Call a Tow Truck Please

This morning I feel bound by the effects of fear in a way that mimics my dad’s own physical paralysis.  I need to be able to go back to school to be licensed, but so much trauma from my childhood abuse breakdown is entangled like a knotted mess in and  around my past nursing career. 

When I think about nursing, I feel pain, no more like agony, shame, absolute humiliation that my mental health crumbled in the midst of what should have been a successful career.  Now I can’t separate the two well enough to get an objective outlook of what I’m capable of. 

 

Deep down, I know I’m a much different person, probably better in many ways, than that young 20 something year old nurse.  I’ve lived through some horrible times, managed many crises, learned to love deeply, and minister from a spring of healing that I know erupted from near fatal wounds.

It sounds like such a simple fix…go back to school, get re licensed and then get a job. Going back into nursing, though, is much more to me than taking an RN refresher course. Its about maneuvering around and sifting through the rubble from one of the most explosive, uncertain times of my life. Memories, like bombs, get triggered and I'm afraid that I'll end up just another casualty.

This morning my brain is being hammered with a pounding, barrage of what if’s…What if I go into emotional and mental lock down, meaning that I’m so paralyzed by fear that I can’t go to classes or clinicals?  What if I get sick inside with anxiety so acute that I find myself physically rocking back and forth again in an attempt to calm myself?  What if I can’t do the driving? What if this nearly 50 year old wanna be nurse can’t adjust to all the changes? What if no one will hire me? What if this isn’t God’s will at all, but just my own attempt to “fix” things my way rather than waiting on God.

And truthfully the worst, what if the glue that has held my dissociation safely together to function as a mom and wife isn’t strong enough to allow me to withstand the stress of starting over in a career?  I could dissociate…I could be humiliated … I could fail miserably...all – over – again.

People say to pray about it.  Yes, that's the Christian thing to do.  I am and have been.  There have been no clear “yes’s” heard by my efforts, but the more heart breaking, situational “no’s” instead. Every other door has been rudely closed on my inquiry. Even the simplest of jobs that I know could be done well, have not opened even a smidgen. 

 

So I say to myself, 'perhaps this is God steering me back to being a nurse.  Perhaps he is going to do much more than give me a salary but teach me an excruciating lesson in trusting Him. Maybe there will be some needed healing come along with this second chance. Perhaps it’s time to have my own “what if?” covered, humongous ego towed out of the way so that I can see Him.'

 

I’m trying hard this morning to envision another list of “what if’s”?  What if He shows me the way through school and I find a low stress job that I love?  What if my income blesses Tommy financially? What if I learn to trust my Papa Father at an even deeper level?   What if, along the way, I'm able to internalize that my worth isn't in what I do, but in who I follow? 

Hormones Are Just Not Cool

I decided to join the Upper Room fast this week, ‘cause fasting seems to help me deal with difficult situations.  Last time I fasted, it was right after stopping my antidepressants.  It was a very beautiful time of total dependence on God.  My rational, medically oriented mind said denying my body of food after stopping meds I’d been on for over three years was just plain stupid. But faith doesn’t abide by reason. Faith said I was choosing to trust God to heal my depression, bridge the gaps, fill in the missing pieces…Faith lets go of what I can see and reaches out to the One who knows me best.

My fasting this week is stimulated by continued problems with caffeine withdrawal, headaches, hot flashes, and sleep.  Yes, it’s all rooted in something that’s perfectly normal although horribly humiliating to me. And that would be the awful, dreaded time in life called menopause.  Those valuable hormones that have sustained me since I was 13, are now exiting my aging body quite rudely and abruptly.   I’m embarrassed though, because it means I’m getting old saying “so long” to the familiar, and acknowledging with or, perhaps without grace, another stage of life.  And I’m just not sure how easily I’m going to let go.  It seems to be causing me some grief, sadness, and fear about what to expect.  Maybe someone should write a book about what to expect when you’re expecting…menopause?

Yesterday I was so sleep deprived from recurring hot flashes and headaches that I felt like an idiot in Bible Class. We were divided into groups of four and asked to pray.  I re-introduced myself to a young man in my group that didn’t know me other than being Andrew’s mom.  So I look over at him and said, “You remember, I’m Andrew’s sister”.  Obviously I’d intended to say, “Andrew’s mom”.  It took a full 15 seconds at least, before I saw the looks on people’s faces letting me know I’d made another verbal snafu.  I corrected myself, and although one young adult continued to laugh hard, it wasn’t funny to me.  I then heard an old, ugly “tape” in my head, reminding me of how stupid I felt. 

When I was in elementary school, I was in some sort of discussion with my dad.  I can’t remember the specifics but he got agitated at me, and said something that left a permanent gouge in my self esteem.  He told me, “You’d be better to just keep your mouth shut, and then no one will know how stupid you are.”   Ouch.  I’m, afraid anyway of speaking out loud.  Most times, I don’t trust myself to get the words out correctly especially if I’m tired. We’ve just attributed my occasional “slow brain” to old Dissociative Identity issues, like an old scar that jolts me across some mental bumps in the road. On difficult days I’ve been disoriented, and on some level thought I was back in an earlier time frame.  I’ve told Tommy several times, “I’m not going to Longview today, maybe tomorrow.” What I meant was Mesquite, but for a bit of time, I couldn’t quit decipher where I was. We usually laugh about it, and the kids know they have to think around my words to the real meaning.  

Anyway, after the group's laughing subsided yesterday, I refocused on our task to pray for an individual.  I told myself that my intellect was in no way connected to my ability to get my thoughts formed into verbal communication.  Besides, the Lord was present.  I asked Him to speak through all of us and when it came time to pray, I did.  I’m not sure what all I said, but I know there was no stumbling.  The Holy Spirit has a way of bypassing our scars and fears and pouring out through even the most broken souls willing to be used.  And I am willing. 

So today, I will fast and draw near to my Father not just about the headaches and hot flashes, but with eager anticipation of anything and everything He wants to reveal.  As hard as it is to be thankful for the icky things in life, I’ll try to praise God for this time of change in my life, knowing that He is preparing and using my weaknesses to be a clear voice, for Him.

Broken Hearts, Hand in Hand

I’m by myself today, probably the first time in a while.  There are a million things I need to be doing but my mind keeps trapping me in a relentless, mentally draining, “what if” scenario about tomorrow.

We’ve been oddly waiting for, yet dreading, Mom’s cardiology appointment for months now.  Just thinking about taking her for the echocardiogram tomorrow makes my heart pound and my adrenaline pump a bit too hard. Its like my mind knows even before the doctor tells us, that things are worse.

I’m not being negative and its not a crisis of faith either.  I’ve seen her health go steadily downhill for the last year. It shows in her eyes, the color of her skin, in her walk, and as she catches her breath moving Daddy back and forth from their bed. Her weakened heart valves are not closing properly.  And I feel myself somehow chasing after her down this long steep hill, trying so very hard to catch up so I can fix things or at least patch them over for awhile longer.

I crave time to just sit and spill my thoughts about anything and everything.  She does the same.  The other day while dad was getting his teeth pulled, we couldn’t fit enough words in to our uninterrupted waiting time. If I could just soak up a bit more of her wisdom before…

I can't bear to think about her leaving me.  And I can’t even stand the thought of her being sick again, like with her brain surgery a few years ago. Today it feels like my heart is broken too. The responsibility and decisions of caring for Daddy are tremendous.  But it’s more about me not seeing her suffer, and wishing things could be better. 

I’d love to give her a taste of another life, one that allowed her and daddy to spend their “golden years” trolling through old antique malls, dining in quaint little restaurants, and going to worship together with their friends.  I’d love to see Daddy caring for her when she is ill, fixing her coffee, tucking her in at night, locking the doors and then kissing her cheek with assurance that all is well. But that won't be happening in this life.

We shall see tomorrow. Some sort of life changing verdict will be handed down and, as always, we will adjust, decide to make the best of it, and encourage each other to move on down the hill, hopefully hand in hand, in acceptance of her path.

One of these days the Lord will make it up to my mother.  He will bring her peace, joy, and hope that I’m sure she hasn’t experienced in…probably never. And in the meantime I am just gonna try really hard to live well, each day we are given, and be thankful.

Testimony

Dear Family,

It's been a little over four years since Andrew's diagnosis of FSGS/Nephtrotic Syndrome, and the many endocrine issues that followed.

He had a checkup with his kidney doctor two weeks ago, and the labs looked nearly normal except for still spilling a small amount of protein.  I think they will basically say, for the first time ever, that he's nearly in remission from the FSGS. 

Praise be to our God and Father! Initially we were told he'd likely need a kidney transplant at this point in his life. Instead we're celebrating his healing that has surprised even his doctor. 

It's been a long, grueling, beautiful journey marked with suffering, heart break, grief, joy, spiritual growth, and miracles on many levels.  Ya'll have continued to love us and cover us all in prayer during what has often felt like the valley of the shadow of death. There are just no words to describe how thankful we are for you, the body of Christ.

As a family, we've learned to let go of our plans/ expectations of life. The suffering has redirected us to walk hand in hand with the Lord one day at a time.  Though there have been times we've felt hopeless and wanted to give up, we've learned that the challenges didn't kill us.  And as horrible as things were for Andrew, he has learned to love God with all of his heart, and taken on a mature faith in our Father, early in life, that will see him through the years ahead.  Tommy and I’ve both recently said, we wouldn’t change a thing.  As radical as it may sound, we wouldn’t trade the physical trauma for the spiritual health he has gained in the process.

If there's a message we'd leave with others, its that regardless of whether God brings us a miracle of healing, or allows continued suffering, He...is...faithful. And He'll never leave us to navigate through the darkness alone.

Thank you Father God, and may your name, above anything else, be praised!  

With much love,

Tommy & Kerrie

Duct Taped and Holding

Last night I was bent over dad’s legs trying to fasten a wide elastic strap.  It was a feeble attempt to keep his paralyzed leg from flopping sideways.  Normally once mom gets him in his electric chair, she sticks this homemade paddle type device in a bracket that keeps his leg in place.  After a long series of unrelated chaos the last week, though, mom was exhausted.  She misplaced the paddle yesterday afternoon. Translated means, she probably put the paddle on top of the car roof after wedging his body back in for a ride to the lawyer's office.  She was on time for our appointment to sign papers, but I’m pretty sure the paddle landed somewhere between their house and Main Street in Forney.

I was going over there anyway last night to get them packed for the hospital. He has bladder stones, a common but icky complication of permanent catheters.  The procedure is supposed to be outpatient, but last time he was in three days. So I showed up to pack supplies for the worst scenario, and reassured mom that I had everything under control.

After lining the suitcases along the wall, mom and I scavenged around the shop looking for anything we could use to create a "paddle” for dad’s leg.  He didn’t care about the packing, surgery, or mom’s need to sleep.  He just wanted something to keep his leg from flopping so he could maneuver through the doorways..  I grabbed a dowel rod and mother got an old cutting board and roll of duct tape.  I ignored Dad's attempt to send me back out to the shop to get clamps.  I had no time for his woodworking finesse.  Lydia needed a shower, Andrew needed sinus meds to stall a looming infection. Plus, I hadn’t even seen Tommy except to meet him the previous afternoon at an oral surgeon’s office for Andrew's consult.  And that followed an early morning emergency visit to Lydia’s orthodontist. 

My life consists of schedules and needs that are spilling over in sloppy, inconvenient messes.  And like the duct taped paddle, this morning it feels like I’m just barely holding things together. But…things are holding for now. Their air conditioner was newly installed, dad’s foot wasn’t broken in the wreck, and months of work on their legal affairs are nearly completed. Mom’s appointment with the heart doctor is scheduled, and Dad is heading into surgery this morning.  Yes, I suppose holding together, albeit with duct tape is better than not isn’t it?

God, please make my migraine go away. Let me be kind and gracious today.  Keep me from snapping at nurses and doctors who ask us for the millionth time “does he have any health issues or past surgeries” (duh!).  Let me be patient, slow to getting pissed off, and thankful for the less obvious blessings.  Above all, fill me with your love so that I won’t have regrets at the end of the day.

Cutting Loose

I finally stopped taking them. It’s been over three years since my doctor agreed to treat me for depression.   It was humbling to have to go back to pills after being free of them for so long. But they helped pull me out of a very dark place when Andrew was so sick. I was thankful for the relief.

A few weeks ago I asked if I couldn’t try to get off the pills.The cost to keep me on Tommy’s family insurance at the school was more than we could afford each month.  So I started looking to get my own policy.  I’m unusually healthy for my nearly 49 year old body, but the rates were due to increase regardless of my low risk. Go figure… Paying that much was as good as throwing away grocery money each month. So while I was pruning the budget and things in our family were emotionally stable, meaning no one had died or was in the hospital, I decided to cut  myself loose from the antidepressants too.  Being prescription free would save even more money plus make me more marketable for acceptance with a private policy:)

It’s a scary thing to let go of, like releasing hold of a life raft because of my fear of drowning in depression. But the Lord has continued to bless me with healing from back pain, so I figured why not take the plunge again and ask for another miracle.

My doctor warned me things might get a little rough for a couple of weeks after stopping the medication. I told him I would stay intentionally close to God during that time and that He would keep me afloat.  He did! I've been pill free for three weeks and haven't even noticed a difference!

There is just no other high more intoxicating than being in God’s presence, cut loose from old securities, walking on the water with Him. Lord, I want to praise you for your mercy and grace, and give you all honor for your priceless gift of peace.