All moments are key moments, with or without instagram

It's quiet here this afternoon.  There is the sound of a large airplane overhead because the flight patterns for Akron-Canton are often directly above our neighborhood.  We've lived near airports as big as Dulles and as small as Leesburg, Virginia and Wadsworth, Ohio and this "noise" comforts me like living near a train during my childhood once did.  It gives a rhythm to my day I'm never really thinking about but that guides me through.  There are birds outside my window in some kind of chirping duel.  It makes me chuckle because I think I know them personally now, my little winged friends who find refuge in feeding condos I have so lovingly developed around my windows in hopes of glimpses into their simple but brilliant lives.  He cares for them.  How much more does He care for me?  There are also several doves who have been cooing love songs to me in these late summer afternoons.  I find them sleeping near the corners of our home. There is a steady drip from the girl's bathtub faucet that is so bothersome all other pleasure seems cancelled out by this repetitive sound.  It's a metaphor for what living in my brain is like most of the time.  No matter what good I am given there is a constant pain muffling the fullness I cannot help but feel.  Maybe I could never survive the greatness of it all, and this is my safety net.  I understand for sure there are people who live entire lives who aren't able to hear these little things or at least never pay attention to them even once.  I know God made me different from first breath . . . from first day . . . for some reason.

Social media has been a beautiful way of connecting me from this bed to an outside world of friends and family and even strangers who become family because we share a strange genetic code and similar lives of suffering. Usually I am in love with watching each of you share your lives in snapshots and words.  I have almost made complete peace with the difference  between your world and mine.  As my "real life" friendships have disappeared slowly over the past few years I know in part it is because people feel so incredibly uncomfortable with putting their happiness and vacations and marathons and zoo trips and even just a walk at the park next to my life.  It's unfair, and it really is easier not to have to draw any comparison.  I have learned an important lesson of not weighing my space against yours.  It's so different it wouldn't even make sense to talk about them in the same vein any more.  But, I'm desperate to share in all your good and even your bad.  When you see me I may not want to talk about me being sick at all.  I want to hear about your son's potty training and your new bathroom remodel and the dinner you had out last week.  I want to know what trip you are planning and how your heart really is.  I love to hear about your work.  Do you know how much I miss being part of an organization and managing projects and accomplishing creative things on a daily basis?  I don't want you to feel guilty you bought a new $300 purse when you know I can barely pay for my prescriptions. I want to see your purse!  Your car needing a new starter is a huge burden for your family and a skin biopsy for a mole is still something I'd like to pray about and care about with you.

I have to admit I am not scrolling much through facebook the past day or so.  There are still a few times a year when it hurts.  It just plain hurts to see so many milestone smiles.  Delaney began sixth grade yesterday with no mom to kiss her on the forehead and pray her off to school.  No one snapped a picture of her in her perfectly ten, almost eleven years of beauty.  Her momma was drugged here in bed.  Even if I had woken up I would not have been able to scrape my self to any kind of enthusiasm she deserves.  Another day with a mom whose neck is cut open again.  Another beginning of a school year where she'll explain why I'm not there for parent-teacher open house or be involved in the PTF or sign up for fruit and bagels.  She handles this with grace.  We talk about how it feels and also how we hope it will get better.  Maybe next year it will be better.

Today was a dose of reality for me.  Danica had kindergarten preview at 10 am.  My dear angel planned to pick us up at 945.  The door bell rang and Twixie barked and my little Danica who had been up for hours since Dan and Laney left this morning had a pop tart feast in the sun room watching cartoons and playing Groovy Girls.  I pulled myself out of bed to realize we were supposed to be at school.  This was the beginning of Danica's school life.  This deserved a picture and a caption and a smile.  Shaky and sad and so wanting to just not do it at all I pulled my hair in a clip.  I wiped my face with a baby wipe and pulled on clothes.  Five pairs of jeans later I realize the steroids are in fact some kind of concoction born of the devil.  I get my fattest pair of old lady dress jeans on with a jog bra, a tshirt and scarf to try to cover up my hideous neck because I had no time to bandage it and we left.  Danica was supposed to have a nap blanket and a buddy.  The dog ate a few of her new crayons.  I'm not sure how she will survive without a yellow and blue crayon.  Forget it all.  I have to keep standing up.  Let's go.  Here's the thing.  Any other woman picking me up would have made me crumble in shame because they would not have known how to react to this scene. This woman made me move forward and do all this without talking about it.  She could see my wide eyed overwhelmed look entering the building.  She could sense my intense fear of getting jostled in the halls.  She knew how each step was hurting me.  The little kid chair meant for parents while the kids sat on the circle mat was painful for me, but I didn't want to stand either.  After some songs Danica's teacher announced the children were going out to recess while she met with the parents.  My heart seized.  I don't have Danica's plan of physical restrictions written yet.  She can't just go out on this playground with her neck. What if someone hits her with a swing?  What if she's running on the blacktop and falls?  I should have been more ready.  I really had to leave.  I was sweating in that hot and cold way where you know you might collapse. Danica's dear friend's mom offered to take them for the afternoon to do something fun.  Thank you God for a village!  She would get the rest of my paperwork from the parent's meeting. My angel reminded me Danica is very self aware.  It will be okay on the playground today.  We ran into my mom in the hall, and she took me to see Laney for a minute.  I hugged my girl.  That's it. No pictures. No captions. Just a hug.

Tomorrow Danica will have her first full day of kindergarten.  I will make sure Dan physically removes me from my bed and into my chair for coffee.  I will kiss them both goodbye and pray with them.  I will get ready and head to see an endocrinologist.  Maybe, just maybe someone can help me with this adrenal nightmare.  A week ago I was in the hospital.  I had someone cut open my head and neck and remove big pieces of metal from bone and sew me back up.  A month ago I was in the hospital.  I had someone cut me four places and put a camera in my belly button and remove disease from my entire abdomen and pelvis.

Every single morning I wake up, and I think this is the first day of the rest of my life.  Be better today.  Do something kinder today.  Pray for someone on your knees today.  Walk across broken glass and then make art with incarnadine.  Pay attention.  Listen.  Do you hear it? The details He created for us to notice ARE the life.  The soul not one other person might carry today is the one you were meant to love and save.  I have tattered quotes everywhere from years of scratching my way to find more truth about how to grab the most important moments.  I found it in an old book last night on an aging not so sticky note,

“Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.” ― Frederick Buechner, Now and Then: A Memoir of Vocation

Thank you God for every moment.  Today, with no photos of my girls in sweet outfits headed for sharp pencils and fresh notebooks, You gave us all the amazing ways you really created us to sense the heart of life.  Our key moments sing out grace.  It's all grace, God.  Help us listen more closely to this life, I pray.

A woman who came close and made all the difference

I have seen them in cities, and in my own neighborhood,
nor could I touch them with the magic that they crave
to be unbroken. Then, I myself, lonely,
said hello to good fortune.  Someone
came along and lingered and little by little
became everything that makes the difference.
Oh, I wish such good luck
to everyone. How beautiful it is to be unbroken."  Mary Oliver

It's a quiet morning here because Dan has taken the girls to church.  I woke up locked in my room. My neck doesn't move at first when my eyes open.  I remember I had surgery, and I need to heal today. This is what Sunday looks like for me.  Healing is my one job.  I call out to have Dan bring me coffee. Normally I would go out to my nest chair and drink it while everyone else comes to life around me. Twix will crawl into my lap for snuggles and then Danica takes a turn.  Today I can't seem to move.  I call Dan again to please come and get out certain pills for me to take that may raise my cortisol level, help with pain and also loosen up my poor neck.  He seems annoyed.  He doesn't ask me how I slept, although I ask him, and he doesn't ask me if I need something to eat or nibble on before I swallow six super strong pills on an empty stomach.  It doesn't even cross his mind.  I don't ask.  Since I've been home it is much like other surgeries.  I am put into my room with the door shut.  I think my family looks at it as doing me a favor.  The kids jiggle the bed which hurts my neck.  They are loud and silly. Mostly because of the pain and meds too much input sets me off. Still, I have missed them incredibly and being alone hurts in the worst way.  As they all leave for church the attitude is negative.  I asked Delaney to read me Psalm 37 out loud.  It's one of my favorites.  All I can feel is this rope of bad energy tightening around me.  The house is a mess.  As soon as they leave I cry for ten minutes straight.  You know the kind of sobbing where you are just gross snot pillow soaked blotchy face and chest heaving crying?  I am given a week in Maryland  and that is it.  I have to be better. Tomorrow Dan will go to work.  I will be here alone with my girls. Delaney starts school Tuesday.  Wednesday Danica has kindergarten preview and Thursday they will both be back full time. In between here I am supposed to just be mom. I'm supposed to lift up this neck and do all the things people say are stupid and careless to do following this surgery but there is no one else to do them.  I am not supposed to move my neck in flexion or extension for a month.  In other words, hold very still.  Aside from the surgery where I went away to heal at the lake house this is how it has been.  My family can barely scrape together enough time off and energy to do the mom is in the hospital thing.  When my ride dropped me off yesterday my dad was waiting with his keys to leave.  I asked him to please wait until Dan got home. I haven't heard from my mom at all.  I just can't be alone yet.  Dan does not function without me.  He is angry at this situation.  I get this.  It's maddening.  But I wonder if anyone is thinking about what it must feel like to be in this body and mind and soul.  Do you know what incredible shame I feel to be causing all this over and over again?  He cannot come and sit with me and talk to me about how I am feeling. Even in the hospital he sat there the entire day after my surgery saying nothing.  I felt so insanely alone and guilty and wanting to just let him off the hook for all of this.  I always want to say to him, "You can run.  It's okay.  I would totally understand."  This surgery is huge. It's a big deal.  For me, even more than the physical, it's a mental and spiritual choice I made to try to be better.  I did this only four weeks after a major abdominal and pelvic surgery.  I made this choice because my husband has been given an opportunity to perhaps take on a larger role at work, my girls start school this week  and last year I was completely bedridden when school began with another surgery and then another and it hurt Danica's adjustment greatly, and my mom is completely unavailable in every way this time of year. Her family is the 600+ students entering those doors Tuesday and my dad is preparing to go to China and India for a month and good grief, how much longer can things keep being about me?

Why after all these years of blogging am I saying these things now?

Because something changed me.

Ninety nine out of one hundred of you may feel like this comes across as ungrateful, but if you know me you understand my spirit is only full to overflowing for every ounce of love and support from every corner of the universe, especially the sacrifices my parents have made. Still, what was given to me this time was something I have needed since I was a child.  There has been a deep longing for a mother to care for me.  Someone to just focus on me and build relationship.  I have needed it so badly it is actually part of my sickness.  I know this.

There she was.

An angel.

A woman I didn't know personally until two weeks ago made this crazy offer.  I didn't really even think she was serious at first.  She offered to come after my surgery  and get me since Dan needed so desperately to work. Everyone who heard of this felt it was very strange.  She bravely drove with her own physical limitations from Ohio to Maryland.  She fed me.  She took me on a hilarious trip around the beltway for prescriptions.  She rubbed my neck and shoulders.  I don't think anyone had offered to touch me like that in months.  Did you know you need human touch to be okay?  I have been like an orphan tied to a crib. Failure to thrive.  I need to be touched. She listened to me.  I listened to her. Her daughter is sick with the same conditions I have.  I think perhaps the windows into one another's roles in all this was one of the greatest gifts.  We talked for hours and hours and only scratched the surface of what our souls could share.  I would fall asleep mid sentence and then wake and begin where we left off.  She would quietly slip off as if knowing I needed space and then appear just when I was needing her.  Gift.  Gift. Gift. When everything else falls away WE are gift.

Before Danica's major surgery in Cincinnati I wrote this post with a link to a song by Christa Wells that is truly my life song.  I am amazed when one of the "thousand things" shows up.  Christa's new CD "Feed Your Soul" was released on Tuesday, the day after my surgery. I downloaded all the songs first thing that morning, and they played over and over in my alone time in the hospital.  The song Come Close Now describes what Janet did for me.  (Please listen now.)

God, every single step of this arduous journey You have given me Dayenu.  It would have been enough. This present of knowing and being known makes me healed in places I thought would be broken until heaven. Even in my sadness today I understand I can only meet people where they are in their own journey.  All the rest You will care for perfectly as I burn.  Thank you for giving me someone to walk into my fire and just feel the heat of all this without shrinking back.

Do you know someone who is sitting in the burn today?  Go close. Sing. Hold them. Be there in the fire. It will make all the difference.

Just this moment

I've been quiet because there are no words. Some of you have risked to be so close you can feel my heart in times like these. I treasure you.

I'm lying in my hotel bed with Dan listening to songs that make me cry in a good way. The air is thick with something you can only understand if you have been here . . . again and again. 

I was so close to happiness this weekend. I hope you know this is something completely different from joy and so rare for me. I walked on the sand with bare feet, listened to the waves and breathed an air that is pure. I held my husband's faithful hand. We ate good food. I think I had been starving myself. We drank life and made a toast to ALL this journey. The blessings and curses swirling around in our laughter and tears until we could see everyone of them as good. Do I really believe this? Yes. With all my heart. We watched the most magnificent sunset over the water last night, and I kept quoting Scripture about the heavens declaring His glory. I can't not bring Him into this. Into everything. We wandered into a little art gallery in Solomons, MD. Once again I was breathless. Oh, thank you God for the ideas and colors and soul of humans on canvas and in earthen vessels and print and pattern. I HAD been starving myself.

After all the achingly beautiful life we were given this weekend we began our drive back to Greenbelt.  Every mile seemed to make our hearts a little heavier.  Then, like so often here, the traffic stopped.  The ambulances and police came flying along side the road and then a medical helicopter overhead.  I began praying out loud for whoever was in the accident.  I could taste something so tragic just ahead.  Life on a beautiful summer Sunday afternoon and then an end.  When we finally came up on the accident I knew I was right.  

Every one of us holds just this moment.

I'm braver.  

We checked back into our hotel.  I called my sweet girls.  I held back the floodgates long enough to hear about their day and exchange our love messages.  I checked my email and facebook.  A dear one sends me these verses from Deuteronomy.  They make me think of the sunset last night.  

"There is no one like the God of Israel. He 

rides across the heavens to help you, across the skies in 

majestic splendor. The eternal God is your refuge, and 

his everlasting arms are under you."

I'm held.

Another message from a woman who has known me only a short time but in a strange way understands my heart like few ever have reminds me I am not becoming more broken but more whole in every way.  

Tomorrow, we will be at the hospital before 8 am.  After a bad IV during my scan on Friday I was told I really do need to have a PICC line for this surgery.  I will have a central line placed first and then go through preop.  My surgery is planned for 1030 am.  Dr. Henderson will cut open the back of my head and neck and literally unscrew the plate at the base of my neck and the two rods running down my vertebrae.  

Dan will update my facebook page and text the people who have asked.  Please pray for me.  Please ask others to pray Please pray for Dr. Henderson and all the staff who will be caring for me.  The details of my body and this surgery are delicate.  Please pray for my Dan.  I almost feel like I am supporting him tonight.  This is so very hard for him to be part of.  Some of his family will be coming to sit with him tomorrow and this makes me very glad.

Every one of us holds just this moment. 

My hope remains. 

PANDAS, no not the black and white bears, and one more surgery

For those of you who have traveled the length of this journey with only compassion for me, I must begin this entry by thanking you.  I rarely focus on the ones who have turned away, fallen away or questioned me openly or behind my back about the extreme complexity of my body and this relentless search I have been on to find answers and some kind of "real" life again.  When I unearth true medical reasons for my pain, sickness and suffering I am relieved not only for myself and hope for treatment but also because I want the people who have shook their heads and fingers over the years to at least try to understand. I continue to write here because at least once a week someone emails me from around the globe who has found our story and identifies in some way.  I began sharing to help others find better treatment because of the difficult road we have walked. I want to tell you about a new "Aha!" discovery right now. Settle in.  It starts with strep throat. Or maybe it doesn't at all, but that's the clue.  Strep throat and a brain on fire.  If even one person reads this and recognizes themselves or someone they love I will be glad I tried to type this out today.

In December of last year a book I had been waiting to read was finally released.  I had seen a story on Susannah Cahalan somewhere leading up to her book coming out and several key parts about her experience felt so similar to my own I knew I had to find out more.  I read Brain on Fire in two evenings.  I found myself sobbing in parts.  I kept stopping and putting the book down to remember to breathe.  I also gave it to Dan immediately after I finished, and he read it cover to cover in two days. He gave it back to me and said at points it felt like I was writing, especially towards the end of the book when she is trying to recover lost parts of her mind.  He was blown away.

This is the first time I considered I might have something in my body attacking my brain.  I had actually explained it like this for years to Dan and others.  I knew it was not as extreme as what Susannah had experienced, because I was not having full blown seizures.  Although I do believe I have had absence seizures or periods of time lost where I do not know what I was doing.  Still, If you look back over my life there have been episodes of extreme physical illness followed by periods of psychological manifestations including bipolar behavior, severe OCD, anxiety and deep depression. They would come on quickly, and I would fight my way out of them with medication, therapy and lots of grace, but I never knew when the next bout would come.  I had several longer periods in my life when I had almost no sickness or depression.  I was healthy and happy.  This always led me to believe I was not in fact a true bipolar. During my sickest and most manic periods I made horrible life choices, some I've never fully healed from.  I always had the "real" Monica sitting just outside reminding me the crazy girl was only visiting. I just had to wait out her stay.

Since I was a child I have known what real depression is.  I could tell you without a doubt there is a true thing that happens to certain people that cannot be explained by circumstances or environment but purely by something happening deep within their body.   The intricate chemistry of being glad or sad is not remotely understood but must be acknowledged.  I grew up with another confusing layer of thinking somehow being happy and healthy was tied to my spiritual well being and that knowing Jesus and doing the right thing was the band aid or pill for most anything.  If you've read here long you know I have continued to struggle with being sure of God's love for me in the midst of so much pain and suffering.  I have found peace knowing I can be full of joy in the Lord and not be "happy" at all.  

If you look at my medical history from my early twenties until now there would be a long red common thread of sore throats, specifically strep throat.  Over and over and over I have been treated for strep and accompanying infections but have only felt some resolution of symptoms and not eradication of the illness.  In the past twelve months more frequently than every 30 days I have been back to the doctor for more and more antibiotics.  My family can sense when I am getting sick. The sore throat comes on with even the slightest stress including the headache behind my eyes, a rash on my chest, a fatigue so unbearable and most notably a sudden outburst of intolerance for something in my environment.  There is no other way to describe what happens except as "CRAZY."  Since my mast cell diagnosis I thought these were triggered by environmental things alone.  The trigger was giving me the sore throat and making me sick and I was reacting to the chemicals or food or whatever unknown enemy had invaded. In a way this was true, but the attack was my autoimmune system ganging up on itself and targeting my brain.  A pitfall of having so many comorbid health conditions is not being able to see the forest for the trees when symptoms overlap and you pretty much always feel sick.  

Endometriosis is also an autoimmune disease.  My inflammation and pain and psychological symptoms have always spiked when the endo is active and growing.  Again, this is something I could actually feel happening inside me, like an storm gaining strength off shore, but communicating this in the midst of so many health issues is a hard thing to do.  When my endo has been worse the number of infections elsewhere in my body would always increase.  This too was something that ramped up in my late teens, and I began needing surgical intervention for in my early twenties.  

After reading Susannah's book I did some research online, but I wasn't brave enough to even bring up this gut feeling I had with my own doctor.  It wasn't until very recently when a very brave woman I met in one of the online support groups I belong to mentioned PANDAS, Pediatric Autoimmune Neurologic and Psychiatric Disorders Associated with Strep, that I knew I had to at least try to seek diagnosis and treatment.  Although rarely, an adult could acquire PANDAS, most commonly adults have had PANDAS for many years but either it has not been considered or it has been misdiagnosed and typically poorly treated as some other neuropsychiatric or physical complaint.  I certainly believe this is true in my case.

In the research there is evidence a predisposition genetically is combined with other factors to create the rare (and we all know rare really means misunderstood and underdiagnosed) disorder.  If your child has had a sudden onset of behavioral issues following any kind of virus I would suggest you click through a few links here and keep a journal of infections and symptoms.  Strep is just one of the infections known to cause this sudden onset of neurologic and psychiatric disorders which can manifest in Asperger type symptoms all the way to full blown mania.

The day before I left for my latest Maryland trip I asked my amazing general practitioner doctor to test me for several specific strep titers. I have to add here my doctor is one of the most compassionate and involved physicians I have ever known or heard of.  I owe so much to her willingness to hear me, even on the crazy days, and her faith in me on this journey.  She is one of my angels.  She drew the blood, researched the tests and began to think about PANDAS while I was gone.  When I saw Dr. Henderson I told him about my suspicions.  He didn't miss a beat.  He wrote the scrip for the tests my doctor had already run for me and then he wrote a scrip for the first line of treatment which would be six months of penicillin G injections.  I felt very sick on my trip.  If you had the sore throat, headache and fatigue I had you would have cancelled the trip and stayed in bed.  This was how I felt literally all the time . . . for as long as I can remember.

The night of my surgery I got a message from my doctor with the results of my strep titers.  They were really high.  I had surgery on a Monday.  As soon as I got home and settled in I made an appointment to get my first penicillin injection.  My doctor helped me in the struggle with insurance and getting the injections not readily available sent to her office and billed through her to me since they are not self administered so I could get my first one on that Friday.  We tested my titers again that day and then did the injection.  My titers had continued to rise and my symptoms were even worse on that day. The injection was incredibly painful, particularly the day following.  I had my usual response to very strong antibiotics in getting a bad thrush reaction that needed treated as well, but I felt better within 48 hours. Within a few days it was like a fog had been lifted from me emotionally.  It was true clarity of spirit.  I wrestle with having had the surgery and this treatment so closely together, because I may always wonder what to credit most for the freeing of the demons.  In my heart I know it is a little of both.  The freedom from the crushing pain in my belly along with feeling a measure of health I have not in months and even years has brought a hope I didn't even know existed.

I am having some return of sore throat already.  I spoke with Dr. H's nurse today, and she said to stay the course and test the titers the next time we inject.  This is the first line of treatment.  It may resolve symptoms but not eradicate the infection from my body.  In this case we would move to more radical methods like IVIG infusions or even plasma exchange.  The good news is we know in part what we are dealing with.  Knowing is everything!  The other really exciting part about this is understanding for Danica.  She has had strep three times in the past year.  Each time Danica gets ill she begins with a neuro decline that we have always associated with her Chiari.  Our generally sweet, compliant, super emotionally adjusted and mature child will begin to argue, cry, throw fits, cling and exhibit true OCD symptoms like chronic handwashing and fear of certain food.  As she gets well these slip away almost entirely.  Danica is healthy now so we will not test her titers until she she becomes sick again.  Still, as someone who has dealt with the unexplained sickness of mind and body for so very long I feel the incredible hope of being able to help her if this pattern continues.  Danica and I are quite simply the same in a million ways.  Our immune systems mirror one another as well.  I also hope if I am not carrying step to her constantly she may be able to stay more well.  This would also include the other infections we have battled like the more dangerous strain of staph, MRSA.

Dear ones, I asked recently you would pray if I would know if I should continue to fight for treatment. My abdominal pain became so severe I had to move forward with surgery.  Thank God.  I am so grateful for this relief.  Just today, to not be shackled by the depth of suffering I was in is a miracle. Many felt I should have cancelled my trip to Maryland just days before my planned surgery.  In God's provision through others and something deep inside me I knew I had to go. This was so clearly the right thing to do.  Because of the great wisdom given to my neurosurgeon I am being treated for something I know has been making me super sick for oh so long.  The hope in my family and I is palpable.  I also found out the very real pain in my neck, particularly on the right side, is being cause by my fusion hardware. This is an answer to prayer because my scans did not show progression of instability further down in my vertebrae.  It has stayed the same.  My fusion is also complete and beautiful.  Lord willing, Dr. Henderson will be removing my hardware three weeks from today, on August 12th in Maryland.  The picture above is what needs to be taken out.  We have been given $1600 of the $3000 deposit needed to move forward already. This is no small thing to be led by the sacrifice of others.  We will also have travel and almost a week of hotel while we are gone and Dan will need to be off work.  This is a particularly trying time for him to need time off but he always faces it with the same love towards me and confidence in choosing family first.  So soon on the heels of my recent trip to Maryland and also the huge surgery at Cleveland Clinic we are bare.  We live in this incredibly humble and blessed place of dependency on the love of God for us through others to keep walking.  Here's the exciting thing.  I feel like this is perhaps the most hopeful time in my journey.  Removing the endo and the hormones growing it and removing the probable cause of so much sickness and then the metal in my head and neck rubbing and grinding with every bump are three HUGE steps in me feeling well and having a better life.  Oh how I want to be here more for my husband and girls and for all of you, too.  I want to serve more and love more and live more.

All this said, please PRAISE.  I mean lift your hands to God and thank Him for the great things He is doing.  And please PRAY and ask Him to continue to show Himself in our lives for His glory. OUR HOPE REMAINS!

You are loved (A Dan Post)

"What once seemed such a curse has become a blessing.  All the agony that threatened to destroy my life now seems like the fertile ground for greater trust, stronger hope, and deeper love."  Henri M. Nouwen

I bought a nice Kenmore vacuum when Delaney was two years of age. I loved the canister style as it did a nice job handling the dirty interior of vehicles with special little attachments as well as bigger general duties around the house.  Even before Monica was diagnosed with EDS she had so much pain, especially in her shoulders.  The "chore" of floors easily became mine.  I find pleasure in the ritual, the whirring sound of the motor and the results.  The old "sweeper" devoured everything from dust bunnies to little bits of crayons.  It was a faithful work horse until I decided to vacuum out water from our refrigerator's drip pan when it needed repairs. A Shop-Vac it was not. The years and years of service was evident even though we tried to cover up most of the scars with Disney Princess stickers, duct tape and the girl's names spelled out in stickers.  I was so fond of this old broken down girl.  Even after it quit on me I kept it sitting in the garage, because I couldn't quite seem to let go.  

Our budget is always almost impossible.  Monica has had so many continuing health issues this year.  Her out of pocket expenses, prescriptions and copays are never ending.  She juggles all this.  I know the stress adds to her already overloaded mind and body.  I admire how dedicated she is to trying to keep us afloat.  When anything special comes up like needing a vacuum the money is just not there.  We don't have credit cards.  We live on a very fixed income that is quite simply not enough sometimes.  We had been cleaning our floors with a dust buster type vacuum and on our hands and knees the past few weeks.  The trip Monica had to take to Maryland last week was another road block to saving enough to buy a new vacuum.  

Less than a week after I tossed the Kenmore in the trash I took the girls out to look at new vacuums and compare.  I'm not sure if Monica had mentioned offhandedly to anyone about my silly vacuum biting the dust, but I am sure people would have noticed the girls and I testing out vacuums at Best Buy, Lowes and Sears this past Saturday.  Nothing in our limited $100 range even came close to my old Kenmore.  Later that night a box showed up on our porch with sticker letters that read, "YOU ARE LOVED."  As most know, the Dyson vacuums are pieces of art, well engineered, very highly rated, and expensive.  I especially was drawn to the Dyson "Ball" vacuum, but I wouldn't even let Delaney try it out because it was way out of our reach.  I was shocked to find in the "care package" a Dyson Ball vacuum for me.  Someone gave it to us as a "random" act of kindness showing support for Monica and our family as we find ourselves yet again dealing with medical emergencies and the financial part we simply cannot bear alone. I was blown away.  No matter how much love is given to us I still cannot believe the hearts of people around us and the love they give.  

Monica just got back home from the abdominal and pelvic surgery she had Monday at Cleveland Clinic   She has five small incisions on her abdomen that are very uncomfortable, but the "knifing pain" in her belly is gone.  Her post-surgery demeanor reminded me of her Henderson surgery in Maryland where she awoke stating how great she was feeling.  "No more black floaties" was one of her first statements.  If you know Monica, you know she doesn't go to the hospital unless the pain is unbearable, and she lives at a five on a scale from one to ten.  She found out last week in Maryland the pain she is having in her neck is her fusion hardware, and it needs to be removed.  This is scheduled for just a month away on Monday, August 12th.  Her fusion is beautiful which makes the hardware unnecessary.  You can actually feel it poking and rubbing on the outside of her neck.  We have no idea how we will afford the $3000 upfront deposit for this surgery (less than the $5,000 for her last surgery because it is not going into the brain but merely opening up her neck and head.  I will have to take time off.  There is gas.  We will have to borrow Monica's parent's car since neither of ours are safe for distances.  There are hotel stays and food.  There are more prescriptions.  It seems impossible.  But we have been here before.  We have always walked out of our tent and found manna.  Even before Monica's trip last week God supplied in the nick of time things she needed to actually go.  She made plans all along believing the provision would come.  We move forward in hope and faith to this next challenge.  

I am very hopeful Monica will be feeling much better after she heals from her surgery this week and gets the hardware out next month.  My wish for her would be that she could walk around our beautiful neighborhood this fall while the kids ride their bikes.  My wife looks great with short hair and wearing athletic clothes. She misses her freedom to walk or run or drive.  I know she feels much like a prisoner in the shell she lives with day after day.  As her husband I feel helpless.  Monica is also beginning six months of treatment for a hidden immunologic issue which could explain and possibly heal her body of constant infections, flares of depression and manic behavior.  She could feel so much better.  Tonight she was on the phone fighting to get insurance to cover the injections, but they won't.  We could try to cash pay, but realistically we can't.  I know she paid a pharmacy in Georgetown $65 today for a scrip they compound for her neurosurgeon.  It keeps adding up.  I am quiet much of the time about how all this affects me.  The bottom line is I just want this woman I desperately love to be happy and healthy.  I want her to be able to focus on something else than this struggle to survive.  

When I write on this blog, which isn't very often, I always try to come up with an analogy, so I'll use the old Kenmore and the new Dyson to represent the old and new Monica I'm hopeful for.  As aforementioned, the old Kenmore never gave up after all the abuse it took much like Monica and all the pain and suffering her body has been through over the years.  She has moments of despair, but I have never met anyone who fights as hard as she does to do all she can to live and love.  We are blessed beyond measure with our new Dyson vacuum and the love it represents.  We are stepping out in faith that Monica can get back to a level of pain that does not restrict her life so greatly.  This may be a silly analogy, comparing a "sweeper" to my wife, but when I look at her tonight with her swollen belly covered in bandages, her lap full of papers and scrips, while she is talking on the phone making new appointments, getting new treatment arranged and already planning the details of this next tough surgery on her neck I couldn't be more proud or more in love.  Everything that continues to threaten our lives is really fertile ground God's faithfulness.  We live in this hope moment by moment.  

Thank you from the bottom of my heart to whoever thought of a gift so special.  I treasure it!

Mania

No man can estimate what is really happening at the present. All we do know, and that to a large extent by direct experience, is that evil labors with vast power and perpetual success- in vain: preparing always only the soil for unexpected good to sprout in. ~ J. R. R. Tolkien

Forgive my stream of consciousness.  I cannot harness a complete thought today.  Here's what my mind looks like.

I must get a shower.  I haven't washed my hair in 5 days.  It's gross. It's a sign you're slipping into a bad place.  Not really.  If they knew how painful it is to shave your legs and wash your hair they would understand.  Hygiene is a high level problem.  Actually, self care is important.  Where's that article I ripped out of Oprah about self care and depression?  I'd give anything to have someone give me a pedicure and wax my eyebrows.  Somehow I climb up on the bathroom sink and tweeze for fifteen minutes.  This is my happy place.  It always has been.  Focusing on one little part of my face I can control. My shoulder pops out, and I am jolted back into reality.  Monica, get into the shower.

Okay, not really, just lay down for a minute and rest your neck.

I must pack a bag for my trip.  I get all my meds together.  I email Dan to pick up two at the pharmacy tonight.  I put my favorite ratty hoodie in the wash.  I begin a list of things I need to talk to Dr. Henderson about.  I find my CT disc.  I email Dan to print my boarding pass.  I get out my little shuffle.  I log onto itunes to make a new playlist for flying.  I love Need to Breathe's Washed by Water.  I hate flying.  I plug in my Kindle to charge.  I turn it on and read a chapter in Fresh Wind, Fresh Fire.  I think about my day tomorrow.  I get online to try to estimate cab fare.  I realize I am definitely going to have to use the metro.  I try to remember how to use the metro.  I create a little word notepad document for myself so I don't get lost tomorrow.

"Alarm at 455 am.  Sweet "stranger" whose heart I love picks me up for ride to airport at 515 am.  Flight CAK to DCA, 625-740 am.  DCA, Yellow line to Chinatown.  Switch to Red line to Rockville.  Cab to MRI location at Shady Grove, 11 am.  (I can't remember if going all the way to the Shady Grove station is actually better than Rockville.  I hate the Shady Grove Station.  Rockville it is.)  Flexion/Extension MRI.  Throw up discreetly in bathroom.  Cab back to metro.  Red line to Bethesda.  Cab to Dr. H appointment in Chevy Chase, 4 pm. Wait. See Dr. H closer to 6 pm.  Remember why you are doing this at all. Cab to hotel.  Collapse."

Back on track.  Things I must do.  Write in the mother/daughter journal Delaney and I keep to one another.  I always write her before I go anywhere.  Finish thank you notes.  Maybe I could bring them with me and write them at the airport.  I am so behind on gratitude.  Feel shame.  Door bell rings.  It's my friend picking up some books to borrow for her vacation.  I answer the door.  We chat for a minute.  I wish I had actually gotten that shower.  Feel shame.  Her hubs and kids are waiting in the car.  They are heading to the zoo.  The zoo, a day before they leave on vacation.  Is this how people live?  God, why couldn't I have a "real" life?

Lay down for a minute and rest your neck.

Delaney makes the girls lunch.  I nibble on toast and sip gingerale.  I clean up lunch.  I can't just wipe the table.  I start to wipe everything in the kitchen.  I don't know how I ended up on my hands and knees wiping the floor.  STOP.

Lay down for a minute and rest your neck.

I have so many emails.  I just don't have the energy to respond.  I need people.  My family needs people.  I just can't decide how and when.  I hate the necessary focus on self chronic pain and illness breeds.  How do I keep my eyes on Him when I feel like someone is knifing me in my gut?

PRAY.  PRAY.  PRAY.

I don't wrestle against flesh and blood.

I balance all I know about what is attacking me with the truth He won't let me go.  He will never let me go.  He's preparing the soil for good. Only good.

I can do all things through Him.  Even this.  Especially this.

I'm getting in the shower.

(Thank you for praying for my trip and my surgery at Cleveland Clinic on Monday.  My dear sister Rochelle is coming here to be with me.  I honestly cannot wait to get as much of this disease as possible out of me.  Dan and I lay here at night and continue to talk about our future in terms of HOPE.  Even through manic days of suffering we believe continuing to fight for the best life is the right thing to do.  No matter what the cost we will not give up on this journey.  We are so grateful for your enduring love for our family.)

Giving and receiving as hope

Six months ago there was a little boy in Georgia who suffered a traumatic brain injury when a tree branch fell on his head at daycare.  His name is Tripp Halstead.  A friend sent me the link to his webpage early on and like hundreds of thousands of people I became a daily prayer warrior for this child and his family but especially for his mama.  She doesn't keep a blog but there is a website for donations, and she posts her heart on a facebook page dedicated to updating so many on Tripp's surgeries, treatment and slow recovery.  People from all over began to host fundraisers to help the family with the overwhelming cost of his treatment, to pay for modifying their house in hopes of Tripp being able to return home with his new special needs, to help compensate for Tripp's mama not being able to work so she could be with her son 24/7 and provide for all the unseen future demands this tragedy would place on the family.  

This past week there was a post about another Chic-fil-A fundraiser for Tripp that mentioned the Halstead's plan to share part of the money raised with another family in need.  There were some negative comments about how much support had been given to this family already and some other hurtful things.  I was crushed for Stacy.  All you want is for your life to go back to that moment before the accident, before the pain and disability, before it ALL and have your child and your world the way it was before.  Yes, the love of others is a blessing, but the responsibility that comes with so much attention and prayer and support is sometimes a burden added to an already unbearable load.  With it comes the secret shame of taking and taking and it still not being enough.  With it comes the pressure of wanting to write a thank you note for every single gift or respond to every comment or email, but you just can't because you can barely move through the minutes and you worry someone will think you take it for granted or expect it or don't appreciate their sacrifice.  There is scrutiny about your every move.  People see you out to eat and think you should be eating peanut butter and jelly if you are taking donations.  (In reality someone probably gave you a gift card to go out so you can for a moment be a couple or a family and remember what the real world looks like.)  If you buy a new shirt or shoes or get you hair done there is guilt and then someone actually has the nerve to say something to someone else that makes it way back to you, and it stings like salt in a wound.  And for all the good, the incredible good, that has carried you through the most insane kind of loss you hear the negative voices loudest of all, and they wound.  There are days you want to shut it all down and hide under the covers.  Being out in the open and vulnerable with everything is one of the bravest things someone can do and admitting what you, your family and your child needs are more than you could possibly provide on your own requires even more courage.  

Our family has been blessed for years by giving and receiving.  The medical bills are never ending, and we live on just enough.  No savings.  Painful juggling of dollars and cents until the next pay day.  Still, we never go without.  Just last week a gift came, and it floats us.  It helps us hope the trip I need to my neurosurgeon two weeks from today might happen.  We can't really plan for it though, because I have a CT for my head and neck and a visit to my gyn surgeon in between.  We live in today.  We have enough today.  We suffer gratitude today.

I'm telling you all this because there is a sweet girl, Haley, who I wrote about a month ago.  She needs her own community of giving.  She has been suffering for over ten years without a true diagnosis.  Her family has sought endlessly for some answer to her pain and suffering.  I know in the truest way what lengths you will go to to find any kind of help when your daughter is wasting away.  I have talked to her mom over the last month, and I could hear my voice coming through the phone.  You can't sleep or eat or think until you save your child.  Haley was finally diagnosed with a Chiari malformation and Ehlers Danlos causing severe cervical instability.  She will be having surgery with my neurosurgeon in Maryland next Wednesday.  This is not the beginning of a road for the Chico family.  The costs associated with this surgery and recovery are astronomical.  Even with insurance it becomes too much for a family who has years of medical bills on their books already to do alone.  They need help.  There is travel and hotels and food and scans and medications, and really, it is impossible except with love.  I helped create the blog www.hopeforhaley.blogspot.com to help Haley and Amy tell their story and also a facebook page for quick updates.  I added a paypal account "donate" button linked to the Chico family account so people can help with the greatest need right now.  Please pray for this dear girl.  Please pray for her broken body and her heart and mind heading into next week.  Please pray for grace and strength for her family.  This surgery is a life saving surgery.  It is a life giving surgery.  Thank you for being part of this hope for Haley.  

"Now the full number of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one said that any of the things that belonged to him was his own, but they had everything in common. And with great power the apostles were giving their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all. There was not a needy person among them, for as many as were owners of lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold and laid it at the apostles' feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need."  Acts 4:32-25

"Give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you.”  Luke 6:38