Monday, February 18, 2019

Chasing the Wind

How much of my life I have spent chasing the wind,
and I haven’t caught it yet!
As a little girl, I loved feeling its gusts
rumple through my tidy pigtails.
 A teen on a bike, I delighted when its hidden strength 
pushed me down the road.
In adult years, I sometimes chased the wind
down paths designed for others,
Or let it pull me toward goals 
too high for me to reach.
I also pursued that breeze toward unknown adventures
down roads that others avoided,
So they missed the precious and profound experiences
those pathways held.

In recent years, I still chase the wind,  
but slower and in a different way.
I now chase the wind that comes from
oxygen tanks, a concentrator, and a nasal cannula.
I must constantly monitor myself
to make sure I have enough wind to keep going.

But I also chase a different wind:
A Holy Wind, a strong, divine Wind
Ru’ah, Pneuma,
The Holy Spirit.
This time I know I will catch the wind
because that loving Wind
Is also chasing me!

18Feb 2019 - mshr

Saturday, February 16, 2019

It’s Unanimous

Unlike current politicians, my health caregivers all agree.  My lung doctor, his nurse practitioner, my primary care physician, and our patient care advocate all say that I have lost the precious gift of longevity. None of them think I will make it to 100 years of age!

My scarring lungs have jumped to the next higher level of limitations and my health care professionals have all helped me get the additional equipment I am needing.  They have strongly suggested I enroll in palliative care at the local hospital home health.  This gives Bruce resources and a support system to call upon when needed.

You see, within the past couple of weeks after that thief broke into my body and stole most of my energy, both Bruce and I have had to make some major changes in our daily routines.  I now require twice as much oxygen 24/7 as I did before.  After two weeks of having to depend upon Bruce and a wheelchair, I am just now beginning to be able to walk around the house a little. I sleep ten to twelve hours per day and spend the rest of the time sitting quietly reading, doing handwork, or praying.

Our only social engagements these days are doctors’ appointments and Bruce spends much of his time monitoring my oxygen supply, picking up my prescriptions and running errands.  And oh what a God-send he is!  He is not only my “go fer...” but also my cook, bottlewasher, housekeeper, oxygen expert, personal care assistant, my emotional rock of stability, my companion, and through it all, my best friend.

It’s an enormous adjustment to make.  I often feel like the ball in a fast-paced ping-pong game: a fragile little object batted first one way toward sadness and loss, and then the other way, back toward gratitude and thanksgiving.  I have no idea how long the game will last - that part of the game God keeps secret! - or whether there will someday be one hefty smash that will shatter my little self!

That game, however, has no losers.  When my “ping-pong ball” life finally runs out of energy and breath, I will then be freed of all oxygen tubes and tanks, wheelchair and assistive devices, and limitations!  “Free at last, free at last. Thank God Almighty, free at last.”  And that’s unanimous, too!

16 February 2019 - mshr

Thursday, February 7, 2019

I've Been Robbed!

Yes, that’s right. I’ve been robbed! A thief broke in a stole some very valuable things from me. Nothing of monetary value, but lots of things more precious to me than expensive possessions.

You see, last Thursday I woke up to find my energy gone and my stamina. Much of my breath had been taken and I had barely enough to talk in short sentences. Unfortunately, my cough had not been taken. My peaceful mood had taken a hit and I thought my sense of humor was gone. Thank goodness I found it later buried under layers of other emotions.

But my independence has disappeared and my connections to the outside world. My plans for the future are gone.

The good news is that the thief has been caught and locked up. The bad news is that his name is Pulmon Ary Fibrosis.  He is part of the large Fibrosis family involved in many types of disorganized crime.  He is confined in my lungs.

There is hope for relief however.  I don’t expect to get back what has been taken from me. But if I turn up my piped-in oxygen and sit still doing nothing, my breathing is eased and the whole world looks brighter.  So apparently I’ve moved into a new relationship with my indwelling thief. I wonder what he will steal from me next.

6 February 2019  MarySue H. Rosenberger