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 What's Wrong With Me? By Diane E. Robertson
A Type A personality, I pushed myself until my symptoms forced me to surrender. I took a few days off and rested, drank juices and teas, and gulped mega-doses of vitamins. Nothing helped. I returned to work, and it wasn't long before exhaustion made concentration impossible. My appetite became nonexistent and in less than a month, twenty pounds dropped from my already slender frame. A red rash spotted my face and spread to my chest and back. Chills enveloped my body. Every part of me ached miserably. One morning when the alarm went off, I told Nick, "I can't move." "Another sick day? I'm beginning to think you just don't want to go to work." He silently dressed for his day, then left the house, slamming the door behind him. As I listened to the revving of his car engine, it dawned on me that he, too, was in denial of how sick I must be. Perhaps his conscience needled him because a few minutes later he returned to my side and said, "Come on, Sweetie." Then he helped me to the car and drove me to the hospital. Systemic lupus was the diagnosis doctors finally came up with. "I've never heard of it," I said as they pumped me full of life-saving medicine. "We'd like to keep you here in the hospital for a while," a compassionate intern told me. "Thanks. I want to be healthy again." A week later I returned home feeling much better, and grateful to be alive. However, a long recovery period loomed ahead. My low energy level made it impossible for me to keep my job, and the strong medication wreaked havoc on my body. My hair fell out and in no time, I was bald-headed. As if that wasn't bad enough, my appetite increased and soon I sported forty extra pounds. My formerly-adoring husband couldn't cope with an unwell wife, the home I once loved became a prison, and my friends vanished. It was an agonizing time, in every respect. I began to wish I had died. That was fifteen years ago. My journey since then has been both heart-breaking and rewarding. I gave my heart to the Lord a year later, and released my husband as gently as possible. I began to remember some of the dreams I buried deep within my heart when I was younger. Could I find the courage to unearth them? I began to pray about this, not fully realizing the power of petition, or that God was really listening. After all, hadn't I thought I was in charge until lupus showed me otherwise? Now as I envisioned my new life, He slowly made it a reality. He found me my perfect home on a quiet mountaintop where He helped me heal, both physically and emotionally. I recalled my youthful love of writing, and fantasies about making a living at it. Suddenly I saw that my present limitations provided new opportunities. Perhaps the biggest lesson that lupus has taught me is when stuck with lemons, make lemon meringue pie! This awesome road has led me in directions that were previously unimaginable. I began to compose stories by day, and study my Bible by night. As soon as I did this, a writing group materialized on top of my mountain. "It's all God," I told the teacher. "He's blessing me because I'm drawing closer to Him." As my work became more polished, I began to submit to various publications. Many rejections followed, but eventually, acceptances interspersed them. Before long, my enthusiasm for writing blossomed into a fruitful career. While I reached for the stars with my writing goals, there were times when I sank into the valley of darkness. This elusive illness, aptly dubbed The Wolf, ruled me for ten long years. A pattern arose: every time I lowered my medication, my appetite diminished, and I'd flare again. Patience developed through this lengthy trial. I educated myself about stress and how to lessen it, the importance of rest, moderate exercise and healthy eating. My condition finally stabilized and I was able to leave the medication behind. I felt triumphant as my weight returned to what it had been a decade earlier. "The main thing is to be healthy though," I reminded myself. My hair—before it had fallen out—had been dry, thin and wispy. To my joy and amazement, it grew in lustrous and thick. Ironically, the trials I have faced since lupus entered my life have given me a freedom and perspective I never would've achieved otherwise. Today I embrace this journey as a victor rather than a victim. I respect the illness and still live quietly, but I no longer allow it to intimidate me as it used to. I now travel and enjoy a moderately active social life. Occasionally I look back on my perfect life and see how shallow it really was. Material pleasures and conditional love were what I valued. I thank the Lord for taking the pieces of my broken life, gluing them back together and transforming me into something He can use for His Glory. ______________________________ Diane Robertson is a freelance writer living in Venice, FL. All rights reserved © 2010 AnswersForMe.org. Click here for content usage information. |
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