Most of the time when I tell people how long it's been, people give me a really weird reaction. They extend pity and sympathy, which is kind, but it's not what I'm looking for. I see this as a milestone; while I'm not happy about my circumstances, the joy of the Lord penetrates the worst of circumstances. He redeems the worst people and the worst trials to make His beauty known. The nine month mark of being sick is evidence of that to me; I see not nine months of trial but nine months of grace.
My life has completely changed since getting sick. It started with a stabbing pain in my left foot in the way home from a road trip with friends, an unusual and alarming pain that wouldn't go away. I was then diagnosed with a neuroma. After a while it spread to two, three...six neuromas, an unheard of diagnosis. I was diagnosed with tarsal tunnel, a pinched nerve in my ankle. But the pain spread and became unilateral (both feet), then soon I had unilateral carpal, cubital, and tarsal tunnels--pinched nerves in both of my wrists, elbows, and ankles, respectively. Another unheard of diagnosis. It spread to my lower back, arms, and made half of my left hand numb. I was tested for frightening and untreatable autoimmune diseases. We ruled out rare conditions that cause a painful and short life. The pain got worse and continued to spread--my shoulders, my neck, my face. The doctors are stumped.
Daily life looks completely different now. It's structured around taking medications, putting everything on hold for doctors appointments, and canceling weeks of my life when I'm in too much pain to get out of bed. The braces around my back, elbows, and wrists restrain me like this disease has restricted my life. I know all too well the side effects of medications: getting dizzy and lost on an elevator, days of nausea, the cripling effect of brain fog, drunkenly falling out of bed, feeling like I'm losing my mind. Constant pain serves as a constant reminder for my imperfections.
I know the fear of not knowing what's happening to my body, if I'll ever be well again, or if I'll ever live a normal life. There's a monster inside of me, and I don't know its name. Is it eating me away? Or are the remedies I use to make it through each day what are destroying me? Should I fear liver damage from my medications or long term nerve damage from this disease? Should I fear for my life?
I hate this monster. I hate what it has done to my life. If I could kill him without destroying myself, I would.
But when I don't know what to fear, I learn not to fear.
I have lost many things from being sick. Opportunities, comfort, friendships, freedom, the ability to perform simple tasks, even my handwriting has changed. I say all of this because I have learned the following:
A thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited. Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Corinthians 12:7-10)I am incredibly weak, in some of the most practical and obvious ways. Some days I am too physical weak to stand and must be carried to the bathroom. Other times my medication changes my ability to think so drastically that friends and family must take care of me, help feed me, and walk me across the street because I am too sick to notice the oncoming cars. I go days, even weeks feeling like a stranger with a different personality. Even in the midst of this trial, I still struggle with turning to God but instead react to pain with anger and sin--I am so spiritually weak in the simplest ways. And goodness gracious am I emotionally weak, like I never knew I could be. I feel frail and worn out, I'm exhausted and sometimes feel hopeless.
I am not complaining. I am boasting.
God has allowed this to happen. This does not make me angry at Him. I get angry sometimes that I am sick, but He has continually shown me that He is still good. He allowed me to be sick because somehow, in a way I cannot understand, me being sick for 9 months is what glorifies Him the most. I hate the monster that reminds me of my fallen state and the imperfections of this world. My eyes are opened to a new level of suffering that so many experience much worse than I can comprehend, and I long for the return of Christ when sin and evil and pain will end forever.
I hate this monster, but I love the Father who uses even the worst evil to teach us of His love. I now know what depending on Him for daily bread feels like. I have learned to not trust my own plans for the future, whether it's plans for the weekend or the summer or my life, I never know what my health will be doing. With so many misdiagnosises and now being undiagnosed, I have learned not to lean entirely on my own and my doctor's understanding but take comfort that God knows everything. My Maker holds my health, and I'm learning to let that be enough.
I've prayed Psalms from the inside of an MRI machine. I've joked with nurses while they draw my blood and hook me up to IVs. I've almost fainted in a professor's office. I've been carried through a McDonald's. I've had to ask for help. I've had to let others love and serve me. I've seen people fail me and had to forgive them.
This is not the life I would have chosen, but there is a Savior who has chosen me for it. There is a peace that passes all understanding. I am as undeserving of this peace as I am of the grace that gets me through each day and the love that surrounds me and overflows my cup.
It's been nine months. Nine hard months, but nine of the richest months I've ever experienced. This isn't the anniversary of the day I lost something, but the day God moved my life in a direction I hadn't anticipated. As a Puritan prayer puts it:
"I rejoice to know that all things are at Thy disposal, and it delights me to leave them there."
Resting in the sovereignty of our Lord,
Happy 9 months.
