Good Medicine

Each evening Jim and I watch the national news at 6:30.  For one half hour we listen to the days events, interrupted every few minutes by commercial messages.  The other night we noticed that ninety-nine percent of the advertisements are from the pharmaceutical companies.  Of those messages, probably half of the air time is taken up with all the possible negative side effects of the drug that is being presented.   Jim and I look at each other and say, "why in the world are we putting these chemicals in our bodies!?!" 

This week I began to think about my blog post (and as usual, I was just sure that maybe I had run out of topics to write about).  In the middle of the night it came--this month has been one of the worst physical months I have had in five years and yet I would say that I have received some of the best medicine I have had in five years.

A couple of weeks ago, I woke up late and called Jim to "check in" as I often do.  We chatted a bit and then I heard him say, "Happy anniversary, Sweetheart."  "What!," I said.  "What day is this?"  I was so sick I nearly slept through our anniversary without even knowing it.  I felt awful.  I usually fuss and try to surprise and this year it completely escaped me.  A few minutes later a friend texted me to see how I was feeling.  I admitted to her what had happened.  Her immediate response was, "I'll be over with dinner for two in a few hours."

I don't know how she did it but sure enough, later that afternoon a surf and turf dinner with a table cloth, candles, sparkling cider, cloth napkins, and chocolate mousse arrived.  I was so weak that my friend said, "sit--I'll take care of everything!"  And she did.  (She even brought a bottle of iced tea so we could sit on the patio sip and chat as though she had all the time in the world.)  Jim and I had one of the best anniversaries we have ever had in thirty-three years and our hearts were lifted like we never dreamed.  Good medicine!

This week I have spent many days home alone, and sometimes my formal attire has been pajamas.  But a friend called and said, "are you ready to get out?"  And on the most clear, crisp, sunny of days she pulled up in the driveway with her convertible top down I hopped in (well that description might be a bit overzealous but I did get in) and we took a long ride to nowhere.  We wound through our beautiful countryside, past the sheep farm and through the apple orchard.  We tried out back roads that were unfamiliar and we chatted about family and plans and nothing in particular.  A perfect ten day.  Good medicine!

Lunch followed.  Homemade soup and a chicken salad wrap outside in the sunshine.  I sat with my friend but the whole time I had one eye on a beautiful weathered bird bath that was in the middle of her patio herb garden.  While we had lunch, a flock of gold finches flitted back and forth to that bird bath.  It was though they were having a wonderful social gathering and they were thoroughly enjoying one another.  "Those birds are for you," my friend commented.  "I have never seen that many finches on that bath at one time."  How blessed I felt.  Good medicine!

Yesterday was one of our daughter's birthdays.  I woke up yesterday morning to find the most sweet picture of our two girls hugging each other at her birthday celebration posted online.  Good medicine!  (And to top it all off we had a wonderful telephone call with our birthday girl last evening--even better medicine!!)

Each day there have been pink, blue, yellow envelopes arriving in the mail with greeting and well wishes from friends and family.  Good medicine!

The other day I made soup and as often happens, I texted Jim and asked him to bring home one last ingredient for dinner.  This night I wondered if he could find "bread bowls" for our soup.  When he walked in the house he was swinging his reuseable grocery bag with a big grin on his face singing, "I found bread bowls."  Sweet success.  Good medicine!

The list could go on but I will stop.  In Proverbs it says, "A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones."  My heart is full.  The medicine is working.

Hives

A month ago tomorrow, Jim and I were anticipating our second week of vacation in our favorite spot in the world...Maine.  We were staying in a wonderful house on a secluded lot, yet we were close enough to the coves and the beach and the lighthouse.  The house was tastefully furnished with colorful, interesting Americana objects that made it a warm, delightful retreat from the world.

Sadly, though, I could feel that what was suppose to be a refreshing, renewal was descending into fatigue and illness.  I was sleeping non-stop and I was nauseous and couldn't imagine myself getting up to participate in any of our planned activities.  What was happening? 

Jim sensed what was wrong and he jumped into action taking all the steps we had been trained to do when we suspected that infection was taking hold.  Early in the morning he came in with a long face and said, "Steph, get up, sweetheart, we have to go to the hospital." 

We drove down the peninsula to the nearest hospital.  They told us to come in so they could get me started on the care I needed but I was also told I  would have to be transferred to another, larger hospital with a nephrology department.  Our heads were spinning and though the staff was extremely kind, we were frightened.  They were reacting in a way that said, "this situation is very serious!"

The next thing I knew, I was strapped into an ambulance accompanied by a very reassuring paramedic who chatted the hour and a half ride away.  (The most eventful thing that happened on the ride was when the ambulance driver said, "Look out the window."  Evidently a motorcycle driver in full Santa garb was following us!--wish I could have seen it.) 

Things bustled along once I got to the new facility and I was given a room in the CCU--Critical Care Unit.  A doctor came in to explain what the next treatment steps would be.  I heard him say that I would be getting daily doses of intravenous antibiotic and was I allergic to anything.  I told them, "I am allergic to penicillin."  There was a brief silence and then the doctor said, "Well, one of the antibiotics we have to give you is a distant relative to penicillin but there should be no problem."  I remember thinking, "you don't know my body, and I don't feel good about this but I guess I better do what they say so I can get well."

So the long and the short of this story is, I didn't speak up and ask for other options and the treatments began.  Every day I was hooked up for a half hour or hour of an intravenous drip and each day I became increasingly ill.  I vomited and I had chills and my body cried out for relief from all these foreign chemicals. 

The treatments didn't stop when we were finally able to travel back to our home in Connecticut.  Weekly I received more of the  powerful antibiotic (the "bazooka," they called it) and then it happened!  I woke up one night covered in hives....burning, itching, my skin stretched until I thought it would pop.  Nothing seemed to bring relief.  The doctor and nurses said, "it should be gone in a few days but I wondered if I would still be in my right mind when the relief arrived.  Once again they did not know my body and it's been over two weeks of hives which have not dissipated.  I feel trapped!  What I thought was something good for me and my healing has turned against me.

As I think back over my life, I now recognize that I have many "hive" experiences.  At times I have ignored my instincts, godly and otherwise, to choose to allow things in my life that I thought would ultimately serve my good.  I did not have the courage to take a stand and declare that I was settling for second best.  Things went along okay for a while and then suddenly I found myself in an unhealthy, toxic situation--trapped with no end in sight.  The easy way had turned hard.

If only I had had the guts to do what the scripture says in Proverbs-- trust in the Lord with all my heart and lean not on my own understanding; in all my ways submit to him, and he would make my paths straight--no additional discomfort, no extra suffering, no hives!

The Shelter

"You've got to try the Coveside," were the words we kept hearing. "Their chowder is delicious."  That's all we needed to hear.  We're always game for a great bowl of seafood chowder--what could be better?

It only took a day for an opportunity to present itself to try out the new restaurant--rain in Maine!  So mid-afternoon we hopped in the car and set out to drive off our peninsula and down the next peninsula looking for this hidden treasure.  We wound along the coastline and over a wonderful little working draw bridge and then we started trying to spot the Coveside.  When we didn't immediately find it, we asked a couple of Mainers where it was and I'm sure they got a huge chuckle when they said, "oh, just follow this road around and you'll eventually come to it," knowing full well we would never find it with those instructions.


Once we found ourselves back where we started, we retraced our steps and there it was!--a rustic, weathered eatery built on pylons at the edge of the harbor.  The setting couldn't have been better.  And how about the fact that we had the place to ourselves except for a group of a dozen people who were seated at the table next to us.  The hostess sat us right in front of the window facing the water--I was giddy with delight! 

After placing our order--a steaming bowl of clam chowder of course--we settled in to see what was happening in the harbor.  Actually not too much was going on.  It was pouring down rain.  Most sailboats and lobster boats were safely moored, rocking in the tide.  There was one funny sight though--a young man fully dressed in a parka and shorts paddled by on his paddleboard.  (I guess he didn't have the sense to come in out of the rain.)

While Jim and I wondered how we had never come to this place before now, we began to piece together what was happening at the table next to us.  The people had come in to the restaurant for lunch on their boat and were now pinned down by the torrential rain.  The waitresses were trying to find Doppler reports on their computers to help the boaters determine their next step--stay or go? 

Finally the sailors went out to check that their boat was securely tied down and it seemed that the consensus was that a rousing card game would do the trick until the storm passed.  They were safe.  Why risk it?

Little did Jim and I know that while we watched those boaters navigate the decisions about what to about the storm of that August afternoon, we would soon be in the midst of a storm of our own--a very serious infection that would land me in a Maine hospital CCU.  We were far away from home and anyone we knew.  We were frightened.  Could we trust our new care givers and their advice?  We had very poor cell phone service and we felt alone.  The only comfort we could find was in what the Psalmist says, "Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty."  Thank you, God, for your protection.