Going from Bad Crazy to Good Crazy

On Thursday I woke up hoping that all would be well.

I rolled out of bed and decided to shower. I left a message on my mom's phone asking for some groceries--applesauce, gatorade, and bananas.

Showering is a bit of a marathon. It requires standing for at least ten minutes. I was so afraid I would fall over, or worse--vomit.

But I felt so clean and lovely when I got out of the shower.

I found silky happy hot pink pajamas.

I ate a couple handfuls of rice krispies.

And then my mommy called. And then my step-dad called. Before I knew it, my dad put me and my laundry in the car and whisked me off to Tremonton.

I've been here since Thursday. My laundry is done.

I'm still weary of eating, but tonight I ate fruit salad, a couple of bites of spaghetti and a piece of celery. This was after eating a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a few apricots for lunch. Pretty stinking cool.

Today, I played the piano for a little bit. It's the same piano I've been playing since my mom married Brent back in 1991. I kinda just went through the motions though. I plunked the notes, but beyond that, nada.

My lymph nodes feel like hard little peas in my neck right now. I continue to sweat profusely, but the pains are gone. I'm just plain tired.

It's been a really good illness for me. They say that as you fast, your body releases toxins. I've basically been fasting for a good while. So many toxins.... The mind and the body, the memory, all the issues I've been ignoring. . . it's all come up this week. Every pain seems connected to larger issues.

So, I've looked at the issues. I'm trying to be present in my body. Instead of ignoring my pain, to acknowledge it. I want to be here.

But in deciding to be here... I need to find a better way to spend the hours of my life. I need to stop waiting for my life. I need to fill my time with good things, positive things. I need to make the days count.

Even if in deciding this, my life suddenly becomes unpredictable and a little crazy.

Source of Power

It is so easy to believe that winning the war is impossible.

It is so easy to believe that losing would be so much easier.

It is so much easier to believe the rhetoric and the logic... and stop hoping.

But this is the side I chose.

This is the side I'm on.

This side may lead me on a path of loneliness.

I may never have everything the world could offer me, but Emmanuel will come. And He will rescue Israel. And I will lift up my voice to the heavens and sing with the choirs that welcome the Savior as he descends on clouds of glory. I will raise my voice with those of all those who waited with hope and love for that beautiful day for Emmanuel to come and ransom captive Israel.

Whenever I forget the power of the side I have chosen, I listen to this song. I listen to voice crying for Emmanuel. And then I feel the power of the organ, the horns and the swell of the chorus. Each faithful individual joining in song to conquer doubt and fear in a chorus that smashes all doubt as to God's Supreme power in this universe.

This is the side I choose. It is not easy to choose this, but it is right.

An Update

I should update folks on my life.

Here are some stats and facts:

I got sick New Years Day.

I worked Monday and Tuesday. Tuesday night the fever kicked in. I had a fever ranging between 103 and 101 until Saturday.

Heather and her husband Michael came over Thursday night and he gave me a beautiful blessing.

She brought me saltine fishy crackers. I love them.

I eat apple sauce and fishy crackers. I try eating more. And then I feel sick. So I don't.

I went to church Sunday. I stayed in the lobby. I wanted to be there. I needed to be there.

Monday I went to work for 3 hours. I was in training for a new kind of thing... (boring)... I watched the words swimming on the page and felt all these gross toxic feelings course through my body. It felt horrible.

I got up and left. I couldn't do it anymore.

It's difficult to document this illness because so much of it has to do with the toxic feelings I have about myself. Over and over again, I'm reminded of how loved I am though. So much of my anxiety is this temptation to feel like my life, my existence doesn't matter anyway. And then I get a phone call or a text.

Thank you so much friends. You have no idea how much your love means to me.

I had a really good cry last night with a dear dear friend. She's a miracle worker.

I took a long hot bath.

and then I vomited.

Which is strange considering how little I've eaten in the past week.

But it felt really good, strangely enough.

I slept like a baby after that.

I woke up this morning with new pains, but it's okay. There's a whole lot of toxic crap to work through. And this may ruin my credit and completely destroy me, but I'm okay with it.

Everything will be all right. I may feel like poo, but everything will be okay.

The Maliheh Clinic

I walked into the free clinic near my home a little sweaty. I go back and forth between hot and cold--and this was one of the sweaty times. I tried not to get in anyone's way. The place was packed with people. Nurses and doctors in different colored scrubs--

smiling and laughing

patiently speaking with everyone as though they were important...

I wasn't sure if I had any business in the clinic, but I have no money right now (savings have run flat dry and insurance doesn't kick in until February).

A large kid in a University of Utah sweatshirt looked at me and said, "I'm going to find you the nicest nurse here."

I met several of them.

One mothering caregiver came over and immediately said, "Oh honey, you're so pale! And you're sweating! Here, have a seat!" She sat me in a special chair. My eyes began to well with tears. It's probably the illness, but I couldn't stop crying.

I explained my illness and asked for some advice. The nurse said that they couldn't run tests until I was officially a patient. I told her that I understood and asked her if she had any advice for me. She looked at me and said, "I can't send you out there without at least running a strep test!"

Another nurse came and took the swab. (I tried telling her that I knew it wasn't strep...but that's an uninteresting part of the story...and she was insistent.)

I went into the waiting room. I saw this tiny little old Navajo woman. She was so cute. I started to cry.

I saw a poster with a girl on a bathroom floor and the words, "You are not alone." And I started to cry.

I saw a handmade quilt, painstakingly made, with the words, "Love til it Hurts" (Mother Teresa) stitched in the center. And I cried.

I just sat and wept. Now, granted, this was the first time I'd sat up for such a long period of time and my body was crashing--but it was so incredibly moving.

After trying to stay seated, I finally slid onto the floor and curled into a ball and slept for a bit. I just couldn't sit up any longer. But from the floor I could still hear everything around me.

I heard the nurse guide my Navajo grandma through her diabetes treatment. She explained with such kindness, "You have to watch what you're eating. The numbers don't lie! This is important. We wanna keep you around for years to come!"

And I cried.

The strep test came back negative. She told me not to worry about eating, just to drink a lot. And she cared.

It was wonderful.

If you're in Utah, donate to the Maliheh Clinic.