“It’s only a day away,”
The curly haired girl would sing on stage
‘Cause the sun did come out “tomorrow”
And that was all that shined over here, alas.
Bedbound once again
I search my mind in wonder:
What penance doth I need to serve?
What sin doeth I need forgiveness?
Thy husband is off on his adventures
And I am here, alone with you
Exasperating in another lost day
Where even the counselor had little to say.
My Lord is silent on such an occasion
Perhaps waiting for me to simply dwell
And know that He is there
Even when I cannot see, feel, or touch His face.
Is this my fate, I ask to the silence around me?
Perhaps it is. Perhaps nothing will ever change.
I am to rejoice the Scriptures tell me forthright
That must come from grace for my strength fails,
Lest a key drops into my space with some goodness
This day I will simply breathe one nare at a time
(Until the pounding in my head subsides, alas.)
“Look up. Look waaaaaay up,” were the words of The Friendly Giant in 1986. This American children’s television host invited the viewer into his miniature living room where he pulled out a chair just for you by the fireplace. Then an image of his fake leather boots appeared 10x the scale of the scene on the television as he invited little Sissy or young Bobby to follow the camera up to the smiling eyes waiting to tell a story, waiting to introduce you to a host of characters. Rusty the Rooster was a silly-looking puppet yet their banter held my attention all the same. Even though by 1986 I was not a kiddo anymore!
We often look up to see the wonder beyond us: gazing at the twinkling stars so visible in the crisp Fall air or maybe oooing and ahhhing at the bright ornaments adorning the department store Christmas trees already on display before Thanksgiving. There is something magical about a beautiful sight just beyond our gaze, just above our smaller human frame. When that object is but ordinary the wonder may be less yet the opportunity to reflect may be just as profound too.
The ceiling above my bed of sickness holds much thought these days. On a Monday I might see a simple popcorn ceiling in the same building contractor’s white paint of every home built that very year. A few days later it may be the seam tape of the electrical lines painted to match the composite panel lining the roof of an aluminum travel trailer. Two months ago it was a bright blue shade sail floating softly up, gently down above my patio chair when the weather was still sunny and warm. Such simple forms that served to give me pause from the mayhem of the hours that dragged on before . . .
Times like these are best spent dwelling in the presence of the Lord. No words fill my mind in those kind of moments. The tears are already spent; the energy almost completely drained away. Such is the aftermath of uncontrollable seizure attacks that plague my weakened frame day after night after day for hours without end. The pattern continues despite new anti-microbial treatments, tests, consultations, prayer, tears, strategies new and old. New pains come and find a way to stay. There is nothing left to say. There is nothing left to do but to dwell, I guess.
Even love can be like this I suppose when it hurts so bad and you still can’t seem to shake the pain away. All you do is focus on the form that you knew or still know that stands in front of you when only a blank slate emptied of your future together remains. Turn to the left, turn to the right, stand up, sit down, and unlike the cheer song at the football games in 1986, there is no fight! Fight! FIGHT! when love goes away for good. Oh how I long for the familiarity of the pains I had known long ago. It would be so much easier to handle than the emptiness of my heart this night. Yup. The joy is gone! Gone! GONE!
So what’s a middle-aged gal to do in the middle of the night and there is nothing to look up to anymore? When I have written more words from every angle that my heart can imagine and no new inspiration comes to fill the page, gosh, what will I do? Not much, really. Just wait I guess. Tomorrow is a new day and it will be here before you know it. Maybe something good will happen, eh?
In the meantime, won’t you hang in there with me? Here, I have pulled up a chair for you too Gentle Reader. The Friendly Giant is now known as Immanuel and has a special story to help us end this little time together. It’s a great read for a bedtime story at any time of the day, I promise.
I do hope you enjoy it. JJ
The short story:
The next step in my treatment of ongoing illness will be a “pre-tox” protocol before actual mercury chelation. Methylmercury is chelated through the liver and gut; inorganic mercury is chelated through the kidneys. Since I am hypersensitive to every approach attempted thus far, my doctor recommends beginning treatment with remedies to open up these elimination pathways before beginning chelation. I’ll probably start with one of the five products recommended by Quicksilver Scientific: the company that invented mercury speciation testing and this more targeted method of detoxification.
The long story:
After my doctor’s office losing my test results, my pleading with the company to email them directly to me, hand delivering the report to my doctor’s office in the middle of their move from one building to another, cancelling an appointment in favor of a personal phone call on Saturday, and fretting until getting that call with the results on Sunday night, a plan is now in place for me! We will need to progress slowly since EVERY TREATMENT I have attempted thus far has resulted in increased seizure attacks and convulsions. It makes sense to attempt to open up the chelation pathways first for these two types of mercury since I rank very high in both forms. It also makes sense for me to complete some additional testing of systemic metals to clarify the clinical picture and avoid further toxicity as we proceed.
So I began to research the initial products needed for this “pre-tox” protocol and lo and behold I take issue with four of them! Three are homeopathic remedies from a very New Age German company that directly conflicts with my Christian world view. I decided over twenty years ago not to use homeopathic remedies: why do we need alchemy and weirdness for substances God created in this world for our health and well being? I have never felt good on any of these products! I need to pray about this for sure. And the fifth substance in the pre-tox program is made with an ionic solution of marine plankton. Does anyone recall that I got deathly ill with viral hepatitis at the beginning of this hell from cyanobacteria aka blue green algae? Let’s hope that they are not the same thing? Maybe one is a fish and the other is a plant? I am frightfully aware of the negative consequences of any biotoxin in my weakened frame . . .
The one product NOT in question is IMD 30x. While a homeopathic-like preparation, the main ingredient is a proprietary thiol-functionalized silica. No problemmo. I can even pronounce the ingredients! Too bad the company states that it’s best taken with the green water stuff! Sigh. You know I’m just a little weary after 3 years, tens of thousands of dollars, prayers, submission, and getting up to struggle through another day until zapped into a painful place . . .
The end of this story for now:
I will pray about this. I will consult with my husband. I will talk to our compounding pharmacist about this (who gratefully is a God-fearing man). I will call the manufacturer of the Quinton Isotonic Marine Plasma about the purity of its product and review their extensive website further. Maybe I’ll be o.k. with two of the five products after all? Then I’ll add another specific nutritional supplement before I begin the actual chelation process in about 3 months. With ongoing experimentation of zeolite and activated charcoal plus ending all consumption of fish, I should be well on my way to a better place early next year. Lord willing, that is! JJ