Alright, disease update—that sounds fun, doesn’t it? Funny,
I’ve shied away from talking about my disease for so long; shied away from
referring to it as a disease, even. It used to be sort-of a side note in my
life but unfortunately, right now it seems like a defining aspect.
Anyway, I’ve felt like crap for a while now and by a while,
I mean ten months. For reals. Turns out
that Valley Fever on top of MS will kick your tushy. And the not feeling well has just gone on and
on and I’ve been grappling with the question of, what if this is just the new
normal? And I’ve had some MRIs done and I
saw five different doctors in January, trying to answer that question.
I received good news and bad news. The good news is that the Valley Fever is
finally improving. The bad news is that the MRIs showed three new lesions. And my neurologist wants to switch my
medication. And I’m scared. And I’m pissed. And that’s why I’m writing.
I really don’t want to tell any of you about any of this but
I do want to figure out where God is in it all and if I can, that’s what I want
to share.
So, I’m scared because the two choices of medicines that my
doctor proposed look, on paper, like nightmares. Risky. Terrifyingly so. And rather than switch, I want to bargain
with God. Make a deal that if I just live a better life, maybe he could heal
me. I just was teaching the kids about
what a conundrum is the other day: a problem that has no satisfying solution;
this appears to be a good example.
And I’m pissed.
Pretty much at everybody. I’m
angry with my friends for not understanding—though I haven’t shared much about
it. I’m angry at my mom for not knowing
what a lesion is eight years after diagnosis—even though I don’t fully
understand the disease. I’m angry with myself for not taking better care of
myself on a regular basis; at my body for betraying me. And at God? I don’t know. I did whisper-scream at him, in the bathtub,
through sobs, the other day that I didn’t like Him. And then I spent the rest
of the weekend asking forgiveness even though I knew He already had given it.
I really don’t think I’m mad that I have this disease. I
think I’m mad because it requires that I trust Him. And He scares me and I do feel angry when I
think of a friend who lost a child and when I think about Job or Abraham and
Isaac, which were all the things I was accusing Him of in the privacy of my
bathroom, through tears. Because I know
there are no guarantees here. No
promises of an easy life—in fact, there’s a guarantee of the opposite. A surety that we will suffer in this
life. And I kind of don’t want to
suffer. But more than that, I don’t want
my suffering to affect others. That’s
the thing. I have these children. I have
this husband. I have plans on how my
mothering and wifehood should look and it does not include a disease.
But what if I don’t like God but I love Him? And somehow, right now, that’s enough? I need it to be. The pastor went through Romans 8 today and He
said everything I needed to hear. And he
brought up Abraham and Isaac and he proposed something I’d never considered. What if God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son
to prove to Abraham how much he loved God. I’ve always thought it was God wanting to
prove to Himself in this sort-of narcissistic way how much Abraham loved him
but actually, God already knew.
So what if, in my life, God isn’t throwing this stuff at me
to see if I’ll love Him through it but to show me that I will. I can’t say I understand that concept
completely but I do find it comforting and worth meditating on as I continue
this journey. Things change. I’m not in
control. So I might as well get out of the way and trust.
