The Boomerang Effect

The wooden angle sitting on the mantle was a souvenir/gift from the Land Down Under.

To toss it into the air and have it return in-flight to you is a skill few master.  We didn’t!

Instead we dust if off because it looks nice:  forming a paradox in design and practice with which I can relate tonight.

Here’s why.

boomerang, wooden, life, metaphor, like, things come back, return to you

A trip to our local hospital began after much preparation and somewhat tense spirit too.

Would the appointments go alright such that I could return home and rest before a party this evening?

I brought with me several “rescue remedies,” food, water, favorite medical supplies, etc.

Having my port flushed last month went reasonably well so this one today should too.

Not.

I’d been battling Small Intestinal Bacterial Overgrowth when some labs indicated liver stuff too.  My Doc was willing to order a test over the phone and both would be today.

The liver/gall bladder/pancreas ultrasound could irritate a tender tummy for awhile.

Worse came a “tic attack” with the realization that there are several tender spots.

Gratefully, recovery came quickly and I was off to the outpatient clinic for the flush.

The nurse completed everything slowly as I’d requested; my preparation was flawless too.

Can you ice your chest wall while having an ultrasound, apply numbing cream before leaving home, and finish your breakfast/morning supplements in the waiting room between appointments running only 8 minutes late too?  Sure you can!

But 8 minutes past the hour was too late.  With everything that went wrong, the process would take OVER SIX HOURS!

The nurses there are saints as they let me sit in that treatment chair forever if needed.

Something about that 1 1/2 inch needle plunging into my port never has bode well with me.  Or was it a slight change in tissue gradient from fluids and a blood thinner going in?

The procedure was completed and I thought I was going to be o.k.  Then I started shaking.

The shaking continued for over THREE HOURS!  Several convulsive spikes joined the mess.

Gratefully my beloved Stevers was able to leave work early, go home, and bring me an emergency dose of steroid medication at the hospital.  He was my hero once again.

Within 15 minutes, the episode stopped.  I lain in that recliner chair in shock for a long while.  I wept some too.

We moved to the lobby where I devoured my last bit o’ snack and began to revive.

Once home, I rallied to help Steve get out the door to the party with gifts, dish-to-pass, yada, yada, yada hoping to join him later.  Another FIVE HOURS LATER, I did.

Last year I was too sick to attend a gathering with these friends from out of town.  My beloved sent me a video back then of the kids opening their gifts.  Bittersweet.

This year I got to see most of the kids for a few minutes and all of the adults.  Twas sweet.

Another victory was being able to visit in a home with a history of mold damage.  Huge!

The First Defense Nasal Screens (See Julie’s Favorites), open windows on a cool Spring evening, and progress in reduced reactivity all appeared to help.  Thank you Lord.

My plan was to stay in the moment, just enjoying the light banter and updates from all.

No matter that no one asked me much about things.  I love them in Christ just the same.

So I live a Boomerang life, moving from wretchedness to sweetness often within hours.

I could brood the day long or keep my pretty tops sitting in a closet like that dusted toy.

Instead if my Lord grants the where-with-all to get back into life, moving ahead, slightly forward,

I will trust in His strength.  I will do it.  I will get there.  And like the boomerang thing, the trip back will cancel the trip out that maybe wasn’t so good.

For we will face trials in this life, those of us who believe in Christ Jesus. The real question remains:

Will we stay on the shelf when the flippin’ craziness is done?  Nope.  Not me.

I will get out and try to have some fun!

The Gentle Giant

Standing over 6 feet tall, the man could have been mistaken for the childhood Green Giant hero of the Television Age.  He let his hair grow long, beard get kind of scruffy, and middle section pudge just enough to make his bear hug just right.  The children squealed when he growled and chased them back up the basement stairs when he had enough of their antics and needed to get back to work in that mysterious and yet wonderful business within those concrete walls.  More on that story another time.

The man was as conflicted as any could be in this life.  I’ll call him the Gentle Giant or GG for short.  My knowledge of him is pieced together from some vague memories, his hand-written journal, a few newspaper clippings, internet searches, and the stories from family members. Call it a great tragedy or perhaps work of satire as he never reached his full potential in this world.  Lord knows, he tried.

GG grew up in the blue collar suburbs of Detroit, Michigan as the son of an auto mechanic and never-quite-satisfied mother.  His dad let his mother rule the household including harsh discipline for the boys of the family.  Beatings, torture, destruction of their few prized possessions, restriction of food, verbal abuse, and lying about it all to suspicious outsiders comprised his private hell.  She destroyed his model airplanes, locked him in the closet, and made him sit at the meal table all day and all night as abusive punishment for just being alive.  The next generation (grandchildren) would be treated differently as would the girly middle child; the oldest brother would turn gay and befriend his mother and father in a strange twist of survival-perhaps-denial until he died of AIDS in his forties.   The baby of the family barely made it out alive when the older siblings were no longer around to protect him.  GG, the second oldest of the four children, had finally found his way to break free.

GG made a plan to marry the first woman who would accept his hand in marriage.  It took a few years after high school to find a suitable mate who was willing to marry him, perhaps in an attempt to escape her own abusive and alcoholic father.  They quickly had 3 children and a relationship burdened by his physical abuse of the mother.  The oldest took an overdose of her mother’s thyroid medication requiring having her stomach pumped at only 3 years old; the middle child developed a life-long inferiority complex from being told by his dad that he resembled his mother’s family more than his.  And this was only the beginning of things that went wrong in that household.  By the time the five of them had moved from the trailer park to their new home, GG was having periodic psychiatric breakdowns.  Experts have determined later that these were likely the psychotic breaks of paranoid schizophrenia.

GG struggled with the adult responsibilities of work, raising a family, relating to his wife, and managing the internal chaos of his mental illness.  He came into the realities of adulthood with too much brokenness to overcome; he was a brilliant inventor and draftsman yet could not control his own mind to ever find true happiness or success.  GG defied the counselling offered and declined the psychiatric medication newly developed that could help control his thought disorder.  He took an extended leave of absence from work and, instead of getting well, used the time to build a business in the unfinished basement of their home.  It became wildly successful in the hobby world of the 1960’s. How his employer never found out is another mystery.

Unfortunately the same ingenuity that brought him initial success 1) as a non-degreed draftsman for a major automaker and 2) in the home business, did not work when he applied it to his mental illness.  He experimented in psycho-cybernetics, hand writing analysis, the occult, various activities of the hippie crowd, drinking alcohol, and more.   Eventually he left town on his motorcycle with some blonde chick for California with all the profits from the business . . .  The children saw his father come and go in a myriad of painful and confusing scenes over the next few years until finally their parents divorced. Their dad lived in another suburb across town thereafter but the holiday visits and false hopes for things to be right never fully materialized.  Eventually GG left town for good and had no direct contact with his family for the next 27 years.

GG sent threatening letters to his mother for several decades, perhaps wrestling with her years of abusing him and what to do with it.  Sadly he hurt his own children as well in other ways. Over the years, the oldest daughter had witnessed satanic rituals, was abused by some women in the course of some psychedelic mayhem at his house across town during a visitation weekend, and was then tortured herself by GG in an attempt to help her “forget” what had happened to her.  The middle child witnessed his father’s domestic abuse of his mother and personal self-degradation as his father used mind control techniques on him in a misguided attempt to try and help his son.  The taped messages he recorded ended up having an opposite effect!  And the spirited youngest boy got as far as he could in life then, as a young adult, tried to find his dad who had left the family when he was barely past kindergarten. His dad’s letter of rejection was found by loved ones in his wallet after the young man died of alcoholism.  The surviving family grieved deeply.

GG’s experimentation with mind control techniques inadvertently opened himself up to the demonic realm.  The darkness in his eyes reflected this in particularly frightening scenes recounted by his children.  Knowing this, understanding his abusive upbringing and resulting mental illness then their own coming to faith in the Lord, Jesus Christ, has helped the two surviving siblings forgive their father.  They have found peace with their past and with their dad. The man was simply lost.  He had no idea the dark world he had incited nor the abuse he ended up carrying from one generation to the next.  It took the daughter in particular, many decades to understand this and break free from the trauma and demonic influences.  How that happened is yet another story.  The miracle of overcoming such hell gives testimony to the incredible power of the gospel through our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Thirty years after the oldest sibling last saw her father and two months before he died, she got to meet with him at his retirement/trailer park in Florida.  They had slowly developed a new relationship by phone before he eventually agreed to a visit in person. The Gentle Giant was frail yet charmingly engaging.  He told her tender stories of her days as a little girl and of how proud he was of her.  He told her that he loved her and by the time of their visit had shared how he had to leave their family to protect them from further harm.  More psychological breakdowns had occurred over the years.  His isolation from family and most of society became part of how he managed his illness in addition to long sabbaticals from work. He jointly held over 27 patents with a major manufacturer of automotive parts and would say that was why they “put up with him” and his leaves of absence.  The woman would see how creative her father was in crafting his life with the fragments he had been given . . . how incredibly her Heavenly Father would sustain her own life until those sweet moments of reconcilliation with her dad could bring closure, bring healing, bring some sweetness too.

Our earthly fathers have incredible importance in how we turn out in our lives.  They are the first authority figures in our lives who initially influence how we relate to our heavenly Father who is exceedingly greater and perfect;  ways that our earthly father can never be.  A loving relationship with both are critical for grounding us in this life on earth.  Even in the absence of a good dad the yearning of our hearts can lead us to the One Who will never leave us, never forsake us.  I do pray that in this story you will see how the “seeking” of one young girl as she became one older woman led her to overcome the failings of her father by filling those empty and hurting places with the unfailing love of Jesus Christ.  Graciously she did get to feel at last, the love of her real father before he died.  Not everyone will have this kind of opportunity; others will experience it their entire lives.  Regardless, we all can be whole no matter what darkness has fallen on our journey through this life.

I understand these experiences very well nurtured with truth from the Words of our Lord in His scripture and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.  Further, the Gentle Giant in each of us can be transformed from sorrow to joy if we but believe in His holy name, Jesus Christ. Healing and fullness of life will follow us all of our days into eternity.  I love that.  Oh Heavenly Father, I thank you for this story and for Your story of redemption too.  May you speak to the heart of the Gentle Reader who finds these words this day, filling him or her with your goodness. Bring them into the best of relationships found only with You.  Bring hope beyond what we all can see.  For your glory I pray in Jesus’ name I pray, amen.  JJ

 

Our God Reigns!

Seeing this sweet perching of morning doves is such a mixed blessing this morning.  They are able to sit there because yesterday I was able to cut down the massive out branching of a clematis from lower on the trellis.  Also washed the flagstone patio of dirt and some algae.  I should have worn a mask for both projects.  Acute sickness and violent convulsive episodes followed within the hour and at the beginning of a sweet Skype call with my hubby’s son and family.  So sad.
However, the experience was diagnostic in that I am dealing with biotoxin illness now more than anything else.  Also I am tolerating targeted treatments for this for the first time in 4 of these 5 1/2 years of illness.  Lord willing, I am going to get well!
Gentle Reader, let the morning doves portray the hope that I have each new day in my Lord and Savior,  Jesus Christ.  No matter what may come, our God reigns!  Very fitting the week before Easter don’t you think?

JJ 

New Skills

1 Corinthians, believer, Christian, not be wasted, don't give up, hope, not in vain,

If I had to create a resume today the contents would be a bit different for these past 5 years.  Web design?  Yup.

When I get concerned that my professional skills have eroded, I remind myself that life is measured more than by occupational achievements.  Later I will write about the journey for meaningfulness that led me to simply trust the Lord with each moment, each day.  For now perhaps what they used to call a “Functional Resume” is in order?  So here I submit a list of new things for which I am grateful to have learned despite being sick every day for over 5 years.  Surely the time was not wasted!

Developed 5 websites:  1 on Etsy and 4 on Word Press.

Self-published an eBook, Hope Beyond Lyme:  The First Year.

Taught myself how to make macramé and handcrafted jewelry, developed Trinity Jewelry by Design, sold hundreds of pieces online and at 5 events, then sold the business 2 years ago.

Learned about Lyme disease, mercury, Candida, seizures, epigenetics, biologic dentistry, shingles-and-other viral infections, biotoxin illness PLUS their respective testing and treatment protocols.

Learned about social media, ecommerce, blogging, Pinterest, Twitter, LinkedIn, Yahoo-and-other online forums, Skype (formed a prayer group), basic video production, online banking/PayPal, how to use a smart phone with Apps, and the like.

Became an Advanced Master Gardener.  Achieved the highest-star rated sustainable garden at our home.  Finally harvested our own blackberries!

Experimented with special diets for health:  ketogenic, low oxalate, low glutamate, gluten-free, SIBO, and the usual dairy/sugar/sweetener/mold-free diets.

Became an Assistant Editor to my Editor/Husband for the quarterly publication Canoe News of the United States Canoe Association.  Learned the basic features of MS Publisher and PowerPoint.

Experimented with various methods of detoxification for health including full spectrum infrared sauna, colon hydrotherapy, Epsom/mineral salt baths, lymph massage, and various binding agents (zeolite, benonite clay, fulvic acid, Intestinal Metals Detox, acai fiber, cholestyramine, chitosan, Welchol, etc.).

Learned about environmental toxins, extreme mold avoidance, types of masks to reduce exposure, cleaning strategies, remodeling, and more.

Implemented energy conservation, work simplification, home safety, accessibility, and novel coping strategies (that I used to train my patients!) to manage changes in my physical abilities.  Trained my husband in same, often in times of medical crisis.

Began a “telehealth” arrangement for part of my healthcare with a naturopath/genetic coach out of State.

Learned to camp in a travel trailer with my beloved hubby, Steve, and our German shepherd pup, Elle.

I bought my pick up truck 5 DAYS before I got sick.  Quickly, I learned to drive a truck then how to pull a trailer, haul stuff, and manage a 4-wheel drive vehicle.

Learned basic upholstery crafting to make all new cushions for our travel trailer and two custom cushions for a medical office.

Successfully navigated a complex and long disability case despite ongoing nightly  seizure attack episodes frying my brain at times!

Perhaps there is more yet I will stop here.  As an occupational therapist, I am trained to assess the life skills of my patients and how these are affected by his or her medical condition or disability.  Its as if the Lord knew that I would need the very skills of my profession to handle the devastating effects of a complex, serious illness 30 years after my career began.  In the past I’d often “re-invented” myself at work, moving from mental health to rehabilitation then home health care.  My work included contract work, consulting, and even a public speaking program called the Living Safely ©Program. Just about everything that I ever learned in my profession has helped me to cope and begin to overcome my current situation.

So when I shed a few tears for the setbacks that come, like last night, they simply do not last very long.  Or at least I can clear my mind more quickly than in the past.  Gratefully, I have other things to think about other than illness:  things I can still do when I can get up and get moving again.  And maybe, just maybe, when the seizures stop for good, all of this learning will bring glory to my Lord and Savior as He has helped me get through each moment . . . oh and Stevers too of course!  My husband is a saint!  And very wonderful.

Be encouraged, Gentle Reader.  Lord willing, I am going to get well!  I will be praying for you too this night.  Let’s hang in there, k?

Take care,

JJ

Psalm, 73, 73:6, God, heart and my portion forever, Lord, sustains, sickness, hope, always with me, Holy Spirit, trials, coping, Christian, believer, Jesus Christ

Revelation, 21, 21.5, make all things new, believer, Christian scripture, hope, help

Do No Harm They Say

25 I know that my redeemer lives,
    and that in the end he will stand on the earth.
26 And after my skin has been destroyed,
    yet in my flesh I will see God;
27 I myself will see him
    with my own eyes—I, and not another.
    How my heart yearns within me! (Job 19)

I was transported from my home via ambulance to the emergency room in the closest hospital on the evening of Tuesday, January 3rd.  My husband, Steven Horney, had called 911 when frightful and unusual writhing movements would not stop.  The emergency personnel lifted me off the floor where I had been in distress for about 30 minutes:  straining to breathe with my body twisting and contorting in positions of postural extension (choreathetoid-like movements that look like a child disabled with severe cerebral palsy), struggling to communicate, unable to keep my eyes open, bumping into kitchen cabinets and floor, pained by the overhead lights and banter of the personnel, and chilled to the bone.  They rolled me out into the wintry air without a coat, shoes, or blanket and with the rain sprinkling down on my exposed skin.  “We will turn the heat on once we get into the ambulance,” the man said.  I hung on for the ride not knowing what lain ahead of me.

I tried to communicate to the paramedics in broken phrases that the episode that they were witnessing began hours earlier after a scheduled dose of Gabapentin (Neurontin). That drug was prescribed for me September 18th at the main hospital when I was admitted for management of the complications of shingles.  Gabapentin was helping reduce the searing nerve pain in my face.   But for some reason starting on Monday, I started to have little tic-like shaking episodes within an hour of taking it.  And for some reason on Tuesday, within 2 hours of taking it, things escalated out of control from episodic tic attacks to non-stop writhing on the floor of our home. I had never had symptoms before like what was happening on that Tuesday evening.  Having an extensive medical education myself, I suspected an adverse reaction to Gabapentin.  Regardless, I was terrified.

This wasn’t my first trip to the Emergency Room in recent years. Another type of shaking episode [diagnosed by Lyme Literate Medical Doctor (LLMD) as symptom of chronic Lyme disease] has required treatment on an urgent basis with intravenous fluids.  Other medications were sometimes administered in the ER for pain or symptomatic relief only to exacerbate the shaking episodes.  In all of these situations, nothing has helped as much as a minimum of 1,000 ml or more of fluids.  So I was pleased when Dr. P evaluated me in the ER at the local hospital on the night of January 3rd and ordered 2,000 ml of IV fluids.  No labs were drawn. I was not pleased with how he or his staff treated me, however.

How can I possibly describe to you how terrifying it feels to be coherent and aware of one’s surroundings yet unable to communicate fluently or control one’s bodily functions above bowel and bladder? You fear you will stop breathing, have a heart attack, not survive.  Then again for me, I knew that I had survived severe episodes of frightful symptoms in the past and feebly hoped my body could take yet one more massive assault to my weakened frame.  However, when pressured to answer questions over and over again by (condescending) medical personnel doing their periodic “evaluations,” all of this did not come out of me with pretty language.  I am sorry for my swearing and inability to communicate clearly.

Perhaps my clinical presentation didn’t make sense compared to say a classic case of epilepsy or maybe the disorientation that goes with a textbook definition of dehydration? I wonder what things looked like to the emergency personnel who came to our home?  Or the emergency room staff?  The long list of medications, allergies, and diagnoses in my medical records surely confounded things a bit for the Doctor.  At least one of the nurses present that night had seen me in that ER before.  Would he be able to separate out the prior visits with this one?  After all, Gabapentin is used to treat both shingles and seizures, isn’t it?  What if this indeed was an adverse drug reaction to Gabapentin? Were procedures followed to rule out an adverse drug reaction?

All I know is that I was horrified and further frustrated by the scornful treatment of Dr. P and the nursing staff in the Emergency Room of our local hospital on the night of January 3, 2017. Dr. P claimed that I should be able to stop the involuntary movements because I had been able to speak at all.  He claimed that the involuntary movements had stopped when I was able to push out a response to his question albeit with pressured speech.  That simply was not true.  (The involuntary movements never stopped until much later.)  Dr. P argued this point and others with me!  My distress increased.  He finally left the room only to return to pressure me some more.  Eventually the treatment was administered and completed.  Eventually he left the room and did not return.

The involuntary writhing movements did not slow down until nearly ¾ the way through receipt of 1 liter of normal saline via IV. The acute contortions slowed first and were followed by tic attacks:  the various involuntary movements became intermittent, flared again, repeated this pattern a few times then finally stopped for a while.  I finally was able to lie on the gurney motionless.  My dear husband Steve sat nearby.  I was exhausted and I think he was too.  I felt dejected by the staff.  I was afraid to move for fear of retriggering some kind of return of symptoms as this had happened in the past after a neurological event if I tried to move or speak or if the treatment ended too soon.  At some point a nurse started a second liter of fluids.  I nodded and might have muttered a few words.  I needed to use the bathroom and was assisted in the use of a bedside commode.

At this point I was weak but beginning to feel some hope. Sometimes voiding helps these kinds of symptoms.  I returned to the gurney.  To my surprise, the primary nurse then notified me that the fluids would stop and I would be discharged.  Approximately 1,500 ml (of the 2,000 ordered) had been infused and they said that 1) since the shaking had stopped and 2) I had voided a large amount, 3) that constituted proof that I was rehydrated.  I still could not speak but may have nodded again.  What became clear to me a day later was that the hydration ended WAY TOO SOON. I still could not function when the fluids were stopped.  And further, I definitely was not yet stable enough to tolerate what followed next.

Several members of the nursing staff came into the room and tried to help me get dressed while the IV was still connected to the pump and tubing was still connected to my arm. I muttered something about this and the gal next to me stopped tugging at my clothing.  The primary nurse (who had brought the commode and each bag of fluids) began RIPPING OFF THE DRESSING from the IV in my arm in one swift motion before I could ask her to go slowly or place my finger over the insertion point to maybe help prevent what would happen next.  Even my husband noted how fast she was ripping off the IV!  The needle/tubing inserted into my forearm became dislodged with the Tegaderm dressing displayed to one side, still stuck to it!  Immediately and violently a searing knife-like pain ratcheted from the back of my right hand to directly to my brain.  Welcome to the increased sensitivity of underlying neurological illness!  Involuntarily, screams of holy terror erupted from my mouth.  Soon Dr. P was standing over me at the foot of the gurney, scolding me some more.  Why?  Just why was he speaking to me this way?  My brain felt like it was on fire.  These sensations and symptoms had become markedly different than those that had brought me to the hospital 3 hours earlier yet were equally severe.  A new type of episode had started. And all the gains I had realized just moments before were erased by that searing pain in my hand.  I was still aware of my surroundings yet powerless to help myself.  The grief in my spirit was great.  I thought I was getting better!

Steve tried to explain the nature of this complex illness to Dr. P outside of the room. I understand that Dr. P spoke graciously to Steve.  That’s nice.  I am glad.  I did not get to experience grace in any form from Dr. P.

The seizing was now a rapid, violent, involuntary tremor. Three nurses insisted that it was time for me to go and started to take off the gown and put on my shirt.  I blurted out that I would do it myself.  I really don’t know what I was thinking when I said that. I do recall being afraid that the sensation of them touching me might add to the hypersensitivity and neurological distress.  Someone brought in a wheelchair.  Another problem surfaced:  my initiation of movement from trying to put on my shirt increased the amplitude of the seizing, violence of the shaking, difficulty pushing out words coherently.  My back arched against my will as screeches of terror erupted from inside me:  half dressed with my bra exposed, crying fiercely, and horrified at the indignity of it all.  (Much later I would wonder if they would have treated me like this if, say, we were working together in home health care earlier that day? I was an occupational therapist for the Network of the main hospital long before I got sick with this wretched illness that no one still completely understands.  Never mind.  No one in that emergency room except Steve appeared to care about me anyways.)

About a half an hour later, I discovered that someone had graciously turned off the lights in the room we were in. Thank you, whoever you are.  And thank you to whomever gave me more time to recover.  We eventually went home.  I felt horrible. Dried tears stained my face.  I was very hungry.  I still had no coat or shoes to wear but hey, my beloved’s car has heated seats and I knew they would warm at least a part of me quickly.  Out into the cold, damp air of night we went.  I was also “shell-shocked.”  I felt traumatized.  Things could have gone so much differently don’t you think?

*********

UPDATE:  It is now about 3 weeks later.  Last weekend an adverse reaction to another medication sent me to a walk-in clinic who sent me to the emergency room of another hospital in another Health Network.  My husband was out of town and dear friends took gracious care of me.  The hospital staff cared well for me.  It now seems like I am finally starting to stabilize, but hey, who really knows what the future holds?  My hope rests in the person of Jesus Christ and His promise to His servant Job who endured far more strife than I can ever imagine.  I end with His words, His promise once again.  Praise be your name and in your name I will trust:  Jesus Christ!

25 I know that my redeemer lives,
    and that in the end he will stand on the earth.
26 And after my skin has been destroyed,
    yet in my flesh I will see God;
27 I myself will see him
    with my own eyes—I, and not another.
    How my heart yearns within me!  (Job 19)