Into the Depths

This post is about the pit of despair, discouragement. I don't like to wallow there, and I'm sure you wouldn't want to read it if I did, but please don't leave, this is not about me, really.

Yesterday morning was bright, beautiful, on the other side of that glass. The weather was warm and the air was fragrant, on the other side of that glass. It was Sunday morning, a day to worship the loving Creator of all things and bask in the fellowship of those like-minded, on the other side of that glass. But this was a different place -- a lonely, sterile and empty place; a place of sickness and even death. And the dear soul in the room next to me was feeling it, as was I.

As I did my devotions, delving into the glorious hope of the book of Revelation, the tears came on in an uncontrollable fury.  Tears of joy? Release from the pent up stress and excitement of the last few days? Some. But most were tears of loneliness, self-pity and hopelessness. The progress of the previous day's rehabilitation seemed all but burned up; there appeared no hope of going home. And there they were, in a place they never should have been, tears. But we are human and God is good. I cried out and He was merciful enough to listen. That's my story, but what of others who are still in that place, a place I believe we all must see from time to time? My "next door neighbor."

She is a Catholic nun, from what I have gathered, not a faithless or untethered woman. Her complaints of "lousy" when asked her condition, her refusal to eat even when bribed with something she enjoys, appear contrary to the faith she lives on the other side of that glass. What is it about a mere three quarters of an inch that can separate us from victory and leave us cloaked in the dust of defeat? What do we do about it? And how, on earth do I keep it from happening to me?

Let's take that last question first, as I think it most obvious. You don't. Next door is a nun, folks. Not that any of that makes her better or more godly than anyone else, but her support system is solid and immense. She's had visitors coming and going -- like-minded visitors -- for days now. She's been encouraged and prodded and reminded and prayed for, and will be until the cows come home. Her career training prepared her for this, and prepared her to be a spiritual icon for others going through this. Never think you can prevent it. If God desires to use it to break you or build you, you will find yourself there.

What is it? A foothold. A foothold that Satan wants and God allows. Three quarters of an inch of glass, separation from those we love by miles, bearing a night on the sofa with a husband who has no love for you, watching that last chance for employment slip away. It manifests itself in all forms, but it is always called "defeat."

Lastly, what to do. My best guess: hold on. Hold on to your faith. Hold on to God's hand. Hold on to others with faith. As I found the verse for the day, yesterday, even more tears fell:

"The Sovereign Lord is my strength;
    he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
    he enables me to tread on the heights." ~Habakkuk 3:19

It wasn't instantaneously remedial, but it was hope. It was another, truthful and loving window with which to view the rest of my day. I prayed for God's wisdom, and for Him to show me how He would make this promise true. And I prayed for my neighbor with her sadness so deep and deceitful. "Allow her to see Your hand reaching out to hold her and heal her."

Live obediently and trust that what is found in His Word is true. And hold on. My hope returned throughout the day, but I was walking, talking to others, not simply gazing through a solid, forbidding window. My friend is still in despair, but I know she will hold on. And I pray God will continue to open her eyes to the view from His window.

Never Too Revealing

As I opened my Bible study yesterday morning -- I've been working a bit in Revelation -- a nurse, or tech, or someone came into my room (I tend to lose track, the folks here are so wonderful and attentive). Nevertheless, I hastily shut my notes and laptop; Revelation can be a bit heavy and many folks tend to link it with the zombie apocalypse, the Mayan calendar (I think that's been debunked at this point), even some occultist influences, and certainly the "beyond belief.". Google "Revelation images, " and see what you get.

I've studied Revelation before, and sadly, I tend to forget what a wonderful, hopeful book of prophecy it is! I mean, what does Walt Disney make every year, worldwide? What about the movie or book industry in general? And why worldwide?  Because every human being, everywhere is looking to escape, adventure, and experience. Revelation is all about that -- but for real. Why would people pay good money to visit theme parks or take their family to a night at the movies, but not embrace the free good news of Revelation? If I may, let me just open your eyes to some of the wonders predicted in this book:

Chapter 4, verses 1-5a: "After this I looked, and there before me was a door standing open in heaven. And the voice I had first heard speaking to me like a trumpet said, 'Come up here, and I will show you what must take place after this.' At once I was in the Spirit, and there before me was a throne in heaven with someone sitting on it. And the one who sat there had the appearance of jasper and ruby. A rainbow that shone like an emerald encircled the throne. Surrounding the throne were twenty-four other thrones, and seated on them were twenty-four elders. They were dressed in white and had crowns of gold on their heads. From the throne came flashes of lightning, rumblings and peals of thunder."

A door, standing open to heaven. A mere mortal shown what was to come -- "come up here." Rubies, emeralds, rainbows -- sound familiar, Dorothy? Crowns, and thunder -- I digress. But the wonders are just getting started:

Chapter 4, verses 6b-8: "In the center, around the throne, were four living creatures, and they were covered with eyes, in front and in back. The first living creature was like a lion, the second was like an ox, the third had a face like a man, the fourth was like a flying eagle. Each of the four living creatures had six wings and was covered with eyes all around, even under its wings."

Pretty freaky, huh? But these are creatures of praise. We might be a little intimidated by them if we met them in a dark alley, but if J.K. Rowlings painted them into a tapestry of magic and myth, we'd eat it up. Why do we find the things we'd like to be true, so hard to accept?

I am going to fast forward through all of the punishment and condemnation, as it is my wish for you that you might open the Word of God, believe its truths, and never look at what will befall the wicked as something you need fear.

Let me take you, by way of Scripture, to "A New Heaven and a New Earth:"

Chapter 21, verses 1-5a: "Then I saw 'a new heaven and a new earth,' for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, 'Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. "He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death" or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.'He who was seated on the throne said, 'I am making everything new!'"

Newborns. A new bride on her much anticipated wedding day. The fresh smell of new wood and paint in a brand new home. That new car smell. New! Verse 6 goes on to say, "It is done!" No more tears, or worry, or struggles with depression, or poor health, or marital problems, or addiction. New. Done. Who wouldn't dream of a new beginning or the end of this world's ugliness or brutality? I think the tragedies we witness each day in the news are evidence of people trying desperately to cope with some of the difficulty of daily existence. I think everybody dreams of new. And, lastly:

Chapter 22, verses 1-5: "Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, as clear as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb down the middle of the great street of the city. On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be any curse. The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in the city, and his servants will serve him. They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. There will be no more night. They will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light. And they will reign for ever and ever."

A river of life, flowing, alive, and straight through the middle of the city. Fertilizing, anointing, permeating the soil that the tree of life bears fruit in all seasons -- ripe, delicious and perfect fruit. And the leaves are leaves of healing. Ever feel the cool gel of aloe on your back after a day in the sun? Refreshing and rejuvenating, healing and moisturizing. No curse. Servitude -- the giving of oneself in complete confidence and expectation of another who loves you so deeply He desires to reveal all of Himself to you. Face to face intimacy with the One Who loves you most, Who marks you with His very own seal of acceptance and kinship. No more night. Ever spent the first night alone in a small room in a big house, or a small tent in a big wood? Ever been so alone and worried about the next day, or the next week, or the rest of your new life on your own? Ever felt the sun go down, literally taking your happiness and piece of mind with it? No more night; the Lord God Himself is the light, and we will reign with Him forever!

No need to close the books on this one, and Chapter 22, verse 10 even says so:

"Then he told me, 'Do not seal up the words of the prophecy of this scroll, because the time is near.'"

Come, Lord Jesus, come.

A Big Thank You to Modern Medicine!

Call me crazy, but I really expected more of a spa vacation for this kind of money.

So, I'm stuck here in ICU, of all places. Bad enough the hospital room with the inconsiderate roommate and the door banging at ungodly hours, but there is no shower for my non-existent roommate to glut (not that Craig is looking for a bunkmate for me or anything), and there is no door.
I have nurses stationed right outside my door; if I want to do something I'm not supposed to do, like walk to the sink or anything precarious like that, I've got to make sure the screws aren't looking. All in good fun; they really are a great staff here. I'd just like to have met some of them when I had my derriere properly concealed.

There's been no food since 8PM Thursday. I am starving. Ok, probably not, this is a hospital. Any associated risks of literally starving to death -- I hope -- have been removed. My blood sugar is high because of the meds and I can't even blame it on the delicious chocolate cake I dreamt I ate last night! I have more wires attached to me than RoboCop; I think I must be burning calories just trying to keep them out of the way of my little spongy sticks that are supposed to substitute for sustenance. You know those spongy sticks -- they're bright green with cute little plastic straws. The way last night's nurse took such care to arrange them in crisp, icy water made me want to jump right in! So cheery, in a sadistic, ineffective kind of way

But this is not all about me, right? Truthfully, I haven't met any of my neighbors -- anti-social that I am. There is however, the nursing tech, Christina, who has a year left before graduation. She took me on a walk to the window today. The sun was bright, and you could feel the heat radiating through the window. Christina has worked as a dance teacher, and here in ICU while studying full-time. She loves to read when she can find the time. She thinks she might like to try NICU and maybe some hospice later in her career. She's lively and ambitious, likes her job, and her excitement over the possibilities before her makes me want to see her dreams come true.

The nurse who was my caregiver last night has two sons, 7 and 8, if I remember. She's besties with the nurse who looked after me the night before (boy, did I put that poor thing through the ringer). Jen, the RN from last night is married to a soccer coach; she seems to enjoy sharing the experience with him. His athletes are high school age, and Jen has seen classes come and go. Despite her young age she is a wealth of experience, and she is generous enough to share it with the students' parents. I couldn't resist interjecting my own advice for her to pass along: "You haven't lived until you've gotten the text, 'So...we're married.' Enjoy the ride." Jen has a great attitude and loves fun; I think she'd change the world, given the opportunity.

Nurse du jour is Heidi. Her husband is in the National Guard and is packing up to do his two week training in Hershey. Heidi has a fun sense of humor and is anxious to get me kicked outta here! I like this girl! If only I had working vocal cords I would -- loudly -- share her enthusiasm. Nevertheless, I don't think she minds the audience at all, and it's well worth the bu-thousands of dollars the insurance company is paying for this.

I say all this because in the short hospital stays I've had over the years, I've met some really great people, workers and altruists. I've heard their stories and they've heard mine, personally as well as physiologically. It never occurred to me what it takes to do this job, and I'll never know it all.

Many mothers think they have it licked when it comes to being a caregiver; I know I did. But this is a whole different animal. These folks need to be strong beyond belief. Someone coded here the other morning, and they're not coming back. I have no idea how long the patient had been here, how many their ups and downs, or how many conversations the staff around here had with them about their children or with their children about them. But these medical movers had to leave that room and enter the next without missing a beat, and without projecting whatever grief or shock or disappointment on to their next patient with which they'd have the same conversations.

These are professionals. The amount of medical knowledge they possess fills volumes, and experience is just as integral to the job. They advocate for patients who can and cannot progress. They try and fail, and try again. They document and do; they advise and hold their tongues when it's best. Then they go home to engage with families, remember anniversaries, schedule veterinary appointments, oversee their child's next dose of Augmentin, and check the propane for the Father's Day barbecue.

They are authors. Who else could enjoy hearing so much about someone else's life when they do so much living of their own. The tech, Christina said she loves hearing people's stories. I'd always thought of doctors and nurses as selfless, constantly bestowing what talents they have on others, endless reservoirs of help and care. But these folks look to be touched as well. Not just by the thrill of watching a critical patient rebound under their efforts and encouragement, but really stepping into the lives of others, indispensable voyeurs, longing to know the ones with whom they share many of their waking hours and taking pieces with them as they leave theirs behind.

I doubt I will ever have the privilege of writing the end of their stories, or having them write mine, but these life-weavers are worth whatever appreciation and respect we can give them.

Itching to Get This Over!

I am writing this post a week before my surgery. I am scheduling it to be posted the very day I willingly allow a complete stranger (Virtually. I stalked her on Facebook first, of course) to slit my throat.

In March this year, I suddenly began experiencing some very strange health issues -- issues no one of my exceptional youth and vigor should experience.  OK, not really, but they were very sudden and nothing I'd ever come up against. Prior to this, I'd taken my blood pressure -- usually somewhere between low and lower -- only to find it was through the roof! I hadn't been exercising the way I should, probably not eating properly either; it'll pass, right? It didn't. Further symptoms came on like gangbusters (idk, it's a phrase my mother used to use -- I assume gangbusters are pretty quick and invasive) Time to go.

After a considerable amount of poking and pricking, I was diagnosed with Graves Disease. Graves is an autoimmune disorder that strictly affects the thyroid gland, causing hyperthyroidism. OK, so the thyroid, which controls metabolism works harder. Half the free world is looking to speed up their metabolism, right? This couldn't be a bad thing.

Wrong. Heart palpitations, shortness of breath, tremors so bad that putting my contacts in was like coaxing Miley Cyrus to wear some clothes. The itching! The itching was that kind of itching you get the minute somebody mentions head lice. Yeah, that kind of itching. Night sweats, trouble sleeping, blurred vision and dry eyes, swollen legs, and diarrhea. Of course, diarrhea. What pox on humanity is complete without it? As a result, I shed 30 of those unwanted LBs, however, they were all muscle. If I'm not mistaken, health officials usually tell you to prevent that. Did I mention the itching?

So, here I am, months later taking medication to control the symptoms -- better life through chemistry -- and awaiting surgery. I truly want to thank an amazing endocrinologist, Dr. Eugena Wright and, so far, my surgeon, Dr. Donelle Rhoads. If things don't turn out as planned, you might wanna just scratch that last thank you.

I'll keep you posted! Did I mention the itching?!