The Limbo of Illness

I have stumped every medical professional that I have seen over the past 9 months.  They have been so kind, so validating, so cautious, so attentive, and so void of answers.

“You sure don’t fit neatly into a diagnostic box.” 

“I’m afraid to touch you with a ten foot pole, you’re so fragile.”

“With you, I have to approach your medical care like I would an elderly patient.”

“You will never be able to be up and active for longer than 15 minutes.”

“I don’t want to wave the white flag in surrender, but I have no idea what to do.”

“It’s cases like yours where the medical field has to admit its limitations and insufficiency.”

Helpless. They all seem stumped. No one in their right mind can look at me, my symptoms, and my stats, and think that it’s all in my head; not even me!  But we hang in a balance, putting out fires, or rather, keeping the flames from spreading.  I try to live delicately, intentionally, caring as best as I can for this unstable and unpredictable temple. The light breaks through, sometimes in subtle ways, sometimes with great rapture. 

I gave up driving. That’s an illusion. It wasn’t an option.  My license would have been revoked had I not willingly released the wheel. Everyone in this town is much safer that way. It is just so painful, at 33, to relinquish bit after bit of control. Wasn’t letting go of control of the eating disorder enough?  My heart whispers that this surrender is soul-training. I’ve never really been in control. Better to be humbled now in order to learn what really matters. 

I shift among three different settings. The first is rebellion: there is nothing wrong with me. I will just force myself to be normal. I can do it. I am a machine. I will overpower my body. This never ends well. Like, really, not one single time. 

The second setting is resignation: I give up. I am disabled and will always be. I will collapse into my heap of pain, disorientation, and self-pity and cry into oblivion. 

The third setting is the one that I am aiming for: acceptance with hope. I am disabled today, and I must live within those restrictions. I have great opportunities for joy, love, and service in this limited, thorny body. It may not look like what I expected, and I can grieve that loss. I do not, however, have the ability to foretell the future, and there is hope for healing. God can heal through the miraculous, new medical discoveries, or in more mysterious ways that are far beyond human understanding. However He chooses to heal or not, I know that the night always closes into the opening of the dawn. Hope is a constant. 

The ground feels shaky, like the tremors that accompany my wacky norepinephrine spikes. It feels shaky, but there is solid rock underneath my feet.  I will not be snuffed out by the darkness, because the Spirit of life is alive and well in my feeble, confounding, unstable body of flesh. As long as there is breath in my struggling lungs, there is a redemptive and beautiful purpose for my life. And I suspect that when the breath is no more, the breath of the Spirit will awaken my soul to the unbridled beauty that was but an inkling in even the most alert human mind.

It is sometimes in the limbo of illness that we come against a thin place: one where the natural and supernatural seem to hold hands. As I walk this road, I realize the truth of the beatitudes, and in this thin place, I see Jesus more clearly. I am in limbo, and I am abundantly blessed.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

SoulFuel

Words that fuel your soul and open your heart

Through the Stillness

A blog about things I ponder, things I care about, and things I strive to be.

Stacey Pardoe

Encountering God in the Ordinary

My Messy Desk

Messes. Memories. Masterpieces.

TammyKennington

Restoring Hope. Imparting Peace.

Healthy with Jodi

Let Jodi help you get more fit and healthier today.

The Zebra Pit

Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS) and Spoonie Health and Wellness Blog

Jamison Writes

Not Like The Whiskey

Embracing the Unexpected

Embracing Life in the Midst of the Unexpected

Back To The Beginning

After my stroke, my comprehension was badly damaged, and so studying the Word is definitely not easy for me anymore. But I will continue to read and study, taking things one verse at a time, and see what God shows me!

Faith Unscripted

rexamining peacemaking

Becoming His Tapestry

Because I am in the process of becoming, of allowing my Master to weave the various threads of my life into His Masterpiece. Proverbs 31:30

Stumbling Upon Sarah

Enjoying life one bite at a time

Chronically Hopeful 2014

Living Despite Chronic Illness

Work in Progress

My thoughts as I journey through this thing called life.

Hyde Life Adventures

Misadventures of a Military Family

Eating Disorder Recovery

Writing about taking my life back from my eating disorder, one day at a time.

Etcetera

Writing; wondering; creating

%d bloggers like this:
search previous next tag category expand menu location phone mail time cart zoom edit close