Who Says?

Who says?

Who says I cannot get my hair done? 
Who says I cannot paint my nails, wear red lipstick or dress up just because?

I don't know if anyone would tell me I couldn't. 
Anyone except me that is. 

Because I am sick...  
That is what the voice in my head keeps whispering.
... Because I am sick, I cannot.

Why should I put energy into doing any of these things? How could I?

I am tired. I am sitting at home and no one is going to see me. I don't feel lively or energetic.  I don't feel beautiful. I don't have any one to impress. 
And then would people question even more if I was truly sick?

These toxic thought circle around my mind.  Becoming more and more engrained. 

I have to look sick.  Fill the part of being sick for that is what I am.  

Slowly, without me even realizing, being sick has become far too much of my identity.  I live and breathe sick.  I cannot remember what it feels like not to be sick (as I mentioned in my last post Daughter). 

But why should I focus on being sick?  Why does being sick all of a sudden equal me?
It's not like it has changed who I am?  Yes it is my reality but it isn't me.  And the more I make it me... The harder it will be to heal. 
And the harder to heal, the more sick I become. 
I think that's what I was going through when I realized I was actually depressed.  
Once I stopped denying this was my reality, it became so much of me. I couldn't see the light anymore. I couldn't dream about what is to come. 
I was stuck.  Stuck in both my body and my mind. 

So with antidepressants doing their job, added awareness on my part, and with effort to get out of that rut I was stuck in, I am slowly transforming.  Transforming my thoughts and taking back my identity. 
It's like the muck I was in is drying up.  The sun has come out and the windflowers are beginning to bloom. 
The more I focus in the beauty around, the more I change. 

Beauty is all around.  Beauty is transforming me.

I am seeking joy.   Looking for the gift of everyday.  Believing that in weakness, His strength truly shines.  He makes me shine.  And I can be His precious princess who is beautiful. 

I am beginning to ask myself new questions.  New questions helping form this transformation.

Instead of asking myself about my pain,  I am asking myself how am I feeling great today?  Taking the focus that became so narrow from the negative to a broader reality. A reality where there really is so much positive. 
Where there are new and good things.  Things that bring me joy.  That give me strength. That heal. 

So again I ask, who says?  Because I am choosing to no longer be the voice that says I cannot be happy because I am sick.
So being sick no longer means I shouldn't do any of these things for myself.  That I shouldn't smile and have fun. That I shouldn't do something girly. 

Practicing gratitude has been a huge thing in changing my day.  I am keeping a gratitude journal and now in my day I seek out things that bring me joy and get excited to write about them. 

My cheerleader, already made friend, and health coach said, "Who says you cannot have the most fun of your life right how?" 
And she has been giving me tools to help me heal and transform.  Tools like the gratitude journal!

Gratitude is something God has been teaching me a lot about.  Over Christmas this past year, a couple months into being sick, I began to read One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. (If you have not read it, I highly recommend it!  It changed and is still changing my life.  Also it is on sale for only $9.99 at DaySpring.com.  Click here to get it!)

The truths of her book are seeds that have begun to sprout into the wild flowers of my life. 
It has opened my eyes to see the sacred in every day and with the help of my health coach getting me to restart my gratitude journal, my world is changing before me. 

The tagline for her book is a dare to live fully right where you are. And that is what I am embracing.  Because who says I cannot live fully where I am now.  
No one.  Because I can!

So now begin and end my day saying I am thankful.  And that starts becoming my breathe through out the day.

Today, I am thankful.
I am thankful for today. 

And you know what?  That beautiful print right there?  I entered a blog giveaway from Surviving our Blessings, and I won that!  And Abbey at Surviving our Blessings told me some of her story and I know that Gid brought us together for more than me winning her draw for her apparently famous cookies and this print, but He brought us together to give encouragement, joy, and comfort.  And the blessing of this beautiful reminder that I will be able to look at all the time.  

And remember this lesson that has changed my life. And is changing Abbey's too.  This is what she writes about her blog:

Gratitude, like faith, is a practice, so I'm practicing. There's always a reason to celebrate, always something for which we can be thankful, even if it is hard to see sometimes. This blog is about practicing gratitude...about finding reasons to be grateful in the midst of the mundane, daily events that make up our lives. ... Even ordinary days are gifts.

Oh, and I also did something girly. Something for me.  

I got my hair done. And you know, I feel beautiful!

  

Awake. Alive. Blessed.

After my first hospital experience, God continued to flood me with His peace.  The very world I knew seemed to be falling apart but I had a blessed assurance that I was not alone and that everything would be okay.  No relief came from my symptoms but I headed back to my apartment at school.  Looking back I know the only reason my mom let me go back to school was because she was scheduled to fly to Holland with my dad for his aunt and uncle's wedding anniversary and therefore I would have been at home alone.  So I went back to school, studied and took a midterm I had missed the week before (not sure how I managed that!), and tried to recover in my little apartment with fabulous roommates by my side trying to nurse me back to health.  God definitely divinely orchestrated us being roommates as my three roommates were also in nursing and were able to provide me great care, including a lot of tea, listening to my chest with their stethoscopes to see if they could hear anything, and even looking up in their drug book if it would be okay for me to use our other friend's asthma puffer to see if that would bring some relief (it didn't help!).

Sometime in the few days after going to Richmond ER, I stumbled upon this photo and made it my phone lock screen.  

Awake. Alive. Blessed.  

Although I had no answers to what was happening to me, I knew I was blessed.  I had so much to be thankful for including the most amazing friends.  I was looking back to a message I had sent to a friend saying I did not realize how scary it actually was on that Remembrance Day for my family to see me in the Emergency.  I also noted but that may have been because I was kind of out of it...! Regardless of that I remember thinking at least I am out of the hospital and with people I love.  Sure, having a hard time breathing and walking wasn't fun but I had a peace that it was all going to be okay.  I would get better and be back to my life soon - or so I hoped and expected.
November 15 came with a new, unpleasant and concerning symptom: chest pain.  You do not have to be a nurse to know that isn't good or normal - especially in a 21 year old.  I tried to hold it together and appear as if it were all okay.  Pride has a way of making you think irrationally - why was I so afraid of appearing weak?  (And why do I continue to struggle with that?) I was already so weak I don't know why I should seem to care!  But fortunately for me, two of my great friends were visiting and read through my "pretend you are okay" face.  My nursing roommates were out with class and studying, so Chels and Dave, my education buddies took me to Langley Emergency.  And what an adventure that was!  I could barely walk, was having difficulty breathing, and could not concentrate.  I remember talking with the triage nurse and she asked me how long I had lived in my house... really?! I couldn't figure it out but do remember be shocked at her question and laissez faire attitude about my situation.  So like any good ER visit we were told to sit in the waiting room and just wait.  I reassured myself that they would get me in right away as the nurse in me knew chest pain got people's attention and was supposed to mean quick care and treatment.  But no... we waited, and waited.  I slept for a while but ended up freezing so I got some more of my favourite warm blankets, and waited some more.  Dave wanted to get me some tea as I was still freezing but he was quickly scolded by a volunteer - "She can't eat or drink anything!  That might delay surgery if she needs it!"  That was encouraging... but still we continued to wait.  Thankfully we met a nice older couple, the Fishers, who brought us some entertainment as we waited.  Finally I was brought back to a small curtained room that looked as if it were once a closet.  I continued to wait but at least it was in a bed.  That was a blessing.  After nothing really happening, I got a phone call from my mother.  She was in the Houston (or some American airport) on a layover before flying to Amsterdam.  I almost did not answer because I knew she would want to come back right away and cancel the trip.  But I answered and somehow convinced her I was in great hands and would be okay.  
Waiting was the theme of this ER visit with little to show for it.  But Mr. Fisher and his wife ended up across the hall so that cheered my friends and I up a bit.  My faithful friends and our newly met friends were definitely a huge blessing in the little ER room.  I was given an ibuprofen (yep, a normal Advil), a prescription for a medication for heartburn (which I never filled), a referral for an echocardiogram to see if there was fluid around my heart, and the lovely saying, "If it gets worse, come back" because he had no other answers.  Thankfully one good thing came of this 8 or 10 hr visit.  Okay, I should not just say one thing because I was blessed in other ways... but one good medical thing (at least in my humble opinion).  
So I was back in my apartment, my parents were flying across the world, and I had no idea what was happening to me.  But I was awake and alive, so yes, I was blessed.  I still had this peace that was definitely from God because on my own I would have been freaking out.  Although that night in bed I cried the first of many tears to come in regards to the unknown of my health.  My blessed sister who lives in California called me to see if I needed her.  I said I was fine.  It was when she hung up the phone that I started to cry.  There is something about family that is truly a blessing and without them by my side I felt like I was missing a part of me.  But my sister Monica called me a minute after hanging up the first time and said she was coming.  She dropped everything and flew back to Canada the next morning to bring me home and care for me in the absence of my parents.  She is a true blessing.  
The next evening my chest pain got worse.  I was stubborn and did not want to go back to a hospital and wait anymore.  But I lost the battle.  I guess that is what happens when you are so weak you can't even try to hold your own.  You cannot through any punches but rather hold onto an arm and walk together.  So together we went back to Richmond Emergency.  I was seen immediately and had tests started within fifteen minutes of being there.  It was there I held on - I held on to God, my family, and my friends.  My friend Esther was my texting prayer warrior.  It was not long before many were informed and praying for answers at this third visit to the ER in a week.  Although they tried and tried, the doctor remained uncertain what was going on as all the tests were normal but guessed it was probably just a viral chest wall infection that would clear within the week.  Thankfully with a normal test result, he did say nothing was wrong with my heart.  So we left the hospital grateful.  Grateful as I was indeed blessed.  I was blessed to be alive.  Visiting the ER reminds you of the frailty of life.  A guy was rushed into the hospital that night and placed in the bed beside me where he ended up breathing his last breath.  Esther was able to comfort and pray with the family during the last hour of his life.  I believe that is the reason we went to the ER that night.  Not for me at all but for them.
I kept that photo as my lock screen for a long time.  It was a powerful reminder indeed.  A reminder that I continue to look to.  A reminder that brings me back to truth.  A reminder that I have much to be grateful for as I am so blessed.  A reminder that God is holding me and has given me life.

May we Remember

I doubt many of you remember much about November 11 besides the fact that it was Remembrance Day.  Admittedly, I do not remember anything to do with Remembrance Day besides wearing a poppy.  But that day was not special to me because we remembered the brave men who fought for freedom or because we recited the poem I remember memorizing in elementary school...

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
  Between the crosses, row on row,
  That mark our place; and in the sky
 The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below

 No I do not remember heart warming stories from veterans or stories about hope through the despair of war... Instead I remember hearing "the guns below" of my own kind.  Since my visit to the doctor at the walk in clinic just five days before, I had gone for the chest x-ray (which came back completely clear - so no 'silent pneumonia for me), went to see my own family doctor (who is amazing and has remained to be throughout my journey!) as things continued to get worse, and had more tests done.  I no longer could sleep with just one or two pillows but rather needed five if I had any hopes of breathing while trying to sleep, I was more exhausted than ever, I could barely walk from my bedroom to the kitchen in our small apartment without getting short of breath, and was getting a bit worried that something horrible may be going on.  But I kept on going because that is just what I did.  I did not have to teach Sunday School that week, which was a relief as I had been teaching almost every Sunday since September as I attend the first church plant from Village Church and it was still small and in need of a lot of help.  I do miss those kids, they were great, so much fun, and their answers always so honest.  I remember we were talking about what it would be like if we were walking in the garden of Eden with God and one girl said she thought it would be like "walking on a rainbow with all the beautiful colours" - I think she may have been on to something, can you even imagine how beautiful that would be? (I hope you pause to actually imagine that)

Back to November 11.  I was at church with one of my dearest friends and remember sitting beside her with my hands on my knees just trying to breathe.  I did not stand during worship... I just focused on breathing.  I barely listened to the message but remained calm as I thought it would pass.  On our way home (Esther drove as I did not feel up to it... and since that day have not driven) I remember thinking maybe I should get to the Emergency.  Half way home I decided that breathing was something we too often take for granted and indeed should be going to the Emergency.  I remember sitting in the Richmond Emergency focusing on trying to breathe, the TV coming in and out of focus, people walking around me (including a dear high school friend who was volunteering!), and my family rushing in to be by my side.  After waiting an hour or so (I think at least!), they got a bed for me.  I was freezing and could not seem to have enough of the blankets from the warmers.  More tests were done but still nothing could be found.  As a student nurse, I wanted to know what lab values were off, what spot was in my lungs and then fix them!  But that was not the case.  All was normal - they could not do anything for me.  And so I was sent home by another startled and confused doctor with orders to come back if anything changed or got worse.  

So on a day when we normally celebrate our country's freedom, I was feeling more and more confined, confused, and helpless.  I do not like that Remembrance Day will now always remind me of my own struggles when I know that the people who fought for freedom went through much worse than this disease.  I pray instead that when I wear a poppy again, I would not think of my struggles or even their struggles alone, rather I pray that I would think of His blood shed for me, for them, for us all.  I pray that the poppy would symbolize freedom in Christ above all other freedoms.  I pray that the poppy would cause me to remember the pain but also the peace that Christ gave me that day but that I would not stop there.  That I would remember the fight that Christ has won through conquering the grave, instead of remembering my feelings of the grave or the graves of soldiers alone.  But more than that, the cry of my heart is that we would be able to wear our struggles, pain, and grave-like times on our shirts as we wear the poppy.  That we would be vulnerable and open with each other.  That we would share our hurts with our family, friends, and especially the church.  Obviously this looks different for everyone and some things are best not broadcasted to the world, but I pray that we would not wait until November 11 to remember sacrifice, suffering, and pain but rather we would live in the reality that all is not always "good" and live in the truth that it is in and through suffering where Christ meets us, holds us, and reigns victorious!

Lest we forget.

The Beginning of this Journey

Today officially marks 6 months since my first visit to the doctor.  November 6, 2012 began as an ordinary day for me.  I was busy but enjoying life.  I knew I was not feeling well but I kept telling myself it simply was a cold.  For about a week I was feeling a little under the weather but I knew I could not stop - I would not let myself.  I was in my fourth and final year of nursing, president of the Student Nurses Association, the Nursing Rep on my university Student Association, .... the list goes on - so stopping was not an option.  But that day six months ago changed things.  
All of a sudden I was having difficulty walking without getting short of breath, could not pay attention in my meetings, and began to feel as though maybe it was more than just a cold... maybe pneumonia or something like that.  After my second meeting of the day, in which I sat chilled to the bone wondering how I was going to make it through my afternoon class, one of my friends told me he was not going to let me go to class.  I remember being shocked and thinking, "Thanks but I will be the judge of that" but for some reason instead of saying that, I agreed and he walked me back to my apartment on campus.  By the time we reached my apartment, I was having a hard time walking but with a little help I made it to bed.  However, I was unable to fall asleep despite desiring nothing else but to escape and sleep.   Since I could not sleep and I couldn't stand to do nothing, I decided to drive myself to a nearby walk in clinic.  After the doctor performed an exam, he looked at me somewhat startled and confused.  He said he was concerned with the symptoms I told him about but that my lungs were completely clear and my vital signs were normal.  Normal is now a word that I hate, but I will talk about that another time.  So he sent me for a chest x-ray thinking I must have a form of 'silent pneumonia'.  I remember thinking "Okay, I can handle that.  Some antibiotics and I will be fine!" 
However, that was definitely not the case.  It is six months later and I am getting used to the startled confused look.  Antibiotics could not fix this and I couldn't just return back to my life.
And so my life has been completely changed.  I spend almost all of my time in bed - not because I choose to but because I cannot do much of anything.  I should be graduated with my Bachelor of Science in Nursing but I'm not.  I now look through the window and watch life continue on.  The sun remains faithful and rises and falls each day.  The birds are singing.  People are doing what they were doing - but I am not.  That is my new reality: where I dream of what life is beyond my window.  
Yet I still have life.  I still can smile, smell flowers, dream, and love.  My life just looks drastically different from that which I could have ever imagined.  God has met me in the most amazing of ways.  He has ever so faithfully and lovingly held me through the deep valleys and also allured me into a closer relationship with Him. 
So here begins my story - my raw life with its joys, struggles, and questions.  Times when I meet God and times when I cannot seem to find Him.  Times when I dream of all I wish to do one day and times when I cannot even dream.  I want to be real with you and this is not so I can gain sympathy but rather so I can share what my reality is.  In sharing parts of my story, I hope you may be touched, challenged, and even changed.  However, not because it is my story but because of Him - my Father, Savior, and Healer.

Therefore, behold, I will allure her [Israel] and bring her into the wilderness, and I will speak tenderly and to her heart. There I will give her her vineyards and make the Valley of Achor [troubling] to be for her a door of hope and expectation. And she shall sing there and respond as in the days of her youth and as at the time when she came up out of the land of Egypt. - Hosea 2:14-15