Listening To Music And Thinking

Recently my world changed, for the better, if you can believe it!  What changed?  My pain is fully controlled now.  Fully.

For over a week now energy is coursing through me.  I am able to do a little more housework to help out here than I was before.  This evening I made egg salad and still able to take the dishes to the sink after supper.

The therapists are telling me to just be careful, and go for the exercises they give me, and I am.  For the first time in helluva lot of years I can tell muscle soreness from everything else.  Plus, I’m getting tired and sleeping at night because of all the things I do now during the day.

I wish I could say the writing was going wonderfully like everything else.  It isn’t.  It isn’t because I feel like a brand new being.  The medication I’m on doesn’t make me high (the pain is too severe for this side effect), but it has given me back my life, and I look upon it as a genuine miracle.

I told a couple of people this at church and added, “God took a bad situation and made lemonade.  Wonderful.  Sweet.  Lemonade.”  Most take these words rejoice with me, but some looked at me with disbelief in their eyes and said the words, “I’m happy for you,” but it never reached their eyes.  For them,  this miraculous event, experience wasn’t truly a miracle because it is medicine based, not the complete Biblical healing by the Unseen Hand of God.

There were also those who cautioned me to remember, at some point, a tolerance to the medication will build up and there is a possibility the absence of pain may not continue, but they were still very happy for me because they know pretty well just how much pain I was in.  This attitude felt better to me than the other one.  Why?

Well, I’ve been thinking about this and just how I was really going to explain it to you, and others.  There were several attempts made to try to explain it, and each and every one of them were deleted because they just weren’t quite right.  I’d get close, and then lose the explanation.  So, I’ve decided just to tell you, and everyone else like I would a priest, nun, or monk.

Here goes:

God works miracles every day and we simply don’t, or can’t, see them.  Because my pain is controlled doesn’t mean I’m healed.  However, it does mean my life is given back to me.  This is what I prayed for, and others have been praying for a way to be made for me not to suffer in pain so much; still others are praying for an absolute healing.  The Biblical kind.  You know, “Take up your bed and walk” sort of thing.  Do I believe this could happen, that I could be totally healed, with a new body, a more flexible body?  Yes.  Unequivocally.  Yes.  Do I believe it will happen?  Yes.  If God wants to do that, it will  happen.  Do I need this to happen to have faith and have a great life?  No.

It is OK if I am never out of the wheelchair.  It is OK if my joints don’t move like their supposed to or that my shoulders are bone-on-bone.  I have a good life.  I am loved by my family.  I am loved by a wonderful man.  I love all these people back.  It is sort of like not being rich:  People don’t need to be rich to have great, powerful, meaningful, enriched lives.  (They do need jobs, however.)  If they aren’t rich monetarily when they die, they can still look back on their lives and be happy for the most part.

My prayers, and many others’ prayers have indeed been answered with this new medication.  I have my life back.  I don’t dread moving in the mornings.  I can’t (currently) feel pressure changes, which lets me have a fantastic summer.  The pain is, at last, under control.  Real control.

Yes, this joy of mine is being accomplished by a man-made medication, but let’s look at a few more things:  1) I’ve hurt my entire life; 2) it isn’t all that uncommon for me to pass out some days  from the pain I’m in; 3) the pain helps keep my blood pressure elevated; 4) elevated BPs do bad things to your body; and 5) intense pain, with little release from it, steals your energy, your enthusiasm for life, and joy of living is hard to find because you have to fight through all the actual physical distress you have to find even the tiniest thing to be happy about in a day.

I have visited numerous doctors and am usually told, as I’ve written here before, “There’s nothing we can really do for you.  I’m afraid it sucks to be you.”  Even pain management, as you well  know from this blog, isn’t great when it comes to helping.  However, the last two times I’ve been there I’ve seen someone new.  A woman doctor, Dr. L.  She listens when I talk to her and she pays attention to what I’m saying is happening in my life.  She isn’t there just to write prescriptions.  She is there to help the people in pain.  I just hope she doesn’t get jaded to the point the others are in the office.

Dr. L listened.  We had a conversation about the best way to continue my treatment and what I needed to happen and why I was talking to her about different concerns and needs now instead of before.  I was involved in deciding which medication I should be on, and the options she provided me with actually had pros and cons, and she was very honest in saying what they were.  Together we decided what the best course of action should be.

God provides you with opportunities.  He doesn’t expect you to do nothing.  You need to made decisions and choices just like the story about the man in the flood.  The radio warning went off and said the river was leaving its banks and it would soon reach a residential area where this man lived.  The radio told all inhabitants and in the area to “leave now so you will not be trapped in the rising water.”  The man prayed and said, “Lord, I know You will save me.  I do not fear this flood.”  The water was up to the man’s  knees and a neighbor came by who was heading for higher ground and suggested the man get out while he could.  “We can go together,” this neighbor said.  “We can lean on each other and if one of us gets swept off their feet the other can help him up.”  The man refused, and said, “God will provide for me!  Go on and get out of the water while you can.”  The neighbor slogged on to higher ground.  After a while the water was grew even higher and the man’s entire basement and first floor were flooded and another neighbor, this one in a boat, said, “Come on.  We have room for you in our boat.  We can get you to dry ground.”  The man said, “Thank, but God will provide my rescue!  Go on and get yourself to dry ground.  Don’t worry about me.  God will provide.”  The water grew so high the man had to go out onto his roof to escape the flood waters.  While he was on the roof a National Guard rescue helicopter came by and a National Guardsman came down a long rope.  “It’s alright, sir.  We have plenty of room on the helicopter and we’ll have you out of here in no time!”  The man refused the harness the Guardsman offered and told him, instead, “I will be just fine.  I’m waiting on the Lord to rescue me.  I have faith He will.”  The Guardsman couldn’t make the man leave the roof, so he went back up the rope and returned to the helicopter.

As you may know, the man died and went to Heaven.  He found Jesus Christ and some Saints talking and the man went up to  Jesus and said, “Lord, I’m disappointed in You.  Why didn’t you rescue me in the flood?”  Jesus looked at the man and put His hand on the man’s shoulder and said, “I warned you the flood was coming so you could leave, but you didn’t.  I then sent one of my servants to your house so you wouldn’t have to walk out of the flood waters alone, and you wouldn’t come.  Later on I sent people and a boat and you still wouldn’t go to  safety.  Finally I sent a helicopter, and you still refused rescue.  Now you’re here with Me.  I tried to keep you safe with the warning and answered your prayer three times.”

How many miracles happen every day and people just look at them as coincidences?

I haven’t truly explained it, but at least I’ve tried.

About Henrietta Handy

I have returned home to the mountains. No more am I "a mountain-girl far from home." Diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis at 2 1/2, I understand pain, fatigue, laughter, joy, and love all while on crutches and in wheelchairs. This blog is just about me, mostly the writing side, but there are forays into so many different topics. I am married to a wonderful husband who puts up with my writing, knitting, yarn, with the love of a saint. We have fur babies, and one cat who rules us all.
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