Want v. Need

Today I felt better than I have in a while and it made such a dramatic difference!  I was even able to go outside for a bit.  Fresh air is God's medicine.  It did me some good to play with Henry, my sister's six month-old corgi, and to pull some weeds around the house for my mama.  I even got some good mediation practice in and got Henry and Zipper, the very ornery family cat, to coexist in harmony through a lot of petting and and cooing; in many ways animals are a lot like toddlers.

Today was all about the little pleasures in life.  I felt accomplished when I got the animals to play nice for the first time.  I felt proud of myself when I was able to do something nice for my mom by pulling the weeds.  I felt connected when my family watched America's Best Dance Crew together and "voted" on our favorites.  I felt merry when Erica and I took funny pictures together that never came out because we were laughing so hard neither one of us could hold the camera still.  I felt light when I cleaned off and uncluttered my nightstand.  Sometimes I think our society focuses so much on the "importance" of filling space we forget the value in just letting space be space.

I've been reading several books on minimalism over the past few months and have done a great deal to declutter every aspect of my life.  When you live with a chronic health condition time and energy become even more precious and valued for their rarity.  I view my energy as money that must be budgeted; each day I wake up with an allotted budget and must spend it wisely.  Consequently, prioritizing has made its way to the forefront of my attention and the focus of my personal studies. 

With poor health comes bountiful time to think about many things most people my age haven't had the need or occasion to think of.  For this, I am grateful.  Life doesn't ever go the way we plan but in the scheme of things, I don't want it to.  My vision is so very limited with the blinders of perspective and experience I don't have.  When I think of the plans in life that didn't come to pass because of circumstances out of my control I see how devastated I was in the moment, but then I see how much better things were with the way they turned out.  I know what I'm going through will be for my gain in the long run.  The lessons it's teaching me and the person it's helping me become is far greater than what I could have ever planned for myself.   I'm so very grateful I have not always been given what I want in life, but rather, what I need.

For Mary

People come into our lives for a reason.  Every now and again someone will say exactly what I need to hear to be uplifted, re-motivated, and to feel loved.  Today I got a beautiful card from my friend Mary.  We haven't seen each other in a year as we live in different countries but were roommates in college our freshman year.  I needed to hear everything she had to say.  As I was reading I felt the loving warmth of our friendship and it meant a great deal as my physical health has not been well lately.  At the end of the letter she asked (commanded) me to keep blogging because it was inspirational, so Mary, this one's for you.

I know it's been a while since my last entry.  My health has been about the same since my last entry over half a year ago, unfortunately.  I had the wonderful opportunity in February to go to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, for a week of fun-filled poking, prodding, and testing.  It was all worth it though as I've never had doctors as knowledgeable, helpful, and compassionate, as the doctors I saw there.  It turns out the Mayo Clinic has the nation's only POTS treatment program.  It's an outpatient program that lasts about a month and has phenomenal success rates.  I leave for it in just a few weeks!

Most pinnacle moments in life aren't realized until they become memories.  It's not very often in life that a person is aware their life is about to be dramatically changed ahead of time.  I know this POTS treatment program will forever change the trajectory of my life, whether it cures me or not.  This is it.  There's nothing higher in the medical field of POTS treatment and research than the Mayo Clinic and its program.  If it allows me to live a normal healthy life again, then it's obvious how my life will be changed from its current and past state.  If I go through this program and I don't get better, well that's just a depressing future to think of.  My friends ask me if I'm nervous or scared for this treatment as the doctors have forewarned me that for at least the first week I'm going to feel like I can't make it through.  I wouldn't say I'm scared or nervous for what I'm going to go through in this treatment, not after everything I've already been through with my attacks.  Not after knowing that what I will be going through will make me better.  It's so much easier to face hard things when I know it's going to make me better, and hopefully, it's going to make all the hard things I face everyday with my POTS go away.  I think I'm more anxious for it than anything else.  I'm anxious to meet people my age going through the same things I am.  I'm anxious for it to be over.  I'm anxious to know if I'm going to be all better.  But most of all, I'm anxious to move forward with my life.

Anything I Could Do, I Can Do Better

When I learned that the cornerstone of my treatment to getting better would be reprogramming my brain I realized just how much the Lord prepares people for the trials and challenges they will face in life.  I thought to myself, "that totally sounds like something I would do."  Though I know the road to recovery is long and hard I am overwhelmed with the sure knowledge that I can do it.  I'm constantly learning of little ways God has prepared me throughout my life to have the skills and tools I will need to overcome this obstacle and go on to accomplish even greater things.  There's so much I'm continuing to learn even though I'm not in any classroom this semester. 

We all have experiences throughout life that progressively build us up and equip us with the right tools to come out on the right side of our next roadblock.  I know that we will never face a wall too high to climb, but that's not to say we won't need a boost getting over it.  We are never alone and the only thing that could get in our way of progressing through life is ourselves.  Sometimes we just have to tell our humanity - our fears, insecurities, weaknesses, short-comings - to take the backseat and marvel at all the unshackled potential and ability that was just bursting to get out.

Torro! Torro!

Some of the talents I posses: planning, organizing, determination, drive, ambition and the love of setting and accomplishing goals.  Once I set my mind to something I knock down every brick wall I encounter until I reach my desired destination.  Nothing can get in my way and any nay-sayings to my goal offered by others or doctors gets lost in the wind.  It's a very good trait to have and has served me well with all of the brick walls I've encountered with my health.  I approach them head-on and bull-dose right through each of them.

While this approach gets me far it's also incredibly important - and something I can definitely improve upon - to take the time to slow down, enjoy, and soak in all of the lessons and blessings that are in the present.  Sometimes all I see is the waving red cape and charge right at it without stopping to see the crowd or the roses they throw.  It's something that's hard for me.  Right now I am so completely focused on achieving my goal of being well enough to return to BYUH that I'm not having the right perspective and patience, the right peripheral vision if you will, with the lessons I'm supposed to be learning along the way.  I was reminded of that today.

I'm so anxious to get back to my life, to finally move forward.  I realized today that when I think from that perspective I'm defining "moving forward" and "having a life" in terms that aren't necessarily the most beneficial or insightful.  I do have a life and I am living it every second of every day.  Who's to say that the lessons I am to learn from the trials I am waging through right now aren't helping me progress in the grand scheme of things?  Certainly they are in a grand way.  I'm learning that even though much of my time is spent on bed rest I still need to slow down.  How crazy does that sound?

Perspective is a fluid concept that can and should be challenged and altered accordingly everyday of life.  If we're simply content with life and our beliefs - and I don't mean religious beliefs - the way they are, what fun is that?  Where's the growth?  Where's the development?  Where's the progress?  And what is life without progression?  Unfortunately progression cannot come without a few sturdy brick walls blocking the path.  But just as Randy Pausch said in his book, The Last Lecture, "Brick walls are there for a reason.  They give us a chance to show how badly we want something."  Boy, oh boy, do I want to be well enough to return to BYUH badly but I have to realize that shouldn't necessarily be my number one priority.  When I learn to put the little things first the bigger things will fall into place.  Day by day.  I need to keep my perspective broad and all-encompassing, not solely focused on the bright red cape just a few feet out of reach, enthralling me.

Lies My Mother Told Me

My mama and her mama before her always said, "If you have your health, you have everything."  When I was little this was just the ramblings of old people.  Now that I am older and a bit wiser too, I have put a lot more thought into this phrase.  When I began my physical trial I cringed every time mama said this, which felt like every day.  When others would ask about my health she'd find a way to bring this up and say how now she understands what her mama meant when she said it and how wise she was.  As I stood by and listened I thought, "If health is everything, what do I have?  Nothing?"  It really perturbed me.  According to the logic of this phrase, I had nothing, my life was over, I had nothing to contribute to the world.  I couldn't disagree more.  I may not have the greatest health at the moment, but I have hope, family, friends, knowledge, and so much more.  I can still laugh and enjoy the moments I have, whether they're stuck on bed rest or out climbing mountains.  Just because my health may not be the greatest now doesn't leave me destitute forever.  There's hope in a brighter future, in doctors making new break-throughs and in recovery.  The part of this concept of having nothing if I don't have my health was nails on the chalkboard to me.  It was the idea that I have nothing to contribute to the world just because my body misbehaves.  Excuse me, but I still have a perfectly good mind and plenty of skills to equip me with a plethora of ways I can contribute to the world around me.  No health condition can deprive me of my ability and agency to smile at all I see, to be an open ear and shoulder to all who stand in need, and to reach out to others all around the world through all of the amazing ways of communication that now exist.  One of the greatest things of all I can do is to reach out to others struggling with physical disabilities and hardships and let them know they're not alone in what they're going through and feeling.  I know that's something I search for and it's something I can give.  There is so very much I can give - "healthy" or not.

As I've mulled over this little nugget that's been passed down through the generations, there's one simple correction I would make.  In my eyes and experience, health has NOTHING to do with what I have or don't have in life.  My relationship with my Savior, Jesus Christ, does.  When I have that I have peace, comfort, hope, joy, and companionship.  I know that I'm never alone and there's someone out there who loves me beyond measure and knows exactly what I'm going through every step of the way.  When I have God I have dry eyes and quieted fears.  I have a better perspective and more patience to endure with a happy heart and not a complaining or self-pitying one.  I'm not perfect, but I can be made perfect in Him.  Regardless of my health.  No, I have learned that having health is not everything.  What I will pass down to my children and grandchildren will only be one word different than what was passed down to me.  But sometimes one little word can make all the difference.  For when you have God, you have everything.

No Dessert 'Til After You Finish Your Dinner

I suppose I've been putting this entry off because I didn't know what to say.  The first part of August I was admitted to OHSU for a week of testing.  From it I learned I do not have epilepsy, but we're in the right "-ology".  I also learned that any last hope I had of returning to school for Fall semester was completely and utterly extinguished.  When I asked about Winter semester, as I would need to be making plans relatively soon, I was told "not to worry about school right now".  Tonight, after a long battle with BYUH's "medical deferment" policy, I officially discontinued.  I feel sick to my stomach and completely exhausted.  It's hard to spend a lifetime working hard, giving my all to reaching a goal that's dangling just out of reach.  I know I'll get through this and I know I'll be able to return to school, just not now.  It's like I'm told I can have my favorite dessert, AFTER I finish all the liver and fermented spinach on my plate.  I don't want the gross dinner that's staring me in the face.  I just want my yummy dessert.  Unfortunately life's not always sprinkles and chocolate.

So, for the next few months (I'm still putting a heavy hope on returning to BYUH in January) I'll be continuing my medical journey of blood sausage and monkey brains, enduring only because I know what awaits me at the other end.  The doctors may say it's very unlikely I'll be able to return for Winter semester, but that's only because they don't know me.  I'm a very goal-oriented person and once I set my mind on something, I make it happen.  Did you know it's medically been proven that people can will a wart off of their foot?  Oh the power of the human mind and will-power.  So bring on the pig intestines and cockroaches.  This girl's got the stomach for anything placed before her.  What wouldn't I do for a slice of chocolate haupia pie from Ted's?

Exhibit L

Sometimes I think life is hard.  And if I didn't know any better, there are moments I'd think life to be too hard.  Thank Heavens I know better.  The attacks haven't stopped, in fact they've only gotten progressively worse.  People assume that just because it's my body doing the weird things that I'm some sort of medical genie with all of the answers about it.  Well, my mama taught me what assuming does.  Just because it - what ever "it" is - is happening to me, doesn't mean I have any more clue than the masses of medical professionals that have scratched their heads in my direction.  I'm just the lucky girl with the front row seat to the show.

I can tell I've learned so much and already progressed so far because I'm finding myself admitting things to myself that I wouldn't before.  Like, sometimes I really am scared during the attacks, especially ones where I can hardly breathe.  I know this sounds crazy and completely irrational, but it's taken me a loooong time to be able to admit to myself that sometimes my life is hard, and that's okay.  I used to believe that admitting that life was hard was a sign of weakness on my part and I just needed to be stronger.  I mean, people go through so much worse than I do, what right do I have to think my situation difficult?  Not for the first, or last time, I was wrong.

How can I properly assess my growth if my measuring stick is warped?

Sure, if I compare having each limb gnawed off by beavers while simultaneously going through Chinese water torture to what I go through, than I have nothing to complain about.  But, if I compare what I go through, not only during my attacks, but on a daily basis, with what I've been through in the past (being healthy) then I have every right to think what I do isn't easy.  Being completely and utterly honest with myself about the hard stuff - fears, vulnerabilities, short comings - enables me to see myself in a more pure lighting.  Without the skewed shadows I can see the picture much more clearly.

  Clarity accentuates the positive as much as it exposes the negative.

As humans, we tend to blow the perceived negative in ourselves way out of proportion to the point that we become blind to our positive.  We become fearful that the whole world sees the ugliness that we see in ourselves, so we try to mask it.  What we fail to realize is that the masks we put up only draw attention to our "problem areas", which are usually a fraction of what we perceive them to be.  So where we naturally had a beautiful painting, where the few minute flaws only expressed individuality and our own idiosyncrasies - nothing that distracted from the masterpieces that we are - we allow our fears and insecurities to distort our canvases to the point that what once was a lovely Monet has become a Salvador Dali.  As any artist knows, it's all about the way in which we illuminate ourselves.  Our natural light comes from truth.  It isn't until we add a few pigments of inaccurate self-imagery or self-deception that the once favorable lighting becomes oh so horrifying.

So how do we revert our tainted light to pure light?  How do we see ourselves the way that the Painter sees His masterpieces?  Unfortunately, there's no magic light bulb we can just screw in to replace the old.  It's a process that takes time and a lot of labor.  Not dirty, sweaty labor, but a labor of love, forgiveness, patience, understanding, compassion, and most of all, mercy.  With ourselves.  How many of us can honestly say we treat ourselves with all of these attributes?  Sure, we can be quick to see past others' short comings and mistakes - after all, they're just human - but are we as merciful with ourselves?  We are a work of art!  Who is to judge whether the style or brushstrokes in which we were painted are right or wrong?  We are all made differently, but not one was made less masterfully.  It's all in how we see it.  Our self-confidence comes in knowing that He who created us would never make any work of art less than an extraordinary showpiece.  It's up to us to figure out, in this great big Museum, which Exhibit we were meant to shine in.

Soaring Above Old Fences

I didn't think I could top two attacks within 15 hours, but true to myself, I found a way to out-due myself once again.  Last night, Japh camped out in the living room with me again and I was so lucky to have such a mellow little brother with me.  I was able to wake him up around 1 AM and he took very good care of me during the whole attack.  He also went and woke up mama and papi.  When I started feeling my attack coming on, I was in complete disbelief.  I thought to myself, "This can't be happening; there's no way I could have another one."

THREE ATTACKS WITHIN 20 HOURS.

Every attack makes my whole body so sore and weak, and to have them over and over again, it only made it hurt worse during each subsequent attack.  Despite all of this, I surprised myself with how well I handled the attack mentally.

You never know what you're capable of doing until you're pushed to your limits.  Even during the third attack, I was given strength from a place much deeper than I'm capable of reaching on my own.  I know that my Heavenly Father gave me the mental and emotional strength to endure my physical trial.  For even during the worst of it, I was surprised by the realization that I could not only handle three attacks back-to-back, but that I could handle more.  I was pushed past what I believed to be my limit only to find the fence-line 20 yards further ahead of me. 

What a beautiful gift I have been given.  So many people go through life believing what they're capable of to be so much less than what it truly is.  They see their field of possibilities and capabilities to be a much more harnessed and arid land than what it actually is.  But there is One who sees the fertile, flowing fields within each of us.  Unfortunately, we humans don't gain this sight until we reach a point in our lives where we can no longer keep going on our own power and will.  We can never see this beauty until we are swept up by angels sent from Heaven to carry us to higher place, for the beauty of our fields can only fully be embraced from a bird's-eye view.  We can never see the great work we're capable of doing when we're caught up in pulling the weeds or planting the seeds.  Though these acts are incredibly important as they are multiplied together to create our own little wonder.  I know there is a beauty within all of us that is beyond magnificence, and it is my prayer that everyone might have the blessing of the freedom that comes with a First Class Flight.

Shake, Shake, Shake, Shake, ah Shake It (Metro Station)

Well, turns out I spoke too soon with the "opps, I did it again" title.  I had another attack a little less than two hours ago that lasted an hour.  It was the first attack that my little brothers had seen.  I was so proud of them, they handled it so well.

I don't know why I keep having them over and over again; I keep trying to figure out what lesson it is I'm supposed to be learning from them.  Maybe I'm just supposed to know that I can withstand hard times.  This evening, my family went into town to run a few errands and I stayed home alone.  I really needed to go to the bathroom, but after trying to sit up on the couch and falling back down, I realized crawling was my best option.  I made it only three feet from the couch when I realized I was going to have an attack.  I had left my phone resting on the top of the back of the couch.  I tried so hard to crawl up the couch to reach it.  I almost thought I wouldn't be able to.  It's a testament to Heavenly Father's love for His children that I was able to reach it.  I called my sister - she always has her phone on her - and by the time she answered I was already convulsing so all she heard was me trying to gasp for air.  All I heard was, "Lauren?...Oh crap."  And then my phone went flying with my next convulsion.  There was reassurance in knowing that my family was coming.

There is such a great strength from those that love you.  What a wonderful gift a family is.  Family isn't just those related by blood, family is the support system we have filled with people who love us despite our weaknesses and shortcomings.  I could never have made it through any of this without the support of my unique and diverse family.  I gained a lot of siblings while I was in Hawaii, and I am so grateful for every member of my family.  So this is a shout out to every one who has touched my life.  Thank you for all you've done for me, and someday, I hope to help others the same way so many people have supported, cared for, prayed for, and loved me.  Your influence reaches further than you know.

Opps!...I Did It Again!

I had another exciting early morning.  About 5 AM I had another attack.  Luckily, I was able to call the house.  Both my parents came down to help me.  This was the first night since my last attack that Japhy didn't sleep downstairs with me.  I'm beginning to think I can't be left alone, even to sleep. 

This attack was pretty relentless and lasted about an hour and a half.  It was light outside when my attack finally finished.  This one was a little more upper body intense.  My arms would convulse and my shoulders would seize up so tightly that my throat would be completely closed and I couldn't breathe.  Over and over again.  Between this and my legs convulsing, my mama said I looked like a fish outta water.  I felt badly that they had to miss out on their sleep.  Too bad I can't schedule these attacks for a more convenient time, like never. 

Japhy was a saint.  He made me lunch when I woke up, and helped me walk to the bathroom.  He even let me pick what show I wanted to watch, and watched it with me. 

This attack was just really frustrating because I was finally getting strong enough to walk around downstairs and sit up on my own without feeling like I was going to fall over.  I had big goals for today, like going upstairs for the first time in over a week, showering, and even trying to clean my room a little.  Instead, I get another couple of recovery days downstairs and back to weakness, soreness, and dizziness.  I tried to sit up to eat and it was too much for my body.  Sometimes I find my physical limitations rather inconvenient. 

On the plus side, I got a couple new movies in the mail today to keep me entertained. 

Buying Sanity

This past week I've fallen even further in love with amazon.  More specially, with how incredibly cheap you can find things there, not to mention their free two day shipping with prime.  I've purchase some movies for the same price - or cheaper, depending where you go - than it costs to rent them.  With so much time on bed rest while everyone else is at work, I've deemed this an investment in my sanity.  Too bad I can't buy my physical health as well.

Right now I am in the midst of trying to get things sorted school-wise.  It's a lot harder than I feel it should be, but then again, what in life isn't?  I really just want to get a medical deferment, and I have the medical documentation and doctor's note - who knew you'd still need one in college? - to more than prove my qualifications for such.  Unfortunately, everyone I've talked to in various offices around campus today has said that BYUH doesn't offer medical deferments and that my only option is to discontinue and reapply to return to BYUH when I'm well.  There are several problems with this option.  1)  I'd have to reapply several months ahead of time, so if I want to reapply for Winter semester, I'd have to discontinue and immediately turn around and reapply, HOPING that I'll be readmitted for Winter semester.  Granted, they said that my admittance chances as a returning student would be higher.  2)  I'd have to do that process all over again if, Heaven Forbid, I need to take two semesters off for more medical testing.  3)  I would lose all of my scholarships, which are relatively substantial. If I write a letter of appeal and it's approved, I will be able to defer half of them for winter semester, and I'd only lose the other half because I discontinued and was no longer a student.  If I try to take some online classes fall semester, than I'd lose all of my scholarships.  Would it be cheating the system if I discontinued from BYUH and took some online classes elsewhere and just had the credits transferred once I returned?  That way I could keep the scholarships and take online classes... So far, I've only spoken to student workers, and I've only spent one day trying to sort all of this out, so there's hope for a brighter answer tomorrow, or sometime in the next month.  I need to do some more reading, but I don't believe that forcing me to discontinue and reapply due to medical reasons is legal according to the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA).  Good thing I know a good attorney who's passionate about my education.  I'm really just hoping to get things sorted with relative ease and kindness; true to my independent self, I'd rather just figure things out on my own.

On the plus side, my movies should be here tomorrow.  I'm definitely excited for something new to do.  What's even better?  The family cat of 10 years came back after being gone for almost a week!  We all thought Zipper had become dinner for the coyotes or hawks.  Even though I'm allergic, I was happy she's still alive and around.  She's mostly an outdoor cat who serves as mouse-catcher, but spends nights and winters in the garage.  It's been weird going out there and not being perpetually almost-tripped by a cat zipping between my feet.  I doubt I'll be missing that in a day or two...but we all sacrifice things for those we love.

Moving Forward

Today I went back to the doctor's office to get some lab work done.  It took five "fishing expeditions" in both forearms and hands before the nurse was able to get a vein to cooperate.  I'm pretty used to this scenario anytime blood work is needed and I like to think of my bruises as really cool battle wounds I can compare to my little brothers'.  (Which I promptly did this evening, and would have won if Japhy hadn't have run into something in the dark.)  While the nurse kept becoming frustrated with her unsuccessful attempts, I was cheering her on and making jokes about it.  Though I wish I would have been given bigger veins with all of the medical testing this life apparently has in store for me, I'm incredibly grateful blood and needles don't make me woozy.  Inbetween attempts three and four, my nurse asked me where I fit in in my family.  I told her I was the middle child.  She replied, "That doesn't surprise me."  Being the curious little cat I am, I asked her why.  She said she could tell I was the middle child because I was so laid back and easy going while she, the oldest child, was stressing out.

To anyone hearing this story who's spent any amount of the first 17 years of my life with me, they would say, "I don't know who that nurse was talking about, but it certainly wasn't the Lauren I know."  And they'd be right.  I spent most of my life being the poster child for the over-achieving, type-A+ personality.  Having that personality gave me a Hulk-like drive to always do better, be better, but it came at a hefty cost.  Perfectionism is all about doing and being the best, not your best and it can lead to a life filled with stress, unrealistic self-expectations, and inevitably, feelings of inadequacy.  I come by it honestly with two high-stress perfectionistic parents.  Somewhere about middle school, I realized that that's not the kind of life I want to lead and I prayed everyday from then on for help to become more laid back and easy-going.  It came in steps so small they could only possibly be construed as embryo steps, because even calling what little progress I made a baby step would be an exaggeration.  That is, until I developed my health condition.  What a catalyst for growth and change my physical trial has been in my life.  I'm hoping to find some sort of middle ground between the two lifestyles.  A place where I can keep the drive, will, and tenacious, hard working side that opened the door for so many wonderful opportunities in my life, and the relaxed, easy-going nature that allows life to truly be enjoyed.

This trial has forced me to learn how to let go of not only life circumstances out of my control, but also how to let go of a fast-paced, do-everything lifestyle.  When you live 14 miles out of town and your car breaks down, you learn how to walk.  As you walk, you're able to see all of the beautiful scenery that flew past you when you drove, and you get to stop and meet all of your wonderful neighbors who are walking as well.  And when you do this, you realize all of the little blessings and moments of happiness you missed out on while you drove into town everyday by yourself, preoccupied with your mountain of a to-do list for the day.  This trial has taught me how to live without the things I felt I couldn't.  Life will go on.  Often times, I feel like Mario on Mario Brothers when the screen just keeps pushing him to go forward.  There's no sitting still, there's no going back.  With time, there's only forward.  So why not move with it?

Three Strikes, You're Out

It's official.  Today my doctor said I cannot go to college this semester - any college.  I can't go back to school until I get medical clearance and I can't get medical clearance until the doctors figure out what I even have.  I think I'm still processing all of this and it will be hardest to deal with once everyone goes back to school and I'm not there.  I can't think further than today, because when I do, I become completely and utterly overwhelmed by the long, hard journey I have ahead of me.  One doctor thinks I have seizures, another, POTS, and many more who have shrugged their shoulders and said, "Sorry, I don't know how to help you."  Being passed from one specialist to another, I feel like the little birdie in the children's book, Are You My Mother?  Are YOU my doctor?

I just don't even know what to think or do right now.  I was raised in a very education-focused family and all I've ever wanted since preschool was to go to college.  Now, because of a health condition completely out of my control, my dreams have been put on hold.  What do I do now?  How am I supposed to feel about all of this?  Throughout all of this physical trial, I've felt every emotion there is to feel about it.  Frustration, resentment, sorrow, mourning, gratitude.  Right now I'm just in shock, like when I was told family members have passed away.  In a way, I am mourning the loss of the life I had planned, the ability to live out my greatest desire the way I want to, and the "death" of my physical abilities.  I know that I'll get better, in time, and that I will be able to continue my education - nothing could stop me indefinitely - but right now I just need to push the "pause" button until I get my health restored. 

This just makes me all the more excited to go back to BYUH, because I know that when I do, it will be all the sweeter after everything I had to go through in order to make it back there.  Plus, it will be nice to be able to go to college (and Hawaii) when I'll be well enough to enjoy it.  I have to keep focusing on what I have to look forward to at the end of this very long tunnel.  The sun will never feel so brilliant.  Just like how focusing on the eternal perspective is a motivation to live a higher standard of life and to endure the hard times.  It makes it easier knowing there's something so incredibly tremendous waiting on the other side of the storm cloud.  Sometimes the grass really is greener on the other side.

Can't Buy Me Love

I actually ended up having another attack last night, making that two in less than 24 hours.  Again, I was downstairs by myself (I couldn't make it upstairs to my room so I was sleeping on the couch) but I was blessed with enough warning to be able to get to the floor and use my cell phone to call the house.  I think Erica has taken a liking to my periodic paralysis as she always has a fun time using me as her ventriloquist doll during these attacks.  Like any big sibling, she pulled out the, "why are you hitting yourself" routine, as well as a few others.  She seems to have been born with a magical power because no matter what she's ever done to me that would potentially make me mad at her, it's impossible for me to feel that way.  Instead, I end up laughing and wondering how she does what she does.  She's amazing.

After this attack, I woke up, turned to my parents and said, "So when are we booking my flight to Hawaii?"  Though I have made all of the arrangements to go back, my parents have made me wait to book my flight because of their hesitancy with my health.  Hopefully the testing done in the next month will prove to be helpful in resolving this issue.

I want to keep everyone updated on my health, but I feel as though the last few entries have been real downers, so I'm going to also write about a few of the ways that my siblings have benefited from my health.  My mother has a very strict rule of no eating on the carpet, but since I can't always make it to the table, I have the exception.  To we kids, mama's blessing to eat on the carpet is like being able to drink from the Holy Grail.  I have a little table next to the couch to keep some snacks and water on and Noah, my 13 year-old little rebellious brother, has decided to take full advantage of it.  He keeps putting snacks on it so it looks like they're mine, and then eating them all.  This afternoon I woke up to find a big bag of reece's pieces empty beside me.

Japhy, my 10 year-old brother, has been a saint.  He helps me walk to the bathroom, bring me food and water, and comes and talks to me.  He's my little angel.  He's never seen one of my attacks, so last night, before all the excitement, I showed him a video mama shot of me having an attack in June.  I talked to him about it, and he told me it was scary to watch.  Sometimes I think it's harder for those around me to watch me go through what I do than it is to actually go through it, especially for my mama.  I know she just wants to make everything all better, but in this instance, there's nothing she or anyone else can do.

Humans don't like to feel helpless or powerless, but in doing so, it allows us to turn to a Higher Power.  Realizing the need for the help of a loving, merciful God, takes a lot of humility, but brings Eternal Strength.  Just before I had my attack last night, I was reading The Living Christ, and I was enveloped with the tender love of a Heavenly Father.  I was able to keep that peace all throughout my attack.  I know that I will never go through an attack alone.  Even though my human eyes cannot see the angels Heavenly Father sends to watch over me, I know they're there.  I know that God lives and that He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to live and die for us, that we might live again.  His love extends beyond any barrier and will never diminish.  My faith gives me the strength to make it through these painful, scary attacks with calm.  I know that through the Atonement, Crucifixion, and Resurrection of Christ, we have the power to do and overcome ALL things.  I feel empowered through my trial.  I think, "If I can do this, there isn't anything I can't do."  While this trial has proven to be one of the hardest things I've ever had to go through, it's given me so much more than it has taken.  I know that it has and will make me a person of greater strength, patience, faith, understanding, and love.  How can you put a price on that?

Chuck Norris Ain't Got Nothin on Me

For the past week I've been on bed rest working up the strength to be able to sit up on my own.  For whatever reason, sometimes I have "good days" and sometimes I have "bad days" and sometimes, I have really, really bad weeks.  Finally, on Friday (yesterday) I felt well enough to try to do a few things.  Let me tell you, nothing feels better than a getting cleaned up after being stuck in bed for a week.  My family was going to go to DQ for dinner and I was able to sit up the whole time we were there.  I felt like Super Woman.  When I was about to get ready for bed, I started feeling waves of very sudden, overwhelming, lightheadedness, weakness, shortness of breath, and my heart going crazy that lasted anywhere from 30 seconds to 5 minutes.  After three or four of these "waves" I decided to lay on my floor with my feet up the wall, to try and help get the blood to flow back to my heart and brain.  The rest of the night my heart rate and blood pressure kept riding the roller coaster, causing these "waves" to continue.  I finally gave up on the idea of sleep and made it downstairs to the couch where I could distract myself with some tv.  Things only got worse through the hours of the night and eventually my legs started twitching as well.  At about 7 this morning, as I was sitting on the couch, I began to have another attack, but this one was different for several reasons.  For one, I was sitting.  Two, my eyes were open and I could see - that was really weird.  I could see but I couldn't move as my body gradually began convulsing more frequently and intensely.  I've always wondered what it would be like to have an attack all by myself.  This morning I got my answer.  I kept trying to call for help but as much as I screamed in my head, I couldn't make my body make any sound.  I just kept pleaing that someone would wake up and come downstairs.  After a little over half an hour, my mama did.

I firmly believe that things happen for a reason.  I know that I needed to have this attack today to learn the incredible and dramatic difference having someone there makes.  I needed to learn and to feel the comfort, peace, and reassurance that emanates from the pure love of those who serve me.  When I was alone, I was scared.  Partly, because just as the muscles in the rest of my body convulsed, so did the muscles in my throat and there were periods of time I couldn't breath at all, and others where I couldn't swallow and would choke and suffocate on my saliva as everyone else was soundly asleep above me.  Shortly after my mom found me, my dad and sister joined me as well.  The most beneficial thing anyone can do while I go through an attack is to talk to me and distract my mind from what my body's doing.  Erica and papi each grabbed one of my hands and put on a puppet show while my body was flopping around like a fish.  While their British accents left much to be desired, I have never felt more lighthearted during an attack before.

Heavenly Father, being the ultimate multi-tasker, managed to teach me multiple lessons all within one attack.  One, be careful what you wish for.  I always thought I'd be able to handle having an attack on my own and a little part of me wanted the opportunity to prove to myself and the world (mostly to my parents and family who said I couldn't go places or do things for fear of this situation) that I can take care of myself, even during an attack.  Boy, was I brought to my knees on that one.  Two, the people who serve me during these attacks have a genuine Christlike Love that fills them and me when they embody charity.  Three, I am worthy and deserving of receiving this love, over and over again.  Four, there is no limit to God's Love.

Even though my body feels so incredibly exhausted and weak after everything it's been through this week, I feel great.  My happiness is not dependent upon my physical state because it's not the literal body that is the source of happiness and joy.  (Thank goodness!)  I believe Doctrine and Covenants 101:37 says it best, "Therefore, care not for the body, neither the life of the body; but care for the soul, and for the life of the soul."