Out of the Blue

I've lost some things recently - my best friend, back in January; a beloved honorary niece, in February; the little dog who saved my life three years ago, in July. My friend died of complications from a brain tumor. My niece was tragically killed in a terrible accident that took three of her friends as well. My little dog, Oskar, died of cancer the week after my birthday. Maybe it doesn't seem as though Oskar should be listed with these other, huge losses, but the people who know me understand that being listed with my dog means I really, really love the people I mentioned. It has been a strange and terrible year. The recent rise in racial tensions, the troubling changes in our government, and the lack of leadership at the highest levels have combined to create a great deal of stress for most of us. The emotional pain of loss complicates that stress. That is why I have not written much in the past months; it takes most of my energy just to get through my days, work, and home....

Below is a post from my other blog, Today's Wilderness Journey . I wrote it in September of 2012. I happened across it today after spending time with some very dear people. We talked about some deep subjects - pain, emotional distress, and suffering - which sent me backward through my memories and turned up this bit of writing. Because I have been struggling lately with my health, my life, and my love, this spoke powerfully to me. I admit it - I hate change. After my father died, I reverted to my native mode of being, which is co-dependency, clinging, and hoarding. Not hoarding in the usual sense. Hoarding time with people I love. Hoarding life. Hoarding myself, refusing to give of who I am. It has taken losing what I held most dear to make me remember that only in releasing what we love can we actually have it. Khalil Gibran said it eloquently: Love one another, but make not a bond of love: let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup,...

Yesterday was beautiful. Blue sky. Warm sunshine. It was humid but not unbearable. My bones, joints, and muscles felt okay, so I got up and went hiking in the Cherokee National Forest, which is practically just out my front door. My love of the woods is something I got from my dad, and that's why I chose to go hiking yesterday to mark the day of his death. Also, I needed to be somewhere else, doing anything I could to keep from thinking about the loss. When I was around fifteen, my dad and I would go walking in the woods around our farm. He would tell me stories about where the brandy distillery used to be, relatives who used to farm the land, or take me to see old abandoned houses that were hidden in the forest. He knew everyone who had lived around there and could tell tales about all of them. One of the most difficult things about having RA is that it limits the amount of hiking I can do. There's nowhere I feel closer to my dad than when I'm in the woods. Since I...

One summer, when I was about six years old, I was wading barefoot in the spring below the house when I stepped on a shard of glass. It pierced my foot about two inches below my fourth and fifth toes on the right. Because the water was so cold, I didn't notice right away - it felt like I'd stepped on a sharp stone. I kept wading, kept playing, until the ache became persistent. Sitting on the stone steps that led down to the spring, I saw a small cut which had been washed clean by the water. It hurt when I pressed on it, but there was very little blood. I put my shoes back on and went on with my day. I didn't tell anyone. I knew only too well what happened when you told people about things like that. They wanted to probe around in the wound and make sure nothing was left in there. In my short life, I'd already had countless splinters dug out of various appendages, and I was not eager to experience that again. Besides, it was just a little cut. I kept quiet, but the pain...

I took a long walk through a cemetery today at lunch-time. The sun was buttery and bright, and the stone bench at the monument for Psalm 23 was rough and warm as I sat on it and leaned back against the rock. I closed my eyes and turned my face up toward the sky. The wind was blowing cool but the sun was stronger. For the first time in thirteen days I felt some peace. I've spent the past two weeks in near-constant prayer for one person or another, myself included, but the prayers never felt connected. They were incoherent, desperate cries for help. And that's what brought me there in the first place. I woke up this morning after only two and a half hours sleep with my body shaking and my eyes burning. I shook so hard I could barely get dressed. Because I felt so weak, I made myself eat; peanut butter toast with honey. I am down thirteen pounds since April 9th. Not necessarily a bad thing, but when you lose 13 pounds in 13 days because your stomach hurts so much that even the t...

Have I ever mentioned how impatient I am? I want to know everything. And I want to know it right now. When I first suspected I had RA, I immediately began learning everything I could about it. I spent hours - probably days - learning about how RA works, what drives it, what might affect it, and how to best combat it. I read up on the blood tests used to diagnose it, how to understand the lab reports, and what the medications could do to help. In becoming more informed, I became less fearful. Long before I ever saw a Rheumatologist, I knew about my condition, the medications that were likely to be prescribed, and about how the disease might progress. I tend to approach life this way. Knowledge is my armor, my shield, and my sword. I use it to both protect and defend myself and the people I love. There are other ways to fight, and I use those too when I must, but knowledge is my preferred tool. When it doesn't work, when words fail, I am left scrambling for a position that is tenab...

Yesterday, I received a call from the rheumatologist's office asking if I could come in for an early appointment the next day. The test results were back, and they had a cancellation, so the timing was right. I said I could, and asked if they could tell me about my lab results. The woman on the phone declined to discuss it because she was a member of the office staff. So I settled in to wait. Knowing that I would soon find out about my condition and prognosis made me very antsy, very unsettled. I didn't sleep well, but I woke up feeling just about par. Time and a hot shower took care of most of the stiffness and by 8 am, I was on my way across town to see my doctor. He went over the x-ray results first, assuring me that there was no discernible damage in the joints of my hands. He said there was damage to other joints - knees, hips, elbows, and shoulders, and that it was made evident by the grinding, crunching noise these joints make whenever I use them. He said my lab work w...