The Art of Joyful Living, Pt. 3

Dalia Hill - Midland, Michigan

Fear - we all have fears.  They may be hidden deep for no one to see, but they are there.  Often it takes time to realize that a fear is budding, but when we realize it, we can't let it take root and grow because it will begin to block out the light of joy.

Having MS has presented a whole new world of fears to me.  Real and imagined.  Some I've had to face and have been able to accept the new reality and move on.  Like giving myself shots.  The thought horrified me, but after a week the whole daily ordeal seemed rather anti-climatic, and I've been able to accept it and move on.  Occasionally I have a day where I just don't want to poke myself or I'm feeling especially vulnerable so I ask for help.  I let someone else gain a little pleasure from poking me with a needle!  Other things, like driving, I often have to assess myself to make sure I'm seeing well and am not too tired to be behind the wheel.  I've lost my confidence because I don't want to put myself or someone else in an unsafe situation.  

My future is a fear that I don't have to face.  I don't know what it will be, so I simply pull a sheet over the fear and don't look at it.  I avoid thinking about what may or may not be.  There is a woman who goes to my church back home that has MS.  She has been an amazing help and encouragement to my mom.  I know this woman.  She had kids at the same school I attended.  Naturally she was around basketball games, school plays and church picnics.  I was the kid and she was the parent who always had a smile and hug.  She didn't have MS back then.  

A few years after I left home she was diagnosed and the disease has slowly progressed for her.  The first Sunday I was home this fall, I was standing in the back of the church lobby with my parents while people were meandering out of the auditorium following morning service.  My mom caught a glimpse of this friend and commented that I should go talk with her.  Instead, I stood there, rooted to my spot, barely able to breathe.  I watched her walk slowly and purposefully to the exit.  I couldn't move.  The sheet that I had casually thrown over my fear, slipped off and crumbled onto the floor at my feet.  It was exposed and all I could do was turn and run.  

I felt awful.  For the next few days I couldn't stop thinking about my fears.  I rather liked living far away where I didn't have to look at what the future may or may not hold.  As the days passed, I realized how this fear had stolen my joy.  I knew that it would take much longer for me to regain that joy if I faced my fear rather than try to ignore it.

Finally, I borrowed my mom's bike and rode to church where she works.  I chose not to drive the two miles because I needed the time before and after to process.  Propelling the bike along with my own energy help burn off some of the anxiety I was feeling.

Graciously, she showed me into her office and shut the door.  The next hour unfolded into a beautiful time of listening, hearing, sharing my fears, being encouraged and praying for one another.  She took my fear and squashed it like the ugly bug it was.  She showed me that although there is pain, there is a greater closeness to God.  Although there is exhaustion, there is a greater appreciation for life and the gift of today that God has given us.

So fear.  We have a choice to let it run our lives and stop us from enjoying today or we can chose to face our fears and do what is needed to walk through them holding God's hand.

in this together ANN ROMNEY My Story

I want to forget I have MS.  I don't want to think about it, I don't want to dwell on it and I don't want to read about it.  So I let this book sit on my shelf until a time I was a bit more ready to face my problems once again.  After a few people recommended it, I decided it was time.  I was surprised at how quickly I read it.  It was easy to pick it up and find encouragement in Ann's story and how she learned to deal with her MS.  

MS is the main challenge in Ann's life, but we all have challenges, don't we?  She talks about the importance of walking this path with her husband and family.  A small community of trusted friends provided support she needed.  She is honest about the strength she found in God.  Doctors she trusted were key to finding ways to fight her disease.  

MS is Ann's battle.  To a lesser degree, MS is my battle.  As I was reading, I constantly felt encouraged that there can be victory over challenges.

When Healing Hurts

My vision has been double for long enough now, that I've almost gotten used to it.  I forget - until I take my glasses off and everything becomes wobbly.  Instinctively, I close one eye or put my hand to my forehead to rub it a bit and, in the process, cover my left eye to correct my sight. 

The neurologist told me, at my last appointment, that my eyes were beginning to heal.  I didn't notice a difference, but behind the scene, things were beginning to mend.  That was a month ago.  Just now, I am feeling my eyes begin to change.  Yes, I can actually feel something going on inside my head that I understand to be the healing process.  It's uncomfortable.  It hurts.  I feel messed up with  my glasses on and with them off.  A slight nausea follows me throughout the day.  The work of focusing and dealing with the mixed up neurological signals, wears me out.  At moments, I almost wish I would stay broken.  Sometimes healing hurts.

It makes me think about the girls I met in the safe houses.  Like me, their world changed over night from one of freedom and childhood to one of pain and victimization.  

For several weeks I did everything I could to numb the pain.  I walked around with one eye closed.  Sometimes I would just put a hand over my eye while reading a book or crossing a street.  At home, I resorted to wearing a bandanna, pirate style.  It was infuriating because I was helpless to do anything until I received glasses.  I would imagine the girls stumbled around, doing everything they could to ease the pain.  I watched them while at work, drinking glass after glass of alcohol, doing what the could to make it through the night, and to numb the pain.  

When a girl makes the choice to leave the sex industry and join a safe house, she has taken the first step for healing to begin.  The mending, the healing, putting the broken back together again, takes time.  Sometimes healing happens in the quiet of the night.  It goes unnoticed and you awaken to new life.  Other times, the healing hurts.  You are aware every moment of your broken condition.  Past memories need to be dealt with, forgiveness needs to happen.  Tears need to be shed, over and over again.  We know that Jesus is right there with us, wiping our tears away.  He understands the deep pain and healing that must happen because He shed tears of His own when his friend, Lazarus, died.  I loved this about each of the safe houses we visited.  They understood that healing would take time.  They understood that the process would be painful.  They understood that ultimately, Jesus was the only way to bring true healing to the wounded heart.

There have been moments in my healing process where I have wanted to remain static in my broken condition.  I have the thought that it would be easier to just use the glasses and not drive for the rest of my life.  But that is not what I really want.  I want to have the freedom to drive. I don't want to have headaches every time I take the glasses off.  Without an all-encompassing understanding of the healing process for the girls and the need to provide sustainable income, many return to the red light districts.  This was another aspect that the safe houses I visited, got.  

We all go through various brokenness and  healing in our lives.  It could be physical, relational, emotional or spiritual.  The next time you go through physical healing, stop and take time to think about it.  What insight could it give into the life of someone you know?  Use your pain to better understand the deep wounds within their hearts.  It will open up a world of grace to you.

Running Away

Thailand

I'm not typically one to run away from life, but returning to Taipei after my med. evac. left me exhausted both physically and emotionally.  We had thrown around the idea of going to Thailand for the holidays, but hadn't made any plans.  When we arrived in Taiwan, we hit the ground running.  It quickly became evident that there wasn't going to be any rest if we didn't escape.  

The escape was good.  I was finally able to get some solid rest after five weeks of feeling like I had been dragged under a bus.  I just don't handle jet lag well.  Being away from home and on vacation gave me the freedom to sleep when I needed to.  I made up for all the hours lost, and more.

I also needed to get away to process.  I can't say that I've sat and had hours of deep thinking about MS and what life is going to be like, rather I've had time to pray and just let this change sink deep into my soul.  I'm sure there are many levels of processing I need to go through and being away gave me time to begin that process.  

Now we are back home in Taipei.  I gave myself a week to catch up with the home and hang with the kids before returning to work.  Last week Damon and I went to the hospital and picked up my medication.  It's a shot that I have to give myself each day - for the rest of my life -  with the hope that it will slow down the disease.  We came home, sat on the couch and watched a few YouTube videos on how to give yourself a shot.  It was unbearable, it really was.  The idea of sticking a needle through my skin every single day almost sent me into hysteria.  My thoughts began to drift away from the shot itself as I watched the people in the videos.  They are people with MS.  People who are really struggling with the disease.  People whose lives have become consumed by one thing.  It made me so sad.  Damon sensed my pain and put his arm around me.  We just sat on the couch, in silence.  The next morning was time for my first shot.  Chad compassionately stuck me with the needle.  I've only had to do this about five days so far, but I'm glad I don't have to do it alone.  I've done a few myself and haven't passed out.  If I can't reach a spot, Chad does it or if I just can't bear to do it myself, he does it.  I'm really having a hard time thinking about doing this every single day.

I'm in this phase of micro examining right now.  I'm reading a book on MS.  I want to know what to look for, how it works and what to do.  So every little thing that I feel inside, I begin to question, "Is this the MS?"  I know I need to go through this phase as well.   I need to understand the symptoms and how to handle them.  Then, I need to move on and live my life.  I don't want to be swallowed by one thing.  

Today was back to work.  It felt really good.  I'm looking forward to a schedule once again.  I'm excited about projects to work on and goals to meet.  I'm happy to be around people and away from home during the day.  Running away was good.  It was needed.  But now it is good to be home and to be present.

Update

East Coast, Taiwan

I feel it's time to fill my friends in on what's been going on for me the past few weeks.  I'm not really sure where to begin.  

Do I start with some background?  How I woke-up one morning with double vision?  How it got worse and I went to see a neurologist? I had an MRI where they found a spot on my brain stem and this began a month of tests, and doctors' appointments and even a stay in the hospital here in Taipei.  After many tests that came back pointing in a direction, I was med-evaced to the states.  Chad and I went to Cleveland Clinic last week.  At the clinic, I met with a neurologist, underwent another MRI then was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.  

Do I talk about the shock?  I went to bed fine, then woke up with a life changing event.  When the neurologist came into my room in Taipei, I felt like I had a first row seat to the destruction of a building.  Test after test carefully laid a stick of dynamite in the foundation.  I watched the fuse be lit, then the building crumbled within itself, leaving a plume of dust in its place.  I sat, glued to my seat, the breath sucked from me.  I stared at the space that used to hold hope and dreams of life to come.  Now all that could be seen was thick dust blocking all view.  It hurt to have my tight grip on the life I had planned, pried open.  Slowly the dust began to settle.  Eventually I was able to get out of my seat and walk around the rubble.  I bent and picked up a brick.  I looked at it carefully.  It was rough around the edges, but held possibility.  It will take time.  I have to adjust to a different view of my future, but new dreams will be built.  They may have similar features as the last ones, but life now holds different possibilities.

Do I talk about the difference between two doctors?  The neurologist here in Taipei gave me a diagnosis in the hospital.  By looking at some results, he came to the conclusion of MS.  Maybe it was a gut feeling he had or maybe it was simply a process of elimination.  I will never forget the compassion in his eyes.  He laid his hand on my shoulder and bent his head in sorrow.  We may have had a bit of communication difficulty between us, but the language of compassion crosses all language barriers.  The neurologist at Cleveland Clinic was great.  He laid everything out in a scientific, logical manner.  He explained everything to me in simple language that I could understand.  He was patient and answered all my questions.  In the initial meeting he gave me some hope.  Patients that come in with my symptoms can go two ways.  50% get over their symptoms and never have any other problems.  The other 50% go on to develop MS.  I really felt the hope of being in that first group and left encouraged.  I knew that if they found one spot on my spine in the MRI I would be having, then it would be confirmed MS.  When we sat with him a few days later to review the results of the second MRI, I was shocked to see my spine, covered in white spots.  The doctor said "You have MS" and plowed ahead into treatment options.  After a few moments, he looked up and said "This is what you were expecting, isn't it?"  Chad and I both mumbled a yes although I knew we were both shocked.  I liked both doctors and I needed both doctors to understand what was going on. I need a doctor here and a doctor there.  But the compassion in the doctor here is something I will always remember.  Even though he deals with difficult cases every day, he still felt something inside of himself that reached out to me.  It wasn't just clinical to him, he took a moment to remember that I am a person and this will change the rest of my life.

Do I talk about my faith?  It's central to who I am and I can not go through anything large or small without it directly influencing my response.  Throughout this time, I have been amazed at the cloud of peace I've been riding.  I don't have an unrealistic notion that the road ahead will be easy.  I don't think the symptoms will magically disappear and I will go on with only memories of this time.  I do know that Jesus will continue to hold my hand through this.  On the good days and the bad. I don't believe that MS is a punishment for something I did.  I don't believe that God was pouring out sickness on the world and this is what I got.  I do believe that this world is full of horrible, awful things and that when they come to my world, I don't have to deal with them alone.  I believe that God is walking there with me through those things.  I don't have to do this alone.

After spending a few days with my family and a few close friends, I heard several stories of people who are doing great with MS.  The hope of medication is that it will stop the progression of the disease.  Nothing can undo the damage that has already been done.  There is hope that we can slow things down and MS will have little effect on my life ahead.

The idea of living life with purpose each day has been prominent in my mind.  Sometimes it takes a good shake to look at life and determine to get rid of some of the clutter.  I'm not sure how I'm going to do that yet, but I think it is important.  There are things I feel are important, and when they get pushed aside because of clutter, then it's time for change.

Just as being a Christian and an expat directly influence my blog and what I am thinking about, MS will now be added to that mixture.