The Fight

I’m sitting in my comfy chair. The Scruffy Princess is curled up on my legs. I’m still in my PJs and soft green robe. I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes open and I feel like somebody beat me up in my sleep. I don’t anticipate moving very much today. But that’s okay. I have a good book waiting to be started… if I can keep my eyes open long enough to read it.

It’s The Pages of Her Life by James L. Rubart. (I know, I’d be curious too.)

I apologize for not writing last week. I was visiting my health specialist, trying to figure out if the new protocol that’s been kicking my butt is helping or hurting. You guys, it’s been a crazy wild ride already and we’ve only just begun!

If this is your first time visiting my website, make sure to check out the two previous posts to get caught up on my health journey. The ridiculously short version is this: I’ve been sick all my life, my body doesn’t respond to anything normally, years of getting better – then worse again – then better – but not good – then worse again, as a last resort I decided to have a medical DNA test done, after months of waiting it finally arrived, I’m pretty messed up – but fixable – probably.

When I first began my new protocol it was nothing short of hellish. Everything hurt and I felt as if thousands of broken shards of glass were running through my veins. Everything was cramping, my fever spiked, and I felt like sh*t. (I’m sorry, I never swear on here, but it was bad and that’s the truth.) I made it a day before I had to take a break from everything. Thankfully when I started up again it wasn’t quite that bad.

Here’s the thing, I can put up with about anything if I know good is coming out of it. But we didn’t know if all this pain was good or bad. Was my body responding and this was the unpleasant side effect of major changes for the better or was my body rejecting our efforts and trying to get me to stop what I was doing to it? We weren’t sure, but we needed to find out.

In order to know for sure, I needed to go in for testing. That required a very long drive out of state and the first half of the trip was torture. Yeah, let’s not relive that. Suffice it to say, I’m thankful my parents were driving me and I could curl up in the back seat… when I wasn’t running into rest stops and gas stations.

When it was time to go over the test results God amazed me yet again. The things we were doing were working, a little too well actually. My body had changed so dramatically and so quickly that it just couldn’t keep up with itself. Praise the Lord, all that pain was starting the hard work of healing.

I like to call that kind of suffering productive misery. Yes it stinks, but it’s not in vain. It’s serving a great purpose and as long as I know it’s bringing better days, with the Lord’s help I can endure.

We made some tweaks to slow things down a little bit, but still keep the good progress going. The trip home was much better and now I’m on my second new protocol that’s easier on me than the first. I still don’t feel good, but I feel better than those first days and I have great hope that one day soon I’m going to feel like a brand new woman!

I’ve been able to get out and about a little bit. I need to avoid crowds, but I managed to get a walk in while it was nice out a few days ago and yesterday I went to our local library before it opened to set up a display of my photography. I’m honored to be the feartured artist for the month of March.

I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know that each day is a gift that I intend to live with the joy of the Lord in my heart. I may look like a slug in a comfy chair, but inside I’m fighting my little heart out!

Until next time,

Josie

“Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.” ~Romans 12:12