When you are afraid of everything

Every once in awhile I emerge from the fog of battling serious, ongoing illness and realize that the way I view the world is not the same as that of others around me. I am often afraid of everything!

Folks are dressing up for special Christmas celebrations and with it comes perfumes, colognes, hair spray, and lots of pretty/smelly stuff. I just practice what I call a “virtual hug” during greetings and keep my distance from any close contact where something might rub off on me. It’s awkward but works better than being triggered.

Venture out to a social gathering and I’ll wonder what particulate matter rests in both the upholstered seat upon which I am sitting or the coat that the person next to me is wearing. The mycotoxins from mold persist forever and easily transfer from one cloth surface to another. How many of us have our winter coats dry cleaned each year or launder them? Our vehicles and outerwear can carry with them the toxins from anywhere we have visited in the past. Some items simply cannot be cleaned of these toxins. And even if they can be cleaned, who else but another “mold avoider” uses anti-fungal agents like we do when washing clothing? Or tosses coats in the dryer under the sanitize cycle before putting them back into the closet or wearing them again? Probably nobody I know!

We brought a nasty scent home with us inside our new-to-us truck, from a recent trip. The sour smell is from a water-damaged building where any contact has the potential to trigger a violent convulsive episode. Maybe this low level of exposure that remains will somehow de-sensitize me to this type of mold? Yeah, right. The portable ozone machine that we really can’t afford right now, came in the mail from Amazon today. I’m going to try to zap that stinky smell out of there soon and hope that the remaining fragrance in there from the dealership goes with it. Cleaning, vacuuming, essential oils, charcoal packs, or baking soda haven’t worked on the latter. Driving with the window slightly open hasn’t been enough to ward off fatigue and the risk of pre-tic symptoms when I am in there. I need to drive to medical appointments. We will fix this soon, Lord willing.

Sharp, loud noises have become an instant trigger again and quite a nuisance. Twice in the past 10 days, my husband initiated an innocent action that resulted in a high-pitched, short, loud “olfactory stimulus.” Immediately I felt my ear drum move inward and a convulsive episode ramped up quickly thereafter. These are really bad. One happened last weekend as I was riding home with my beloved from a sweet date viewing Christmas lights, listening to music on the radio coordinated with each display. I could barely open my eyes for the last display as the head-banging had not yet subsided; my biggest fear was that the hand I struggled to push near my head wouldn’t adequately stabilize the wrenching of my head/neck. Steve fed me a rescue remedy when we got home while I still sat in the frigid air on the passenger seat of our truck. My left leg dragged as he was eventually able to guide me into the house (with me struggling yet determined to try and walk under my own power and not be carried). We removed my outer layers of clothing in case the scent of the truck was on them; I crashed into bed and slept for over four hours. I woke up in the middle of the night very hungry, ate a very late dinner of sorts, and was not able to sleep again until after sunrise. The new day was trashed. We had already cancelled attending the Holiday Pops concert downtown to avoid loud music. But I love Christmas decorations and music! This really sucks man.

Everywhere from public restrooms to the open door of a neighbor’s home exudes air fresheners these days. A package of new neighbor was accidentally delivered to our home so I thought, neat, I’ll take it over and get to meet them. A waif of something fragrant washed over me as soon as the sweet gal opened the door; “c’mon in!” she offered in a friendly tone. A quick, I can’t due to sensitivities nearly killed that friendly encounter. Fortunately the late fall day was a little milder and she didn’t mind chatting on her front entryway outside of her home. Sigh.

I would LOVE to invite all of our new neighbors over to get acquainted later this Winter. We did this very thing with our neighbors before I got sick and it was a sweet time of fellowship. FOUR of the eight homeowners have turned over in our neighborhood court in which we live. Someone needs to organize a get-together and I wish it could be me and my hubby! I simply cannot do that. I’ll have to wait until the warmer weather comes and we can sit outside on our patio. I guess that’s alright too . . . five months from now when the weather thaws and warms.

We still practice a relatively high level of extreme avoidance that is getting OLD after all these years. Perhaps progress on treating a particular type of sinus infection will reduce my sensitivities. Let’s repair that blood-brain barrier already! I am grateful that I can finally treat the chronic MARCoNS infection that is characteristic of biotoxin illness. This makes me hopeful that maybe more than the olfactory cranial nerves will heal as well. Over time, of course. More time. The trigeminal nerve that gives rise to TMJ pain and had triggered episodes has already healed quite a bit with my specialized dental appliances from a craniomandibular specialist.

These are only a few of the examples of how chemical sensitivity, mold sensitivity, Chronic Inflammatory Response Syndrome (CIRS) play out in a person’s life. Gene expression gets turned on for persons with particular HLA types for mold illness, contributing to abnormal responses to everyday sensory stimuli. Turning it off or lowering it requires removal and avoidance of triggers, various types of testing (home/work/school environment then specific lab testing), dietary changes, and a hierarchy of expensive treatment protocols. I am grateful that not only am I able to tolerate a complex combination of nasal treatments, there are fewer food triggers of symptoms now than in the past. Some of the labs used to diagnose CIRS have normalized or are only slightly elevated. My local Functional Medicine Doctor versed in these protocols will re-test me for MARCoNs early next year. I am hopeful that I can finally clear this infection; the sinus headaches have already subsided. (This Doc is so very nice to me as well! Love that!) The laundry list of other medical conditions that has come alongside this nightmare are not nearly as disabling as CIRS. I never lose hope that many can get better or even be cured this side of heaven, Lord willing.

When you are afraid of everything, it is really really hard to want to try new things, meet new people, or go to new places. My confidence in virtually every aspect of living has suffered. Expertise, proficiency, and tolerance for the work environment of my profession of occupational therapy have eroded and I am not sure that I will ever be able to get it back (or even tolerate working with all of the potential exposures of a clinical setting). Indeed I have developed new skills during this period of time and you are reading one of them right now. I am grateful to have designed several websites and am the editor/assistant editor of 2 publications. Medical research has become a necessary pursuit. These are worth something I suppose and can be done in the middle of the night when needed. Gardening has sustained me throughout these 8 years of battling a serious illness and 6 of them with biotoxin illness in particular. Sometimes I am taking care of our yard or a public rain garden after dark when I feel better but hey, that’s what flashlights are for, right?

Perhaps I need to re-read John Maxwell’s book entitled, Failing Forward. While this time in my life is not my failure per se, the effect of repeated trials and traumas is very similar. Better pull it out again. In life, the opposite of fear is courage and perseverance is a requirement to succeed thereafter. Somehow I do although this has been one of my greatest challenges when feeling like a beaten puppy. Further, some would say that the opposite of fear is love as in the perfect love that comes only from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. For if we truly know His love then nothing in this world can separate us from it, including the powerful tool of fear, fear of failure, fear that things will not change, fear that we are alone to suffer, and so on. The truth is that those in Christ will never again be alone, the same again, or away from the Divine plan and purpose He has for our lives. Knowing this truth brings not only courage to go on but hope. And my Jesus’ love and care has helped me move forward to even get to this day, to think that one day even if it’s in heaven, all will be made new, right, and good. That’s the kind of love in action that obliterates fear.

Sigh. I’m tired tonight. The shingles is healing. Some medical questions are now answered resulting in closing some doors and leaving others precariously open. I’ll need to meditate on these topics some more. Still, I think I have a better perspective, more hope than when I started writing to you, Gentle Reader. Do you deal with fear too? JJ

Smaller Moments Mean More

When the mist on the pond lifts up to the air

The morning hath come and I give witness to life once again.

For I am up through the night, my old haunts hath returned

A way of coping, of living:  just what I gotta do for right now.

So I edit a magazine, make charts of treatments, plan for when I will be well,

Most folks would not notice the shifts ever so small

The wretched episodes continue albeit with shaking, less overall.

I had to gain courage to take more meds/more remedies than ever before

Go rogue to kill the monsters within with faith and every tool from this road.

“Parasites in the brain” sounds pretty scary might you agree?

Yet that is exactly where I have arrived so be that as it may

Find me spacey perchance to dream when restorative sleep comes that way.

The smaller treats of life mean more to me now in my softened state

I get to see them in slow motion and savior their texture, their smell even when awful like glue.

What is before me fills every moment in much more detail

Healing comes small before big so intentionally I walk through most of the day.

Don’t get me wrong, the chores fill more hours than they used to years ago

That ‘s just one part of the plan so is rest and in times of rest I believe answers we have found.

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One does feel ever so small next to God’s majesty revealed in the big sky over Wyoming . . .

One Day

Friday my Doctor recommended some new supplements to further my care and seemed pleased at some progress revealed in retesting of my gut health.  But neither product is available right now; instead I had to crash in bed that night and most of Saturday.

Yesterday I thought I would work on trimming a sterile plum tree in our backyard that is riddled with black knot disease.  We are trying to save it for a few more years of it’s flowering glory in the Spring and rich wine-colored leaves in the Summer.  It was not to be so today.

Tomorrow I hope that my trial of THC-free hemp oil will resume with receipt of a shipment in the mail.  I didn’t realize when I started it recently, how much I would need nor the extra timing needed for shipments across our country.  This could help resolve the seizure attacks as soon as this week . . . if I get the dosing right . . . and if the next shipment arrives shortly thereafter.  But there was a fire in a warehouse between here and there, threatening my continuity of care.  Maybe I will have enough?  Maybe not?  Lord knows that one day we will have figured this all out!

When today came I thought I might clean our bathrooms and floors then complete an infrared sauna treatment before heading outside.  Instead I was sick.  Only the sauna treatment happened.

Then later and just when it looked like the core of my treatment plan was coming together, another infection sent me and my beloved to the walk-in clinic of our local hospital.  Geez oh man.  Steve offered to take me out to dinner last night but I could not make it.  I was hoping to take a walk with him and the pup in the sunny, 50-degree weather.  Nope, not today.

I cried a lot before proceeding with what we did need to take care of me today.  Life sure is funny.  Perhaps some medical appointments this coming week will clarify what I should do next to get well in addition to responding to urgent changes that seem to come along every few days.  And maybe someday, one day, we will make plans for something fun and they will really happen!

In the meantime,  date nights will be at a clinic or pharmacy at Walgreens or driving to the nearest metropolis for a fancy  NeuroQuant brain scan.  At least in the case of the latter, we got to see a dear friend, Mary, for a quick lunch at Freshii’s in Chicago’s Loop.  Now that’s making the most of a day, eh?

Straining to trust in my Lord this night.  Choosing to trust in His Word and promise to carry me through it all no matter what may be one day for:

There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

    a time to be born and a time to die,
    a time to plant and a time to uproot,
    a time to kill and a time to heal,
    a time to tear down and a time to build,
    a time to weep and a time to laugh,
    a time to mourn and a time to dance,
    a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
    a time to search and a time to give up,
    a time to keep and a time to throw away,
    a time to tear and a time to mend,
    a time to be silent and a time to speak,
    a time to love and a time to hate,
    a time for war and a time for peace.

What do workers gain from their toil? 10 I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. 11 He has made everything beautiful in its time.   Ecclesiastes 3

Digging down deep

Beneath the wet earth from the late season snow

Chilled like the flavorless angst of my threadbare resolve,

Lies packages of hope:  those tubers, those bulbs yet asleep

Waiting for their time when the sun awakens their beauty in Spring.

Toil not, they do not, using their time of dormancy for its purpose instead

Such that life may burst forth with all that emerges from within

Stored in seasons past, full of sugar-coated memories divided between

The new members, the seeds that join miraculous transformation:  the celebration of life as it comes.

How may I be like the created things all around knowing I am so much more —

Use my time of spinning, of strife, of waiting, of failure whilst holding on for my day of celebration too?

For I am worth more than the fruits of the earth, the birds of the air soaring on high

The giant wonders of dark seas, the furry and creepy crawly ones all around

For they have no sense of wonder to bother to reason or ask the mysterious, the “why?”

They simply trust in the DNA of their making and bid their calling to each moment in time.

I may never know the answers to my questions, my quest to make sense of this suffering that goes on

And that must be good enough for me anyways to make the most of what I have been given

As perhaps a stewardship issue, a story told more in the heavenlies than for me here on God’s green earth to know

That someday, digging down deep in my own soul, my Lord will reveal His glory and I will be glader than the raven capturing her prey from above.

Until then, Gentle Reader, we two must trust in the plans set forth by our Father God

Knowing full well that more lies ahead than the lime green leaves birthed from the showers of April

We shall see God and He will love us now til the end of the age when we blossom to the fullness of our destiny

Everlasting, everbearing, ever singing praise to the Most High Who had our hearts all along dear one . . . He said so . . . the beauty from ashes came as we went on and believed.  JJ

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So much to consider

So we come to a crossroads, my beloved and I

From where will we go from here to continue my care?

No cure hath cometh from a year of killer drugs within

Five years of tortuous suffering with costs beyond compare.

We don’t know why the trauma continues to this day

Whether it will continue or end?  There are no promises

That when we show up in this life that all will be grand

But shunting the yearn for heaven my dear, the treats beyond.

Today I am tired but stable, weak but reflective

Grateful for so much while I ponder theses woes . . .

My beloved is sweeter than honey

His warmth a comfort to my hol-ey bones

He loves me deeply still; I see it every day

And life’s sweetest:  love from this man I have come to know.

Alas I search the scripture and find that even Job

Needed to trust in the Lord not knowing why

His suffering exceeded the faith of his friends, his kin

When all was really a battle within the spiritual realm

Having very little to do with his past, to do with him.

So in the seasoning of the late missionary, Helen Roseveare

“Can you thank me for trusting you with this experience

Even if I never tell you why?” God asked of her in the midst of terror.

“He doesn’t have to tell us why,” she would learn

“But He often does in His gracious, loving mercy,” for sure.

So I will seek the perspective of the privilege

It is to be used in this life by the Lord almighty

Relinquish my frame to His plan and outrageous love

Then wait and see:  He is worthy.  My response:  humility.

JJ

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