We Will be Fine

The plot thickens, my angst flares

Why more nasties when hope came near?

I thought we had it, the Doc and I

But my body freaked out putting me in arrears.

Three infections at once

With more at bay for now

Is much to address

Each in it’s own particular way.

Many calls at night

Hubby running here and there

He is so tired as I

Writhing on the sectional in despair.

Call it die-off

Whatever you may

Take this binder and that

With another remedy in the fray.

I have no idea

If I will ever catch up

The beasts within me win

Or do they?  It is not yet clear.

My eyes are burning

My tummy aching with nausea

The pain is less, hoo-rah!

Unbelievable at a time like this.

So what will I do

To get through another day?

Cancel everything again

Sit tight and hold on as we go this way.

Rougher than most healing

The prize won’t be for wimps,

We elite patients stand strong

In the arms of our Lord holding us up.

Keep your eye on the prize

Solve the problems that arise

One day all will be gone

For in heaven we will be fine!

Rev 21:4, Revelation, no more tears, no more weeping, little girl, hope, trials, scripture, coping, help, suffering

 

Time to focus

Sick and tired of being the same

I digress into another rant . . . or shall I?

Would that honor the Lord who has sustained

Delivered me from near-death and brought me to you?

Oh if there could just be a happy ending already my dear

Would I still angst over my words or lightly dance over the keys?

These are questions that will not be answered this night or even the next

As my beloved returns home to my side from his travels, refreshed from lack o’ drama.

I must find some joy to carry me out of this funk for the path to recovery is becoming clearer

Glimpses of what may be come through the struggles amuck and late night appointments with my Doctor who works too much.

But is it more than I, just wanting to be well?  I think not for the rewards for victims are slim:  our fellowship better not be tainted by our woes!

Would you and I be friends if it weren’t for our life paths diverted?  Probably not so let’s not spend time there, just trust we were meant to be here now.

And I thank you for carrying me when I could not stand, liking my words when their worth eluded me in the dim of night, listening when most were asleep.

It is time to focus on the prize coming into view:  this possible final leg of the race that will take all my strength as Mr. Herx clears the debris that soured my inner places.

I might just win.  This life season just might end.  Stay tuned, Gentle Reader.  Please pray and I will do the same.  Of course you know me all too well:  I’ll be sure to letcha know…  JJ

Binoculars, garden, view, focus, Christian, birdbath, flowers, iris, landscape, trees, scene

 

The Proper Blend

Like a fine wine that melds flavors as it seasons in an oak barrel over time

Everything I do is a mixture of good and the other from meals to enduring “it” all.

My beloved likes his hot sauce, his cheesy toppings and bold flavors along the way

Mine’s gotta be subdued, seasoned with salt from the sea and little else but with ghee.

In the area of health my River Bear gets on the water even on a late wintry day

Where I rejoice if I can wander outside with the pup or try the more mundane of little things inside.

Steve puts up with so much:  dashed plans, travels alone, a romantic night turned into caregiving

Wifey-poo’s illness cancels plans, sours the embrace, changes everything we once held dear, I sigh.

There is no proper blend when dark symptoms fend off many moments of goodness again and again

We just Cape Diem my love, for we know not how long we have anyways as we pray and pray and pray.

Tis a lesson learned to live in the moment, capturing each breath expanded with gentle care

For we never know what may come before the movie credits roll . . . beyond the edge of what we once held so near.

Will deliverance come tomorrow or much later than that with this new thingy again to try?

Like the windows that saw the sun shine on them today, I will wait expectantly on my Lord with my Gentle Hero at my side.

Gyrations of health: a Testimony

If a cyanobacteria exposure in a reservoir creates the same biotoxin illness as mold exposure, then why did I not tolerate the Shoemaker protocol to recover from both?

Tis the gyrations of health, I guess, like a drone spinning out of control from the pond beyond to the one drowning in our own backyard.

If latent Lyme disease reared its ugly head but resisted treatment with 3 increasingly costly protocols over 5 years, then why do I keep barking up this fallen tree anyhoo?

Tis the juxtapose of stealth bugs who hide, change their DNA, become resistant or move from my big toe to deep within the brain raising havoc all the while.

If a chain of serious viral infections can hang their shingles on my weakened frame at Christmastime, then why does not 30 days of treatment make barely a dent in one of them, huh?

Tis the nature of complex illness when antibiotics awakens a sleeping class of infection, pushing me to a sideline call more spectacular than a Super Bowl play in overtime.

If heavy metal toxicity met its match with the best testing, detox protocol, and success, then why is it still possible that more mercury, lead, and maybe aluminum may linger undetected in me still?

Tis the nature of blood, urine, and hair sampling that only captures that which is circulating or secreting not the poisons imbedded in tissues only a needle in a haystack would find.

If I can gain 34 more diagnoses with one trip around the calendar trying to get well, then why would we even question that there’s a need for a new tune, a break, and yet more prayer?

Tis the nature of hopes dashed while waiting and seeing what may come (not wasting time asking “why” instead of professing “I will trust you Lord.  Show me how.  See me.  And love me through it too.”)

If when married in the past and health challenges that now look like child’s play came but crushed life as I knew it, then it would be many years later that my intended beloved would show me true love:  how true faith conquers all, overcomes.

Tis the nature of fake religion which fails when life gets hard.  A God-fearing man seeks the Lord.  A God-fearing woman does too and this will be our calling card when this chapter of our lives is through.

And if my writings, my research, the doctoring, trial-n-error, or treatments really worked for something good, then why the heck would I still be seizing each day with “the flu” and pain that has marked 5 years of disabling suffering?

Tis the mystery of bothering to recover, trusting in the Lord who has saved me from far worse knowing that one day we shall rejoice, you and me Gentle Reader, if we but hang in there a little longer with hope beyond the gyrations of this life.

I’m in.  How ’bout you?  JJ