I Know How To Do This So Far

My mostly stay-at-or close-to-home lifestyle, avoiding crowded places, my self-protection of wearing a surgical mask on public transit, all these things serve me well in adjusting to the pandemic.  I know how to do this, for now.  I know how to entertain myself.  I know how to be alone, even though I'm not all alone, Tim is here.  I know how to go forward without interaction from others.  I've successfully done it already.  I can do it.  That is the upside.  The icing on that upside cake is that I'm provided for by way of shelter and food more securely than many, many folks.  I'm able to keep my spirit feeling peaceful, yet at least marginally informed by only reading updated news once daily.  Ironically, I pulled myself off FaceBook almost entirely for Lent, and the timing was indeed the Lord's.  If I were at it's mercy, the constant fear and panic, I might not be handling this week so well.  Who knows?  I might choose to stay off it when Easter arrives. 

For now, I'm blessed.  That's the continuous thread in my life.  Blessed.  We have food.  Tim has a job he can do in our home.  I'm not in a high-risk category, nor is he.   But mostly, the blessing is my lack of fear or worry.  What will be will be.  It is only in my hands to a minuscule degree.  I'll protect myself and others how I can, and leave the rest to the Lord.

Have happy days.
Marie

The Irony of My Life

Pain level decreased and function increased since last writing.  Quite a bit on both fronts.  I'm back to driving, have taken on the role of Volunteer Coordinator of my local animal rescue, and back at church.  Walking freely and easily.  Will return to the hospital next week.  Have gone to some yoga classes this week with a new friend in my neighborhood.  So here is the dramatic irony. 

In yoga class, we are asked to keep cell phones silent, which I easily remember to do.  But my phone rang anyway at 9:45, with only 15 min left of class.  I quickly scooted to silence it.  It wasn't a call, it was my alarm.  I have that alarm set for twice weekly on Tuesdays and Fridays to remind me to do something otherwise I'd forget.  That task is to plug in my power wheelchair to keep the battery charged.  Because I want to be ready, and I need it to be ready if I need it.   If I need it and don't have it, well, been there, done that.  Not good.  Because each day when I wake up, I have no expectation as to how I'm gonna get through it, on legs or on wheels.  In pain or not.  I forget this.  I go through days and days at a time, not remembering that it could all change in a blink.  This alarm reminds me.  This alarm not only has a functional and logistical place in the upkeep of my equipment, it serves to ground me, absolutely.  No one can anticipate a dramatic personal change of health and function and be prepared for how that changes you emotionally and mentally.  Physically, you survive it.  That's the goal.  That's all you're doing.  The mental and emotional are the side-jobs.  I do take antidepressants to keep me as evenly balanced mentally as is possible in the face of changes and disappointments.  But emotionally, I would not survive this drama without my FAITH.  That fact, I know to be true.  It's too heartbreaking, again and again, to suffer the loss.  So, I began to picture myself like a very small girl who used to stand on my Dad's or Mom's feet facing the world, letting them walk me around.  That's how I picture myself with My God.  He has me.  He will carry me through what I must face, completely supporting me, however difficult it feels.  He will not let go my hands and will be under my feet at ever step.  His guidance will keep me facing what I need.

Irony.  In a yoga class being reminded that it could be impossible to walk this afternoon. 
Have happy days and see your blessings.  Stop and see them. 

Anger With a Side of Gratitude

I want to thrash out at someone or something.  I'm so hurt that this has happened again.  I'm wanting to turn to someone or something else and reign down destruction on them so they hurt too.  I'm truly desiring to destroy.  To hurt as much as I hurt.  So far, I'm successful at not taking this change out on anyone or anything.  But, that's a job in itself.  The utter devastation that I feel seems to have some drive of its own, wanting to multiply. 

So, again, as always, I turn to gratitude to bridge me to grace.

There was a period of 10 long years or so in between the last "remission" in 2008-09, which was 14 months, and the more recent one of 18 months or so.  Only God knows how long it will be until I have another.

Here's everything beautiful I was part of in my latest 18-month remission:
I was a positive wife.
I was an eager homemaker.
I joined a church, became involved in my church, actively serving the Lord by lectoring.
I made friends.
I nurtured friendships.
I pruned relationships that served me badly.
I hold the faces of hundreds of kids and babies in my heart who I spent time with at Children's Health hospital.
I hold the images of dozens of animals I encountered while volunteering at my local shelter and rescue organization.
I was generous.
I helped to hold/host/organize/whatever our city's first awareness race for my particular disease.
I became Nutritarian.
I walked a half-marathon.
I saw the Grand Canyon and hiked in it.
I went to Las Vegas and hiked all around it.
I danced at my brother's wedding.
I fed the homeless, learning names, and praying with them.
I went to Universal Studios, and rode the roller-coasters.
I drove myself around my town and further.
I tried to spread kindness, and did.
I kept a grateful heart.
I engaged in wellness therapies.
I helped re-shape my neck.
I showered every day. 
I walked my dogs easily and eagerly.
I prayed.
I became a Daughter of the King.
I let myself live without my disease at the forefront, where it had been for so long.  I didn't wait for the other shoe to drop.

So now that I've listed some stuff, I feel far less destruction-y.  lol  The awful truth is that the little mini-Marie is so devastated inside me, deep in my psyche, that simple grieving isn't gonna do it.   I haven't cried yet, over the loss.  No telling when that will come pouring out. 

I know I am loved. 
May you not forget your Blessings.  I haven't.
Marie