Yep, I really saw Jesus today. No, I didn't see a robe-clad, sandal-wearing, long-hair image of Him but I did see Him. I saw Him when I got to church and a nice gentleman opened the door for us with a smile - and funny thing was, it was our turn to greet, he was just there before us and did it anyway. I saw Him in the bright, expectant eyes of a little girl heading to children's church to hear a new Bible story. I saw Him in the excited eyes of a college student who attended orientation yesterday and is heading down a new path. I saw Him in the proud look of a mother on that same student.
I saw Him in the forlorn eyes of a widow, who was feeling lonely and down. I saw Him in the gentle hug of one friend comforting another. I heard Him in the kind words of encouragement being shared between people. I saw Him in the eyes of a lady facing a biopsy this week as she struggled between fear and resting in Him. I saw Him in the flicker of hope of someone who is straddling the fence on whether to follow Him or follow the world. I saw and heard Him in the eyes and voices of the worship team as they brought us before His throne. I saw and heard Him in the face and the words of the Pastor as he delievered a timely and needed Word. I saw Him in the expectant faces of people coming up for prayer and I saw Him in the eyes, words and touch of those praying for those in need.
I saw Him in the soft movement of a teen tethered to a wheelchair all his life as he gently set his head on his grandfather's shoulder and patted his arm with a sparkle in his eye. I saw Him in the loving kiss on the top of that teen's head from the grandfather who has tirelessly and self-sacrificingly provided for this child's every need - emotionally, physically, mentally, spriitually, financially and so very lovingly. I saw Him in the eyes of the grandmother who has reared two generations of children without so much as a whimper. I saw Him in the eyes of the those who witness moments like that as they look around and see if anyone else did - and the sweet smile of acknowledgement when they find someone else who has.
And yet the best place I saw Him was yet to come... I went to the rest room and as I stood there washing my hands, I glanced in the mirror and I saw Him in the face being reflected back at me. Yep, I saw Jesus today - have you?
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
A Tenacious Spirit...
I was once told that I have a very tenacious spirit. I laughed it off at the time and thought it was just a unique way of saying that I was stubborn. As the years have gone by, those words have stuck in my head and I haven't been able to quite let them go. So, like any good student of life would do, I explored the actual meaning of the word - tenacious. Webster defines it as "tending to hold fast; not easily pulled apart; tending to adhere or cling; persistent in maintaining, adhering to or seeking something valued or desired." Hmmm. Guess that person had a point. The more those words have steeped in my brain, the more real and accurate they seem.
I am generally a private person. Oh, I'm outgoing and will talk to anybody about just about anything and occasionally use things that have happened in my life to prove a point, but for the most part, very few people indeed know what makes me who I am. Very few know of the struggles and obstacles I have faced in my life. As I sit here with seemingly the weight of the world on my shoulders and my entire life in an upheaval, God has placed it on my heart to share some of what I've been through. So, for a private person who hates to journal, this will not be an easy task. Funny thing about knowing that your time to meet your maker is drawing ever closer - you certainly don't want to NOT do what He's asking you to do. Nope, I don't want to stand before the judgement seat and find out that God had wanted to use something that I had been through to help someone else and that because of my pride, insecurities and/or fear, I didn't listen and obey. I'll be blogging as God puts things on my heart to share - in no particular order. You're welcome to come along for the ride. A lot of the things I'll be sharing I have never spoken of before. I may be changing names to keep people I love - and even those who I may not deem as my favorite peeps - from getting hurt. My point is not to cause pain to anyone, I just need to share the experience - names and specifics are truly irrelevant. The rest is in God's hands on how He wants it to touch people. Some things will be hard to read and even harder to write, but hang in there with me. In each and every instance, I have seen God's light beckoning me forward and carrying me through.
Getting back to the tenacious spirit. I have had to fight an uncooperative body my whole life. Many times through the years I have come close to not pulling through with the doctors having no idea why. Too many times to even share in one blog. I have caused many a doctor sleepless nights I'm sure. But I was born a fighter. I recall my mom sharing that I gave her quite the scare in the delivery room. As they slapped my bottom, I didn't make a peep. They cleared my airways and tried again - still no sound. Ok, you can quit smiilng now, I know I've made up for that in spades, but to a delivering mother who didn't even have time to get any meds or an epidural before delivery, that lack of sound was frightening. The doctors scrambled to see what, if anything, was wrong but they just couldn't figure it out. My breathing was labored at first but quickly I caught on and before long, all was well. The doctor told my mom that I was fighter and somewhere deep down inside, those words must have taken root.
I spent my toddler years with tonsillitis, ear infections, sinus infections and myriad colds and allergies. My biggest budget buster for school supplies was never the paper or pencils, but the boxes of Kleenex. Most kids came with a box to share the first day of school to share for the year and I had to lug four or five boxes myself and still would have to bring more before the school year was done. I remember like it was yesterday when I had to finally have my tonsils removed. It was the same day my first grade class was going on a field trip. Instead of boarding a bus to go to Hawthorn Melody Farms to see real cows get milked, I was being whisked away in a car to Lutheran General Hospital for surgery. The tonsils came out fine but for some reason, I had trouble with the anesthesia and breathing. Instead of being able to go home in a day or so, I was stuck in the hospital for a week - still stewing because I had to miss the field trip, my FIRST field trip no less. They had trouble stopping the bleeding and getting my oxygen levels regulated. No explanation as to why and quite frankly, I guess I had the doctor a bit concerned because every time they thought they had me stabilized, something would go wrong. But he knew I was fighting and even he said no medicine was a match for that. My mom, up until the day she died, attributes my health scares to her consistently premature graying hair and always wondered if it was all because secretly I was thrilled with living on root beer popsicles.
I never was one to be able to even think about perfect attendance at school. Most years I was perilously close to being held back because of days missed. My only saving grace was that my grades were excellent and that I did work my butt off - for the most part. There were subjects that I wasn't thrilled with but on the ones that I was, there was no stopping me. I'd chomp on every piece of information that I could sink my teeth into. I'd sleep, eat and breathe it until I felt that I really knew the subject and not just enough to get a passing grade. Guess I was a bit tenacious in my research. I was a standard fixture at the library where I aced the dewey decimal system and could find a book faster than many a full time librarian. Today I have a world of information at my fingertips and only a mouse click away.
When my mother became ill and the doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong, I'd scour the limited medical resources we had at our local library to see if I could "help". In the meantime, I watched as my mom shuttled from doctor to doctor trying to find answers as to why her body was failing her and doctor after doctor thinking that it was all in her head. They'd admit that she didn't look well but no tests were coming up with definitive answers, and quite frankly, they didn't bother to even look beyond the obvious. It was hard for her and very frustrating and hard for me because I felt helpless. One of the hardest things I've ever faced in my life was watching someone I love die and not be able to do one thing about it. I watched not only her body diminish but her will and her spirit as well. I'll go into more of that at another time.
On a cold January afternoon, while I was at graduation practice, my mother slipped away from us. I came home to find her lifeless body on the couch on the very day I was graduating from high school. I called the ambulance and stood by waiting to hear the words that I knew were coming... "I'm sorry, but she's gone." Somewhere in that time frame, life stood still. I remember going through the motioins but somehow I was protected from feeling the pain. I graduated from high school that night and in one day my entire world changed. It didn't stop there and actually my tenacity served me well in the days to come. Again, that's something I'll be touching on at another time.
I'll be sharing about having to fight for rights, against family, against doctors, against illnesses and a host of other things. Yet through each and every struggle, I've seen God's blessings shine through. I've seen how the seemingly separate pieces of a puzzle that make no sense are fitting together to form the perfect picture of what has become my life. I have not been thrilled with many of the things I have been through, but as I sit here and glance back at each and every piece, I'm beginning to see how each was needed to fill in the tapestry of my life. I have some tattered threads and there are places yet to be filled, but I'm finally able to see some of the ways in which God has carried me through each and every circumstance and somehow in the midst of it all, I became stronger, and yes, even more tenacious. I am not a quitter. I admit that the news of late has not been good and the doctors are giving up on me, but you know what? They've given up on me before and I'm still here. I will continue to fight with every breathe I take until I breathe my last. And that, my friend, you can take to the Bank of Tenacity. More later....
I am generally a private person. Oh, I'm outgoing and will talk to anybody about just about anything and occasionally use things that have happened in my life to prove a point, but for the most part, very few people indeed know what makes me who I am. Very few know of the struggles and obstacles I have faced in my life. As I sit here with seemingly the weight of the world on my shoulders and my entire life in an upheaval, God has placed it on my heart to share some of what I've been through. So, for a private person who hates to journal, this will not be an easy task. Funny thing about knowing that your time to meet your maker is drawing ever closer - you certainly don't want to NOT do what He's asking you to do. Nope, I don't want to stand before the judgement seat and find out that God had wanted to use something that I had been through to help someone else and that because of my pride, insecurities and/or fear, I didn't listen and obey. I'll be blogging as God puts things on my heart to share - in no particular order. You're welcome to come along for the ride. A lot of the things I'll be sharing I have never spoken of before. I may be changing names to keep people I love - and even those who I may not deem as my favorite peeps - from getting hurt. My point is not to cause pain to anyone, I just need to share the experience - names and specifics are truly irrelevant. The rest is in God's hands on how He wants it to touch people. Some things will be hard to read and even harder to write, but hang in there with me. In each and every instance, I have seen God's light beckoning me forward and carrying me through.
Getting back to the tenacious spirit. I have had to fight an uncooperative body my whole life. Many times through the years I have come close to not pulling through with the doctors having no idea why. Too many times to even share in one blog. I have caused many a doctor sleepless nights I'm sure. But I was born a fighter. I recall my mom sharing that I gave her quite the scare in the delivery room. As they slapped my bottom, I didn't make a peep. They cleared my airways and tried again - still no sound. Ok, you can quit smiilng now, I know I've made up for that in spades, but to a delivering mother who didn't even have time to get any meds or an epidural before delivery, that lack of sound was frightening. The doctors scrambled to see what, if anything, was wrong but they just couldn't figure it out. My breathing was labored at first but quickly I caught on and before long, all was well. The doctor told my mom that I was fighter and somewhere deep down inside, those words must have taken root.
I spent my toddler years with tonsillitis, ear infections, sinus infections and myriad colds and allergies. My biggest budget buster for school supplies was never the paper or pencils, but the boxes of Kleenex. Most kids came with a box to share the first day of school to share for the year and I had to lug four or five boxes myself and still would have to bring more before the school year was done. I remember like it was yesterday when I had to finally have my tonsils removed. It was the same day my first grade class was going on a field trip. Instead of boarding a bus to go to Hawthorn Melody Farms to see real cows get milked, I was being whisked away in a car to Lutheran General Hospital for surgery. The tonsils came out fine but for some reason, I had trouble with the anesthesia and breathing. Instead of being able to go home in a day or so, I was stuck in the hospital for a week - still stewing because I had to miss the field trip, my FIRST field trip no less. They had trouble stopping the bleeding and getting my oxygen levels regulated. No explanation as to why and quite frankly, I guess I had the doctor a bit concerned because every time they thought they had me stabilized, something would go wrong. But he knew I was fighting and even he said no medicine was a match for that. My mom, up until the day she died, attributes my health scares to her consistently premature graying hair and always wondered if it was all because secretly I was thrilled with living on root beer popsicles.
I never was one to be able to even think about perfect attendance at school. Most years I was perilously close to being held back because of days missed. My only saving grace was that my grades were excellent and that I did work my butt off - for the most part. There were subjects that I wasn't thrilled with but on the ones that I was, there was no stopping me. I'd chomp on every piece of information that I could sink my teeth into. I'd sleep, eat and breathe it until I felt that I really knew the subject and not just enough to get a passing grade. Guess I was a bit tenacious in my research. I was a standard fixture at the library where I aced the dewey decimal system and could find a book faster than many a full time librarian. Today I have a world of information at my fingertips and only a mouse click away.
When my mother became ill and the doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong, I'd scour the limited medical resources we had at our local library to see if I could "help". In the meantime, I watched as my mom shuttled from doctor to doctor trying to find answers as to why her body was failing her and doctor after doctor thinking that it was all in her head. They'd admit that she didn't look well but no tests were coming up with definitive answers, and quite frankly, they didn't bother to even look beyond the obvious. It was hard for her and very frustrating and hard for me because I felt helpless. One of the hardest things I've ever faced in my life was watching someone I love die and not be able to do one thing about it. I watched not only her body diminish but her will and her spirit as well. I'll go into more of that at another time.
On a cold January afternoon, while I was at graduation practice, my mother slipped away from us. I came home to find her lifeless body on the couch on the very day I was graduating from high school. I called the ambulance and stood by waiting to hear the words that I knew were coming... "I'm sorry, but she's gone." Somewhere in that time frame, life stood still. I remember going through the motioins but somehow I was protected from feeling the pain. I graduated from high school that night and in one day my entire world changed. It didn't stop there and actually my tenacity served me well in the days to come. Again, that's something I'll be touching on at another time.
I'll be sharing about having to fight for rights, against family, against doctors, against illnesses and a host of other things. Yet through each and every struggle, I've seen God's blessings shine through. I've seen how the seemingly separate pieces of a puzzle that make no sense are fitting together to form the perfect picture of what has become my life. I have not been thrilled with many of the things I have been through, but as I sit here and glance back at each and every piece, I'm beginning to see how each was needed to fill in the tapestry of my life. I have some tattered threads and there are places yet to be filled, but I'm finally able to see some of the ways in which God has carried me through each and every circumstance and somehow in the midst of it all, I became stronger, and yes, even more tenacious. I am not a quitter. I admit that the news of late has not been good and the doctors are giving up on me, but you know what? They've given up on me before and I'm still here. I will continue to fight with every breathe I take until I breathe my last. And that, my friend, you can take to the Bank of Tenacity. More later....
Thursday, August 12, 2010
And so it goes...
Well, I had my follow-up appointment at Vanderbilt on Tuesday. Dr. Sheller really is a special doctor. He has a quiet way about him and is so willing to listen to and answer any questions I may have. That's rare these days. He looked at the CT scan cd that I brought with me and was not pleased at all. He's going to have his team of radiologists look at it and see what they say. Basically though, there really isn't much they can do but just monitor me and try to make me comfortable. There was no need to run any more tests because there isn't anything more that they can do for me anyway that isn't already being done. If I make it through this episode of pulmonary embolism and pneumonia, there probably will be another one come about that I don't. We're taking precautions against the pulmonary emboli with the blood thinners, but they are no guarantee - just up my chances of not getting one a bit. Other than that, we've done all that can be done. He's agreed to leave me off the Imuran for at least another couple of weeks. Since I'm not feeling a whole lot better, I'm willing to concede that my taking the Imuran and getting the pneumonia and PE just might have been coincidental. Either way, I'm glad to have a break from it.
So basically, they just sent me home and are hoping for the best. Kinda sad when that starts to sink in. It's not easy for the doctors to admit and certainly not what you want to hear but I appreciate his honesty and know that if there was more he could do - he'd do it. Not that he's giving up, new stuff comes up everyday and I am one of their favorite patients - which is funny in itself. The rest is out of their hands, which has been the truth all along. I'm in God's hands and quite frankly, there is no place I'd rather be. And yet, I am also human, with human feelings and emotions. The song that keeps playing in my head is Tim McGraw's "Live Like You Were Dying" and it has always touched my heart. This week though, there is a new thought that has come to mind that I find is much harder to swallow... die like you are living. Think about it. The easy part is to appreciate all the blessings in my life. The people, the relationships, God's awesome beauty and works all around me, the list goes on. What's hard is not to dwell on knowing that it will all come to an end. One day I'll just cease to exist in this world. Of course, I realize we all will, but it's hard not to let that take front and center. It's hard to go through the everyday motions of life without wondering "what's the point?" In a lot of ways, it's freeing. I no longer fret over it if I have a scoop of ice cream while I'm watching tv at night - what's it going to do, kill me? But in a lot of ways, the everyday routine of things seems pointless. Oh I brush my teeth and shower everyday - Lord knows I couldn't stand it if I didn't. But I no longer worry that the house isn't spotless or that a picture isn't hanging just right. I no longer fuss over the towels being folded a certain way in the closet - yeah, I was that anal. It just doesn't matter. What I do notice and appreciate is that the towels are clean and where I can reach them, no matter how they're folded. The dishes are done and put away - most of the time - and that's a good feeling, although it's frustrating that I can't be the one doing them all the time. I do what I can but the bulk of the responsibilities for everyday life have fallen on Oliver.
Yesterday coming home we had the most amazing journey. Instead of coming home the interstate, we decided to take the Natchez Trace Parkway. It's a scenic route with hills and trees and loaded with wildlife. There are historical markers and information every couple of miles. We even stopped at the burial ground of Meriwether Lewis from Lewis and Clark fame. We saw deer and turkeys, butterflies galore, birds flying everywhere. We stopped at one point for a bathroom break and a quick lunch and just were mesmerized by the intrinsic beauty of God's creation. We saw an eagle fly high above the fields, with cows and goats below grazing and fish jumping in the pond. We saw a farmer in the distance moving a hale bale to a feeder in the horse corral. We listened to the quiet rustle of leaves as the wind blew through the trees as the brewing storm was picking up steam. We sat there, each lost in their own throughs. Me, sorry I didn't bring my camera, yet knowing that some things just can't be caught through a lens. This was a God moment for me. Somewhere in the turbulance that has entered my life, I found a peace that just cannot be explained. For just a moment I felt like that eagle, facing towards the storm, head on, and allowing the winds of that storm to lift me higher than I could have gotten on my power alone. Soaring high above all the storms rolling in and gaining strength in doing so. I can't stop the storms but that doesn't mean I can't use their power to get me higher. That eagle didn't stop one drop from coming down but it didn't get wet. It flew above it all. I want to be able to do the same.
It's hard not to focus on the storm when you just don't feel well. I'm in pain and it's hard to breathe most times, sometimes harder than others. I'm taking the meds as directed and doing everything that I'm supposed to. That's the ironic thing about this illness called Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis. You don't do anything to cause it and there isn't anything you can take to make it better. It is incurable. The only "cure" would be a lung transplant. With my insurance ending in December, my not having the cash on hand to be able to pay my way through it, already not being able to tolerate the heavy drugs I would need to take, my history now of pulmonary emobli four times, being diabetic, etc. - um, I'm just not a good candidate for one. So here I sit with the reality of the situation being that I may have only a few more weeks, perhaps a year, outside chance for two. Still I believe that my healing was bought and paid for at the cross. I truly believe in God's divine wisdom and that He can and will heal me in His time - no matter what form that healing may take. I don't need to grow new lungs and do cartwheels down the road to know that there is a God who loves me beyond compare, but I'm willing to do just that if His desire is for me to do so. I'm willing to share the testimony and the road that He has me on. The tragedy would not to allow Him to use me and my story to bolster someone else walking a similar path. I've read the stories of miracles and seen many myself. Enough to know that they are real and they are special. But I've also seen enough very faithful people lose their battles to know that not everyone wins on this earth. I believe that God is in control and I want His will to be done in my life - the good and the bad. As long as He is for me, I truly know that no one and no illness can stand against me and win.
I debated long and hard with myself on whether to open up and be honest with what I'm feeling to people. It's hard to be vulnerable and put yourself out there - raw and open. It would be easy to go around saying that I'm doing great - after all, I don't look THAT sick (although these past two weeks I haven't looked too hot). It's harder to be honest and to see the uneasiness of people because they just don't know what to say. I know their hearts when they tell me to get better soon.... kinda wish I could myself. Lord knows I'm fighting with all that I have and I will continue to do so until my very last breath. I'm not afraid of dying, I am concerned with getting up there and standing before God having missed doing something that I was supposed to do on this earth. So I will share my journey with those willinng to go down the road with me and continue to pray for the lost and for those who are going through all kinds of maladies in life. I will continue to do my part as best I can. I will continue to be - fearfully and wonderfully made - for as long as God allows me to be on this planet. I'm willing to answer any questiong anybody has, so if there is something you want to know, ask away. I'll be honest that my emotions are all over the board but I know that my faith is strong. It's been tested time and time again and I know without a doubt, that's a test I'm passing with flying colors. Still working on the fleshly things though.
I am reminded of a quote from the late, great, D. L. Moody. ""Someday you will read in the papers that Moody is dead. Don't you believe a word of it. At that moment I shall be more alive than I am now. I was born of the flesh in 1837, I was born of the spirit in 1855. That which is born of the flesh may die. That which is born of the Spirit shall live forever." Ok, my years would be filled in as 1956 and 1963, respectively, and the name will change to Hassett, but the sentiment is the same. In the meantime, I will be taking things one day at a time. Hoping and praying that this latest episode is just a minor setback in the scheme of things and that soon I will be up and running around with the rest of my clan. But for now, as I doze in my chair, I'm flying high above the clouds on the wings of an eagle, not totally oblivious to the storms heading my way and circling around me, but refusing to let them define who I am. I'm above those storms, safe and protected, soaring higher than I ever knew I could.
So basically, they just sent me home and are hoping for the best. Kinda sad when that starts to sink in. It's not easy for the doctors to admit and certainly not what you want to hear but I appreciate his honesty and know that if there was more he could do - he'd do it. Not that he's giving up, new stuff comes up everyday and I am one of their favorite patients - which is funny in itself. The rest is out of their hands, which has been the truth all along. I'm in God's hands and quite frankly, there is no place I'd rather be. And yet, I am also human, with human feelings and emotions. The song that keeps playing in my head is Tim McGraw's "Live Like You Were Dying" and it has always touched my heart. This week though, there is a new thought that has come to mind that I find is much harder to swallow... die like you are living. Think about it. The easy part is to appreciate all the blessings in my life. The people, the relationships, God's awesome beauty and works all around me, the list goes on. What's hard is not to dwell on knowing that it will all come to an end. One day I'll just cease to exist in this world. Of course, I realize we all will, but it's hard not to let that take front and center. It's hard to go through the everyday motions of life without wondering "what's the point?" In a lot of ways, it's freeing. I no longer fret over it if I have a scoop of ice cream while I'm watching tv at night - what's it going to do, kill me? But in a lot of ways, the everyday routine of things seems pointless. Oh I brush my teeth and shower everyday - Lord knows I couldn't stand it if I didn't. But I no longer worry that the house isn't spotless or that a picture isn't hanging just right. I no longer fuss over the towels being folded a certain way in the closet - yeah, I was that anal. It just doesn't matter. What I do notice and appreciate is that the towels are clean and where I can reach them, no matter how they're folded. The dishes are done and put away - most of the time - and that's a good feeling, although it's frustrating that I can't be the one doing them all the time. I do what I can but the bulk of the responsibilities for everyday life have fallen on Oliver.
Yesterday coming home we had the most amazing journey. Instead of coming home the interstate, we decided to take the Natchez Trace Parkway. It's a scenic route with hills and trees and loaded with wildlife. There are historical markers and information every couple of miles. We even stopped at the burial ground of Meriwether Lewis from Lewis and Clark fame. We saw deer and turkeys, butterflies galore, birds flying everywhere. We stopped at one point for a bathroom break and a quick lunch and just were mesmerized by the intrinsic beauty of God's creation. We saw an eagle fly high above the fields, with cows and goats below grazing and fish jumping in the pond. We saw a farmer in the distance moving a hale bale to a feeder in the horse corral. We listened to the quiet rustle of leaves as the wind blew through the trees as the brewing storm was picking up steam. We sat there, each lost in their own throughs. Me, sorry I didn't bring my camera, yet knowing that some things just can't be caught through a lens. This was a God moment for me. Somewhere in the turbulance that has entered my life, I found a peace that just cannot be explained. For just a moment I felt like that eagle, facing towards the storm, head on, and allowing the winds of that storm to lift me higher than I could have gotten on my power alone. Soaring high above all the storms rolling in and gaining strength in doing so. I can't stop the storms but that doesn't mean I can't use their power to get me higher. That eagle didn't stop one drop from coming down but it didn't get wet. It flew above it all. I want to be able to do the same.
It's hard not to focus on the storm when you just don't feel well. I'm in pain and it's hard to breathe most times, sometimes harder than others. I'm taking the meds as directed and doing everything that I'm supposed to. That's the ironic thing about this illness called Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis. You don't do anything to cause it and there isn't anything you can take to make it better. It is incurable. The only "cure" would be a lung transplant. With my insurance ending in December, my not having the cash on hand to be able to pay my way through it, already not being able to tolerate the heavy drugs I would need to take, my history now of pulmonary emobli four times, being diabetic, etc. - um, I'm just not a good candidate for one. So here I sit with the reality of the situation being that I may have only a few more weeks, perhaps a year, outside chance for two. Still I believe that my healing was bought and paid for at the cross. I truly believe in God's divine wisdom and that He can and will heal me in His time - no matter what form that healing may take. I don't need to grow new lungs and do cartwheels down the road to know that there is a God who loves me beyond compare, but I'm willing to do just that if His desire is for me to do so. I'm willing to share the testimony and the road that He has me on. The tragedy would not to allow Him to use me and my story to bolster someone else walking a similar path. I've read the stories of miracles and seen many myself. Enough to know that they are real and they are special. But I've also seen enough very faithful people lose their battles to know that not everyone wins on this earth. I believe that God is in control and I want His will to be done in my life - the good and the bad. As long as He is for me, I truly know that no one and no illness can stand against me and win.
I debated long and hard with myself on whether to open up and be honest with what I'm feeling to people. It's hard to be vulnerable and put yourself out there - raw and open. It would be easy to go around saying that I'm doing great - after all, I don't look THAT sick (although these past two weeks I haven't looked too hot). It's harder to be honest and to see the uneasiness of people because they just don't know what to say. I know their hearts when they tell me to get better soon.... kinda wish I could myself. Lord knows I'm fighting with all that I have and I will continue to do so until my very last breath. I'm not afraid of dying, I am concerned with getting up there and standing before God having missed doing something that I was supposed to do on this earth. So I will share my journey with those willinng to go down the road with me and continue to pray for the lost and for those who are going through all kinds of maladies in life. I will continue to do my part as best I can. I will continue to be - fearfully and wonderfully made - for as long as God allows me to be on this planet. I'm willing to answer any questiong anybody has, so if there is something you want to know, ask away. I'll be honest that my emotions are all over the board but I know that my faith is strong. It's been tested time and time again and I know without a doubt, that's a test I'm passing with flying colors. Still working on the fleshly things though.
I am reminded of a quote from the late, great, D. L. Moody. ""Someday you will read in the papers that Moody is dead. Don't you believe a word of it. At that moment I shall be more alive than I am now. I was born of the flesh in 1837, I was born of the spirit in 1855. That which is born of the flesh may die. That which is born of the Spirit shall live forever." Ok, my years would be filled in as 1956 and 1963, respectively, and the name will change to Hassett, but the sentiment is the same. In the meantime, I will be taking things one day at a time. Hoping and praying that this latest episode is just a minor setback in the scheme of things and that soon I will be up and running around with the rest of my clan. But for now, as I doze in my chair, I'm flying high above the clouds on the wings of an eagle, not totally oblivious to the storms heading my way and circling around me, but refusing to let them define who I am. I'm above those storms, safe and protected, soaring higher than I ever knew I could.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
As most of you know, I have been battling with health issues for a long, long time. Most of you have no idea what all is going on but have been keeping me in prayer anyway and I appreciate it so much. I've always been meaning to explain exactly what's going on and after the scare this weekend, realize there's no time like the present. If you don't want the graphic details, you can stop here with the diagnosis of Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis. If you want to continue on with me, here we go.
Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis is basically scar tissue that is building up on my lungs. There is no cure. The prognosis is death, usually in 2-4 years from diagnosis. As the scar tissue builds up, my lungs become less able to move oxygen to my brain and other organs. Usually death comes from respiratory failure, pulmonary emboli and/or pneumonia. Currently my lungs are only working at about 40% of what they should be. So I become tired quite easily and it doesn't take much for me to become short of breath. There have been some cases of prolonging life and life quality with immuno-suppressant drugs. They are basically like chemo drugs that kill off the immune system in the hopes that it will slow the body down from trying to fight itself. I was put on Imuran two weeks ago and had a very rough time of it.
By last week, I was becoming very weak and breathing was becoming very difficult, even without any exertion. On Friday I was scheduled to get a routine blood test to see how my body is responding medically to the new medicine. When I got to the doctor's office, I was running a fever of 102 and looking like something the cat dragged in. My doc was not happy with the way I was breathing or looking so she sent me over to the hospital for blood work and a chest x-ray. She called me later that evening and told me that I had some pneumonia and she was going to start me on antibiotics right away. She also told me that if I wasn't better or got worse that I should go to the ER and be checked out.
So we filled the prescription and I took my first dose Friday night. On Saturday, I was feeling a whole lot worse but figured I'd better give the medicine some time to work. All during the day I kept debating back and forth whether I should go in, each time talking myself out of it... we can't afford it, let the medicine do its job, etc. But it hurts... well, that could be from the pneumonia. But it feels like it did when I've had a blood clot before... well it could be nothing and you'd just be wasting their time and spending money you don't have. You know how that battle in the mind goes. On Sunday, pretty much the same thing.
Oliver went to church on Sunday and when I got up, I really thought I should go in. Had he taken his cell phone with him, I would have called him and told him I was doing just that. But since it was sitting on the bathroom counter, that wasn't going to work. Quite frankly, I didn't have the strength to walk all the way into the ktichen at church to tell him so I decided I'd just wait until he got home. I didn't want him to come home and see the car and me gone. By the time he got home, I was pretty bad but he was so tired. He'd done the catering all by himself since I wasn't there to do my part. So, I thought I'd just let him rest and I went and laid down. The whole time I was laying there, I kept thinking about when my friend died a couple of years ago. She died from a pulmonary embolism.
I went through the same checklist of symptoms that I had discussed with her on the phone the day she died. All of which I was answering yes to myself. My last words to her were, if you have any of those symptoms, don't wait... the last thing you want to do is mess with a blood clot. She died later that day because she didn't go get it checked out. By the time she had her daughter call the ambulance, it was too late. So there I am, lying in bed with this little voice playing in my head - are you going to listen to your own advice? Ok. I came out to tell Oliver that we should go but he was busy making me dinner and it did smell so good. Alright, I at least can have dinner before we go. By now my fever was down to about 101 and I didn't seem quite as worried. After dinner we started watching tv. Then I took a shower and changed into my nightgown and figured I'd hold out until morning and call the doc back.
As the night wore on, I was having more and more pain in my right lung which was weird because the pneumonia was worse in my left lung and I wasn't having any real pain there, just pressure. Finally around 11:30 pm I got up to go to the bathroom and stumbled a few times on the way in there. Something was terribly wrong. Quite frankly, I was afraid that if I went to sleep, I wouldn't wake up. I was that scared. I came out and asked him (finally) to take me in to the hospital. I still wasn't sure whether to go to the local one or up to Nashville where my pulmonologist was. It came down to feeling I didn't have the strength to make it to Nashville by car so we went local. We knew that if it was bad enough, they'd life flight me to Vanderbilt. We do have life flight insurance - wouldn't live without it here in the country.
It didn't take long for them to confirm that the pneumonia wasn't getting better. Since the pain seemed to be on the other side from where the worse pneumonia was showing, the ER doc decided to do a CT scan, given my history of pulmonary emboli and sure enough, there was a small clot in my right lower lobe of my lung. They admitted me to get me started on anticoagulants to thin out my blood and at least try to stabilize my temp, etc. By early morning, the hosptal doctor was trying to get Vanderbilt to take me but they were full. Since I was stable here, it was decided to keep me here and just do a phone consult with my doc's office up there. My regular pulmonologist is out of state this week, so it was a colleague that pulled my charts and talked with the docs here. They took me off the Imuran and I feel much better that I'm not on it.
So now I'm home. I'll be on blood thinners the rest of my life and that's fine. I always knew that if I had another episode with a clot, that would happen. I need to follow up with my pulmonologist on Tuesday and I'm just praying that they don't put me back on the Imuran. This was a close call. I almost didn't make it through and reality started setting in that one of these days, I won't. Not that any of us have guarantees, but it is a heavy load to have hanging over your head. There are a lot of people who live every day with that reality and it's not a pleasant state to be in. What's a simple cold for one person can literally kill me. That being said, I also know there is the Great Healer and He is working on my behalf. Apparently He wasn't ready for me yet or I wouldn't be here writing this now.
As you know, Oliver has been out of a job since last September. Just when we thought things were starting to look up, the bottom has fallen out yet again. Oliver was supposed to start a consulting job on Tuesday to help get a local restaruant back on its feet and the owner has entered rehab and the job is out the window. His wife fired everyone and is closing down for now. So we're still at no income, my breathing and lung issues are getting worse rapidly and quite frankly, not only do we not see light at the end of the tunnel but we're not even sure what tunnel we're in anymore. Depressed? um, yeah a little. I'd be lying if I told you we weren't. I thank God everyday, though, that we have him to lean on. He has a plan, we just don't know what it is. But one thing is for sure, we don't doubt that He does. THAT is what keeps us going. All this other stuff is nuisance. We're all going to die. The reality for me is that I'm slowly heading towards a sudden death. My body is shutting down, it cannot be stopped and one day it will just cease to exist. My spirit will move on and I will be leaving people behind that I care deeply about. Scary? yeah but also in a strange way, peaceful. I know there will be an end to all these hassles and that helps me keep things in a bit better perspective.
My health insurance will run out in Decemeber. At that time, who knows what will happen. Even my meds won't be covered anymore although we're working on getting help with those. I'll lose my specialists at Vanderbilt and have to rely on doctors who don't know how to deal with IPF. In the meantime, stress makes matters worse, so I cannot allow it to stress me out or I literally can't breathe. I still have the lump in my neck to be checked out and who knows what medical mystery road that will take me down. I'm getting tired. There are days when I want to take the boatload of meds I take now, chuck them out the window and let the chips fall where they may. And yet, I'm not ready to give up fighting. I kinda like living. I've gotten a lot out of it and would like to see more days, but I would prefer more quality days, that's for sure.
So if some days I seem a little down or frustrated, please bear with me. I try not to drag anybody else down with me. I wish I could say I was going to live forever - I'm not. I struggle with pulling back from everyone I love so that when I am gone, it won't hurt them so much. Then there is the part of me that wants to grab them and hold on for dear life for as long as I have. Not one single one of us knows what tomorrow holds. Why do we spend so much time planning for it as if our lives depend upon it? Reach out and hug that person you've been wanting to. Make amends with that person you're at odds with. Life is short, no matter how long you live. That's the reality for us all.
Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis is basically scar tissue that is building up on my lungs. There is no cure. The prognosis is death, usually in 2-4 years from diagnosis. As the scar tissue builds up, my lungs become less able to move oxygen to my brain and other organs. Usually death comes from respiratory failure, pulmonary emboli and/or pneumonia. Currently my lungs are only working at about 40% of what they should be. So I become tired quite easily and it doesn't take much for me to become short of breath. There have been some cases of prolonging life and life quality with immuno-suppressant drugs. They are basically like chemo drugs that kill off the immune system in the hopes that it will slow the body down from trying to fight itself. I was put on Imuran two weeks ago and had a very rough time of it.
By last week, I was becoming very weak and breathing was becoming very difficult, even without any exertion. On Friday I was scheduled to get a routine blood test to see how my body is responding medically to the new medicine. When I got to the doctor's office, I was running a fever of 102 and looking like something the cat dragged in. My doc was not happy with the way I was breathing or looking so she sent me over to the hospital for blood work and a chest x-ray. She called me later that evening and told me that I had some pneumonia and she was going to start me on antibiotics right away. She also told me that if I wasn't better or got worse that I should go to the ER and be checked out.
So we filled the prescription and I took my first dose Friday night. On Saturday, I was feeling a whole lot worse but figured I'd better give the medicine some time to work. All during the day I kept debating back and forth whether I should go in, each time talking myself out of it... we can't afford it, let the medicine do its job, etc. But it hurts... well, that could be from the pneumonia. But it feels like it did when I've had a blood clot before... well it could be nothing and you'd just be wasting their time and spending money you don't have. You know how that battle in the mind goes. On Sunday, pretty much the same thing.
Oliver went to church on Sunday and when I got up, I really thought I should go in. Had he taken his cell phone with him, I would have called him and told him I was doing just that. But since it was sitting on the bathroom counter, that wasn't going to work. Quite frankly, I didn't have the strength to walk all the way into the ktichen at church to tell him so I decided I'd just wait until he got home. I didn't want him to come home and see the car and me gone. By the time he got home, I was pretty bad but he was so tired. He'd done the catering all by himself since I wasn't there to do my part. So, I thought I'd just let him rest and I went and laid down. The whole time I was laying there, I kept thinking about when my friend died a couple of years ago. She died from a pulmonary embolism.
I went through the same checklist of symptoms that I had discussed with her on the phone the day she died. All of which I was answering yes to myself. My last words to her were, if you have any of those symptoms, don't wait... the last thing you want to do is mess with a blood clot. She died later that day because she didn't go get it checked out. By the time she had her daughter call the ambulance, it was too late. So there I am, lying in bed with this little voice playing in my head - are you going to listen to your own advice? Ok. I came out to tell Oliver that we should go but he was busy making me dinner and it did smell so good. Alright, I at least can have dinner before we go. By now my fever was down to about 101 and I didn't seem quite as worried. After dinner we started watching tv. Then I took a shower and changed into my nightgown and figured I'd hold out until morning and call the doc back.
As the night wore on, I was having more and more pain in my right lung which was weird because the pneumonia was worse in my left lung and I wasn't having any real pain there, just pressure. Finally around 11:30 pm I got up to go to the bathroom and stumbled a few times on the way in there. Something was terribly wrong. Quite frankly, I was afraid that if I went to sleep, I wouldn't wake up. I was that scared. I came out and asked him (finally) to take me in to the hospital. I still wasn't sure whether to go to the local one or up to Nashville where my pulmonologist was. It came down to feeling I didn't have the strength to make it to Nashville by car so we went local. We knew that if it was bad enough, they'd life flight me to Vanderbilt. We do have life flight insurance - wouldn't live without it here in the country.
It didn't take long for them to confirm that the pneumonia wasn't getting better. Since the pain seemed to be on the other side from where the worse pneumonia was showing, the ER doc decided to do a CT scan, given my history of pulmonary emboli and sure enough, there was a small clot in my right lower lobe of my lung. They admitted me to get me started on anticoagulants to thin out my blood and at least try to stabilize my temp, etc. By early morning, the hosptal doctor was trying to get Vanderbilt to take me but they were full. Since I was stable here, it was decided to keep me here and just do a phone consult with my doc's office up there. My regular pulmonologist is out of state this week, so it was a colleague that pulled my charts and talked with the docs here. They took me off the Imuran and I feel much better that I'm not on it.
So now I'm home. I'll be on blood thinners the rest of my life and that's fine. I always knew that if I had another episode with a clot, that would happen. I need to follow up with my pulmonologist on Tuesday and I'm just praying that they don't put me back on the Imuran. This was a close call. I almost didn't make it through and reality started setting in that one of these days, I won't. Not that any of us have guarantees, but it is a heavy load to have hanging over your head. There are a lot of people who live every day with that reality and it's not a pleasant state to be in. What's a simple cold for one person can literally kill me. That being said, I also know there is the Great Healer and He is working on my behalf. Apparently He wasn't ready for me yet or I wouldn't be here writing this now.
As you know, Oliver has been out of a job since last September. Just when we thought things were starting to look up, the bottom has fallen out yet again. Oliver was supposed to start a consulting job on Tuesday to help get a local restaruant back on its feet and the owner has entered rehab and the job is out the window. His wife fired everyone and is closing down for now. So we're still at no income, my breathing and lung issues are getting worse rapidly and quite frankly, not only do we not see light at the end of the tunnel but we're not even sure what tunnel we're in anymore. Depressed? um, yeah a little. I'd be lying if I told you we weren't. I thank God everyday, though, that we have him to lean on. He has a plan, we just don't know what it is. But one thing is for sure, we don't doubt that He does. THAT is what keeps us going. All this other stuff is nuisance. We're all going to die. The reality for me is that I'm slowly heading towards a sudden death. My body is shutting down, it cannot be stopped and one day it will just cease to exist. My spirit will move on and I will be leaving people behind that I care deeply about. Scary? yeah but also in a strange way, peaceful. I know there will be an end to all these hassles and that helps me keep things in a bit better perspective.
My health insurance will run out in Decemeber. At that time, who knows what will happen. Even my meds won't be covered anymore although we're working on getting help with those. I'll lose my specialists at Vanderbilt and have to rely on doctors who don't know how to deal with IPF. In the meantime, stress makes matters worse, so I cannot allow it to stress me out or I literally can't breathe. I still have the lump in my neck to be checked out and who knows what medical mystery road that will take me down. I'm getting tired. There are days when I want to take the boatload of meds I take now, chuck them out the window and let the chips fall where they may. And yet, I'm not ready to give up fighting. I kinda like living. I've gotten a lot out of it and would like to see more days, but I would prefer more quality days, that's for sure.
So if some days I seem a little down or frustrated, please bear with me. I try not to drag anybody else down with me. I wish I could say I was going to live forever - I'm not. I struggle with pulling back from everyone I love so that when I am gone, it won't hurt them so much. Then there is the part of me that wants to grab them and hold on for dear life for as long as I have. Not one single one of us knows what tomorrow holds. Why do we spend so much time planning for it as if our lives depend upon it? Reach out and hug that person you've been wanting to. Make amends with that person you're at odds with. Life is short, no matter how long you live. That's the reality for us all.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
The hardest part... at least for me...
Here we go again. Another road to travel down the medical highway. It all started (this time) before Christmas. I was showering and I noticed a lump on my neck up under my chin on my left side. Hmmm, hadn't felt that before. Oh well, I had a doc appointment the next week so I made a note to myself to mention it to him. I did just that. He felt it and since he was a pulmonologist, it really wasn't in his area of specialty. He told me to tell my ENT the next time I saw him.
Well that wasn't a problem either. Because of the recurrent ear infections, I saw him in a few weeks after that. I did tell him about it but my ears were so gunked up that somehow it just got lost in the shuffle. Strike two. In February I saw my primary care doctor and mentioned it to him. He felt it but since I then also had an active sinus infection, he just prescribed antibiotics and said he'd check it again in a month. A month later he was no longer practicing at the office or seeing patients, so it went unpursued yet again.
I saw a partner of his in the office in March but by that time I was dealing with severe back pain so even I wasn't concerned about the lump in my neck. Finally a couple of weeks ago I saw yet another new PCP and she finally took the time to really examine it after I kept hounding. She agreed that maybe we should get it checked out. So an ultrasound and x-ray were scheduled for last week. The ultrasound showed that it was not a cyst - which is what everyone was hoping for - but a solid mass.
Tomorrow I go for a CT scan to see how deep it goes and to get more information about it. I'm trying not to freak out about it but the ultrasound tech and my doctor's nurse seem to show a lot of concern in their voices after seeing the images. It's a pretty good size lump - about the size of a golf ball now. It doesn't really hurt but I do notice it's there.
The hardest part for me? Trying not to diagnose it myself or research it to death. That's just my nature to get as much info as I can and try to process all scenarios so that I'm not taken by surprise. I've really been fighting that urge this time and it hasn't been easy. I'm trying to just deal with it as it comes. Um, much easier said than done.
I'm tired - literally and figuratively. It's been one medical drama after another now for I don't even know how long. I'm still dealing wtih the lung problems and they (the doctors) can't quite seem to figure out what's going on there. A year and half ago I had an open lung biopsy and they gave me one diagnosis, only now they don't think it's right. Now this.
I really would like to ask you to pray. There are just so many stressors right now in my life that I just don't think I can even pray for myself right now. Oliver still hasn't gotten any bites on a job, my COBRA insurance will run out in Dec. and I am uninsurable after that, the bills are mounting and mounting, our savings is depleted, I don't feel good, and the stupid blue blob is still a mixed blessing. Ok, I love the blue blob when it's up and ready to go - not so much when it's flat as a pancake.
It's the synergistic effect of everything seemingly falling apart for too long of a time now that I'm quite frankly worn out. If there is a lesson that God is trying to teach me, I wish He'd move on to the Cliff Notes because this unabridged version doesn't seem to be getting through to me. I know what the Bible says about all this and I do stand on that Word. It's just that sometimes when you're in the middle of a dark season for so long, you just begin to wonder if the light is still even on let alone at the end of the tunnel. I don't see the light and I haven't for a long time. I haven't given up believing that it's still there but I will admit to having my all too human moments of weakness.
Thanks for praying. It really does mean a lot. One thing that I have learned through the years is that the only thing that is certain is uncertainty. Sigh... and of course I really am looking forward to the day that I no longer will be a slave to this old body but will receive a new one... and yes, I still have dibs on Cindy Crawford's. : ) Thanks all for letting my vent and for praying for me. ((hugs))
Well that wasn't a problem either. Because of the recurrent ear infections, I saw him in a few weeks after that. I did tell him about it but my ears were so gunked up that somehow it just got lost in the shuffle. Strike two. In February I saw my primary care doctor and mentioned it to him. He felt it but since I then also had an active sinus infection, he just prescribed antibiotics and said he'd check it again in a month. A month later he was no longer practicing at the office or seeing patients, so it went unpursued yet again.
I saw a partner of his in the office in March but by that time I was dealing with severe back pain so even I wasn't concerned about the lump in my neck. Finally a couple of weeks ago I saw yet another new PCP and she finally took the time to really examine it after I kept hounding. She agreed that maybe we should get it checked out. So an ultrasound and x-ray were scheduled for last week. The ultrasound showed that it was not a cyst - which is what everyone was hoping for - but a solid mass.
Tomorrow I go for a CT scan to see how deep it goes and to get more information about it. I'm trying not to freak out about it but the ultrasound tech and my doctor's nurse seem to show a lot of concern in their voices after seeing the images. It's a pretty good size lump - about the size of a golf ball now. It doesn't really hurt but I do notice it's there.
The hardest part for me? Trying not to diagnose it myself or research it to death. That's just my nature to get as much info as I can and try to process all scenarios so that I'm not taken by surprise. I've really been fighting that urge this time and it hasn't been easy. I'm trying to just deal with it as it comes. Um, much easier said than done.
I'm tired - literally and figuratively. It's been one medical drama after another now for I don't even know how long. I'm still dealing wtih the lung problems and they (the doctors) can't quite seem to figure out what's going on there. A year and half ago I had an open lung biopsy and they gave me one diagnosis, only now they don't think it's right. Now this.
I really would like to ask you to pray. There are just so many stressors right now in my life that I just don't think I can even pray for myself right now. Oliver still hasn't gotten any bites on a job, my COBRA insurance will run out in Dec. and I am uninsurable after that, the bills are mounting and mounting, our savings is depleted, I don't feel good, and the stupid blue blob is still a mixed blessing. Ok, I love the blue blob when it's up and ready to go - not so much when it's flat as a pancake.
It's the synergistic effect of everything seemingly falling apart for too long of a time now that I'm quite frankly worn out. If there is a lesson that God is trying to teach me, I wish He'd move on to the Cliff Notes because this unabridged version doesn't seem to be getting through to me. I know what the Bible says about all this and I do stand on that Word. It's just that sometimes when you're in the middle of a dark season for so long, you just begin to wonder if the light is still even on let alone at the end of the tunnel. I don't see the light and I haven't for a long time. I haven't given up believing that it's still there but I will admit to having my all too human moments of weakness.
Thanks for praying. It really does mean a lot. One thing that I have learned through the years is that the only thing that is certain is uncertainty. Sigh... and of course I really am looking forward to the day that I no longer will be a slave to this old body but will receive a new one... and yes, I still have dibs on Cindy Crawford's. : ) Thanks all for letting my vent and for praying for me. ((hugs))
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Rockin' Along
Ok, the doctor told me that I NEED to do more walking. It wasn't a mere suggestion as it has been in the past. This time it really is a matter of life or breath. So since we have so mercifully been able to reduce my arsenal of meds by one very expensive one, it became clear that new walking shoes were in order.
I have seen the commercials on TV about the new rocker ones that promise to give you more of a workout as you're walking along. Figured it wouldn't hurt to add some extra burn since I'll already be inclined to get out of my recliner anyway. Besides the commercials show these little girls with pert little butts - hey, why not? Ok, you can stop spitting your coffee out - I get it (you too Steve). So my butt will never look like that but I'm really more concerned with my lungs these days anyway. ; )
So off we went to Kohl's and I tried on a few pair until I found the perfect ones. No rubbing, no pinching, no hurting - shoes I could actually walk in and they look snazzy to boot. On sale with an extra 20% off coupon, can't beat that, so I got them. I have to admit that they are not your grandma's gym shoes. Nope, these take some getting used to.
One is that once you've put them on, you're adding about two inches to your height. Two inches can give you a completely different perspective on everyday activities. Amazing how many more items I can reach in the cabinets with my walking shoes on. Also it's a lot farther stretch to pick something up off the floor, so I have to be extra careful not to drop anything, and getting in and out of chairs can be awkward at best.
The first day I wore them I was smart. I took them for a test run at Walmart where I could hold on to the cart for dear life. By the second time around the store, I was feeling brave and let go of the cart and went and got the cream cheese all by myself - without incident. My exercise esteem was growing. Then I got to the produce department and tried to step backwards to let someone else through. Good thing the cart was there and there wasn't an officer around asking me to walk a straight line. Not sure I could have passed that test. But practice does make perfect, well almost.
Outside of manuevering stairs, I've become quite proficient with them. I can now master backing up and stopping short without flailing my arms like I'm taking off or looking like I just came out of happy hour at the local bar. I have that heel, roll, toe, thing down pat... can't help but to have it down, that's how the shoes roll. To try and walk differently is flirting with the possibilty of having to add a neck brace to your wardrobe.
I'm not ready for any marathons and I don't think I'll be taking up speed walking anytime soon, but at least I have a bit more spring in my step and can go farther than I could before I got the shoes. I feel the burn in my legs and yes, even in my butt - although the size of that remains the same for now. Darn those commercials with their skinny little models and hopes of getting your own pert little butts.... lol.
I'm making progress, one bouncy, little. rocking step at a time and I love it. I even love the bonus of being able to put the groceries away without having to enlist the help of taller people around me. It's amazing how two inches of height can give you a whole other view of the world and I like it. Of course, I also like walking around in bare feet but if I have to put shoes on, these are definitely the way to go. So be careful if you see me coming up behind you, because I'll probably just be passing you by and going on about my day... and try hard not to dwell on whether these shoes are helping my butt. It may not look like it on the outside but I feel it on the inside - and that's what matters... lol.
And I promise, I won't be asking any of you anytime soon about how my butt looks in these jeans... but maybe six months from now... LOL. well, I better get rockin' along. These shoes were made for walking and that's just what I'll do... Rock on and have a great day! I am.
I have seen the commercials on TV about the new rocker ones that promise to give you more of a workout as you're walking along. Figured it wouldn't hurt to add some extra burn since I'll already be inclined to get out of my recliner anyway. Besides the commercials show these little girls with pert little butts - hey, why not? Ok, you can stop spitting your coffee out - I get it (you too Steve). So my butt will never look like that but I'm really more concerned with my lungs these days anyway. ; )
So off we went to Kohl's and I tried on a few pair until I found the perfect ones. No rubbing, no pinching, no hurting - shoes I could actually walk in and they look snazzy to boot. On sale with an extra 20% off coupon, can't beat that, so I got them. I have to admit that they are not your grandma's gym shoes. Nope, these take some getting used to.
One is that once you've put them on, you're adding about two inches to your height. Two inches can give you a completely different perspective on everyday activities. Amazing how many more items I can reach in the cabinets with my walking shoes on. Also it's a lot farther stretch to pick something up off the floor, so I have to be extra careful not to drop anything, and getting in and out of chairs can be awkward at best.
The first day I wore them I was smart. I took them for a test run at Walmart where I could hold on to the cart for dear life. By the second time around the store, I was feeling brave and let go of the cart and went and got the cream cheese all by myself - without incident. My exercise esteem was growing. Then I got to the produce department and tried to step backwards to let someone else through. Good thing the cart was there and there wasn't an officer around asking me to walk a straight line. Not sure I could have passed that test. But practice does make perfect, well almost.
Outside of manuevering stairs, I've become quite proficient with them. I can now master backing up and stopping short without flailing my arms like I'm taking off or looking like I just came out of happy hour at the local bar. I have that heel, roll, toe, thing down pat... can't help but to have it down, that's how the shoes roll. To try and walk differently is flirting with the possibilty of having to add a neck brace to your wardrobe.
I'm not ready for any marathons and I don't think I'll be taking up speed walking anytime soon, but at least I have a bit more spring in my step and can go farther than I could before I got the shoes. I feel the burn in my legs and yes, even in my butt - although the size of that remains the same for now. Darn those commercials with their skinny little models and hopes of getting your own pert little butts.... lol.
I'm making progress, one bouncy, little. rocking step at a time and I love it. I even love the bonus of being able to put the groceries away without having to enlist the help of taller people around me. It's amazing how two inches of height can give you a whole other view of the world and I like it. Of course, I also like walking around in bare feet but if I have to put shoes on, these are definitely the way to go. So be careful if you see me coming up behind you, because I'll probably just be passing you by and going on about my day... and try hard not to dwell on whether these shoes are helping my butt. It may not look like it on the outside but I feel it on the inside - and that's what matters... lol.
And I promise, I won't be asking any of you anytime soon about how my butt looks in these jeans... but maybe six months from now... LOL. well, I better get rockin' along. These shoes were made for walking and that's just what I'll do... Rock on and have a great day! I am.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Back Porch Sittin'
Life is funny. Some days you feel on top of the world and other days you feel as if the world is on top of you. And then some days you're just not sure which is which. Today is one of those days for me.
Our life and future is so uncertain. We don't know when or if we'll have to move. Oliver sends out resume after resume and nothing. He's pounded the pavement, and still not a bite. We remember joking around that he could always become a Walmart greeter in his old age. Let me tell you, those jobs are NOT easy to come by. Unemployment will be running out and it will be the end of October before he can even think about collecting social security, neither of which comes near covering our monthly expenses.
With my lungs and health as bad as it is, I cannot work outside the home and haven't been able to find anything that I can do right from here, where I can control my environment and the bathroom is not too far away after I take my meds. I know, TMI.
And yet as I sit here on the back porch gazing into the woods that are our backyard, I feel a complete sense of calm and peace. I'm watching the cardinals and blue jays playing on the ground, the squirrels scampering about - chasing each other like there's no tomorrow, a couple of field mice are happily pecking around the moss-covered ground, and earlier a bunch of deer crossed by just a short distance away, the mourning doves cooing from somewhere in the trees. It's a beautiful sight. The sun is casting dappled shade on the ground and the wind is blowing with the smell of freshly cut wild onions. It's quiet, not a machine sound or man-made sound to be heard. Just the sweet sound of leaves rustling and birds chirping and cooing, squirrels chattering, and sometimes absolutely nothing. There is such beauty in complete silence.
I realize that if our lives hadn't taken the turns that it has, that I would not be sitting here enjoying every moment of this awesome experience. Perhaps we'd be out shopping, buying things that we really don't need just to be doing something. Perhaps we'd be too busy going from here to there, rushing and gaining nothing. Nope, here I am... Oliver took the shopping list and went to the store alone for the few things that we need. Less tempation and frustration for me if I'm not along and a whole lot quicker for him.
Do I wish I knew what tomorrow would bring? Yes, absolutely, but not at the expense of losing today. My prayer is that we really don't have to move back into a city environment. I admit that I've become quite attached to our little country life. It touches and completes a part of me inside that never was happy in the city. I don't like the hustle and bustle of the big cities, never have. Nope, this peace and tranquility and yes, even simplicity is much more my style.
I KNOW my neighbors and more importantly, I love them. There is more physical distance between us than I've ever known and yet I feel closer to them than if I could reach out the window and touch them. I love our little one stoplight town with the newly paved sidelwalks and gaslamps. We even have a brick in the sidewalk outside the Sawmeal Restaurant with our name on it. We feel connected.
We have a church family that we love more than anything and funny thing is that we actually believe that they love us. Really. I don't want to lose this life and I don't want to leave it but if the time comes that we actually do have to move on, then I will still be grateful for having this time, like today, to have stopped and really been in it whole-heartedly and not just passing through in a rush of mindless activity. As I look towards the end of our property and see the little fence around where Igloo and Sadie are buried, a tear drops down my cheek but it's not totally from sadness and missing them. Part of it's for gratitide that I've had such a special time in my life because I was forced by circumstances beyond my control to stop and smell, really smell, the roses.
My life may not be perfect and it's certainly not settled but crazy as it is right now, today, I wouldn't trade it for the world. Somehow in the midst of the turmoil, I have found a peace that surpasses all understanding and I like it. Tomorrow the tears may fall again but today, right now, I'm finding plenty of reasons to smile .So, if you're looking for me, I'm sitting here out on the back porch overlooking my little kingdom, ice water in hand, enjoying every simple moment of it. <3 May your day be just as blessed.
Our life and future is so uncertain. We don't know when or if we'll have to move. Oliver sends out resume after resume and nothing. He's pounded the pavement, and still not a bite. We remember joking around that he could always become a Walmart greeter in his old age. Let me tell you, those jobs are NOT easy to come by. Unemployment will be running out and it will be the end of October before he can even think about collecting social security, neither of which comes near covering our monthly expenses.
With my lungs and health as bad as it is, I cannot work outside the home and haven't been able to find anything that I can do right from here, where I can control my environment and the bathroom is not too far away after I take my meds. I know, TMI.
And yet as I sit here on the back porch gazing into the woods that are our backyard, I feel a complete sense of calm and peace. I'm watching the cardinals and blue jays playing on the ground, the squirrels scampering about - chasing each other like there's no tomorrow, a couple of field mice are happily pecking around the moss-covered ground, and earlier a bunch of deer crossed by just a short distance away, the mourning doves cooing from somewhere in the trees. It's a beautiful sight. The sun is casting dappled shade on the ground and the wind is blowing with the smell of freshly cut wild onions. It's quiet, not a machine sound or man-made sound to be heard. Just the sweet sound of leaves rustling and birds chirping and cooing, squirrels chattering, and sometimes absolutely nothing. There is such beauty in complete silence.
I realize that if our lives hadn't taken the turns that it has, that I would not be sitting here enjoying every moment of this awesome experience. Perhaps we'd be out shopping, buying things that we really don't need just to be doing something. Perhaps we'd be too busy going from here to there, rushing and gaining nothing. Nope, here I am... Oliver took the shopping list and went to the store alone for the few things that we need. Less tempation and frustration for me if I'm not along and a whole lot quicker for him.
Do I wish I knew what tomorrow would bring? Yes, absolutely, but not at the expense of losing today. My prayer is that we really don't have to move back into a city environment. I admit that I've become quite attached to our little country life. It touches and completes a part of me inside that never was happy in the city. I don't like the hustle and bustle of the big cities, never have. Nope, this peace and tranquility and yes, even simplicity is much more my style.
I KNOW my neighbors and more importantly, I love them. There is more physical distance between us than I've ever known and yet I feel closer to them than if I could reach out the window and touch them. I love our little one stoplight town with the newly paved sidelwalks and gaslamps. We even have a brick in the sidewalk outside the Sawmeal Restaurant with our name on it. We feel connected.
We have a church family that we love more than anything and funny thing is that we actually believe that they love us. Really. I don't want to lose this life and I don't want to leave it but if the time comes that we actually do have to move on, then I will still be grateful for having this time, like today, to have stopped and really been in it whole-heartedly and not just passing through in a rush of mindless activity. As I look towards the end of our property and see the little fence around where Igloo and Sadie are buried, a tear drops down my cheek but it's not totally from sadness and missing them. Part of it's for gratitide that I've had such a special time in my life because I was forced by circumstances beyond my control to stop and smell, really smell, the roses.
My life may not be perfect and it's certainly not settled but crazy as it is right now, today, I wouldn't trade it for the world. Somehow in the midst of the turmoil, I have found a peace that surpasses all understanding and I like it. Tomorrow the tears may fall again but today, right now, I'm finding plenty of reasons to smile .So, if you're looking for me, I'm sitting here out on the back porch overlooking my little kingdom, ice water in hand, enjoying every simple moment of it. <3 May your day be just as blessed.
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