"I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me." -Jesus Matthew 25:26
I recently read a quote by Ben Stein, "I am not much but I am all I think about." Then I remembered the people who have cared for me through this illness. My husband who stayed with me night after night in the hospital and lifted me out of bed when I needed it only to get up in the morning and go back to work. My mother who crocheted a wardrobe of amazing hats, sat with me day after day watching the Food Networks and drove me to hassle with doctors and pharmacists. My daughter who washed my face and cut my hair tenderly with great smelling products. My son who dutifully watched the clock for my medicine and brought me ice chips. I had friends who visited (and some who didn't), friends who called and sent cards and food. People who prayed that didn't even know me.
The truth is that care-giving is not limited to even one of these things. It is act of giving care even from afar. I have had people tell me, "I just didn't call because I didn't know what to say" or "I knew some one who recently died and just couldn't deal with you being sick" or "I just can't handle hospitals." You know what I say to that? GET OVER YOURSELF! This is about the sick person and not you. You know what I would have rather heard, "I am having a really hard time with this but I am calling to say I am thinking about you." If you have a hard time talking, then send a card. If you have a hard time with hospitals, then call the room. You know, who the heck likes hospitals anyway?! Why do people say this? Who goes there on a joy ride? "Hey, I got nothing to do, let's go check out the hospital!" My mom is having knee surgery next week. Am I looking forward to it? No, but you just try and keep me out.
People say that I inspire them but you know who inspires me? The friend who I hardly knew who called me EVERY day just to say hi and check in. Some days I couldn't answer the phone and just laid there and smiled at the answering machine. The friend who brought over home-made mac n cheese in a crazy wig so I didn't feel so bad. The friend who commented on every single Facebook update to encourage me. People across the states and close to home who prayed faithfully for me (some who never met me) and introduced themselves later with a smile. The older couple who checked in and came to be with me when I needed them. My boss who kept my job for me and keeps my position flexible.
Don't you know that you can be one of these inspirations? I want to follow their example. I have a good friend right now who is fighting pancreatic cancer. I am doing my best to be there and be a comforting presence for her. The caregivers are the true heroes. They push themselves aside and get to work. They push their sleeves up and get in there. They take a chance at being uncomfortable, messy, tired, upset, and generally having to deal with someone who quite frankly is not them self and may be unpleasant as well. I know that pretty much described me. I was too busy fighting to survive and couldn't always give a high five. I cried and complained. Sometimes I was a real pain in the butt.
I thank God for my caregivers and the fact that they hung in there with me all the way. I only hope that someday people will say about me, that I was one of the ones who really cared. How about you?
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Cancer Fight Club!
"In this corna....The Big C in the multi-colored drug company labeled trunks....weighing in at 98% fatal prognosis! Annnd in this corna... John Doe Chemo in the pasty white trunks....weighing in at 98lbs! Let's have a clean fight!" DING! DING!
Let me ask you this, you might think it's harsh, do you want to live? Your first response might be to roll your eyes and say, "Of course I want to live! Who doesn't?" I want you to stop right there and really think. I mean that old standby of "I saw my life flash before my eyes" needs to come into play here. Really think about the things and people that make your life worth living. Make a list. You are going to need it.
I can not count the number of people who had told me to keep fighting, and that is what this is. Not a silly slap fight with one of the girls, oooh no. This is a Braveheart, heads and limbs flying, blood in the mud, gritting your teeth while swinging a sword against a fierce enemy who is trying desperately to take you down brawl. Trust me, I live with men and have seen this flick 1000 times. I keep wishing at some point they would take a bath in the film but I guess dirty says a whole lot more. Cancer fights dirty. It has no preference for young or old, male or female, or how much pain it renders to the patient or family. What you have to decide is where in the game you fight back and how hard. And when you do I suggest the "Chicago" way. It goes like this: Your enemy pulls out a knife, you pull a gun. Your enemy takes one of yours out, you take out one or better two of his. Get mad. During the time I was sick I more than once I gritted my teeth and said, "GAME OVER!" I think I kind of sounded like Clint but maybe that's just me.
#1: One of the worst things you can do is underestimate the power of your enemy. It is strong, crafty, and deadly. That's why you need to pull in the reinforcements. #2: Have a strong support system of people you can contact for help, prayer, of just to come over and hang out with you. There are going to be times when you are wiped out. Don't think you can do this alone. That will lead you on some crazy train to loner town and who wants to end up there? Taking a look at the sheer number of people standing behind you, your enemy might just turn tail and say, "She or he is not worth it!" #3: You are stronger than you think you are. Don't give up.
"Fight Club" was a brutal movie. Seemingly normal men met to beat each other to a pulp in a secret "club". When asked about the club, you were supposed to respond with, "There is no club." I chose this title because in a way it fits. A lot of people don't even know about the real fight or how hard we are being pummeled on a daily basis. Most of the time we reply with, "What fight?" I guess we are trying to spare our loved ones or maybe trying to seem tougher than we really are. I say we put on the gloves! I say we bounce our way through the crowd pumping our fists in our sweaty satin robes with our mouth protectors! I say we have some crazy guitar solo theme music! WHAT FIGHT?! RIGHT HERE BIG C! BRING IT! OK, at this point, stare into the eye of your enemy, raised your hand slow and deliberate, and motion toward yourself (Bruce Lee move).
What about you? Are you in?
*Stay tuned as next time we give "The Caregivers" some respect they deserve.
Let me ask you this, you might think it's harsh, do you want to live? Your first response might be to roll your eyes and say, "Of course I want to live! Who doesn't?" I want you to stop right there and really think. I mean that old standby of "I saw my life flash before my eyes" needs to come into play here. Really think about the things and people that make your life worth living. Make a list. You are going to need it.
I can not count the number of people who had told me to keep fighting, and that is what this is. Not a silly slap fight with one of the girls, oooh no. This is a Braveheart, heads and limbs flying, blood in the mud, gritting your teeth while swinging a sword against a fierce enemy who is trying desperately to take you down brawl. Trust me, I live with men and have seen this flick 1000 times. I keep wishing at some point they would take a bath in the film but I guess dirty says a whole lot more. Cancer fights dirty. It has no preference for young or old, male or female, or how much pain it renders to the patient or family. What you have to decide is where in the game you fight back and how hard. And when you do I suggest the "Chicago" way. It goes like this: Your enemy pulls out a knife, you pull a gun. Your enemy takes one of yours out, you take out one or better two of his. Get mad. During the time I was sick I more than once I gritted my teeth and said, "GAME OVER!" I think I kind of sounded like Clint but maybe that's just me.
#1: One of the worst things you can do is underestimate the power of your enemy. It is strong, crafty, and deadly. That's why you need to pull in the reinforcements. #2: Have a strong support system of people you can contact for help, prayer, of just to come over and hang out with you. There are going to be times when you are wiped out. Don't think you can do this alone. That will lead you on some crazy train to loner town and who wants to end up there? Taking a look at the sheer number of people standing behind you, your enemy might just turn tail and say, "She or he is not worth it!" #3: You are stronger than you think you are. Don't give up.
"Fight Club" was a brutal movie. Seemingly normal men met to beat each other to a pulp in a secret "club". When asked about the club, you were supposed to respond with, "There is no club." I chose this title because in a way it fits. A lot of people don't even know about the real fight or how hard we are being pummeled on a daily basis. Most of the time we reply with, "What fight?" I guess we are trying to spare our loved ones or maybe trying to seem tougher than we really are. I say we put on the gloves! I say we bounce our way through the crowd pumping our fists in our sweaty satin robes with our mouth protectors! I say we have some crazy guitar solo theme music! WHAT FIGHT?! RIGHT HERE BIG C! BRING IT! OK, at this point, stare into the eye of your enemy, raised your hand slow and deliberate, and motion toward yourself (Bruce Lee move).
What about you? Are you in?
*Stay tuned as next time we give "The Caregivers" some respect they deserve.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Hanging Out With Hope
Isn't that what hope is? Something you haven't seen, felt, or gotten to do yet? I remember how much I didn't feel hopeful when I found out I had cancer. All I could see was the endless march of doctors and medicine and chemo. Maybe I would make it, maybe I wouldn't, I knew plenty of people who didn't. I'm no better or different than anyone else, I only know what happened to me.
Hope started slow and it was other people who helped it along. People came to share their stories of recovery with me, stories of hope. I hung on to these words of encouragement. Some days it was all I could do to get out of bed. I figured if could just make it one more hour, one more day. Hope is a funny thing. It's kind of like a plant. It has to be watered and it needs light. The water and light are things that build you up (encouraging stories, prayers, laughter). It needs to be exposed to the elements so it won't become weak (trials of life). It needs to be pruned (get rid of useless info or discouraging remarks). Eventually it will bloom.
Months moved along slowly. I dreamed of the little white house, of being able to touch and feel the sand on my fingers. Chemotherapy had caused me to have a side-effect called neuropathy. You can't feel your fingers and they feel burned. I hated not feeling because I do a lot of crafts. I had a specialist tell me that this would never go away. She laughed when I said I would work on it. In December of 2010 I was finished with my chemo and told that I was in remission. I had about two months until my husband and I headed to the beach. A lot of my symptoms hadn't gone away and I was discouraged but I still had hope. I prayed like crazy and am pretty sure I used up all of the request time I had with the man upstairs for the next millennium. Ok, I probably hogged up some of your time too.
Hope works like this, it is a jewel you hold in your heart. You cannot see what you are hoping for. If you did, you would not need hope. It is faith that somehow your dream will come about. What a sad and dark place life would be without hope. Do you ever notice how people just fling it haphazardly out at you? "Hope you have a great weekend" or "Hope you fell better soon." Do they?! I don't know! I bet they haven't even given it a thought. It's like a "bless you" when you sneeze. Do you know that when you sneeze your heart stops? It's that second of time between life and death, thus the "bless you." I think we can look at hope as a matter of life or death also. Maybe next time when you visit a sick friend you can point at them and shout, "HOPE to you!" Tell them an encouraging story or hand them a Hallmark card if you are not good with words.
The story ends like this: The little house was perfect. I could hear the waves crashing from my fluffy bed. There were no doctors in sight. As I brushed my fingers back and forth across the sand I cried. I could feel every single pebble.
"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." - Hebrews 11:1
*Stay tuned I have no idea what will come next!
Thursday, February 3, 2011
"Recovery?"
re-cov-ery: a regaining of something lost or stolen; a regaining of balance, control, composure; a return to health, conscience, etc..
I recently was having trouble with one of my medications and had to look up the definition of something called a "Inert Matrix Tablet." I found out that it simply means that they inject medication into a time-released capsule. When swallowed, the stomach acid eats away at the capsule and the medication enters the system at a even time-released pace leaving the unused capsule behind to be discarded by the body. This got me thinking about the movie "The Matrix" and how it related to my current progress. Man, I have a lot of time on my hands. My whole goal here is to be completely honest with you. When I heard that I was moving into a recovery phase of my illness, I had a completely different plan of how it was going to go down. What I thought would happen and what did were two different realities. That's where "The Matrix" comes in.
In the movie people were living in a false, computer generated reality. They were given a choice to take a blue pill and continue living in the false world or take a red pill and confront the truth, a world run by machines (sorry if I missed anything to you Matrix fans out there). In short, "The Matrix" is a computer coded false reality. The "blue pill" for me was the reality I created in my mind. I had visions of making a major comeback with theme to Rocky playing in the back round. There I was running in my sweats through the streets of Granada Hills with people on their front porches waving and cheering me on. My husband and family smiled with tears in their eyes at how strong and amazing their wife, mother, and daughter had become. Then came the "red pill".
You know how sometimes you are forced to do things? Things that are hard or uncomfortable? Things that frankly you would much rather be stabbed to death with a spork than do. Being told I have to get moving sounded so easy when I was laying around on meds watching the Cooking Channel. When dawn cracked in my house and I slowly squeaked one eyelid open, the wave of dread that hit me was like the latest tsunami in Indonesia. I hated everyone and everything, including myself for being such a wimpy whiny..well..sick person!
I cried over toast every morning because it took a half an hour to eat it. Everything tasted and smelled awful and I HAD to eat. Let me just say that when you are forced to eat, it looses it's charm but quick. I was down from 125 to 95 and looked like a stick person. I had to pad chairs because of my bony backside. None of my clothes or underclothes fit me. I could barely shuffle down our back alley which was a real let down to my two little young dogs who need exercise. I found myself apologizing to them and throwing out an extra treat for their time. All of the side-effects I thought would magically disappear are still loitering around like cheap dime store hoodlums. Where is the the theme music!? The raw egg milkshakes!? The waving neighbors!? The arms raised in a big V!!
It started slow. I could eat a little more. I had a craving. I noticed something that made me smile. I re-arranged cupboards with my mom. I took up cooking and even some canning (things I had always wanted to do only never had time). My hands and legs moved a little easier. I could drive down the street by myself. I did some yard work. This was not the fireworks grand finale I was thinking of but ok. I am now two months and a week from my last chemo and five months out from major surgery. I have read that it will probably take from six months to a year for me to really feel more like myself. I am almost half way there. I still get frustrated and discouraged when I have my "bad days." How come I'm so impatient? Is it that I'm an American and want everything now. Is it that I live in Los Angeles where everyone goes at Autobahn speeds? We don't even have an Autobahn! Or is it that I am just human and forced to face my frailty. I hate being weak. I hate crying, even if it is by myself. I hate having to rely on my husband to open jars for me.
I guess the bottom line is this... Sometimes we are weak and can't do it without help. Don't ya hate that? I would like to think I can do it all but I can't. My good friend Mario told me, "I'm gonna tell you right now. You better quit thinking that you can do it all. You are putting too much pressure on yourself." He was a football coach for many years and you know what? I'm not a 6' 18 year old linebacker and he is right. I have to take the red reality pill and take it easy on myself. I need to keep reminding myself that it is ok to take three steps forward and two steps back. At least I gained one more. I guess that's why they call it the recovery "process".
Stay tuned as next time we do some "Hanging Out With Hope"
I recently was having trouble with one of my medications and had to look up the definition of something called a "Inert Matrix Tablet." I found out that it simply means that they inject medication into a time-released capsule. When swallowed, the stomach acid eats away at the capsule and the medication enters the system at a even time-released pace leaving the unused capsule behind to be discarded by the body. This got me thinking about the movie "The Matrix" and how it related to my current progress. Man, I have a lot of time on my hands. My whole goal here is to be completely honest with you. When I heard that I was moving into a recovery phase of my illness, I had a completely different plan of how it was going to go down. What I thought would happen and what did were two different realities. That's where "The Matrix" comes in.
In the movie people were living in a false, computer generated reality. They were given a choice to take a blue pill and continue living in the false world or take a red pill and confront the truth, a world run by machines (sorry if I missed anything to you Matrix fans out there). In short, "The Matrix" is a computer coded false reality. The "blue pill" for me was the reality I created in my mind. I had visions of making a major comeback with theme to Rocky playing in the back round. There I was running in my sweats through the streets of Granada Hills with people on their front porches waving and cheering me on. My husband and family smiled with tears in their eyes at how strong and amazing their wife, mother, and daughter had become. Then came the "red pill".
You know how sometimes you are forced to do things? Things that are hard or uncomfortable? Things that frankly you would much rather be stabbed to death with a spork than do. Being told I have to get moving sounded so easy when I was laying around on meds watching the Cooking Channel. When dawn cracked in my house and I slowly squeaked one eyelid open, the wave of dread that hit me was like the latest tsunami in Indonesia. I hated everyone and everything, including myself for being such a wimpy whiny..well..sick person!
I cried over toast every morning because it took a half an hour to eat it. Everything tasted and smelled awful and I HAD to eat. Let me just say that when you are forced to eat, it looses it's charm but quick. I was down from 125 to 95 and looked like a stick person. I had to pad chairs because of my bony backside. None of my clothes or underclothes fit me. I could barely shuffle down our back alley which was a real let down to my two little young dogs who need exercise. I found myself apologizing to them and throwing out an extra treat for their time. All of the side-effects I thought would magically disappear are still loitering around like cheap dime store hoodlums. Where is the the theme music!? The raw egg milkshakes!? The waving neighbors!? The arms raised in a big V!!
It started slow. I could eat a little more. I had a craving. I noticed something that made me smile. I re-arranged cupboards with my mom. I took up cooking and even some canning (things I had always wanted to do only never had time). My hands and legs moved a little easier. I could drive down the street by myself. I did some yard work. This was not the fireworks grand finale I was thinking of but ok. I am now two months and a week from my last chemo and five months out from major surgery. I have read that it will probably take from six months to a year for me to really feel more like myself. I am almost half way there. I still get frustrated and discouraged when I have my "bad days." How come I'm so impatient? Is it that I'm an American and want everything now. Is it that I live in Los Angeles where everyone goes at Autobahn speeds? We don't even have an Autobahn! Or is it that I am just human and forced to face my frailty. I hate being weak. I hate crying, even if it is by myself. I hate having to rely on my husband to open jars for me.
I guess the bottom line is this... Sometimes we are weak and can't do it without help. Don't ya hate that? I would like to think I can do it all but I can't. My good friend Mario told me, "I'm gonna tell you right now. You better quit thinking that you can do it all. You are putting too much pressure on yourself." He was a football coach for many years and you know what? I'm not a 6' 18 year old linebacker and he is right. I have to take the red reality pill and take it easy on myself. I need to keep reminding myself that it is ok to take three steps forward and two steps back. At least I gained one more. I guess that's why they call it the recovery "process".
Stay tuned as next time we do some "Hanging Out With Hope"
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
A Word On Faith
It has been said that there are "no atheists in foxholes." I heard a story one time of a guy who went to Vietnam and met another guy who claimed to be an atheist. He saw the same guy a couple of weeks later and he had a necklace on with every conceivable religious symbol known to man. There was a cross, an ankh, a Jewish star, and some kind of claw plus others. He asked him, "What do you believe? I can't tell by your necklace." The guy replied with wide eyes, "Man, in my position, I can't afford to piss anyone off."
I think that having a life threatening illness is a definite foxhole and maybe a little like Vietnam warfare. There you are, in a dense jungle of doubt with some unseen enemy lurking behind every shadow waiting to take you out. There are no clear answers and you don't even know why you're there. It becomes all about survival. At this point you find out that it is safer in numbers. The question is you and who? Now I'm not here to tell you what to believe and that isn't my job, despite what many well-meaning religious folks might think. The fact is that religion itself rarely gets anyone anywhere. You can be religious about anything. It is where you go when you get into trouble. You can be religious about your pocketbook, Starbucks, Facebook, astrology, "green" living and the list goes on. If you take drugs you can be a religious dope smoker and I know plenty. Do you race for your medicine cabinet any time you think you "might" get a headache? I have done that a couple of times.
It happened like this. I was a dumb teenager. I had too much too drink and decided it would be a good idea to run my 74' Honda Civic (the size of a shoe) down a very steep hill and "end it all." I rammed this little car through a block wall, a two car garage, and totaled two full-size Cadillac luxury vehicles. Nothing happened to me. I ended up in court with a public defender who told me, "This judge is tough, you are going down and there is nothing I can do for you." It was at this point I made a fateful bargain with the unknown. I was standing there before the judge and said to myself, "Ok whoever you are up there, if you are real, get me out of this and I promise to make a real effort to find out who you are." The judge looked at me and said, "I don't have any paper work on you, case dismissed!" The defender and I stood there with our mouths open. On the way back to his office he said, "I have never seen that happen." I was thinking about the bargain I just made and figured I was in big trouble. For the next few months I had to take a bus and walk two blocks alone to where I worked at the Mission Hills Cemetery. I found out not too long ago that my walking route was between three major gang territories. You need to know that I am a shrimpy white girl with blonde hair and more than likely stuck out like a sore thumb. Somebody was watching out for me.
I did make an effort to find out who and what I believed in. I have studied every "ism" out there. I have hung out and listened to New Age stuff and gazed into crystals. I have checked out witchcraft and the Satanic bible written by Howard Stanton Levey, a former carnival worker. When I got into trouble I tried to run to these things and was met with mainly silence. I found that most of these mentioned have an ever-dangling carrot you have to chase to receive anything back. Some of them have "secret knowledge" you have to attain. Just tell me now! I have the same thought for people who tell me, "If you send a certain amount, we will send you this miracle information or bible study." How about telling me right now! Since when do you have the corner on bible info? My final conclusion? There is a God, and I am gratefully not him. How do I know? Because I met him.
If you are still reading it means you haven't clicked me off yet. Here it is. I did not hear a Charlton Heston like voice booming over me. It happened in more practical ways. I always thought religious people were nerdy, hair-sprayed, polyester wearing jerks and I wanted no part in that. To this day TBN gets on my nerves. I asked some simple questions in my own way and figured if he made me he could take it. Besides, I didn't know any religious lingo to throw out. Here's an example, "If you aren't some dumb slogan on a bumper sticker then show me." How about this one, "If I go to heaven I do not want to be with any of these people!" My mom called me to tell me about a bumper sticker she saw that read, "Dear Jesus, save me from your followers." I like that one.
So how about you? Where do you go when you are in a foxhole with the enemy advancing? I'll tell you this from experience, it better be something a little more daunting than a shiny rock or some incense. Human beings were built for relationship. We weren't made to maverick it even though we would like to. I am an avid western fan. The other day I was watching "Pale Rider" a famous Clint Eastwood movie. The main character (Eastwood) never mentions his name. We are left at the end to ponder. Is he a ghost? A reincarnated sheriff bent on revenge perhaps? Laying in the hospital with tubes and monitors sticking out of you in all directions like a 50's home-made television set is not the time to ponder. Real, and I mean real fear sets in lightning fast my friend and you need some real answers.
To make a long story short I got my answers. Take a chance, ask a few questions yourself. Request that the answers be given that only the unique you can understand, in your language. This is not Vegas and you've got absolutely nothing to loose. I'm still the same shrimpy white girl I was, only with less hair and a little better for the wear and the lessons that I have learned. I have lived through a deadly illness and didn't have to go it alone.
Edmond: "I don't believe in God."
Abbe Faria: "It doesn't matter. He believes in you."
-from The Count of Monte Cristo
Stay tuned as next time we will take on "Recovery?"
I think that having a life threatening illness is a definite foxhole and maybe a little like Vietnam warfare. There you are, in a dense jungle of doubt with some unseen enemy lurking behind every shadow waiting to take you out. There are no clear answers and you don't even know why you're there. It becomes all about survival. At this point you find out that it is safer in numbers. The question is you and who? Now I'm not here to tell you what to believe and that isn't my job, despite what many well-meaning religious folks might think. The fact is that religion itself rarely gets anyone anywhere. You can be religious about anything. It is where you go when you get into trouble. You can be religious about your pocketbook, Starbucks, Facebook, astrology, "green" living and the list goes on. If you take drugs you can be a religious dope smoker and I know plenty. Do you race for your medicine cabinet any time you think you "might" get a headache? I have done that a couple of times.
It happened like this. I was a dumb teenager. I had too much too drink and decided it would be a good idea to run my 74' Honda Civic (the size of a shoe) down a very steep hill and "end it all." I rammed this little car through a block wall, a two car garage, and totaled two full-size Cadillac luxury vehicles. Nothing happened to me. I ended up in court with a public defender who told me, "This judge is tough, you are going down and there is nothing I can do for you." It was at this point I made a fateful bargain with the unknown. I was standing there before the judge and said to myself, "Ok whoever you are up there, if you are real, get me out of this and I promise to make a real effort to find out who you are." The judge looked at me and said, "I don't have any paper work on you, case dismissed!" The defender and I stood there with our mouths open. On the way back to his office he said, "I have never seen that happen." I was thinking about the bargain I just made and figured I was in big trouble. For the next few months I had to take a bus and walk two blocks alone to where I worked at the Mission Hills Cemetery. I found out not too long ago that my walking route was between three major gang territories. You need to know that I am a shrimpy white girl with blonde hair and more than likely stuck out like a sore thumb. Somebody was watching out for me.
I did make an effort to find out who and what I believed in. I have studied every "ism" out there. I have hung out and listened to New Age stuff and gazed into crystals. I have checked out witchcraft and the Satanic bible written by Howard Stanton Levey, a former carnival worker. When I got into trouble I tried to run to these things and was met with mainly silence. I found that most of these mentioned have an ever-dangling carrot you have to chase to receive anything back. Some of them have "secret knowledge" you have to attain. Just tell me now! I have the same thought for people who tell me, "If you send a certain amount, we will send you this miracle information or bible study." How about telling me right now! Since when do you have the corner on bible info? My final conclusion? There is a God, and I am gratefully not him. How do I know? Because I met him.
If you are still reading it means you haven't clicked me off yet. Here it is. I did not hear a Charlton Heston like voice booming over me. It happened in more practical ways. I always thought religious people were nerdy, hair-sprayed, polyester wearing jerks and I wanted no part in that. To this day TBN gets on my nerves. I asked some simple questions in my own way and figured if he made me he could take it. Besides, I didn't know any religious lingo to throw out. Here's an example, "If you aren't some dumb slogan on a bumper sticker then show me." How about this one, "If I go to heaven I do not want to be with any of these people!" My mom called me to tell me about a bumper sticker she saw that read, "Dear Jesus, save me from your followers." I like that one.
So how about you? Where do you go when you are in a foxhole with the enemy advancing? I'll tell you this from experience, it better be something a little more daunting than a shiny rock or some incense. Human beings were built for relationship. We weren't made to maverick it even though we would like to. I am an avid western fan. The other day I was watching "Pale Rider" a famous Clint Eastwood movie. The main character (Eastwood) never mentions his name. We are left at the end to ponder. Is he a ghost? A reincarnated sheriff bent on revenge perhaps? Laying in the hospital with tubes and monitors sticking out of you in all directions like a 50's home-made television set is not the time to ponder. Real, and I mean real fear sets in lightning fast my friend and you need some real answers.
To make a long story short I got my answers. Take a chance, ask a few questions yourself. Request that the answers be given that only the unique you can understand, in your language. This is not Vegas and you've got absolutely nothing to loose. I'm still the same shrimpy white girl I was, only with less hair and a little better for the wear and the lessons that I have learned. I have lived through a deadly illness and didn't have to go it alone.
Edmond: "I don't believe in God."
Abbe Faria: "It doesn't matter. He believes in you."
-from The Count of Monte Cristo
Stay tuned as next time we will take on "Recovery?"
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