"In order to write about life, first you must live it." ~ Ernest Hemingway

Category: inspiration (Page 2 of 3)

Peace Be With You

“Peace is not something you wish for, it is something you make, something you are, something you do, and something you give away. ” ~ Robert Fulghum

On the first Sunday of the month, which is Communion Sunday, we pass the peace in my church. This is a common practice in many Christian churches although the way it takes places can differ from church to church and denomination to denomination. When I was growing up in the Catholic church, this was a process in which we would turn to the people to the sides of us, behind us and in front of us and say “peace be with you” and shake their hand. If the person was family, maybe we would hug or kiss them as well.

In my current Protestant church, the passing of the peace is a more gregarious affair. Depending on how familiar we are with the person, we either shake their hand or hug them. There is a lot more hugging, or rather embracing, than hand shaking compared to most other churches; at least ones that I have attended. We either say “peace”, “peace be with you”, “hi, how are you”, or whatever else feels appropriate. People rarely stay in their pews and they wander all over the place. It is truly an exchange of peace and good will in a Christian community of people. It is one of my favorite times of the month at my church.

Today I was passing the peace to a family my fiance and I have been spending some time with lately outside of Sunday service. The family consists of a grandmother and her four grandchildren. As I let go of the oldest child’s hand after wishing him peace, he said to me, “Chris, what does peace mean?”

Leave it to a ten year old to throw me off balance.
Such a simple, yet profound question.

Of course, this entire passing of the peace at church takes all of about five to ten minutes so I didn’t have time, at that moment, to sit down and discuss it with him but I simply said that peace meant calmness. It was really all I could think of as a response at that moment. I am not sure if he understood exactly what my response meant in the midst of of the flurry of peace passing activity, but that is a conversation that we can have more in depth at another time.

It got me to thinking though. Don’t we all know what peace is or the meaning of the word peace? I mean seriously, isn’t it obvious? If you look in any commonly used dictionary, you will see several different definitions for the word peace. You know what I think though? I think that most of the time, peace means something different for each of us. I think the paths we take to get to that state of peace is also different for each of us.

To that ten year old child, peace may mean having the comfort and security of a grandmother who tucks him in at night and loves him unconditionally. Peace for him may mean knowing who the adults are in his life that he can count on. Maybe it means to him knowing that as he grows older, he has a church community that is a home to him no matter what obstacles life hurls at him.

For me, peace means many things and takes on several different forms. It is a state of mind, of spirit, and of soul. Peace is when my spirit is full or when my mind is calm. The best is when both happen at the same time. A difficult thing for me, or anyone for that matter, to achieve these days. Peace is also when my body, soul and spirit are at peace with whatever havoc may be going on physically with my body at any given moment. A very difficult task to accomplish indeed.

Many people say that peace is being in harmony with other people. To me, that is not always the case because I have come to find that I have no control over other people, how they think about me, and especially what they do. So my peace, or harmony, comes from realizing this and also in realizing that the only person I have any control over is myself. Therefore when I think and act in a way that is true to myself, I am at peace.

I am at peace when I am able to pull myself out of the stress and anxiety of the misfortunes that life may throw at me and am instead able to appreciate what are considered the small things in life such as the feeling of my dog’s breathing as she sleeps quietly with her head on my chest. Or maybe the serenity of being in my house on a fall afternoon when the sun streams through the large glass windows and the loudest sound I hear is the birds playing outside on the deck.

I find peace with myself when I am able to not be preoccupied with the “what ifs” and the” I can’t” thoughts that often invade my brain. When I am able to put the negative thoughts away and instead replace them with positive thoughts and the thought that the only limitations I have are those that I put upon myself.

Peace with myself is when I accept myself as I am right now, right at this moment.

Just as importantly, peace is something that we can give to someone else. It can be simple and cost us nothing. When we extend ourselves and our love to another human being in an act of giving or generosity, we give peace. It may be in the form of a meal or a phone call. A listening ear or our time. In some way, when we ease someone else’s burden, we give another person some peace of mind.

Giving peace to another person may come in the form of not judging them and accepting them for who they are in their moment. No questions. No criticisms. Just love. So that they may feel free to feel less stress and anxiety; to be at peace with where they are in their life journey.

So maybe my answer to my ten year old friend was accurate after all.

Peace IS calmness.

Of mind.
Of body.
Of soul.
Of spirit.

Where do you find YOUR peace?

Photo: Courtesy of Chuck Myers (http://myerscreativephotography.zenfolio.com/)

Leaving Forty

Every year on your birthday, you get a chance to start new. ~ Sammy Hagar

Tomorrow I am leaving my fortieth year. It seemed like just yesterday I was writing about turning forty in a blog entry (Turning Forty) and how significant that event was to me. It was a great birthday accompanied by a super fantastic surprise party with my family and friends. My impending birthday tomorrow has left me reflecting on the past year. One of the things I wrote about in the Turning Forty essay was about how birthdays are a way to celebrate our lives and how they are also a chance to say “Yes, I have gotten here.”

In many ways, I have not quite ended up where I thought I would be by the time I turned forty-one. I had anticipated that the past year would lead to a significant improvement in my health as well as a return to the work force as a registered nurse. I had plans for having one of my essays published in print. I wanted to lose a ton of weight. Like I stated in the previous essay: Ahh, the best laid plans. Maybe that is why we shouldn’t make so many of them, right?

My autoimmune illness got worse rather than better. I was diagnosed with two life threatening illnesses within a span of ten days earlier this year, both of which I have recovered fully from. At least physically. The threat of what “could have happened” still lingers in my memory. I know, I really need to get over that. Although both illnesses were not lifestyle related, I hit rock bottom with the exhaustion of dealing with illness and being sick all the time. I found a way to cope with that. I took more control over my body and health by changing several aspects of my lifestyle including changing my diet, getting exercise, and reducing stress. I made a big commitment to being a healthier person.

I lost a lot of connections with some friends over this past year for a variety of reasons. I made a few new ones. In the process of both, I learned the value of quality over quantity and the importance of selecting my friends with care. As I continue to get older, I become more astutely aware of the significance that these relationships have for me and that sometimes these relationships are ever changing, just like the rest of the world is so much of the time.

In my fortieth year, I took a few risks. One of those was committing to marry the love of my life, A bold move for me because it has meant placing my complete trust in a partner. And finding out that when you are with the right partner, that trust will not be broken. I have learned over my past year with him about what it takes for a relationship to survive the darkest of hours in order to be able to travel the same path together for a lifetime.

Although when I turned forty, I felt like I had already learned the importance of living each day like it was a privilege, this past year has taught me the importance of prioritizing each of those days:

That cleaning the bathroom is not as important as spending time on the phone with a loved one.

That washing the dishes in the sink is not as important as hanging out with my fiance.

That returning emails is not as important as getting my work out done.

Although my birthday tomorrow will be much more low key than when I turned the big 4-0, I am looking forward to it. I have much to celebrate and be thankful for. The most important thing I have to celebrate and be thankful for is the fact that I get to keep going on this crazy journey which is otherwise known as my life. I am still alive. I get to experience more joy, more hugs, more tears, and more laughs. Tomorrow I get to sit back and say once again, “Yes, I have gotten here.” And like last year, I once again have the opportunity to realize even more of my hopes and dreams in the next year of my life.

I really could not ask for more.

Photo Courtesy of Chuck Myers

From Medical Crisis To Inspiration

“When life gives you a hundred reasons to cry, show life that you have a thousand reasons to smile.” ~ Author Unknown

I have so many other topics I would like to blog about rather than my current health issues but I have been blessed by the support of those closest to me wanting to understand exactly what is going on with my recent medical issues. There are people in my life, some new and some old, who have been following my health saga over the past six weeks or so and don’t quite understand what is happening to me physically because it is either ridiculously complex or because they do not know my medical history. Also, there is only so much explaining I can do on Facebook; not that I mind but sometimes it is easier to just put it all together in one place. I don’t expect that everyone wants to read it, but for those of you who do, here it is.

A little background which is important…

When I was twenty-four years old, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma which is a type of blood cancer. I was treated with radiation for three months, went into remission and have been fine ever since in regards to the cancer.

About six years later, in 2002, I was diagnosed with a heart condition called supra ventricular tachycardia which means my heart was not beating properly because of a conduction problem in the heart. It was never decided for sure but it is possible the condition was a result of the radiation treatments that I had for the Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Medications failed to manage the condition and I underwent a heart procedure called a cardiac ablation which surgically fixed the conduction problem with my heart. No further issues.

In 2004, I mysteriously developed a blood clot in my left leg which is called a deep vein thrombosis (DVT). I was a non-smoker but I was overweight and on birth control pills which are high risk factors. However my primary care doctor at the time decided that still seemed a little too unusual so he decided to do some investigating. It was discovered that I had a genetic blood clotting disorder called Factor V Leiden. I was treated for the blood clot in my leg and the decision was made at that time, since I had a milder form of the disease, that I did not need to stay on blood thinners for the rest of my life. I would only need to go on them if I got pregnant, had surgery, was on a long flight, etc. All was well and I rarely ever gave it a second thought.

In 2008, I began to have multiple health issues that I had never had before. I will spare you all the details but basically I was having severe joint pain, dry eyes, mouth, and nose, memory loss, stiffness, extreme fatigue, asthma for the first time in my life, issues with my voice, severe headaches, fluid in my lungs, the list went on and on. I knew something was really wrong with me and I saw at least twenty doctors, trying to get to the bottom of it as it was getting harder and harder to function on a daily basis. I was often dismissed, called a hypochondriac, or just told “I don’t know what is wrong with you.”

I persevered and after seeing my fifth rheumatologist, as I felt strongly that what was going on was autoimmune related, I was diagnosed with an autoimmune illness called Sjogren’s syndrome in August 2011. That one you can Google search if you so choose! The disorder has been called a “cousin” to another autoimmune illness called lupus. It takes the average person seven years to get this diagnosis. Some people get a mild version, some get a more severe version. It would appear that I have gotten the latter. There is no cure and I have been through many trials of steroid pills and some other medications to try and control my symptoms. There is new research being done at this time for new treatments. Around the time of the official diagnosis last August, my symptoms started to progress a bit in terms of my salivary glands malfunctioning and dryness becoming more of an issue. However I was also learning more about how to self manage my symptoms including with diet and alternative treatments such as acupuncture, stress reduction, etc. I was determined to get my illness under control and hopefully get back to work at some point.

Before this past Christmas, I noticed that I was starting to have a lot of pain in my legs that was different than my usual joint pain. It was getting harder and harder to do walks with my dog Molly. Right after Christmas, the pain got to the point where it was difficult to walk at all. My walking was unsteady and I was stumbling at times. The pain was the worse I had ever known. It was thought to be nerve related pain and I was started on steroid pills at a high dose at home until I could see my rheumatologist. By the time I saw her, I was having extreme weakness in my legs and arms, making the most basic of tasks like showering very difficult. I also began to have tremors and severe weakness in my arms making driving and other tasks difficult as well. I was struggling with writing and typing as I kept mixing up my words and letters, similar to someone with dyslexia and my short term memory was impaired. Scary stuff.

My very awesome rheumatologist took this all very seriously and felt that I may have neurological involvement from the Sjogren’s syndrome which can happen and is not all that rare from what she told me.  I had an MRI of my brain that was normal, which does not mean much in relation to the Sjogren’s, but does rule out other freaky stuff like brain tumors, etc. She decided that since I had a little improvement with the steroid pills, we should try very large doses of IV steroids at the hospital by admitting me for a few hours, giving me the infusion, and sending me home. The first infusion helped my walking and writing/typing significantly so we scheduled several more to try and combat the rest of the symptoms.

The side effects from these steroids, both the infusions and pills at home, are something I cannot even begin to adequately describe. Everyone reacts differently but my main issues have been not sleeping (I was sleeping 2-3 hrs a night WITH sleeping medicine), nausea, reflux, severe headaches, and mood changes that scare the crap out of me sometimes. After six weeks of all these steroids, I think I have forgotten what it is like to truly feel like myself. But I know the neurological stuff is a big deal and it is critical to stop its progression before it does permanent damage; so I just set my mind to the fact that I will get through it as best as I can.

My second infusion was this past Friday. I had the same side effects as the first infusion two weeks prior, however I began to have heart palpitations that Friday night and by Sunday morning I knew I had to call someone. I thought it was related to the steroids because I am a nurse and well, I know these things. But keep in mind, I also had a history in 2002 of heart issues and it was something I didn’t think I should mess with. The on-call rheumatologist thought I should go to a local ER and get an EKG to determine what was going on and if it was something that needed to be treated or if I had to ride it out. The EKG was essentially normal except for some occasional abnormal fast heartbeats thought to be related to the steroids and some fluctuations in my blood pressure.

However one of my labs came back abnormal indicating a POSSIBILITY that I may have a blood clot somewhere. Blood clots can also cause heart palpitations and other heart issues. The way to determine for sure if you have a blood clot in your lung is to do a CT scan of the lungs while injecting contrast through an IV to light up the lungs. I did have a blood clot all those years ago and that blood clotting disorder as well so it was important to make sure there was no blood clot.. As bad luck would have it, I am allergic to the contrast so they had to admit me to the hospital to give me a few doses of medications to prevent the allergic reaction since I HAD to have this scan done. Several docs at the hospital really thought the heart palpitations were related to the massive doses of steroids I was getting but they really had to follow through and know for sure so they could justify safely sending me home. I was admitted to a cardiac telemetry unit. They started giving me blood thinner injections just in case…standard protocol

About 10pm that night, after I had the CT scan done, my very kind night nurse came in and told me that despite the odds, they DID find two small pulmonary embolism (blood clots) in my lungs. Ridiculously scary I have to tell you. Does not pay to be a nurse at times like this because you know the worse case scenarios. They said I should be OK with the blood thinners but it was good that I came in with the heart palpitations because I might have avoided a larger, fatal blood clot. I just cried.

The problem is they do not know if the clots are from having this clotting disorder or from my Sjogren’s syndrome. What it does do is complicate things greatly as I may need to stay on blood thinners the rest of my life which not only carries risks with it but affects different aspects of my life like my diet, other medications, etc. The hospital sent me home on blood thinner injections which frankly suck (much easier to give them to a patient than yourself!) and I have to start getting my blood work monitored to make sure that my blood is not too thin and not too thick; as either extreme is not good. My primary care doctor today was incredible though and we have a plan for the next week or so. I will be following up with a hematologist hopefully very soon to figure out more what is going on and if there is an autoimmune component to all of this.

The good news is that my neurological symptoms have improved a lot more since that second infusion on Friday but now my rheumatologist and I have to decide about whether we are going to risk another steroid infusion this Friday. We both feel that I have been through so much that let’s just finish the job and see how stable we can get me neurologically; as long as we can do it safely. We will make that decision together tomorrow depending on how my heart is doing. Meanwhile I am scheduled to see a neurologist next week as well as my pulmonologist. I am taking one hour and one day at a time; making sure that the priorities are getting to appointments, keeping track of what is going on, staying on my medication schedule and taking care of my basic needs such as showering and eating.

I sit back as I am writing this and I realize it is good to put it all down. Not because I want people to feel sorry for me but because I know people are concerned and it is a complicated situation to understand. Writing it down has made me realize that I AM as strong as those close to me have told me I am. I think it would be easy for me to sit here and curse God (which yes, I have already done) and ask when is enough enough? But I know there are so many people who endure so much more than I do. Granted, I do think I got the bad luck of the draw in the “illnesses you cannot prevent department”; but this is my life. My life where I have learned so much about the world, myself, and other people ~ topics that make for some great future blogs!

My life where at some point, hopefully in the next week, being able to get outside in the fresh air and sunshine with Molly will far outweigh the importance of what this person or that person thinks about me.

My life where I grasp tighter more opportunities to let those closest to me how important they are in case I never get another chance to do so.

My life where I have discovered that my ability to make a small difference in someone else’s day with either a kind word or a smile far outweighs the drama that other people in this world may produce.

My life where my priorities have shifted so much that I no longer care about how perfect my house or yard look because I am too busy appreciating having the love of my life holding my hand in a hospital room; his love nourishing my soul with every squeeze and every gentle caress of my hair.

So I guess right now, at this very moment, my life is looking pretty good to me….

Another Morning

“When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive-to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love.” ~ Marcus Aurelius

I wake up and it is another day. I stop to think of that fact and be grateful for it. That is important, very important. It is so easy to get lost and discouraged first thing when you wake up. I have slept maybe two hours. Maybe four. The nights can be long. But I am awake. And I can move. Maybe not always easily or without pain, but I can get myself out of bed. I lie there and think about the struggles ahead of me that day and then I stop to think about what I can offer that day to make it a better day, one with a purpose; for myself or for someone else.

I prioritize in my head what is necessary to do and what is optional. Most of it is optional, it has to be. If there is an appointment I have to be at, the day revolves around getting to that appointment. I get out of bed and take my medications. So many pills in their carefully laid out pill box.

Steroids.
Inhalers.
A yellow pill.
A lot of white ones.

It is helpful to be an organized person when it comes to the taking of the pills.

Next priority is drinking as much as possible. The dryness has woken me up throughout the night, despite the humming of the constant humidifier and fumbling with eye drops and mouth moisturizer several times in those wee hours. The concept of too much water does not exist in my mind. My body soaks it up eagerly like it has never seen it before. Now, a bathroom run for me. A bathroom run and fresh water for Molly. I am already having difficulty convincing my arms and legs to work in their proper fashion.

Back to bed to check e-mails and Facebook. I am looking for inspiration. Something that will make me laugh. A kind thought from someone. A status update about something good happening to someone; something to help replace the light and joy that the steroids have taken from my normally even keeled and sunny disposition. I take a cookbook or two back to bed with me to figure out what nourishing meals I can put in my body to help heal it. If the day is all mine and not one that is a slave to doctor’s offices or hospitals, I try to figure out how much I can do and again, what the priorities are. The priority might be completing a load of laundry. It might be vacuuming. Whatever it is will have a price, a physical price. I used to feel accomplished when I could go and go for fifteen hours at a time. Now I am grateful if I can manage to get through thirty minutes of activity.

And so it goes. Getting myself showered and dressed used to take forty-five minutes with a good end result. Now it is a two hour production and the goal is a clean body and clean clothes. It’s not as hard as last week though. That is a very good thing. I miss being able to do more physical activity. I miss being able to walk my dog and feel the power of my stride underneath my body. I will never take that for granted again. My wish is that no one else reading this ever does either. How much will I get back? Yet to be determined.

I am learning the art of being gentle with myself.  I am more aware of the importance of caring for myself in the most basic of ways. The comfort of hot water on my body. The wholeness of fresh green vegetables entering my body. The smell of fresh air. The power of a comforting touch. Things which I never noticed when I was too busy running from one place to the next; from one task to the other.

This illness forces me to be more aware. Every hour, every minute is a reminder of all that is currently not working correctly in my body. Constant thirst. Constant eye irritation and difficulty getting my eyes to adjust. Weakness. A medication of some sort almost every hour. Arms that shake. Side effects from medications. Legs that don’t move like they should. Pain. Food that gets stuck in my throat when I swallow. Exhaustion.

Frustration.

Anger.

Fear.

I will be more than this.
I am more than this.

Remember to smile.

Breathe.

Remember what is important.

Breathe.

Remember that another morning will come.

And with it, hope as well.

Photo: Courtesy of Google Images

Music and Love

“The total person sings not just the vocal chords.” ~ Esther Broner
“Singing is a way of escaping. It’s another world. I’m no longer on earth.” ~ Edith Piaf

Every year my church has a Christmas Cantata. Last year, our Cantata was going to be my first concert as I had just joined the choir about six weeks prior to the performance. A good friend of mine, Kathy, was a long standing member of the choir at that time and had encouraged me, despite many physical obstacles, to join the choir as she knew my passion for singing. Tragically, my dear friend died suddenly on December 17th, two days before our performance. It was a very difficult time to say the least. The cantata was a blur. My clearest memory of the event that day was the effort I, and the rest of my choir members, had to make to keep from crying while we were singing that morning.

One year has passed since that terrible week and another Christmas Cantata has arrived. I was looking forward to making new choir memories that were not steeped in so much sadness during this holiday season. This year, my boyfriend, Chuck, and I had the opportunity to sing a duet of the popular Christmas song Mary, Did You Know? I had never sung it before and I knew it might be a challenge because I had never even heard it sung by someone else.

Chuck was going to play the guitar as well. He found the chords online and we slowly started to put together a melody and harmony that we thought would work. The process became very interesting to me as the days and weeks went along. Anyone who knows me is aware that I have struggled to overcome a lot of my Type A tendencies in an effort to lead a more relaxed and fulfilling existence. When we were first putting the song together, I would drive Chuck crazy with all my questions about if we should do it more like this person or that person; or if we should do it more like how they do it on this YouTube video or that one.

He was so patient with me. What I learned from him as we went along was that as long as we both felt comfortable, liked the way it sounded, and FELT the music, nothing else really mattered.  All of a sudden there were no rules, no guidelines. We didn’t have to do the song as others had done it before us. We could make it our own.

About ten days before the Cantata, I had a very sudden and severe respiratory flare-up from the autoimmune disease I have. It was the worse I had experienced in a year and a half and it was one that would typically land me in the emergency room or worse yet, in the hospital. I really did not think I would be able to be well enough to sing at all on Cantata day. And I was upset, really upset. With the exception of a four week respite from my symptoms following a steroid injection, I was dealing with symptom flare-ups constantly and I was sick of it. It seemed like almost every time I tried to accomplish something that was important to me, I also had to contend with a medical crisis. The timing of this particular flare-up was horrendous because it was going to interfere with something I had poured my heart into. I tried to sit back and take the attitude of “it is what it is” but that only lasted about a day or so. I needed to get myself well enough to sing. I didn’t want to cheat Chuck or myself out of this experience together. I didn’t want to let my fellow choir members down.

There is something to be said for all the learning I have done to regards to managing this autoimmune illness. I talked to my pulmonologist and my acupuncturist and decided to step up my acupuncture treatments a bit and more importantly, go back to taking Chinese herbs. I called my speech therapist from a year and a half ago and she talked me through the techniques we had gone over at my previous appointments. I restarted the speech therapy at home with a vengeance. I doubled my effort to relieve some of the dryness caused by the Sjogren’s which I knew was making the situation worse.

Forty-eight hours and I was better, much better and as the days went by, my breathing not only improved, but my voice got stronger. I was diligent about protecting my vocal cords because I knew I was not yet 100%.

I should know better than to get too comfortable with my body when I do not have my illness under control. Two days before the Cantata and I noticed it was painful to eat. I looked in my mouth and saw that my inside right cheek was ridiculously swollen. From looking at it, it appeared I was having another flare-up of my parotid gland with a likely infection. I was also having terrible headaches and sinus pain with nasal discharge that also looked infected, which of course was affecting my voice.

After hours of trying to get a hold of my rheumatologist on a Saturday (I found out today that they don’t have weekend/night coverage), I just said to hell with it. I knew I had an infection and probably inflammation as I had been through this once before. I started myself on steroids and antibiotics which I luckily had extra supplies of at home.

Twenty-four hours later, Chuck and I sang that song.
And we sang it well.

Shocking considering I have, guess now I can say “had”, terrible stage fright. I had never sung with just one other person before. Usually I sing with a whole group of people and even that sometimes leaves me a little rattled. When Chuck and I ran through the song at choir rehearsal several days before the performance, I was responsible for holding our music because he was playing the guitar. My hands shook so bad when we rehearsed that we decided to use a music stand instead because otherwise he couldn’t follow the page with the words shaking all over!

That day that we sang that song though, I didn’t shake at all. Because this time, I looked at him while we were singing. I focused on him and the beautiful music that was coming from his heart. In those two and a half minutes, it was just him and I; not in a church with a LOT of people, but in the safe refuge that we call home.

There was something incredibly special about singing that song with Chuck. I know this sounds corny, but it truly has brought us closer together. We each have had more on our plates than usual lately which has resulted in a lot of stress and sleepless nights. Although I think we do well with supporting each other, practicing this song together night after night was a different way of supporting each other’s wellbeing and sanity. We had a common goal that didn’t involve job stress, health stress, financial issues, or relationship issues.

It was just us and the music.

It was our way of honoring Kathy.
It was our way to honor the upcoming birth of Jesus.
It was our way to give to the loving church community that we are involved with.
It was our way to give to each other…

Not just music, but love as well.

Mary, Did You Know?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHHwlmf7SeE&feature=g-upl&context=G2a64dc9AUAAAAAAAAAA

Photo Courtesy of Google Images

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