Thursday, December 4, 2014

An Explanation

The raindrops have been pretty steady for a couple days. This is eventful in our part of the country, and the novelty of soothing outdoor sounds and gloomy skies make us want to bundle up all cozy and gather around the fire. So we have been doing just that.

It doesn't seem that very many people in our area are eager to deck the halls with boughs of holly just yet. In comparison to other years, I haven't seen very many cars loaded up with a tree or houses decorated with lights. For us, we are still just undoing the fall season. Yesterday afternoon I took down all the little sugar baby pumpkins I had as decorations and roasted them in the oven. I made some savory pumpkin coconut soup (that turned out way more spicy than savory), and served it with fresh made rolls and a fall salad with apples and cranberries. Jon lit a fire by the dining table, and he and I lingered by it long after the kids were in bed, each with our work.

Coming home from various lessons and errands today, the house seemed so cold and dreary, even dark. So the kids and I made a fire, then busied ourselves with making gingerbread cookie dough (me), audiobooks and sketching (older two), and boardgames (younger two). Here I sit late at night still enjoying it's warmth. Jon is out of town tonight, and our cold bed upstairs seems so very uninviting at present.


It hasn't been a huge secret that the last few months have been a challenge for me, but I haven't been too specific here on my blog. My life is not different than anyone else's - not really - and everyone faces times of easy and times of difficulty. I wouldn't even say it has been a genuine time of difficulty, certainly not in comparison to other things I've lived through. However, the last few months stand out to me as just long, burdensome, and somewhat dim.

This week I sat in a comfortable recliner chair in a room that had calming nature scenes on the ceiling. The nurse poked at my arm trying to stick me in the vein, calling over another nurse for help before wheeling her stool around to my other arm and successfully starting an IV. A few moments later, thick brown liquid serpentined through the line and into my arm, and with it the hope that eventually blood would transport oxygen as it should. I looked away and fought thoughts of dismay, and consciously chose gratitude and eager expectation. It has come to this, at least as a trial, after many attempts through other means. They tell me success can be determined only in a couple months. 

It's just iron deficiency anemia. That's it. It may be a little more severe than the common variety, but it's still a pretty small thing. I sat in an oncology clinic on the days I received my infusions. Anemia, in comparison, is a small, small issue.

But in my world it has an affect. Fatigue affects everything. 

It has also been my norm, and to an extent, it's all I know. I don't believe my blood profile has been in the normal range all of my adult life-- my oxygen carrying ability varies in its levels of insufficiency. I can handle the normal variety of fatigue, but when my anemia takes another crash, my responsibilities and relationships begin to suffer.

For months I knew things were not right: my heart frequently palpitated even at rest, my mind was in a fog I couldn't shake off, I'd laugh and get light headed from the momentary disruption of breathing. I fainted a couple times. But life goes fast and who has time to be sick, right? I didn't think of it too much, and I made excuses (ex. I just need to eat, or it's hot and I got up too fast, etc.). It's the same cycle every time. This time, however, we are seeking the advice of specialists, going to new levels with treatment, and hopefully finding a way for me to feel normal... whatever that is!

So that may be a little bit of an explanation for those of you who have asked or just wondered from the other side of my blog. The other situations and circumstances from recent months have been experienced by me in this state, so perhaps they have been felt in an exaggerated way. I sometimes think of a young child falling apart at the smallest thing because she is tired. That, I think, has been me.


I often (almost daily) think of my life and what I am doing with it. I never pictured myself so tired that I stop laughing, or so foggy-brained that I struggle to connect with my loved ones. But this is what the Lord has given me to test and refine me. I pray that there will be an end to it soon, but more so I pray that I would be faithful in the midst of it. We are each given abilities and disabilities (strengths and weaknesses), resources in some areas and scarcity in others, and we are responsible to manage those in a way that honors God. Jon has been so wonderful to me in the midst of this trial. He has accepted my limits more readily and completely than I have, and he has provided me with assistance in my workload and restricted my commitments. I have needed that understanding from him; the evidence of his compassion and love for me has been tangible. 

So there. Another little part of my story to journal. I wasn't initially planning on sharing this bit, then decided it would fill in some of the blank parts of recent months. 



  1. I've meant to comment on the last three posts and somehow I get a quick minute to read them and needed before I make the comment. I've also thought about texting, but obviously haven't done that either. Sorry, I love your writing. Thank you for sharing you life and things God's taught you. I'm always learning when I come here. And I'm so sorry to hear about the health problems...I can relate! I'm almost always anemic and it's no small thing...definitely affects your life. I'm praying.

  2. Thanks for sharing once again. I'm praying for you and understand a little of what you are going through. It's hard and it's a silent battle. Makes us long for heaven right?! I think of you often and send you a hug from AZ!


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