Immortality Personified

This is kind of a stream of conscience post...

How many times do you have to have to end up in the hospital in a week before you say its too much? Most people, I think, would say that even one time is too many for them. It took me three hospital visits this week before I finally rolled my eyes, threw my hands up, and internally shouted, “I can’t do this.”

Two hospital trips were due to injuries I had sustained hiking and kickboxing. I thought I may have broken my foot and leg twice. I consider myself just a little clumsy.

But I want to focus on my second hospital trip on Tuesday last week. As per usual, God taught me empathy and self patience. Let’s go back a step. On my second trip to the hospital, I sat in a waiting room with my mother by my side. I had an IV in my right arm and cold fluids were dripping into my blood. A scratchy thin hospital blanket was tucked around me, trying to faintly comfort me. I once again felt myself slowly sliding to the left. My hands were shaking and I could hear my heart beating in my ears. I had blacked out at work. My vision went blurry and my words were slurring together. I wasn’t dehydrated, my blood sugar wasn’t low, and every test at the hospital had come back negative. So, for the hundredth time in my life, I sat in an ER waiting room without answers and feeling helpless. It was almost a comforting feeling. My mom was sitting at my side like old times, advocating for every test and trying to distract me. I didn’t find answers that night.

The next day, I called my psychiatrist. It turns out an adrenal supplement mixed with an OCD medication I have been taking can cause these and other symptoms. So, I immediately stopped taking the supplement and reduced the amount of OCD medication I was taking. Within two days I felt better in my body, but even though I was still taking the OCD medication, my anxiety was increased. This frustrated me. I personally HATE medication and it takes a lot for me to be convinced that it is time to try it again. Often I find it doesn’t help and I only get all the negative side effects. Finally, it seemed a medication was actually helpful, but I had to decide between fainting spells and a clear mind. I, of course, decided that I can handle intrusive thoughts, but I literally cannot work if I am blacking out. How is anyone supposed to make these choices though? Like, for the first time in 8 months, I felt like myself, I felt FULLY light and happy! But, physically I felt weaker. Medicine is a powerful tool and a God given method for dealing with physical and mental infirmities. But why does every solution come with such great cost.

I was thankful to have my mother at my side. My sweet mother has been dealing with an identified neurological disorder(s) for the past couple years. The symptoms I was exhibiting that night were very similar to some of the things she has dealt with for the past 500 days. I watched as the nurses pushed my wheelchair around at a crawling pace and she struggled to keep up with us, as she inexplicably was walking on her tip toes and dragging her left foot on the ground as she lurched forward. I realized that though I was not happy that God allowed me to react so violently to this medication or to have to come off the medications that were helping, I finally was put into my mother’s shoes. For the past couple years it was easy to write off her problems as her being a little dramatic or not pushing through it, but as I sat their uncontrollably shaking and kept feeling like I was falling through the floor and as my thoughts turned to mush, I finally understood that It was my turn to advocate for her. I gained an empathy that I had not had for her.

There will always be opposition in all things. For example, where their is health their is sickness. These opposites are important, so we can understand the better option and see the blessings of keeping God’s word. But that also means that sometimes we will be saddled with the lesser opposite, it is part of mortality. God does allow us to have weaknesses. He made me infertile, so I would go and find the children I am meant to mother. He made me OCD, so I can have a heart to take care of people and be determined in each of my goals. There are many good reasons He allows me to be broken, but it isn’t to teach me something. He isn’t punishing me until I learn my lesson. But when I am ready, I can open my heart to Him and ask “Lord, what can I learn from this?” And He will assuredly provide an answer, because God doesn’t pass up a teaching moment, but He also doesn’t force them. (Unless you’re Jonah or anyone else trying to run from your commitments to God.) So, instead I suggest running toward God. That way, even though mortality still happens, you’ll be closer to Immortality personified.