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: