submit to the Lord – 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

The moments that matter

Published on May 27, 2015 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

When things are not right or even worse

We cry out to the air and wonder, “who is there?”

“Can anyone hear me on my bed of sorrow?”

“How long will this go on, how long?”

Oh the angst for enduring what simply should not be . . .

I could bemoan much pain in my heart this day:

From my spirit through my tender frame.

But why? What will I gain by wallowing here?

As I listen to a friend who sounds like me over the waves,

I hear wisdom that comes with her years.

She doth declare that in her own time of prayer

The Lord spoke to her so gently.

In all of those times of suffering,

When surely no one cared He said,

“I was there with you.”

And her heart was full, no place untouched.

So today let’s heed this wisdom

Should we, too seek and hear His voice.

Don’t just want for the pain to end.

Reach into the moment to His love so grand.

Find people with mercy for the darkness of our lives

For we all have a burden to carry, each one.

And let us come together in prayer, in fellowship, in praise.

But most importantly

Kneel at the throne of grace often

In adoration of the Person who sees you always.

For Jesus loves you always.

And turn these into moments that matter for all time.

They will be sweet, and soften the burdens we will endure.

We can go on when held by His hand.

Yes, we can indeed.

Missing you terribly

Published on April 14, 2015April 15, 2015 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

There’s a Barbara Streisand song with lyrics that go something like this:

If we had the chance to do it all over again, tell me would we . . .

Could we . . .

The way we were.

It’s not that I would like to go back to my former self or anything like that. I have had chronic pain for most of my life and lived with pain inside my heart for longer than that. Many of my own mistakes were downright damaging. Still other experiences damaged me and it would take until very recently to be free of their dark spiritual underpinnings. The freedom I experience in today from the drama of yesterday’s trauma was worth the good and bad spent getting here. But there is one part I am not sure what to do with . . .

I was never really physically fit and virtually always held a critical eye toward my physique even when at my ideal body weight. All that did not seem to matter to the stream of the male persuasion that came my way, ever since I was twenty years old. (Not sure what they were waiting for before that!) I always rode my bike as a kid EVERYWHERE. I did not think of it as exercise at the time, just a means to get me to the home of a friend. Several times in college I tried running around the sidewalks of the sprawling campus. “Library Hill” was a killer! Maybe I should say that I ran on most paths except the 27 or so degree incline of Library Hill! Carrying a full load of books up and downhill to class or to study late into the evening at the library should have earned me an extra degree in something or another!

What I miss most is the innocence of moving without thinking about it. Every day lately brings stark reminders of the convulsions that have returned. Every day brings a new version of shaking that hurts my neck the most and leaves some version of a headache behind. Every day the hope of exercising for the enjoyment of it alludes me only because I cannot; I actually had grown to like high intensity workouts before I got sick 3 1/2 years ago. Even with chronic pain I worked out with weights, unloaded my truck bed filled with sod/dirt/mulch, and kayaked for a couple of hours each week. I loved being strong.

Today I miss being strong. The trauma of seizures and convulsions have taken their toll. The sickness after an episode usually lingers for hours, days. I never really know for sure when the next episode is coming although the bedtime and waking-up patterns have been fairly consistent throughout this ordeal. Somehow despite my weakness, I HAVE NOT GIVEN UP for more than a day. Yesterday Steve and I went for a walk with our pup, Elle though most of the time the walking is through the halls of our home or a medical facility . . . or this past Saturday’s date night to the grocery store. It’s something, eh?

O.K. so I am bummed out. I have missed writing and did not blog so as not to bum you out, Gentle Reader, in reporting that the surgery did not stop the episodes as I had hoped. There are tiny improvements and for these I am grateful. I think I’ll need a little longer to recover and clear the anesthesia completely out of my system. In desperation I went on a water fast for 24-hours last week. It was awful! Amazingly I did not have seizures until the 24th hour! I believe the Lord gave me the wisdom through it all to start a ketogenic diet so new research and a new direction began the next day.

A ketogenic diet is a high fat diet where the fat becomes fuel for the body instead of carbohydrates. The version for seizure control (generally used for children) is unlike the keto diet for weight loss in that fats are consumed more than protein “macros.” Grams of carbs are the tiniest portion of the three. The increase in ketones are measured in either the urine or blood and thought to be the mechanism that brings some level of seizure control in 25-50 percent of children. In children the diet begins after a 24-48 hour fast in a hospital. Hmmm. My great Physician led me here after my own fasting experience too. So with the MyFitnessPal nutrition app in-hand, I am moving towards the ideal ratios of fats, proteins, and carbohydrates. Good news: that means lots of bacon! And at least I am off the pureed diet now!

The way we were. Can it be that it was all so simple then? Or has time re-written every line? If we had the chance to do it all over again, tell me, would we? Could we?

Perhaps the real longing requires me to not look back at all. Then what is it Lord? Fill this emptiness, please. Ease this hurting. Thank you for new tracks to run on, so to speak. I still need you desperately to guide me. I realize that I may not be alone in this desire you know. Please comfort the Gentle Readers out there who need you too. JJ