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: