Tears In The Darkness and Blessings Too

Last night as we were about to fall asleep I said to Steve, "I have a well of tears hiding behind my eyes." He asked why and all I could come up with is that they'd been building and I just hadn't let them go. He took hold of my hand and said "well, let 'em go". I don't know that he realized at that moment how long that could take....rest assured he fell asleep long before the tears stopped.

Sometimes the pain is so intense I can do nothing else but cry and that was part of my problem last night. For reasons I'm keeping close and private for the time being, I cannot take anything for the pain--4 weeks and counting. I've always had a fairly high threshold for pain and as time goes by, I raise that bar higher and higher. It's not that I want to be a martyr about it or anything, it's just out of necessity. Fortunately in the pain the lessons abound.

Also at night the tears fall because this is when I experience more than half my fear. It's now at night I must take my injections and for me to go to bed after that terrifies me for if I had a reaction I may not wake up in time. It's in the night when I feel most alone, small and insignificant. It's in the night when I am alone with my thoughts and recall far too easily how I've failed, what I need to do but can't because of my limitations and all too soon I am consumed with a laundry list of things I have to do. No, must do. Believe it or not, there was a time when this worked to my advantage. I had a job where nighttime thinking was my friend. I came up with the best ideas when my mind refused to shut down for the night. I even kept a legal pad on the nightstand to jot down my ideas so my mind could relax and drift off. Yet now this once great friend has become foe as it torments me with what could have been, should have been and never will be.

The tears come so easily in the darkness and are most difficult to control once they do. So how in the world can there be blessings in any of this? Being a firm believer that all circumstances come with lessons and determined to find some brightness in this difficult time, I force myself to search for them. I've discovered it's a guarantee for me to find them when I search earnestly. A few of my blessings....

1. God is teaching me the difference between what I say I believe and what I'm actually believing. I say "God is in control of my days and they are numbered" and I really think I believe it. Yet I obviously don't or I would not worry about a reaction at night being the end of me. I should not worry if I believe God is in control. This line of saying vs really believing will make a huge difference in my growth...once I cross it.

2. The physical pain that is a mainstay these days gives me a keen sense of the pain that surrounds me. People are hurting and just as nobody can see my physical pain, often times I cannot see the emotional, mental and physical pain around me but it's there just the same. I need to remember this to keep me from being self-involved.

3. Admitting to myself and to God (although he knows already) that I am consumed with fears is a crucial first step in getting over them. And get over them I must or I will retreat into the safety of my home environment which I can control and in so doing I become the host of a major pity party and agoraphobia takes over my life.

4. Every time I do something like lead Bible study, emcee at Spring Fling or otherwise fill a public role, I am demonstrating that it is not me doing it in my own strength. It is Christ in me. Many times I have the desire and tendency to curl up at home and watch a movie or read a book yet once I've made a commitment I know I must go forward and so I do - just not in my own strength. This is where God gets the glory and I get the privilege of being used for His purposes.

The tears may fall and on occasion I more than willingly let them because the end result is blessing and glory.

And Just Like That, It Was Over

Thursday was so busy for me I didn't have much time to think about my appointment at 4. That was a good thing.

We arrived about 5 minutes early and this was seriously the wrong appointment to make me wait until 30 minutes after my scheduled time. The most fabulous nurse did our injection instruction. It was such a privilege to be under the care of Jim--he is compassionate, understanding and has the most amazing bedside manner. He spent the first few minutes discussing all sorts of things with us and even had a training needle / plunger to use. He insisted we try it that way first.

Then it was time for the real deal. I had fully intended for Steve to give me the injections but Jim stared me right in the eye, pointed his finger and said, "no, YOU will do this one. What you do after this one in the office is up to you but today it's YOU!" See, when I asked the NP about it the week before, she said they recommend I do my own but it was totally up to me. Apparently not under Jim's watch! In retrospect, he was extremely wise for forcing me into it.

Jim walked through each preparatory step with us and I sat there with the plunger on my leg for what seemed like an eternity staring at the trigger. He said "whenever you're ready, go ahead." Truth is, I was never really going to be ready and it made him smile when I told him so. I finally clicked it and sat there watching the lever in the window portion while the medicine was pushed into my leg. I'm not kidding when I say it hurt; kind of like a tearing and burning at the same time. But I don't think it was the physical pain of the shot that hurt so badly because I've been in far more pain day in and day out. It actually paled in comparison, particularly considering it was 30 seconds rather than 24 hours a day.

I found myself in more of an emotional trauma watching the level of medicine as it lowered into my body. It was the strangest thing, almost as if I were watching it from a distance on the leg of someone else (except of course the pain was all to real for that to be the case). The tears streamed down my face and I had no ability to control them. Steve was to my right and he put his hand on my shoulder, whispering that it was okay and I was doing fine. Jim was in front of me and he patted my knee assuring me it was going well. Once the needle was out Jim handed me some cotton and told me to press on it for 15-20 seconds. After about five he tapped my hand and so calmly said "relax Julie, don't push so hard." I looked down only to realize my fingers were white from pushing so hard.

And then it was over. Until next Friday that is.

Jim sent us to the waiting room for 10 minutes to ensure there were no immediate side effects requiring medical attention and then he helped me with my coat, patted me on the shoulder and said "you did good kiddo." The side effects I experienced in the following 24 hours were completely normal and very minimal. I had some tingling in my left foot and hand and then I was fairly fatigued and slightly nauseous but both of those should lessen as my body adjusts to receiving the medication.

It will take anywhere from 2 to 12 weeks to see how well it will work.

T Minus 2

This past week I've been fairly melancholy and probably even extremely sad. All week long I've wanted to wrap myself in a blanket, lay in the recliner and entertain myself with movies. Yet that is not an option for me. I must press on and do what I've been called to do, despite how I feel....my feelings are not usually to be trusted and certainly not now. If I were to gauge my life on how I felt, I would be a bigger mess than I already am.

Last Thursday I received a call from the doctor's office and the message simply was "Julie this is XX, a nurse from Dr. A's office. Can you please call us back about your recent lab results?" I've been doing this thing long enough to know that is never a call to tell a patient how they soared through the tests. They call for one reason only--something is wrong. And so it was. I hardly had enough time to compose myself before I headed to the church to lead Bible study.

This week we finally got word that the insurance company had approved the new medication for one month. We attempted to pick it up yesterday only to discover it has to be ordered. We went back today to get it and I made an appointment at the doctor's office for "injection instruction" on Thursday at 4.

And the thought of it makes me so sad I can barely stand up under the sorrow. I retreated to the bedroom, curled up in my favorite barrel chair, wrapped my arms around a pillow and wept. Steve allowed me several minutes alone before he came in and sat in front of me.

"I don't want to do this," I whispered.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because it's what sick people do." I could barely eek out the words.

"Baby, you ARE sick. This may very well be the thing that enables you to function again."

"Will you still love me if I choose not to?" I asked. The insecurities I have fallen into since the onset of this thing are almost beyond comprehension.

"Of course I'll love you." Steve never wavers.

"Would you do it if it were you?"

"Absolutely. No question."

And so we go forward. T minus 2 days. In 48 hours this initial treatment will be injected in my body and hopefully with the plunge of that needle, all my fears will wash away. Of that I am skeptical for my fear is a spiritual problem and contradictory to my faith.

"For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self control." ~ 2 Timothy 1:7 (ESV)

I am okay with having these feelings and I don't think it means I don't trust that God is in control. I do; yet I am human and frail. He understands my frailties and the fact that my heart is broken is of great concern to Him. It also doesn't mean I lack faith but rather God is shaking the world around me so at the end of all this I will stand firm on one thing only--Him.