The Dangling Carrot

(If you need to catch up on the health issue I write of here, see a previous post)

I had it in my grasp: the answer. After ten months of stomachache, heartburn, and gutache, several doctor’s visits, five different prescriptions, sixteen pounds lost, and two visits to the emergency room, I had it. I had a piece of paper on it that said: this is what you have. This is the cause of your pain.

While grabbing a hold of this provided no immediate physical relief, it was a burden lifted to consider that my mysterious ailments had been brought out of hiding and identified.

Yesterday I found that the carrot I thought I had firmly in my grasp was a phantom, a vapor. How cruel to let the answers flirt with me for two weeks. At my follow-up appointment on March 27, the doctor yanked the carrot out of sight, telling me that everything looks “perfectly healthy and normal”.

Huh? Did I not have a piece of paper on my fridge stating otherwise?

“Do you want to treat this?” he asked me.

“Yes, this is extraordinarily difficult to live with,” was my answer. I made no effort to mask my incredulity at the question.

He says that he believes I have a spastic stomach (which does not take a medical degree to identify; I could have easily told him that myself) and that it needed help to relax. Before I had a chance to ask, I was handed my sixth prescription since this ordeal started and advised that if it didn’t help in a week or two, I was to call and speak with one of his nurses. The time it took for the nurse to take my vitals, to hear this information from the doctor, and to be on my way out spanned about four minutes.

Wha…? Do they take bets on how quickly they can cycle patients out of the office? I had heard this was par for the course with many physicians, especially specialists. Perhaps since my symptoms offered little in the way of anything interesting, I was to be scuttled along to make room for the next set of symptoms (otherwise known as a “patient”).

I had been wham-bam-and-thank-you-ma’amed. My head was spinning; this is not at all what I expected. I had at least hoped to discuss with him treatment for the conditions described on that piece of paper. What about that hiatal hernia? And the gastric mucosal atrophy? Do I have those, or don’t I?

This sort of treatment may make sense to someone in the medical profession, but I left that office scratching my head. Is this really what passes for so-called “healthcare” these days? Having always enjoyed a great state of health, this is the first time I had really encountered what those who are chronically sick must face on a regular basis: feeling like I’ve been reduced to a collection of symptoms; feeling like every pain simply has a new prescription thrown at it; feeling a little deprived of hope, a little disempowered, and a whole lot frustrated.

I wish I had been more adamant with him and insisted that he tell me if the conditions described on that sheet were in fact present realities for me, or whether these were merely initial findings that he had later concluded were false. I wish I knew.

I really don’t have anything against modern medicine, but the more I am in and out of these offices, the more disillusioned I am becoming with how it is practiced. I am not expecting these visits to double as a therapy session, but why can I not have the room to say, “this is how the pain is interrupting my life. I simply want to return to my life”?

It makes me want to stand up and scream: I am more than my medical chart! These symptoms come in a body, and with that body a whole person is attached! I have people I love, things I want to do and love to do, a job, goals to accomplish! Being in a consistently compromised state of health compromises my ability to live fully! Are these things not important?

So I left the medical office yesterday and got the prescription filled. I came home and defiantly set that bottle next to the others. I looked at my mini-pharmacy and thought, there they are: five orange bottles, each of which at one point offered me the hope of relief, if not returned health (one that had been previously prescribed is no longer part of my regimen). The contents of these bottles have not provided me with anything resembling wellness, so my skepticism runs deep as to whether this sixth will be the magical missing link. In fact, I’ve stopped taking most of them since it seems pointless to pump my body full of synthetic drugs that have fallen far short of achieving the purpose for which they were designed.

I have decided that a fresh perspective is needed. I called today and made an appointment for next week with a naturopath (read about

naturopathic medicine). I will be seeing someone who has been recommended by at least two people I trust deeply. I have been drawn to this branch of medicine before because of its holistic approach to healthcare. Where modern medicine tends to focus on treating illness, naturopathy aims to prevent it, embracing the idea that health is the natural state of the body; the emphasis is on treating whole persons as mental, physical, emotional and spiritual beings.

I really am at a loss as how to conclude all this, as I have arrived at no conclusions myself. The answers I thought I had have been replaced by more questions. I feel small, frustrated, angry, a little scared, and a lot like crying. Was it not just a couple weeks ago that after so much waiting, God gave me a long hoped-for answer? I suppose there are lessons even in this: trusting, waiting, waiting, waiting, kneeling with open hands.

I cling firmly to the knowledge that He who made me also holds me fast and trust that perhaps someday, He will use what I currently see as a terrific mess to be a blessing to someone else who needs it.

The Heavens Declare

The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of His hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they display knowledge.
There is no speech or language
where their voice is not heard.
Psalm 19:1-3

I've written much of the rain lately. Washington state is famous for it, but even natives have their limits. Days upon days of pounding rain always make me think of Noah and the flood. It hadn't quite been 40 days and nights yet, but it the number of consecutive days was rapidly climbing.

My sister Kaari and I left for church this past Saturday night under a deluge. Toward the end ofthe service during the closing prayer, we could hear it hammer the converted warehouse roof with particularly impressive force. After the final song was finished, we made our toward the foyer and out the front doors. The first things we saw were a startling shaft of sunlight and a rainbow. I had difficulty capturing it with my camera, but from our vantage point in the parking lot, you could see the full arc of it.

The whole sky was magnificent, like nothing either of us had ever seen. The clouds were brilliantly illuminated yellow and orange. The sky held for us shades of blue we had never seen. We immediately made our way to the waterfront. I would post all 33 pictures if I could, but not even they would come close to doing God's handiwork justice.

After snapping several pictures of the evening sky, the light began to ebb quickly. We returned to the car and listened to Chris Tomlin's version of "Amazing Grace", cranked loudly with the windows down. I can't imagine a better soundtrack for such a sky.

Nothing to Say

This week has been a good one for stepping back, being an engaged listener, and being still. I've lost track of how many days straight of rain we've had here. Spending time outdoors has been somewhat of a difficulty. It's not that I mind getting wet or muddy; it's just that it's been so cool that the combination of the cold and wet means my hands and feet will almost certainly lose feeling, making any outdoor excursion one that is short, ending with me rubbing my hands under warm running water until the blood is restored to my extremities.

Earlier in the week, I had become frustrated with a mélange of things. As I was sitting down one afternoon at a coffeeshop in front of my computer, I suddenly felt suffocated, like I needed to get out. During a rare and much-needed break in the rain, I felt the lake calling to me. So I packed up my things, and promptly drove to one of my favorite spots on the lake. I invited God to be with me on my walk and to speak whatever He would. He was mostly quiet along the way, and I walked with quick (almost frantic) steps, knowing precisely where He wanted to meet with me.

I sat on a favorite lakeside bench and simply sat. There were a few others there playing with their dogs, enjoying the brief break from the rain. I sat and waited, asking God to quiet my heart and to slow the thoughts in my mind that were competing for my attention and His. Again, He didn't say much.

Listen. Just listen.

In truth, that was about all I heard from Him that day. I can see lately that He's been drawing me into these still, quiet times more often. There are a thousand little battles going on at any given time and as I pursue Him, I suppose I can expect that the battling will not be abated. I can expect to need these moments of stillness and quiet even more.

So I sat still and listened. I felt the breeze move past my face, I looked across the lake at the steep hillside thick with evergreens, each one an arrow pointing heavenward. I listened to the water lap, lap, lap gently against the sand and rocks, simply letting myself be quiet. Moments this still are rare. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Listen.

I lost track of time; I have no idea how long I stayed. But I stayed until my heart was full and frustration had been edged out by peace.

Isn't that just like Him? I am awestruck at a God who is so powerful, a God who holds the vast universe in the palm of His hand who, at the same time is surpassingly gracious and gentle, leading me gently "to lush pastures" and "refreshing water." (Ps 23:2). Here is a God whose voice could rattle the universe simply urging me to listen.

So this is where I've been: doing a little less talking and a little more listening. Paying attention to the world outside my door, engaging in deliberate wonderment. Being fascinated by lichens. Marvelling at it all.

I think of the chorus of the song "Nothing to Say" by Andrew Peterson:

And I don't believe that I believed
In You as deeply as today
I reckon what I'm saying is
There's nothing more,
Nothing more to say

And the mountains sing Your glory hallelujah
The canyons echo sweet amazing grace
My spirit sails
The mighty gales are bellowing Your name
And I've got nothing to say
No, I've got nothing to say

Wordless Wednesday

Close up on the branch of an apple tree

More Wordless Wednesday

Scratching Away at Prayer

Christianne was so good as to open up about another step in her journey as a writer. What follows is not much (I typed it out unedited last night), but I've written a very raw draft of my own prayer about what I trust is my calling. I'm not entirely sure why I am posting it; I simply trust that it is something I should make public as our gifts are not meant for ourselves, but for the building up of the Body of Christ.


Lord, I am not sure why You have done it, but You’ve made me to be a writer. Of all the things I know, so little seems to be completely black and white (perhaps I'm prone to over-analyze things, even my propensity to over-analyze). One thing I have come to know for sure is that I am lost without You; another is that You have made me for the task of writing. But as I pull out my laptop yet one more time I am faced with a writer’s nightmare: I have nothing to say. There are no gleaming strokes of genius at the keyboard here today.

I look at the brilliant list of ideas I’ve brainstormed and now find them lifeless, dull, prosaic. I am uninspired when I look at them. I feel unequal to the task to which You've called me.

You gave this to me as a gift Lord, and I need to trust that You will perfect it. As I was sinking into obscurity in a dull, soul-sucking, mind-numbing job, You’ve called me to step out and write. I was trying to hide in the shadows, but You want to shine through me. I suppose I am afraid of all it will mean to be obedient, of what it means to be called out of hiding, to live the life you have for me.

What will I say? You will let me plug away at my brilliant-but-boring ideas until I realize that on my own, I have little to say that will be of value to anyone who reads it. You will perfect my gift, but I first need to let you. You will give me the ideas, but I must ask, and then let You give them. I will find the voice You gave me; You will refine it. I so desperately desire to honor You with what You've given and I confess I’ve been attempting to do it entirely in my own power. No wonder I am so lost.

May I hold my gift with open hands to You always, trusting that He who gave it will not leave me unattended in its use. Breathe on me; make fresh what has been stagnant. Teach me to trust your perfect timing.

As Promised, the Tattoo

Because Blue Mountain Mama asked so nicely, here is a picture of my tattoo. I had originally written a post to go with it, but didn't like it and therefore deleted it after one kind soul beat me to it & commented on it. So if I ever write it in a way I like it -- assuming my brain is ever again connected with my body -- I just might post it someday.

I believe I can safely promise that this is the most flesh I'll ever display on the internet (not to be outdone by the lovely Christin, who got to show off her surgery scars). I believe I can also safely promise that this is the last photo that will ever put my backside on display. :o)

For a Limited Time Only

I don't know what it is about this week; my brain feels fried (just what is the statute of limitations on blaming daylight savings?). So instead of words today, you're going to get another picture!

Wednesday was a gorgeous day! It wasn't warm by any stretch of the imagination (it barely crept above 40 degrees), but when the sun comes out here, you've got to get it while you can. It doesn't take long for the clouds and rain to roll in on the sun's coattails.

My friend Peggy and I took advantage of the weather & went for a walk around one of the lakes here in town. We couldn't have asked for a better day!

Settled!

I learned today that my insurance claim has been closed as of March 8. My insurance company didn't call me; I learned this information when I checked the claim status at their website.

HALLELUJAH!! What a tremendous relief.

Wordless Wednesday

This taken in front of a local building company that takes its

environmental responsibility seriously.

More Wordless Wednesday

What the Endoscopy Revealed

On Wednesday, March 7 I had an upper gastrointestinal endoscopy. This is a procedure in which a small, lighted tube with a camera is inserted through the throat to get a view of the upper digestive system. This includes the esophagus, stomach, and the upper portion of the small intestine. Because prior tests had revealed nothing out of the ordinary, the question of whether or not anything would be found this time nagged and niggled at me.

After being wheeled into the procedure room and being hooked up to oxygen and the appropriate monitors, I was given intravenous drugs to put me in a state of consciousness where I was essentially asleep, but able to respond to instructions to assist with the treatment (such as putting my mouth around a plastic ring to keep from biting on the tube, and subsequently swallowing the endoscope to help guide it through my digestive tract). The last thing I remember after being given the intravenous drugs is waking up in the recovery room about an hour later.

I have a follow-up appointment on March 27, but I was given a letter from the doctor containing his findings: I have a hiatal hernia and gastric mucosal atrophy.

Gastric mucosal atrophy is a condition in which the mucous membrane layer of the stomach has become chronically inflamed due to gastritis. This condition can result in a shrinking of the peptic glands and consequently, a lack of digestive juices. This makes it difficult to digest food and move it through the stomach normally.

There is a lot of helpful information and diagrams on the Mayo Clinic’s website about hiatal hernia (to give credit where it is properly due, the information in the following paragraph is summarized & quoted from the article in the link provided at the beginning of this paragraph; the diagram is from this site as well). In short, the esophagus (food pipe) passes through an opening in the diaphragm called the hiatus. Hiatal hernias (or, “hiatus hernias”) occur when the surrounding muscle tissue becomes weak and the stomach pushes up through the hiatus so that a portion of the stomach is above the diaphragm.

“Ordinarily, the diaphragm is aligned with the lower esophageal sphincter, which relaxes to allow food and liquid to flow into your stomach when you swallow. The diaphragm supports and puts pressure on the sphincter to keep it closed when you're not swallowing. But a hiatal hernia raises the sphincter above the diaphragm, reducing pressure on the valve. This permits the sphincter muscle to open at the wrong time, allowing stomach acid to back up into the esophagus.”

The herniated portion of the stomach can become a reservoir for stomach acid, causing it to back up into the esophagus. With a sphincter that is not closing properly, the result is often gastroesophogeal reflux disease (or GERD), a condition I have already been diagnosed with.

I have yet to find out the severity of my condition; I have no idea how large the hernia is, or to what degree the gastric mucosa is damaged. As anyone who searches medical websites knows, it is good for general information, but not for self-diagnosis. I must wait to discuss the particulars of all this with my physician until my follow-up appointment on March 27. At this point, I am glad that what I’ve been experiencing over the last several months does, in fact, have a name. I look forward to discussing treatment options with my physician and Lord-willing, finding relief.

If I may be so bold, I have found a particular kinship with the apostle Paul in all this. While I have experienced nothing like the revelation he describes in 2 Corinthians 12, I am beginning to lay hold of the calling for which Christ formed me. I find I identify in some small way with his “thorn in [the] flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment [him]” (v 7).

“Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness’. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (vv 8-10, NIV).

I have pleaded with the Lord to take this away. But in His infinite wisdom, perfect will, and His ceaseless love, He has chosen to allow me to learn the depths to which His grace is sufficient. I am only a novice where such grace is concerned, but my prayer is that whether by my healing or by bearing with my own thorn, that the glory of God will be made manifest in my body.

I will provide updates as they become available.

God's grace is sufficient! I thank you friends, for your prayers and encouragement.

"Sexy" Sustainability?

I read an article from a Seattle newspaper earlier this week describing efforts at the University of Washington campus to reduce waste by going after the paper cups used by coffee shops (Here's to a sex-cessful campaign: UW students attack paper-cup waste). One estimate has the campus disposing of over 5,000 paper cups per day.

In an effort to entice students to bring their own coffee cups instead of using the paper cups, student leaders from the Young Democrats launched a campaign to make being environmentally friendly more fashionable. This week, the campaign was launched complete with bumper stickers & buttons displaying the catchy, alliterative slogan, "Sustainability is Sexy". While I am all for reducing waste, I question the means by which this particular student group is going about it.

This is not the first eco-friendly movement to use sex to attract attention to a good cause. The article cites examples of using sex to raise money to save rainforests, endangered turtles, and keep people from buying fur. The general idea, states the article, is to move from using guilt as a motivator to do the right thing to making the idea "more attractive and fun".

Sex is used to sell everything from cologne to cars to anti-wrinkle cream. What makes using sex to market toward waste reduction any different? Finding ways to inspire students to reduce their waste is admirable, but (and perhaps I am being a prickly idealist here) the whole idea of using sex to sell it leaves a very bad taste in my mouth. Most marketing campaigns are geared toward getting people to buy or consume something; it seems ironic to use sex to market toward environmental consciousness which tends to be more anti-consumptive in nature.

The catchy slogan and free bumper stickers may garner student attention for the time being, but what will happen once the hype dies down? If being fashionable or hip is the motivation for forgoing the paper cup and replacing it with one of the stainless steel coffee tumblers ubiquitous to coffee shops these days, what will happen when the trend shifts? Sex may be drawing attention toward the issue for the time being, but is anyone learning why waste reduction is important, how incinerated trash affects our atmosphere, or learning to look at other areas in which they can reduce consumption?

The motivation behind this campaign may not be so global in its intent, but where better than a university to foster this kind of awareness? I don’t want to throw out the baby with the bathwater and I do believe that change starts with seemingly small, personal decisions and shifts in habit (like forgoing a paper coffee cup), but I also believe that what drives that decision is significant as well.

It seems that in a university setting, awareness would be raised by listening to subject matter experts, viewing documentaries, acquiring relevant information, and encouraging discussion and debate. This is not to say that creativity should not be used in how students are engaged, but that the creative approach should appeal to their intelligence & sense of social responsibility instead of their sexuality. Rather than encouraging students to embrace an ecologically conscious lifestyle intelligently, it is being reduced to a mere trend. It seems that if the end in mind is to persuade students to have a heightened awareness about waste reduction, it would be helpful if they were given justifiable reasons for doing so.

Instead of consciousness-raising, they’re taking a shortcut to waste reduction by slapping a “sexy” sticker on it. If anything, it is consciousness-numbing, catering to the lowest common denominator of human intelligence. As can be expected of our culture, people are flocking to what is “sexy” for now. When the novelty has faded, how many will still be favoring the reusable mugs over the disposable paper cups, and of those who still do, how many will remember why? Sustainable may be sexy for now, but sexy is hardly sustainable. Last time I checked, intelligent living is.

I encourage you to share your own thoughts!


For more information…

• Sustainable Living
• Sustainable Agriculture
• An Inconvenient Truth, Official Website
• Overview of Conserving Communities, by Wendell Berry
• Waste Management
• Want to gauge your own impact on the environment? Check out the "What's My Ecological Footprint?" link at the right.

“Earth Appreciation”: A Shameless Plug
I believe one of the first steps in encouraging people to embrace more ecologically-conscious lifestyles is to appreciate and be amazed by God’s creation.

For some earth appreciation, check out Discovery Channel’s “Planet Earth”, an 11-part miniseries 5 years in the making, shot completely in high definition. It will be airing beginning March 25 @ 8 p.m. Eastern/Pacific and is available to purchase on DVD if you are unable to catch it on TV.

Check out Blue Mountain Mama's thoughts on sustainability here.