I have been in bed since Thursday, sort of making a choice between which kind of misery I would like my life to be. I take the Erythromycin solution and the innards misery is muted to a manageable level. But taking the medication means not taking (or at this point cutting in half) the Theophylline. So, remaining upright is a challenge and the near fainting and dizziness is as constant as the growing nausea was. There is also the problem that the Erythromycin clearly affects my heart rate and raises my blood sugar. Right now, my cheeks look like I have been in the sun for hours … cherry red and radiating heat. And it is hard falling back to sleep, after getting up to change the ice pack for my head, with all the sensations I feel … my cheeks, my heart, my innards, my icy skin. At least, since I have been on the medication, I have not had the sensations of a sugar crash. However, because my foe is relentless, high blood sugar, for me, brings on its own nausea. SIGH.
I think a lot about Emily’s prayer for the physical exam and wonder at how, during the entire disability application process, I encountered people who were kind and patient with me … with my fears and anxiety, with my moaning and groaning as I move about, with my confusion and need for repetition, with my shame. This has NOT been the case for me in the medical and the professional and the church world in the past few years. Not at all. Yes, the paper work was brutal, documenting the things I prefer to not face … certainly not all at once! Having to not only write them but also to speak them was more than I could bear at times.
I just called my contact at the local SSA office even though I emailed her a short while ago, because I am nervous about not yet receiving the letter and the funds. She is the one whom I met that first day. She is the one who agreed to my oversight plan so I could be the payee for now. She is the one, really, who set the tone for the entire process. By that I mean, she was (and is) gentle and kind and overly patient … and left me with hope. Hope because, to her, I am a person, not a problem, not an illness, not a burden.
I hung up the phone feeling … well, I am not sure what. I am still learning about feelings. Perhaps a place holder for now could be positive. Or maybe the better word would be lighter, as in the darkness around me is pushed back a bit and more bearable.
In a way, that is what getting to do the communications work for Lutherans in Africa is for me. Pastor May is so patient and speaks kind words about my work, when I am still not doing what I should. LIA needs a communications plan and a long-term strategy. In between bouts of misery, I can give that to the mission. Only sometimes I give up battling the fatigue and simply exist. I am late with my part of the work. I make stupid mistakes. And when I am feeling particularly miserable, I am terse and fail to censor my words in our editing exchanges. Acerbic is a word that comes to mind. Yet Pastor May remains grateful and only reflects back the good that the Holy Spirit does through me rather than point out my flaws and my failures and my sin. His bride, though I know her not at all, is even more gracious and oft makes me laugh with her gentle humor in her exchanges with me on the Finnish versions. And even the Finnish translator is the same. This morning he thanked me for serving Finnish Christians. I wept when I read his words. What a kind construction he put on my poor efforts! In short, the folk associated with the volunteer work I do for LIA are positive and light.
I don’t know if anyone else but me will like the next LIA newsletter as much as I do. I still weep just to think about the story that is in it. I also like the craftsmanship of it, even though I could not achieve it on my own and needed help from the director, from Haleigh, and even from the seminary grad student. Still, it is one of those times when, at least in part, I said what I set out to say, when the message is there for the reader to grasp. For a writer, there is nothing better in the world.
I do not know what anyone else will read in that message, but for me it is a glimpse of what God can do by and with and through misery … and what perspective can be gained when living in a foreign land. Even when that foreign land is your own body.
I am Yours, Lord. Save me!
No comments:
Post a Comment