a faith observed: Sick days.

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Sick days.

We have had a bad run of sickness this week. The past few weeks Gracie has had several days home from kindy with a cough, and Simon has had a few student free days, so my "plans" for r and r this term have been put on hold somewhat. The upside is that I do really enjoy spending time with them, although there is nothing more horrible than seeing your child in absolute pain. I now have a better pain gauge for them. If they can not sleep, tears wetting their pillowcases and unable to even watch tv, i know they are pretty bad. All i can do is sit with them, rub their back, and offer homeopathic lollipops at $1 a pop. Thankfully we have only had a few days of really sick and have had some wonderful friends and family offering their support. I have been feeling so grateful for their all over good health and what a gift that is. I really don't want to take advantage of each beautiful day of life.

Somehow I managed to stay incredibly busy last term, despite having both kids at school. Now that they are nicely settled into school and Grace has been napping there, I had hoped to focus on my health this second term, so I can be nice and rested when deb and co arrive in 4 weeks time! (We are very excited about that.) No, but I realised that the time I have set aside to recover was quickly getting away from me. I need to learn to rest and slow down, but it doesn't come naturally to me. I love people and being productive! It is hard for me to accept how tired I am and that most of my energy is used up keeping our family running smoothly and managing my health. After the last six years of being a stay at home mom with my children around 24/7 it is an adjustment. I like it a lot, but I also struggle to give myself permission to rest and take care of myself. In some ways it feels like giving in to this disease that I am trying to fight. But As my friend said yesterday, you have to learn to mother yourself.

On the mend.

So I am 4 months into treatment. Initially the first month I felt a tremendous improvement, especially in my energy levels and brain fog. It was as though a veil had been lifted. I had the kids home too that month with Andrew at work every day planning for this term, so I was pleasantly surprised. However, the past couple of months I have felt very and fatigued again, and the fog though not as bad as it was, has returned. That is somewhat discouraging. I need to start journaling so I can track my symptoms. The dr says it is a good 6-9 mths treatment and then another several months on maintenance dose of the drugs after that. Thankfully I have only had one day of bad nausea this whole time. And while in the past I have reacted poorly to antibiotic treatment. I am on very high dosages of them and currently responding well, other than some bad yeast problems that have flared but under control again, thanks to consuming enormous amounts of dark, green, leafy vegetables. At least I love green smoothies! There is a lyme protest this weekend in Brisbane we will be going to. I am excited to meet others with this disease and raise awareness of it in Australia where it apparently doesn't exist.

Ok, will end this mammoth update. I am glad my children appear to be on the mend. Hoping I am too.

No comments:

Post a Comment

This is me, a faith observed.

C.S. Lewis writes about the pain of losing his beloved wife, Joy, in his book, "A Grief Observed". In some ways this is my attempt to share my journey through grief and back into life, as the past nine months have been characterized by an immeasurable longing for my beloved father, who died suddenly this past January.

After months of hibernation from the internet, I unexpectedly find myself able to re-begin this blog and connect with my larger community of family and friends. This blog will likely reflect less of the intensity and depth of my pain and more of the simplicity and ordinary joy that keeps my life full - namely days running after our little boy, Simon Pierre. But it is because of the incredible love and presence that defined my relationship with my father, that I feel I can will myself to not just survive each day but to pour that same kind of love and attention onto Simon.

My father was an endless source of strength to me, a pillar of faith. His last words, spoken to my mother as he passed into that which is unseen, "God is good - good all the time", have remained with me through this dark cloud of grief. And when God seems hidden, when justice seems to be losing out, when life is unfair, and when death swallows up the one I most love, I remember my father's words and breathe in this promise, that the God of love is in the process of restoring that which has been destroyed.

And as my father told me in dream I've had since his death, "Look to Jesus. As a father, to point you towards Him is the best gift I can give to you." So here I am, this is me, a faith to be observed.

I hold onto that which is not always seen- the promise of God's goodness, the hope that one day in the promised new heavens and earth- on a grassy hill or a sand covered beach- the lion and the lamb will lie down side by side and I, too, will lie down side by side, next to my father, and we will laugh and laugh until there are no more tears left to cry.