seizures – Page 28 – Jesus is for the Wounded

He really cares: Part 2

Published on August 12, 2015August 12, 2015 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

Please forgive me for leaving you hanging, Gentle Reader! I left you hanging by a thread in this blog almost 2 weeks ago. Clearly I made it out o.k. from the doctor’s office!

Since there were many hairy details in the horrible situation I was in on July 29th, I will shorten things up a bit here. In my last post, I ended whilst lying on my side, paralyzed and inches from the floor after a convulsive episode in the exam room of a Physician’s Assistant (PA). The second of two severe seizure attacks had occurred since entering this room and the second of two episodes of neurological collapse was in progress. Eventually the PA returned and forgot everything I had ever told her about what to do in this circumstance; she even forgot that in the first episode (that she had witnessed) I was unable to speak or move. All she kept asking was, “Do you want me to call an ambulance?”

Finally I was able to break through what was happening in my brain to express the greatest need in my life at that moment, “PLEASE REMOVE MY GLASSES!” As she wrenched my neck and lifted my head I screamed in excruciating pain from having had my eyeglasses and sunglasses wedged against my face for so long. Extreme sensory sensitivity accompanies the worst convulsive episodes; pain in particular is magnified as if you had tried to electrocute me! So when the PA tried to remove them, it was as if a bolt of lightening had jolted through my face! She asked again about the ambulance. “Did I want to get up onto the table to be more comfortable?” I could not speak or move at all. Then she left. A long time later she returned. Then she left. A long time later she returned. Then she left.

To pray was my focus since the trained medical professional was of no help! Thankfully after a long time, it was the Lord Who helped me twist and turn my torso so I could lie on my back across two chairs with my legs pulled up underneath me. It took about a dozen tries before I could lift my head segmentally to reach a sitting position with my head supported by the wall behind me. Never did a wall seem so comforting . . .

Eventually a nurse, the really sweet one, came into the room with a wheelchair so I could be taken to the bathroom. Herein I benefitted from my training in transfer techniques as an occupational therapist. My arms were starting to regain motor control but my legs were like dead weight . I lifted them one at a time with my right arm (more functional than my left) off of the leg rests of the wheelchair and onto the floor, braced myself with the grab bar along the wall next to the toilet and pivoted myself around; I reversed the procedure with more adaptive techniques to do all of the things I needed to do in the bathroom. By the time I was wheeling myself out of the bathroom, the really sweet nurse had returned to take me to the hospital in the building next door. At last, over three hours later and feeling majorly beat up, I would be getting the IV fluids as ordered!

Unfortunately the IV “Lactated Ringers” didn’t help me much. The nightly convulsive episodes returned followed by wake-up tazoring the next morning. I was so beat up from everything. The following evening I did make it to the grocery store when things had temporarily stabilized. Such an ordeal! Calming my anger at my medical providers has taken every day since then. The doctor never mentioned it when I saw him last week. He did not even ask if the IV fluids helped me to feel any better. Sometimes that guy is just too focused on test results (or whatever) to examine the overall process of this patient’s sickness, the clues that might be hidden in plain sight. Oh well. The second appointment to review additional test results last week was cancelled (as are about 35% of his appointments). A minor flare up of the ol’ anger distracted me once again, gratefully for less time . . .

So who really cares if I live? Suffer? Die? I have spent the last 15 days meditating on this. The real question emerged beneath these cries and it was not to find out if anyone really cares or not. There are people in my life who love me and for this I am grateful. The real question turned out to be whether or not I had submitted this illness to the Lord as a living sacrifice. Who is really in charge here? Did I offer it to the One Who sees all, loves me more than anyone? Could I view laying this illness at the Lord’s mighty throne of grace as an act of both obedience and worship? He calls believers to do this, by the way in Romans 12:1-2

Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. ²Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. (Romans 12)

The Lord knows that our bodies are not perfect and that our world is not perfect. Why would the God of the universe desire me to make alms to Him with my weaknesses? He desires our devotion in all things and loves me and you just as we are. But wouldn’t he rather have a tithe or act of service? NO! He is God not some distant authority figure or Santa Claus. He loves us, has mercy on us, completes us, pours out His blessings, defends us, and promises to make good out of the fallen things of this world no matter how ugly.

1 Peter 5:6-11New International Version (NIV)

⁶Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. ⁷Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.

⁸Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. ⁹Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings.

¹⁰And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. ¹¹To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.

I am holding out for the promise that lies within these words. He will restore me in due time. Who cares for me? Who cares for you? The Lord Jesus Christ, that’s Who! In Him we will find rest no matter what may come our way. We can be sure of it! JJ

He really cares: Part 1

Published on July 31, 2015July 31, 2015 by Jesus is for the Wounded2 Comments

The initial blog title rattling around in my brain for the last 24+ hours was, “You are THE ONE who really cares.” After all, when each of us is alone in the midst of a trial (particularly when it is medical), it is only you that bears the greatest burden of the suffering. Others offer comfort, prayer, helps of various levels, and if you are lucky will actually stick around for more than a few moments. But it is you, one and only, who must bear the pain . . . And that can be frightening to say the least!

Rather than rant about what to do with fear, give platitudes and verses with which to train your mind, and otherwise avoid ministering to the weeping heart, I will simply offer this:

Just lay your head on the lap of Jesus.

More than anyone, Jesus Christ knows what it is like to be killed, pained, abandoned, betrayed, falsely accused. He is the only one Who can be with you as the Holy Spirit, in your time of sorrow from its beginning until its end. He will never leave us or forsake us and always be there if we but call upon His name. He is worthy of our

praise

tears

anger

weakness

alms

thanksgiving. I was reminded of all of this just yesterday!

About 3:30 p.m. in the afternoon I was abandoned in a treatment room of my doctor’s office. The nurse practitioner (NP) had left the room after writing an order for me to get IV fluids and after “catching” me collapse during a short convulsive episode during the appointment. After all, that’s why I was there: to document the crisis, get the orders, and head over to the hospital for treatment thereafter. I was sitting there kind of dazed. Soon after she left the room (and after another nurse came into the room to revise the scheduling of some other appointments), I began to list to one side. There was a chair next to me with my purse and water bottle resting on it. The weakness increased and a few inches at a time, I began falling to my right side, coming closer to the purse on the chair. I could not speak. I could not brace myself. I could not do anything but be glad there was a chair next to the one upon which I was sitting so as to break my fall.

The next 20-30 minutes were very ugly. My body collapsed fully onto the chair next to me. My face smashed into the zipper of the purse while my glasses and cover-style sunglasses pressed into my face. I looked straight ahead with my head rotated completely to my left, straining my neck most uncomfortably. The front of my right ear was crushed underneath me on the purse whilst the back was free-falling unsupported; the back of my head pressed into the vinyl backrest of the metal chair. Not exactly pillow material! My right hip was twisted and pushed into the thinly padded, vinyl seat of the chair upon which I was sitting. The ringing in my ears had already increased with the headache that had been working its way into action over the past hour. Legs cramping, toe tips burning as much as my finger tips, and feet struggling to keep contact with the floor to stabilize my position . . . herein I would remain for the next 90 minutes.

I thought about many things. First, I prayed. I prayed again and again and talked to God about many things. Will they be coming soon? Do I hear them coming? Was I expected to go out to the nurse’s desk after the NP left the room or was she coming back with more instructions? I really could not remember since I was already in the brain fog of recovering from the earlier episode that she had witnessed before she left the room. Surely the staff would notice that I had not left the room yet? Or maybe not. I waited in that same treatment room (#4) TWO HOURS the last time I saw the NP before I stepped out to mention that I was in there waiting. “I didn’t know you were in there waiting for me,” she explained with her soft, sweet voice that I would learn never changes even in the midst of an emergency . . .

Time passed. It was hard to ignore the searing pain of the two pairs of glasses being pressed with my full upper body weight into the side of my nose. I could not move to get more comfortable. I still couldn’t speak. I tested this out and nothing happened. In a while when I tested it again, my arm would start shaking; if I tried my leg, my leg would start shaking. This is what I call, “neurological collapse” at it’s finest. I learned on in a Catamenial Epilepsy Facebook page that in true epilepsy (which I do not have) has a name for this phenomenon called, “Todd’s paralysis.” It can go on for up to 48 hours and mimic the signs/symptoms of a stroke. Todd’s paresis usually resolves on its own without any residual effects. I have experienced this complication at least once per week for the last 3 years. Gratefully, most of the time the residual effects for me resolve within 2 hours, at home, in the evening, and within reach of my beloved husband!

There is nothing I can do to quicken the process of recovery from an episode. It takes what it takes. Knowing this I tried to calm myself down and focus on my breathing despite my twisted posture. My rib cage was constricted so I did what I could to at least slow down each inhale, each exhale. I did what I could to keep my neck and shoulder muscles tensed a bit so as not to twist my upper torso any more extremely than it already was. I tried to relax the crushed tissues on my face so the pain would subside. This worked poorly. Suddenly the voices beyond the closed door seemed louder. Then I heard the doctor’s voice. This would be the time to try and vocalize something for help. My voice was weak. help. Help. I tried many times. Probably no one in the same room with me would have heard those first cries.

I redoubled my efforts. I took a deeper breath and vocalized a little louder, “Help!” Then I rested and made more attempts, “HELP!” Surely the door cannot be that thick! I can see a crack at the bottom between the wood of the door and the low pile carpeting. “HEEEEEEELP!!!” I cried again. My nose was running from the first time I had started to cry, dripping onto my purse. Fortunately it is made of an outdoorsy, washable fabric. Your mind thinks of all kinds of things when you are trapped.

To be continued in Part 2

Obedience

Published on July 28, 2015July 29, 2015 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

Obedience is one of those words like “discipline.” Not popular either one of them, yet both separate the whining cry babies from the mature adults amongst us. For believers in Jesus Christ, obedience matures our faith and transforms us into the image of Christ (a work never completed during our lifetimes). In our humanity our flesh tugs at us to rebel or be tempted in directions other than the leading of the Holy Spirit. But by focusing on His incredible gift of grace, studying His holy Word, and submitting to the leading of the Holy Spirit we will end in a better place for sure. I have seen it in my own life and in the lives of others. His will is best. His timing is best. Why? Because He loves us and because He is God!

These thoughts came to me after reading an interview of Ravi Zacharias in the RZIM Summer 2015 newsletter and listening to a message by Pastor Paul Mowery of Harvest Fellowship in Leo, Indiana. At the close of his message on Romans 11, Pastor Paul encourages us to “be about worship,” praising His great name for having mercy on us as recipients of the Lord’s grace. We are not to dwell on what each of us may have done that draws attention to ourselves. We are to be about Him: worshipping our Father God.

Lately I am struggling with these themes. Many of my posts here have tried to pull something meaningful out of the challenges of a wretched illness. As the days wear on with the setbacks of late, I have found myself literally screaming out my anger at God with the wails that accompany the convulsive seizures. “Why do you hate me?” Oh yeah, it’s bad. Even my beloved Steve who has been at my side during a fair amount of this hell admits his anger at God. And we are convinced that this is an o.k. thing to do. It is not an o.k. place to stay, however. And it is certainly not an acceptable attitude to act upon.

You simply cannot be angry at someone whom you do not love dearly. Such is our dilemma. We both love the Lord, Jesus Christ, and are humbled, grateful for His mercies in each of our lives. We have so much goodness between us! We are grateful for so much! And in our humanity we are broken and don’t like the brokenness. Way down deep we are hurting and it is this hurt that fuels the anger. Admitting this will be the way out, the way back to fellowship, the discipline that will bring obedience, the song of worship yet to come . . .

⁷So, as the Holy Spirit says:

“Today, if you hear his voice,
⁸ do not harden your hearts
as you did in the rebellion,
during the time of testing in the wilderness, (Hebrews 3)

***********

Therefore, holy brothers and sisters, who share in the heavenly calling, fix your thoughts on Jesus, whom we acknowledge as our apostle and high priest. ²He was faithful to the one who appointed him, just as Moses was faithful in all God’s house. ³Jesus has been found worthy of greater honor than Moses, just as the builder of a house has greater honor than the house itself. ⁴For every house is built by someone, but God is the builder of everything. (Hebrews 3)

*****************

⁶being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. (Philippians 1)

Today with the faith of a mustard seed (that I understand is rich in nutrients of which I am needing anyways!) I will choose to honor and worship the Lord, my King. He has built this frame in which I dwell and within it dwells the Holy Spirit. Broken or not, it is the vessel from which I will praise His name all of my days. I lay my angst on His mighty throne of grace, with great expectation of His promise to redeem it for His glory.

May He be glorified in all. My Jesus. My all in all. Worthy of our praise. Worthy is this Lamb of God! JJ

Lost in Space

Published on July 23, 2015July 25, 2015 by Jesus is for the Wounded2 Comments

I’ve been up late several nights in a row now, updating my eBook whilst blogging on home safety for my new company: Two Step Solutions LLC. While that may appear wildly productive the timing is just too odd for it to actually be that way for me. I am discovering a few unusual things as I examine this new work, this current blog that you are reading, and the tragedy of illness resistant to treatment.

First, my professional writing lacks clear focus. I add too many words and the flow is not there. Oh the subject matter gets covered yet it is not yet up to par. The short articles I am putting out there are intended to build credibility in my profession and an audience for the time when I want to launch my home safety product. Perhaps I need a check-n-balance system before publishing each piece? Yes, something like that.

I am so very dry with ideas to write about that aren’t a re-hash of the saga, the illness. Sure, I have tried to end each blog with something reflective, insightful, Biblical, creative, humorous or otherwise useful. It is simply getting harder to do so when the head-banging that accompanies convulsive episodes goes on FOR HOURS EVERY DAY! You have heard about all of the test results pending. I continuously try new treatments that make sense to me. The outcomes continue to be disastrous. Sure there is hope on the horizon. But for now it is AWOL!

And if a test showed a particular course of treatment that worked, one could be encouraged as he or she ingested/applied/bathed/drank/swallowed it. As for me, hundreds of remedies, diets, treatments, scans, procedures, therapies, adjustments later . . . I am discouraged. Tens of thousands of dollars later . . . I am discouraged. Moving about while beat up on 3 hours of sleep is virtually impossible yet I was called to do it today anyways. My will has tanked. Yes, I am broken and discouraged.

Lost in space. There is no real sense of time here. It comes and it goes with little of meaning to measure it by. The foam in our bed is permanently dented in both places from my dwelling there. Steve and I pray. I cry a lot. I hear that others pray out there somewhere and yet do not contact me anymore. I am invisible for the most part. And that’s just how it goes when you have dropped out of life for a few years. Even blue jeans from Walmart start looking good when I can finally get out of the house on Wednesdays. Eeeek! I am an Eddie Bauer gal dontcha know?

I probably should not publish this. Well stay tuned. I am bound to bump into some kind of life eventually, eh? JJ

The Tale, The Test

Published on July 16, 2015July 17, 2015 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

Once upon a time in a land of giants, lived a woman searching for a dream. The tall buildings and tall tales of love had left her scorned . . . what now to believe in? “Who can I trust with the tender desires of my heart? she pondered. And what would she do to make some sense of this story of hers that has not turned out like anyone had planned really?

Once upon a time in a land of lakes and rivers, backyards that you can really afford, and the modest building of boxes, lived a noble man. He too had been scorned but by a shrewy one, shrinking his honorable stature in society and beyond. And what will he do to calm the distant tempests of this life, to live in peace no matter what may come?

As fate would have it, the two dreamers met over the wires one cold Wintry day. He warmed her with his intellect and she him with her remaining spark. The love between them grew with passion, with promise of a happy ending together one day maybe soon. So they married. And life was good in the land not far away.

She learned to love the countryside, the bearded natives, the giant heart of her Sterjoy. For in his arms she found love like no other. “Jesus with skin on,” she would say. Her night in shining aluminum for sure was now here.

He learned to love the green of the earth, the richness of organic life, the sweet spirit of his Jaboo. For in her keeping he found respect as the man, the leader within that would emerge over time. His delight he spoke of often; her delight to receive.

They found things in common: to write, the open water, a furry Pupster too. Road trips were a perfect match for his love to drive through the night with her lunchbox that was filled with all of their favorite things in tow. Their families said, “at last!” and even the kids eventually came around as well. Theirs was something unique crafted just for these years as all could see. Their heartache had melted into a life that was lovely to the praise of the Lord who brought them together indeed.

Their biggest moment came four years later; no one saw it coming that fateful night. ‘Twas a mystery at first as to why she was so sick and then why it would last so long. They struggled and prayed, they searched and laid hands, they cried and they celebrated when hope would come for a little while at a rest stop in their lengthening journey.

Then things got uglier and she seized relentlessly day after night! She reached for her Sterjoy with angst and often no words would come but the love between them would endure nonetheless. He continued to slay dragons then try to minister to his wife late into the darkness without fail. The toll was palpable yet they lived on, trying and hoping only to have their hearts thrown against the wall time and time again. Herein was THEIR TEST.

Some tests take 2 hours, some longer, up to the duration of your life. How will you respond when the buttons in the fabric of your character are pushed into your soul? Most of us won’t know until it happens to us. And if we make it to the other side who will care when it’s even worse at the next one waiting beyond: oh no, it’s here again, the next trial? When all you know matters not with the tears that collect on your worn sneakers that you are sure can take you no further, no further, I said no further, you are done!

They pondered and prayed some more. They searched the Scriptures of Life. Fellows held them up then held them out for a blessing, for respite, and neither seemed to come as the sunrise cast into its fall. Then they realized that there were wounds in their hearts that their love had blinded them to . . . placing them on the chopping block or maybe for ransom and neither was able to make it different: oh my, just how? They had done all they knew to do, that which prayer and inspiration had taught. But it was their woundedness that needed to go first you see. It had to leave whether she would realize her last breath or not. To go on would require this. How to keep the music playing in their hearts for each other was the real test right now!

So being the faithful man of God, Sterjoy separated the shrewy from his Jaboo. He placed both on the throne of grace and turned his face to Jesus Christ for Thy will to be done. He waited again. He trusted in the Lord over all then waited and waited once again.

She being the receiver of the Spirit’s voice, obeyed in a way like never before. She trusted even in the time when crisis came around again: like a weak muscle that got worked but had only brought forth a crawl thus far. And as she would trust and trust some more until her mind won over her heart, until both of them became strong.

Their story has yet to end while one thing they now know for sure. The trials of this life are never wasted when the Lord carries you through in his chariot of grace, of love, and His promise for so much more. Those two lovers hold out for the hope of heaven and know there they both will find rest. Their love will be perfected by the Giver whose thoughts exceed the sands of the beaches where their lives have taken hold.

This day she has learned to believe her beloved and he, the heart of his dear one.

Gentle Reader, this story is a perfect image of the Groom as He envelopes His bride of Christ, His holy church. How fitting a tale. How fitting a test for us all. Sterjoy and Jaboo will live happily ever after one day without tears for trusting in the One due our complete respect: our Lord in shining honor! He is here for these precious ones in their time of need. He is there for you my dear friend too.

Oh yeah. JJ