Swelling

Monday, January 11, 2016

Violently I rock myself back and forth, right and left.  I ache.  I ache.  My legs hurt.  My abdomen spasms.  Frantically I grope for my fentanyl lollipop and jab it in my mouth.  God help!  I hurt.  I hurt so much.  When will this stop?  I pant for air, forgetting to control my breathing.  Mindlessly I wiggle on the bed, seeking relief.  Anything.  Help me!

Bit by bit, my breathing slows.  My movements ease.  The medicine is working.  I unclench my jaw.  My muscles relax.  Thank you, Jesus, for medicine that works!  A ripple spasms across my midsection.  Not as bad.  I can deal with this level of discomfort.  Noel passes me the hot water bottle now that it's warm; I immediately shove it under my hips.  If I can increase circulation to the nerves in my legs, I can minimize some of the deep-seated ache down my leg and hopefully ease some of the numbness in my feet.  

My days revolve around cycles of pain and edema management.  Thigh high compression stockings, elevation, massage... all in an attempt to keep the excess fluid moving.  The fluid isn't being expelled, my body is retaining fluid and my weight continues to rise.  The liquid is pushed from my legs into my abdomen which then causes more spasming and pain.  I remove the compression on my legs, immediately, my legs start to puff up, but the discomfort in my abdomen is less.  Why do I torture myself?  If I let the excess fluid sit in my tissue, circulation is diminished, skin quality will decrease, and the fluid will harden to the extent that it'll be very difficult to remove.  I face the discomfort daily, hourly, every minute I'm awake in an attempt to optimize this body God blesses me with.  I will do the unpleasant tasks so that when God provides the next step, I will be prepared.

So far, I've waited 2 months to get an iron infusion so that my body can have the building blocks necessary to produce red blood cells.  A part of me is irritated that the process is taking so long. However, God's timing is impeccable and this kind of delay is abnormal... so I trust God's hand in this process.  

Lord, you lead as you've always done.  Thank you.

Sunday, January 24, 2016

My abdomen is distended with fluid.  My legs are puffy marshmallows with the feet getting ever more numb.  God, how much more?  I know that my tumors are growing exponentially larger and fill my abdominal cavity.  I know that my limited physical abilities could be way worse.  Thank you, Lord, that I can still walk to the toilet on my own... But I'm tired of fighting!  Everyday is a battle to keep the pain from overcoming my mental walls.  With the help of Noel, family and friends, I am fortunate enough to have the assistance I need to massage my legs, apply compression stockings, and get me all my meals in bed. Still... Is there such a thing as giving up?  I think about letting go, but honestly, the rising pain and discomfort stop me from any true willingness to give in to my body.  So here I am... Clawing forward day by day.  Every hour, I dread the unknown.

Yet, in the midst of all my complaints... There is good news as well.  I'm getting infused with liquid iron and given an injection of vitamin B12 and Procrit to manage my anemia.  I also received two packs of blood, but I don't feel any stronger after the transfusion.  Really, God, I'm confused.  I have no idea where my life is going.  Am I going to get better or worse?  If worse, how much worse?  In reality, I just want to hide... To ignore the daily struggle, to not have to fend off discomfort at every turn, to rest.  Is that too much to ask for?

Later this night, I got stuck in the massage chair.  My back hurts so bad I can't move.  "Noel, help me please."  I hear the pitiful high-pitched whining in my voice.  In too much pain to cringe, I drag heavily on Noel for support.  Toddling to my side of the bed, I attempt to climb on and fail.  I can't get my leg up on the mattress!  Noel bends my left leg, folding it onto the high bed surface, places his hands under my butt and boosts me up.  Tears leak out as I struggle against the pain and contemplate my ever weakening body.  Noel holds me tight as my tears soak his shirt.

All the gadgets and medical knowledge I have only assist in barely managing my symptoms of pain, edema, and muscle weakness... just enough to keep my body from completely crashing, but barely.  

Father God, only when I turn to you and seek your presence can I find rest anymore.  No fancy equipment or medicines or techniques work to alleviate my pain and my growing weakness.  My body continues to retain fluid.  My legs grow ever more numb.  My muscles weaken.  God, there is no longer relief except when I bury myself in your presence.  I don't know what to do anymore.  Where are you leading me?  I want to give up... but you didn't create me to quit.  Every waking minute, I fight.  My body fails me more and more.  Lord, to you be all the glory.  My life is not mine but yours.  Even in my darkest hours, give me the strength to seek you first.

I don't know what else to pray for anymore.  To my God be all the honor and glory, forever and ever.  Amen.

Meeting my niece, Anabelle, for the first time:

My Life as it is

Thursday, December 31, 2016

It's 5:57am.  I just crawled into bed for the third time in the past hour from trips to the toilet.  Snuggling under warm sheets, a hot water pack on my stomach, I gaze outside the window.  I see one star, shinning like a single speck of glitter in the sky.  Starring hard, I see two stars, maybe even a third?

Laying on my left side, I grab a fentanyl lollipop and plug it in my mouth.  The cramps are getting worse and the warmth from the hot water pack is unable to soothe my growing discomfort.  Maybe I need to brave the cold and use the toilet again?  Grrrrrr...  I think the fentanyl is kicking in; my eyes are starting to droop.  Opening my mouth, I pull out the overly-sweet medication.  Bleh.  I like sweet stuff, but not at night when it coats my teeth in sugar.  Ugh.  Reaching over to my desk, the cold air instantly cools my right arm.  I grab the white plastic sleeve and slide the fentanyl lollipop into it's temporary storage.  Now, toilet or sleep?  My brain says I'd be smarter to use the toilet first... but the cold and my eyes drifting shut overrule logical thought. Warmth.  Rest.  Comfort.

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

"What do you want to eat?"

"Can you stir-fry the left-over rib eye and sauté it with the mushrooms, onion, a little homemade non-soy soy sauce and a bit of sugar?"

"Do you want the onions soft?"

"You don't have to.  Usually I just pick out the onions, don't like to eat them... but cook with them for the flavor."

I watch my husband, Noel, plod outside, closing the bedroom door behind him to retain the room's heat. It's cold downstairs... I mean bitingly cold.  Not only does Noel have to tolerate the cold, he also has to cook so I can have something to eat.  I can see him getting tired.  Tired of cooking.  Tired of massaging my legs to mobilize the excess fluid stuck in my lower extremities.  Tired of crawling into bed only to receive another request for food, drink, or physical assistance.  He's got to be tired of meeting my needs 24/7.  

Here I am, in bed.  I stumble from my bed to the restroom then back to bed.  If I step out into the cold hallway, my abdomen hurts and my legs ache.  When I sit in a chair, my stamina instantly drops and I get weak.  When I'm too weak, my pain levels elevate.  If I ingest too much fentanyl, my body retains even more water.  I feel helpless.  Noel runs around getting everything for me... and what do I do?  Nothing.

My heart weighs heavy in my chest.  Tears seep from my eyes.  Why am I so useless?  Lord, is this the life you want me to live?  I do nothing except watch Noel expend all his time serving me.  I know that our marriage is supposed to be a reflection of Jesus Christ and the church as his bride... but isn't this a little too much?  "For better or for worse, in sickness and in health..."  Lord, does Noel have to suffer with me to this extent?  I try to leave Noel alone to do his own thing, but when my body acts up and I need him... if I don't bug him, everything gets exponentially more painful.  I hate being so physically helpless!

Lord God, can you please just heal me or take me so I can rest?  I'm so weary.  How much longer?  Even if I cry or scream, nothing changes.  Everyday I fight to keep moving, to keep eating, to honor this life you've given me to live.  But how much more?  Being almost bound to my bed, only alert enough to share my story... what can I accomplish?  Physically locked in this body, trapped in my room by the cold and physical limitations... what am I here for?

Father God, my heart churns in distress.  My chest aches as I hold my breath in an attempt to stop the tears.  Heal me, Lord, from this physical prison.  Can I just stop doing whatever I'm doing?  Can I give up yet?  And yet, if I give up, I no longer honor you.  God, you are far greater than me.  Your plans are unfathomable to my mind.  You, who are all powerful... who are you to love me?  Help me?  Bless me with your favor?  However, even in the midst of my complaining, Lord, I know you love me as your child for the simple reason that you said so.  I know that what happens in this life is like a drop of water in the ocean.  I'm important enough that you sent Jesus Christ, Son of God, God himself born human and yet free of imperfection to live, die, and be resurrected so I can have a direct connection to you. I am dust, but you make me more.  Who am I to tell my Maker what to do with me?

Lord, here I am.  Continue to use me as you will.  Until you call me home to rest, I will struggle and fight so that others may see you in my life.  Thank you for the honor of walking in your presence.  Thank you for picking me up when I am down.  Thank you for loving me more than I love myself.  Into your hands, Father God, I once again rededicate my life to serve you above everything.  Give me the strength to use the gifts and talents you've blessed me with.  Give me patience and endurance to step forward minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day.  Give me the wisdom to utilize the resources you've provided so no one burns out.  Give me rest in your presence.

In Jesus' name I pray, amen. 

Playing with my Christmas present: