All Things Beautiful

"Consider it  pure joy, my brothers whenever you face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance."(James 1:2 NIV)

And it looks like more testing is required...

literally.

So how will I learn to be joyful in knowing that another MRI must be scheduled to further investigate the results of the last one???


Oh just you watch me.

It's already amazing to me since walking out the doctor's office in a daze yesterday that the simplest things around me are hitting me as incredibly beautiful.

The snuggle with both my kids at bedtime. The songs I sing them to sleep with

Father in Heaven, hear my prayer
Keep me in thy tender care...

The commitment to uphold me in love and prayer from so many, the sun shining in all it's spring time brilliance...

Yes, He makes all things beautiful

and that is my joy.

I don't want to say it's killing me...but I feel a tremendous fluttering of butterflies each time I think about my appointment on Friday afternoon with the Specialist. I've been waiting a long time to get in to see her, and then all of a sudden the results from my MRI came in and I received two cryptic phone calls from the receptionist at the clinic asking me to bump up my appointment at the next possible opening...

Ummm...of course...may I ask why?

No, of course you can never ask why....the receptionist doesn't know anyway...you have to wait as patiently as possible...praying and trying not to worry...meanwhile the stress alone has resulted in three back to back migraines already this week...that's a new record for me.

Oh God, please help me.

I mean it.

I go back and forth trying to tell myself that if it was something really really serious they wouldn't let me wait until Friday even...if it was nothing at all they wouldn't be bumping my appointment by a whole month.

So my poor wearied, migraine addled brain is left with a vague category of things to choose from that it could be that the specialist needs to tell me...

I don't like that category very much...

Maybe there should be a rule about what receptionists are or aren't allowed to say to prospective patients in their phone messages....

Maybe I could use some prayers.

Cause as much as I believe in the power of prayer...mine feel a little pathetic right now.

That's all for today.

C'mon Friday.

My whole body went cold when I saw the number on the telephone. Univerisity Hospital Urgent Neurology Department.

I had an M.R.I. last week and they said the result would take about seven days...

Everyone knows it's not usually a good thing if they actually call you about the results...

Would they want me to come in and discuss them?

Dear Jesus....help me....
help me just to pick up the phone.

He did, and I did and it was all a false alarm. Apparently I've finally been booked into an appointment with a migraine specialist  in the city.

A sigh of relief so mighty I think my knees gave out.

Isn't it amazing how powerful fear is?

My sister and I were reminiscing last week on our separate but equal experiences of being chased home from kindergarten by a large dog. Two different kids, two different schools, two different towns , two different dogs...exactly the same adrenaline that made us fly home faster than any five year old's legs every carried them; swept along by blind panic that any minute the large playful dog hot on our heels would devour us in it's enormous jaws.

Thinking about it, still gets my heart beating.

And just last night we took our five year old for her first ever horse-back riding lesson and no actual horse-back riding actually happened. Because it was the same combination of small child and large animal and my poor overwhelmed kid just stood there after all the months of chatting excitedly about getting to ride a horse, after all the drawings of herself on a horse, after decorating her bedroom and filling her wardrobe with homemade "cowgirl" outfits, after all the times we've driven out to visit horses in their stables where they were being ridden by other girls, going to the rodeo and even just watching it on YouTube, after pointing out loudly, every horse spotted on the side of the highway...after all this, she burst into tears.

I can't do it mom, I can't ride it mom, I just can't. I just can't do it!

Now granted I think her normal amount of pluck was badly bludgeoned by the immunization incident she suffered on Tuesday morning. But I really wasn't that surprised that she had that reaction. After all, docile and old, she may be...but that horse was still pretty big.

It took a lot of coaxing and the special touch of her very skilled trainer to get her close enough to old Mary to begin brushing her and eventually with me standing beside her we got to brushing out her mane and tail and even picking out her hooves. She got more and more relaxed and she began to chat and I could see her relaxing and beginning to open up.

Finally it was time for me to stand back and her trainer showed her how to hold the lead rope and together they took Mary into the practice ring. My daughter learned how to guide her left and right, how to back up and how to say "woah" and bring the mare to a stop.

By the end of the class her trainer was standing on one side of the ring alone and my daughter focused and pleased with herself led that big creature all around and through the pile-ons that had been set up.

All. By. Herself.

She never did get up on Mary's back, although she assures me she'll try again next week and with the progress she made in only an hour last night, I'm pretty confident she will too.

The hard part for me as a mom is simply knowing when to step in and when to back off. When do I put my hand over hers with the brush and help her get her hands onto the horse's back and when do I fade into the distance so that she can take the reigns so to speak?..

The best teachers are those that have perfected that art.

It's humbling on one hand to realize my little girl still needs me and it's humbling to realize she only needs me to a certain point.

It's a balancing act, Even for myself in mastering my own fears. When do I accept or ask for help, when does that support become a crutch?

Driving home from the stable, my shoulders were tense and I felt strained and nervous. I have very poor night vision and it was at my husbands push, that I was the one behind the wheel. He wants me to be able to be the one who shares these weekly classes with our daughter and I want that too, but I don't usually like to drive after dark, especially on little gravel roads that lack streetlights, lines and proper ditches.
But I did it and I'm glad I did, because next week perhaps I can make it on my own.

Me behind the wheel and my little girl up in that saddle.

Both of us conquering our fears.

Tis the season for citrus and I am loving it let me tell you. I sadly realized while in conversation with my sister (it's amazing how many revelations I have in conversation with those blessed sisters of mine) that I fall drastically short when it comes to recommended servings of fruits and vegetables. As a child, vegetables were my mortal enemy and I learned to swallow down the bites that were part of supper like pills with my glass or water. Fruit was hardly better. It always seemed mushy, bruised and overripe and because the rules were that a piece had to be picked and eaten from the fruit basket everyday, I'm afraid more often than not, the spotty bananas and brown apples met creative demises far from my mouth and digestive tract. (my stepmother still doesn't know to this day that they were often chucked over the back fence and their peels laid carefully in the garbage can to hide our deception).

So, fast forward 20 some years and here I am still wincing at the thought of munching down on the fruit bowl or the veggie crisper...

Alas my health is much better when I am consistently chowing down on carbs of the more complex variety and a change needed to occur.

"Just pick the few fruits or veggies that you do like and make sure to eat those every day" was my sister's advice and it was good advice. Besides I am actually allergic to a large selection of tree borne fruits and therefore what is available to me is slim pickins.

First on my list was grapefruit, I actually do enjoy it and because I eat it with a spoon there isn't any sticky fingers to deal with like there always is with oranges (which is also an issue with me left over from my childhood disdain of having messy hands...sigh)

Every morning these days, a grapefruit is sliced and sprinkled with just a touch of sugar, scored and then spooned up. It'd delightful. and just the fact that I'm starting the day off with fruit makes me feel good about myself. (and that's before I get into how much more water I now drink or the 1.4 miles I run every morning...yussss!)

And the kidlets have noticed too....unfortunately.  My kids like many manners of fruit but they have also decided they like grapefruit and it's become a fight to get it all into my own body before they start pleading at my elbows with those giant eyes for a "red orange" of their own.

I have begun to hover protectively over my grapefruit because because let's face it, I am a sucker for those eyes and well what mother doesn't want to give her children more fruit...

I certainly don't want history to repeat itself, I want my children to want their fruits and veggies so I guess it's a good thing...although veggies is still a different story for the kids. Just last night their was battle to get my daughter to eat her zucchini and I was tempted to teach her the trick of swallowing it like a pill with her water...but I didn't. I shoveled it into her mouth while she screwed her eyes closed...and then gagged until it was finally chewed and swallowed, but it was chewed and swallowed so I guess that's what matters..

Some days are just bad days.

Yesterday was a bad day.

Worse for some other people who are close enough to me for my heart to be hurting for them so badly in the wake of tragedy hitting them unexpectedly.

Yesterday as I fumbled around my house fighting the worst dizzy spells I've had yet I got a phone call from the School Bus driver who was sitting at my daughter's bus stop wondering where the heck I was and when I was coming to pick up my daughter.

"Seriously?" I looked at the clock, I have been having a hard time keeping track of certain things but we were trying to get out the door. I thought I had more time.
"Am I late?"

"umm...yes, you sure are." came the snippy reply.

I wanted to burst into tears and tell her that I was having a hard time even walking around my house and that my son was running and laughing from me while I tried to wrestle him into a snowsuit so I could walk to the bus stop to get my little girl. I wanted to tell her that the whole world was falling apart for members of my husband's family and that I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so low...mostly because I couldn't remember things very well these days. I wanted to snap back and tell her not to be pissy with me. I wanted to tell her she should rearrange the bus schedule so she could drop my daughter off right at home instead of 2 blocks away. But instead I stuffed my tears inside and mumbled that I was on my way and I proceeded to shuffle and stumble down the street with my baby boy in tow crying in the minus 30 wind chill.

I blubbered apologies to the bus driver and took Ava by the hand who immediately burst into tears. Everything she said was technically true and hopelessly skewed:

" I didn't get to be the big helper today at school because you didn't come and it was the worst day ever! It was such a bad day and then you forgot me at the bus stop!"

It was true, I had swapped helper days with another parent because I could hardly function and even more importantly my mother in law had to fly to New Mexico that morning and she needed to do that for the family emergency that was happening and that meant I needed to stay home with my son.

None of that mattered to my daughter's world. The grownups had let her down and that was NOT what grown ups were supposed to do.

Then she realized I hadn't brought the vehicle at about the same second that she realized it was really cold outside and more than a block to your house.

"C'mon" I urged her taking her by the arm of her coat. " Baby's cold, mama's cold, you're cold, let's just get home"

She wrenched away from me.

"NO! I'm MAD at you!",her hot tears freezing instantly on her cheeks.

I sighed heavily and got down on her eye level, steadying myself on the ground with my mittened hand, feeling faint.

"Look, it doesn't help to blame people. I'm sorry that this was such a hard day for you, I'm sorry that you had a bad day, but you can't blame me. It isn't my fault, now please let's get inside the house."

She started shuffling along with me as the little boy started fussing and crying cause his poor little face was turning red in the cold.

She let go of my hand and I continued to hurry along. She sobbed that I was leaving her on the street, that I didn't care about her.

Finally at the end of the drive way I turned around and yelled, "GET IN THIS HOUSE THIS INSTANT! YOU ARE BEING A BRAT!"

So I guess my tantrum wasn't any better than hers. I hauled her into the house and all three of us stood and sobbed and caught our breath and angrily threw our toques and mittens on the floor.

Later we talked and apologized and hugged and cuddled and had a bubble bath and all the things that make a bad day a little better. We went to bed early and held each other while we cried over sad news on the telephone. We said prayers in choked voices and felt humbled by the weight of how precious each and every day we have really is.

Whether we get to be the big helper or not, or get left on the school bus, whether we feel healthy or not, whether it's a freezing blizzard or a warm breeze, whether we are scared or frustrated or tired or overwhelmed, whether we are separated from loved ones or forced to say good bye. Whether we know the future or are facing the unknown, whether it was a good day or a bad day....

It was a day and we made it through it and we will make it through the next one too, That is my prayer for myself and for those I love who are hurting, that you will feel the presence of God and love that encircles and encompasses you, that you will be filled with a peace that surpasses all understanding and find the strength to make it through the worst days and the ones that follow.

Today is the first day that my life has been a little more normal this past week. Monday I started sliding and by Tuesday it was all kinds of weird here as I ended up first at the Doctor and then at the University Hospital visiting an urgent neurologist. Which sounds really scary and was pretty scary but we're all still in one peace (intended) and at least the doctor was able to tell me that I wasn't about to leave this world, even though for the past few days it felt like I might...at the very least fall off the edge of it I've been so darn dizzy that just getting around my house has been as much coping as I can do.

Even my ability to articulate sentences has been coming and going and I'll have periods of time (that are getting blessedly shorter and further apart) where I go completely stupid. Yes, it's frightening. I've also been remembering dreams from the past in such vivid detail that I can't remember whether they happened for real or not...pretty trippy, and apparently what can happen with severe migraine episodes like the one I had last week. The Neurologist thinks my brain has been sitting at a half a migraine for about a week now, thus all the weird symptoms and they've scheduled an MRI for me as soon as humanly possible (which is still a couple of weeks away) to determine why my brain has done what it has done. She surmised that it might take another migraine attack to reset my brain but thankfully it seems that instead it has decided to heal itself and slowly resolve it's issues....like I said a little freaky, but still a reassurance to know that I'm holding my own brain wise and I'm in no immediate danger.

That being said it's caused us to have some serious late night conversations about my prognosis and to take into consideration the doctors assertion that I need to perhaps make some very real lifestyle changes and decisions to better manage my condition. ( I don't have any bad habits per se, but with migraine disease...going outside in the wrong weather conditions can trigger one of these bizarre attacks).

The other big changes I need to make are in the area of fats, salt and caffeine. As in I need a lot more of each one. ....um, I beg your pardon? My tripping brain had a hard time figuring out what you said?

Yes, the anti seizure medication I've been prescribed causes weight loss...and I don't have much to lose, so I need to increase my calories and fat intake and my super low blood pressure needs me to consume more sodium. (as well as 3 litres of water a day! Oh mercy!). On top of all of that, the Neurologist wants me to start taking in caffeine everyday to see how it affects my migraines and my brain's ability to cope with the stupifying effects of the anti seizure med.

All of this leads me back to more doctor's appointments, a second consultation with another migraine specialitst and...alot of salty buttered popcorn. The other night I scarfed down a whole bowl by myself along with a coke and two butter tarts....nice huh?

And Kevin joined me...because well, who likes to binge alone?

Anyway, the finicky science of finding the needle in my haystack continues. I wasn't surprised to hear the specialist say what I've heard before several times now.
" Migraine disease is a diagnosis  of exclusions. We weed out as many possible factors as we can and prescribe treatment basically through trial and error. Unfortunately in your case, we refer to your condition as complicated migraine disease and that means that finding those exclusions are ...complicated. In the meantime you feel like crap as we struggle towards finding a handful of possible solutions that can make you feel better until your brain decides to change all over again and we keep playing catch up."

Yep....that sounds about right.

But at least for today I have the energy to get dressed and tidy up my house...(tidy is a nice neat compact word...overhaul is maybe more the word my house's condition needs)...and I haven't had to grip the counter so far....these are good things, and now if you'll excuse me I have to go eat some bacon...and a large cappuccino.....

I started writing this post a few days ago and kept quitting half way through. I lacked the perspective to be able to put everything I wanted to say into words. I wouldn't say I have that perspective now either, but at some point in all it's imperfection, what rolling around inside me just has to find a way out.

It's a terrible feeling to be 26 and face something chronic, unfixable and barely manageable. I've fought this for the last few years, telling myself I would be one of the lucky few people who just needed some simple solution that had been overlooked, that some miracle cure was going to come along and fix the migraine disease that instead of getting better, seems to bullying it's way into more and more areas of my life and my healthy well days seem to tipping in the balance on the wrong side.

It's a hard thing to admit that one's body is not trustworthy, that it is letting me down when I need it most, that it is not reliable and not easily fixable either. A condition like mine takes a lot of patience and investigation; I suffer from complicated migraine disease with Aura and Hemiplegic Migraines. Which basically means a long with the debilitating symptoms I have been suffering the last few years (extreme pain, loss of vision, nausea, vomiting, an inability to function and stroke-symptoms) last week I had my first fake seizure.

I had just come home from a promising doctor's appointment that morning; I had a referral to a specialist, some new medication to try and some promising leads to help me get a bit of my life back  from these painful and frightening attacks. I've been suffering migraines since I was a little girl with only a few breaks here and there in my life, some lasting a couple of years, in the last 5 years, only a few months here and there that were migraine free. But that was the first time I'd suffered a hemiplegic migraine and it really shook me up.

I was frustrated and deflated, overwhelmed at how I could feel so encouraged one moment and only a few short hours later be struggling  to form the words to talk to my daughter while laying on the couch unable to feel the right side of my body or move it. Once the feeling came back to my face I realized I'd been crying, so upset at why God could seem to be answering my prayers and then still hand me this heavy load of struggle. The anxiety of attacks like this has complicated my condition further, creating a vicious cycle of panic attacks that trigger migraines and migraines that trigger panic attacks. Being stuck between a rock and a hard place doesn't begin to describe how I've been feeling. I feel strung out and worn out and very low on my faith and optimism.

On one hand I wonder is their some solution that's still eluding me. Am I not exercising enough? (thanks to my generous In-Law family giving me a treadmill that belonged to my husbands grandmother, I've been able to run 5 times a week again which does help) Is there something wrong with what I'm eating? (Another vicious cycle to not feeling well, is not having the energy to properly prepare foods for myself).
Or is it more intimate than that? Is it my faith that's lacking or sin that needs weeding out? I don't really think so, but believe in the dead of night when nothing about this makes sense I have cried out to God to reveal to me, what I can't seem to see clearly myself.

It's hard not to feel desperate and despondent, ignored and uncared for. I identify with the Psalmist crying in Chapter 6: 2-3 "Have mercy upon me, O Lord; for I am weak: O Lord heal me for my bones are vexed. My soul is also sore vexed, But thou O Lord, how long?" (KJV)

I keep praying that I will see some way that God will glorify himself in all of this, that I will find the elusive mystery to "counting it all as joy". I have decided t Psalm 73 :26 will be my life preserve for now, the tether that keeps me somehow grounded so that  when my head is filled with pain and confusion, when my limbs feel weak and shaky or I can't feel anything at all, I can still the rising panic and  have something to whisper back to the pressing darkness.


It sometimes seems like I only have half of the answer to my prayers, Sometimes it seems like I see less than half of what is really going on, and I know I see much less than a fraction of where this will all lead or how God will bring help to me. But in the deepest part of me I will cling to my faith that indeed He will and He will prove himself sufficient for me; a strength to not only my body but my heart and He will be a sufficient portion to me.

Even if it feels like only a small piece to me.

Can it still be peace?

I pray that it can.