It’s been awhile since I’ve written anything, here at WordPress or anywhere. I decided today I had to make myself write because when I don’t write, I feel like I’m keeping things bottled up inside and after awhile there is no room to take on anything else or any other emotion and I become numb. And “numb” definitely describes my recent state of mind.
Last fall my husband and I took a trip to Jacksonville, FL to the Mayo Clinic. We both had huge expectations that this would be the time we would finally get the answers we needed about my health and find a path to healing. Unfortunately when we got there, it was basically like a regular doctor visit with a new physician and the only tests we were able to do was an EMG of my face which showed nerve damage and some lab work that didn’t tell us much. I was supposed to see a Neuro Opthamologist while we were there too but I became so ill and the symptoms so bad I had to miss that one. Short version, we came home without any more knowledge than we left with and realized this was going to take numerous visits back and forth to Jacksonville to get answers. That’s a lot of gas money and hotel expense that we just aren’t in a position to take on right now. So I came home very sick and very discouraged. I had put so much hope in this trip and just felt completely deflated.
Unfortunately, I had another hard hit that took me down further when my father had a heart attack. He had been dealing with heart trouble for awhile and had even had a couple of procedures but this time things were changing. He was in congestive heart failure and the doctors said there was nothing else they could do. He was turned over to hospice. We lost my mother 13 years earlier to cancer and she had been on hospice at home too so needless to say this brought back some really tough memories and the new heart break of watching my father suffer. The hardest part though was the fact that my symptoms had and have progressed to a point that I wasn’t able to help take care of him and sit with him like I needed to.
The new year rolled around and it was time to start the testing process for me again. Once we realized Mayo wasn’t going to be an option for us we began working on a referral to Emory University Hospital here in Atlanta. My initial visit with Emory was on January 5 of this year. My husband and I really liked the doctor and felt encouraged at the aggressive approach he is taking with testing in hopes to confirm a diagnosis. He told us that day to plan on spending most of this year having test run. At this point that was as good of news as I could’ve expected because lately I just didn’t have a positive outlook and had quit getting my hopes for answers. But at least this was something.
The next day, January 6th, we got the dreaded late evening phone call. Daddy had passed away. I wasn’t able to be with him when he went but he did have his wife and my brothers there with him. I’m happy that he is now resting comfortably in the arms of our Lord and has been reunited with my mother and other family members that had passed before him. But at the same time, that was my Daddy. And he’s not here anymore. That may sound silly coming from a 42 year old woman but I don’t care. I am the youngest of three children and the only girl. I was “Daddy’s little girl” growing up.
I guess for the last four months or so, I lost perspective on things. I’m so tired of being sick and in pain. I’m tired of not being able to do the things I used to. I’m tired of not being able to do things for my kids that I feel I need to do or for my husband. Not to mention the rest of my family. We had Daddy’s memorial service on January 9th. My brothers had to handle everything with our step mother because it’s hard for me to even sit up. The only way I get any relief is to lay on my side. Sitting the through the memorial service was truly physical torture. I wasn’t able to hang around and thank people for coming afterward because my pain level spiked so high from sitting up. Again, leaving my brothers to finish everything up. Even though they understand my health issues, it still weighs on me because that’s something we should’ve all handled together.
So, why haven’t I posted anything? Have I been having a pity party? Maybe. But in my mind, I have had nothing positive to say in the last few months so I felt I shouldn’t say anything. I created this blog and titled it “Purposely Positive”, to encourage others who are suffering through their own health issues. But as I’ve had time to start focusing on the testing I will be doing soon and time to come to grips with Daddy’s death, I realized something very important. Sometimes encouraging others means being real and letting people know, it’s not always easy. There will be times you hit rock bottom. I think it’s normal to go through phases where you are just emotionally numb.
These negative sides are the ones I didn’t want to share. But I’m also not helping anyone if I’m not honest enough to show that it can all become very hard to deal with at times. When I have thought about my life lately, the main word that kept coming to mind was “broken”. And that is how I feel. But after some serious prayer I realized is ok to feel broken sometimes. It’s not ok to stay broken though. I’ve gotten through the last three and half years by pulling strength from God and He is gracious enough to have given me that strength and His word says He will continue to do so. I just have to keep asking. I titled this blog “Purposely Positive” because I knew there were going to be times that I had to make a purposeful effort to stay positive and that was a message I felt was important to help others understand. I think I forgot that for a little while though.
So, here’s to living life purposely positive again and knowing it’s ok if you get off track sometimes.