There comes a time when you know that you just don’t know what the plan is. There you go, Mrs. Wesolowski, my late English teacher and queen of everything in life but the dangling participle. Forgive me but in 11th grade I would have no idea where I would land just past mid life. The dangling participle is apropos. I am lost as to my exact location. All I know is how I got here. I have no idea what the game plan is. Thankfully, to Him I am right where I am supposed to be.
I don’t believe I have ever had so many noxious symptoms at the same time for such a long period of time. Just when I believe that the Lord is bringing me some relief or leading me to some new insight into what to do, I find that I am still clueless. I am working hard to no avail (i.e. extremely restrictive diets, daily treatment logs, internet research, networking, and so on). And then a new problemmo emerges. Perhaps if I could scope my own gut or brain I would feel a little better about things, more in control I suppose. That won’t happen of course so I am left at the hands of overstressed and overworked medical professionals who need to make sure their butts are covered and tracks are documented in a government database. Type, type, type during my appointment, noting the results of some test. “Look me in the eye!” is all I am asking. Just once look me in the eye and ask me, “how are you feeling today?” After all, that is why I am there! I know that I “have a lot going on,” and am “sensitive” to virtually all of the treatments prescribed. Then again who really knows if just one more test or consultation will really make a difference at this point. While I do believe that I will be well someday even if it is in heaven, I have no idea how to live until then anymore.
The bottom line for me is this: I am not well and it is not changing.
Now with that out of my head and onto the page I find that there is nothing left to write. There is nothing left to say. I am at my wits end with a beat up body and depleted spirit. There is only one place to go since crashing in the bed did not bode me well earlier this evening. That place is the foot of the cross of my Lord, Jesus Christ. You know my aching heart. You knew me before I was born and all of the days of my life. You saw this breaking point long before it came. All the breakdowns that have gone before were just a warm up. I give up. Take me as I am.
Sorry, Gentle Reader. This blog has no insight or answer by its weary end tonight.