diagnosed with Lyme Disease by a brilliant Lyme Literate Medical Doctor (LLMD).  I had never fully recovered from an episode of viral hepatitis after kayaking in a local reservoir in October of 2011 and my LLMD went looking for answers.  The diagnosis of Lyme Disease was made.  A year later, additional testing revealed mold illness and we remediated our home from January to March of this year.  During the interim, I’ve been treating for Lyme Disease initially with antibiotics and subsequently with a Rife machine and boatloads of pharmaceutical grade supplements.  Recently Candida was added to the diagnostic profile and I further restricted my diet, started on a supplement specific for Candida.  Now for the heavy hitters from recent blogs:

Let’s see, about 2 months ago I was all excited about vasoactive intestinal peptide or VIP.  It’s used to treat Chronic Inflammatory Response Syndrome, a complication of mold illness which presents a significant neurotoxin challenge for recovery from Lyme Disease.  Basically this means that I react to most noxious sensory stimuli very negatively.

Update:  I’m still at one nasal spray per day and am unable to increase it without tremendous fatigue.  The seizure attacks (which began in March of 2012) are of a shorter duration when present and present one less time per day.

Shortly after starting VIP, my LLMD prescribed Losartan, a blood pressure medication.  Losartan lowers TGF beta-1, a hormone that can cause chest compression-type symptoms, another complication of mold illness.  The symptoms have been a daily issue since March, interfering with sleep and causing my breathing to stop at least once per day temporarily during seizure attacks.  Frightful indeed.  My LLMD tested me for asthma and lung disease; he prescribed Albuterol, an inhaled medication.  Geez!  I’ve used the inhaler once.

Update:  It’s now a month later and gratefully the chest compression, pain, and restricted breathing episodes are relieved at least 65%.    The addition of this second medication may be why I am not able to titrate up the VIP yet.  In Dr. Shoemaker’s protocol for mold illness (reference:  www.survivingmold.com) the TGF beta-1 level should be treated first.

The most recent setback was a flare up of a persistent urinary tract infection and possible interstitial cystitis.  By the grace of God, this time a specific bacterium was found in the culture:  citrobacter feundii.  This bug is common in those who are immunosuppressed.  Yeah that’s me.  With a CD-57 of 17 (supposed to be above 160) denoting severe Lyme Disease, it makes sense.  I don’t like it though!  The treatment is typically from a class of antibiotics that I have not been able to tolerate.  In March this meant three straight days of intermittent seizure attacks.  No thanks.  I am not going there again!  Turns out that the LLMD prescribed one of those same types of drugs and the pharmacy did not catch it either.  In the back page of a computer file was a notation that got missed . . . By the grace of God I caught it and got my 40 cents back as I returned the bad boys.

Update:  My LLMD prescribes Doxycycline.  Now those of you familiar with Lyme Disease know that “Doxy” is the drug used for treatment when people first get bitten by a tick.  Sometimes it’s used at the beginning of a chronic Lyme antibiotic protocol or pulsed in rotation with other medicines.  I had never used Doxy.  Whoa.  I was scared!  What kind of herxheimer reaction would follow?  (Herxing is like a detox reaction when on a cleanse protocol.)  I’ve read that Doxy can trigger every kind of symptom under the sun.  I’ve also read that it’s going for $400 or more around the country.  At the time of this writing I am 5 1/2 hours after the first dose and I am feeling better.  The UTI symptoms are subsiding already.  The cost was cheap at my local pharmacy.  Whew!  One dose down and nineteen to go!

The last update is a minor one:  my response to noxious mosquito bites.  I seem to be a magnet for mosquitos, day and night, getting bitten through my clothing and in any spot not doused in DEET-laden bug spray!  Fifteen mosquito bites this past Saturday set off 36 hours of seizure attacks and sickness including Father’s Day.  Bad timing.  Oh well.  Nothing would soothe the inflamed bites either.

Update:  Monday my LLMD office recommended some Rife programs for Lyme and a specific co-infection called Bartonella.  Within a few minutes of running just 90 seconds of each program, the itching subsided.  Praise the Lord!  They returned later but were diminished overall and this occurred in less time than I had noted using various over-the-counter remedies/baking soda.  Yeah God.

I think I’m only going to go outside during the daytime when it’s cooler and I’m covered.  Besides, photosensitivity is a severe side effect of Doxycycline so I better stay out of the sun for the next 10 days!

Sure has been a crazy Spring and Summer so far.  Well actually the whole year has been insane!  I gotta tell ya that I am actually very encouraged this day so I hope that you will be as well.  Seems like the worst setbacks have always given way to the best insights and new directions.  I haven’t a clue why the Lord has allowed this crazy journey in my life.  My husband is a saint!  I do know that the breaks in the illness are very precious times between me and Steve.  I do know that I find myself grateful for smaller and smaller miracles that I might have missed if my life was “normal.”  I have already seen that my experience can benefit others as I have benefitted from theirs too.  I love to blog and make jewelry and had never done either before.  I have finally made some close friends here in Indiana.  And in the end, it is clearer than ever before that the promises of the Lord Jesus Christ bring more hope than any temporal experience in our days.   (Reference:  Psalm33)

Sure, Lyme Disease and all the rest are a drag.  So is the State of the US government!  We are all stewards of our experiences (good and bad), our time, our resources, our talents, our opportunities.  We can waste them, idolize them, or let them distract us from the eternal things that really give meaning to life.  “Whatcha gonna do with it?” is the bigger question really.  Well?

New Sport: Thwarting Disaster — UPDATED

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So glad the Lord gave me the presence of mind to cancel a Methacholine Challenge Test today.  I feel exhausted from the prospect that I could have died had I gone through with the test . . .

Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me.  John 14:1

11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.  Jeremiah 29:11

In the process of diagnosing asthma, a Doc orders a pulmonary function test.  If your lung capacity is deficient for either the intake or exhalation of air, you may have a problem warranting treatment or at least a rescue inhaler.  Since I started having severe chest pain and compression symptoms at the end of March, the LLMD ordered this test for me.  I completed it about a month ago with findings suggestive of mild asthma.  Hmmmm.  I’ve never had breathing problems before and the onset coincidentally occurred during the stress of relocating back to my home after mold remediation.  I was scared.  A lot was at stake.  We had spent thousands of dollars to remediate our home, much of it not covered by insurance or the gift of friends.  How was I going to do after 76 days away from home?  Turns out that I did o.k. initially then the noxious symptoms gradually returned.  Oh well.

We have continued to narrow down and eliminate the potential triggers over these past two months so I can get well.  This takes time and there have been some successes and failures alike. As long as there is an underlying Lyme Disease process (that I am not well enough yet to treat directly), I will have some sickness every day.  But the bottom line is that I did not have difficulty breathing or feel like an elephant was sitting on my chest until the last week of March, 2013!  The LLMD ruled out a heart attack.  Then a negative lab finding for a complication of mold illness suggested that I might benefit from a particular prescription medication, not covered by insurance.  I tried it and am receiving some benefit, gratefully.  The chest pressure is less most of the time.

Today was an exception.  I had a particularly severe reaction to our ol’ church building last night resulting in about 45-minutes of intermittent seizure attacks and marked chest symptoms.  I was still pretty sore today despite taking the medication for the latter symptoms.  So when hearing the risks of the Methacholine (MC) Challenge Test today including a full blown asthma attack, I got really scared.  The MC progressively constricts your airway while a respiratory therapist takes measurements of your breathing.  Holy cripes!  If your values go down 20% then they give you Albuterol to open your airway.  Well isn’t that dandy.  I was given Albuterol as part of the test protocol during the Pulmonary Function Test last month and did not notice any difference in terms of breathing easier.  Thankfully, I had a respiratory therapist who was willing to talk with me in detail today about the test, his experiences, my PFT findings; we agreed about the extreme likelihood that I would react negatively . . .

I feel like I stared death in the face today.  If I would have reacted, it would have not only been a full blown seizure attack AGAIN, but the risk of respiratory arrest.   Holy crap!  Remember the cartoon I posted awhile back about feeling like a lab rat?  This lab rat could have been no more.  Something stirred within me and I crossed out my name on the consent form and wrote, “patient declined test.”

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and instruction.   Proverbs 1:7

When I have a seizure attack with chest compression, I do not breathe for several seconds.  It is by the grace of God alone that my breathing re-starts!  If I try to initiate active movement, such as trying to inhale, the volitional initiation of movement triggers another seizure attack.  A similar reaction happens when trying to talk or move as the attacks are occurring.  Eventually I collapse and need to rest.  Much time needs to pass thereafter before I can function on my own or someone else has to lift me up and begin to move me.  Sometimes I can initiate fine motor movements and not gross motor movements (such as walking or bearing weight on my legs).  Usually my biggest challenge is simply trying to breathe again.  Hyperventilation comes first then deep breaths and labored respiration.  Normal breathing is last.  Thankfully I am not alone in these crises even when I am “alone” . . . .

3 The Lord sustains them on their sickbed
and restores them from their bed of illness.  Psalm 41:3

This doesn’t really sound like asthma to me.  How about you?  Perhaps some aspects of it are like asthma.  Google it and see whatcha think!  Such a crazy game this is at times.  There just might not be a winner but perhaps an overcomer in my heart?

So my new sport this evening is first to write until my exasperation with the complications of Lyme Disease are more on the computer screen than in my head and shattered heart.  Sorry if this bums you out, gentle reader and spectator.  This day was a bad one.  The sport of living with long term illness continues as I try to listen to the Holy Spirit and all the advisors/coaches He has sent to get through the game of life.  I am crying as I write this.  Crying out to the Lord.  You the spectator have witnessed the athlete getting injured.  Not only is my chest still sore but my heart is bruised as well.  Thankfully, this too shall pass . . .

27 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.  John 14:27

7 Be patient, then, brothers and sisters, until the Lord’s coming. See how the farmer waits for the land to yield its valuable crop, patiently waiting for the autumn and spring rains.  James 5:7

I talked to my precious husband on the phone from the parking lot of the hospital this afternoon.  God bless that man!  I was exhausted and barely realizing the significance of my experience inside that building when his kind words soothed my soul.  Steve has asthma and has had a Methacholine Challenge Test in the past.  He was worried for me, praying for me.  He agrees that it was too risky to complete it and ’twas better to have refused it.  After we talked I still had a few errands to run, prescriptions to pick up, supplements to purchase, and of course:  just a couple more plants to take home from a mom-n-pop nursery.  So glad Young’s had the Sweet Marjoram I haven’t been able to find anywhere else in the area.  Just saying the name,  “Sweet Marjoram” makes me feel better.

Now that all of this is “off my chest” I can go do what I do best.  It is dark now but that never kept me from gardening before.  Besides this time it’s planting two planters and I can do that in our garage on my very cool potting bench.  My husband’s son, Daniel, gave me that awesome bench 5 1/2 years ago.  Love it.

Sounds like Steve’s home.  Sigh.  All is well.  Thank you for following my story too.