Less than a week to my operation

I really wanted this to be a happy post.  I don't want to whinge, I want to be excited that my surgery is almost here..... 

I remember those last weeks of pregnancy, when I just wanted my baby in my arms.  

When I was so uncomfortable I couldn't sleep, could barely walk, and everyone asked inane questions about how long I had left.  

That's what this feels like.  

Every position I find that makes one part of my body comfortable, is ridiculously uncomfortable for the rest of me.  And everyone who asks is surprised how quickly the surgeon got me in, and say I must be so excited that it's so close.  And I am.  

Actually, I'm not.  At the moment I am completely fed up.  I am cranky that it took 11 months from my first presentation to hospital in absolute agony for any doctor to even suggest doing an ultrasound of the nerves in my knees, the equivalent place to my elbows, when I was having IDENTICAL pain in my legs as I was in my arms.  I am cranky that I started talking to doctors about the weird symptoms I was having 20+ years ago, and was written off by every type of specialist you can imagine.  I am exhausted that my dysfunctional family was often pegged as the cause, making me dredge up that stress over & over & over again.  I am even disappointed that the doctor that told me he would "get me in within days" of my appointment took 2 1/2 weeks.

I am so impatient.  I want it to be next Wednesday already.  Actually I want it to be the month after that, when I have had both knees done and I am (hopefully) pain free.  Then I really want it to be at the point when I am fit & active again, when I can say I will do things and not let anyone down. 

And I'm so lonely.  I have a great circle of friends, who I am friends with in real life as well as on Facebook.  When I share my struggles on Facebook, they read them and then when they run into me they tell me how they care, and how they have been praying for me.  The problem is, as I become more of a hermit, unable to go out to many places because of the pain, I don't run into them any more.  So the encouragement I had been getting disappears, at a time when I need it even more.  Then I beat myself up about it, because I know that it's my fault I'm not running into them, not theirs.

And I am scared.  Scared that this operation won't be the answer.  Scared that something else will fail in my body, like my legs did after my arm operation.  Scared that I am still recovering from Chronic Fatigue, and that even with the pain gone, I still won't be able to get things done.

My biggest prayer at the moment is for peace.  I know that in the light of 23 years of pain(7300+ days), 5 days is absolutely nothing, but I seem to be sitting in that time thinking through everything I could be doing if I was well, and worrying that things won't go to plan.

I am also praying for answers as to what I am meant to do with this.  How can I use the lessons I have learnt through this battle with doctors to help others?  I don't want what I have been through to be for nothing, because I don't quite know how to cope with the idea that it just happened and that's it. 

So if you have taken the time to read this, I thank you.  I am grateful that you care enough to be on this journey with me.  My one request of you is this, please let me know.  Just like the post I shared this on.  Or comment.  Or call me.  Or drop in, I'm almost always home.  And remember, I am not the only person you know that feels alone, please let someone else know you care, because they may not be in as good a place as I am, and your call could be the one thing that stops them doing something permanent.  Let them know you care, before you can't. 

What is my identity?

I have had a friend comment recently how I need to be careful not to let pain become my identity.  That they have seen a lot of people with pain let it become their identity, and I need to be sure that I don't do that.  While I think this is a valid comment, I think it truly comes from a place of misunderstanding.

My pain is all-encompassing.  I very rarely have a moment where pain isn't on my mind.  If I am blessed with a time without pain, I am considering how hard I can push myself so I won't end up with a major flare up.  When I wake in the morning, I lie there as long as possible before moving, because at that point I have a relatively small amount of pain.  When I get dressed, I decide what to wear based on how much it will irritate, or make things difficult throughout the day.  I cannot do a single thing without pain having an impact.  My pain is the filter that I look through to see my whole life.

My pain has changed me.  I am no longer the person I was before I had chronic pain.  I can no longer put my shoes on and clear my head by going for a long walk.  I can no longer work full time.  I can no longer make plans without warning that I may have to cancel at the last minute.  My past self is just that, past. Even if I have my operation and have my pain taken away, I will never be the same person again....

And I am so glad!

I am now more compassionate.  I understand what it's like to have an "invisible illness", that looking at a person is never enough to understand them, that they may be battling far more than I can ever realise.  

I am proud that I am outspoken about my pain, that I don't simply hide it, because it has allowed me to have great conversations with people who also have pain, helping them see that they aren't alone, like I have so often felt.

So back to my friend's comment, about pain being my identity.  I think my pain makes other people uncomfortable.  I also think that they don't realise how all-encompassing it truly is.  The fact that I can talk about anything else is the thing that is amazing.  So my identity is certainly shaped by my pain.

I have also been incredibly blessed by my pain.  I have seen how strong & comforting God is.  I have learnt how to have amazing joy, even when it seems I have nothing to be happy about.   I have learnt that my hope is in Jesus, even when my life seems completely hopeless.

So what is my identity?  I wear many hats.  I am a wife. I am a mother.  I am a friend.  As important as each of these are, they do not have eternal significance.  And that is why my identity is in Christ.  Christ died for my sins, to allow me to be reconciled with God the creator.  Without Christ, my life would have no hope, and in my darkest times, I would certainly find no joy.  

"Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honour God with your bodies." (1 Corinthians 6:19-20)

The outside of my temple may seem broken.  At times it may seem that all I can consider is my pain.  But know this, at all times I hold onto the verse

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:16-18)

Emotional Recovery??

I have been struggling for the last few days with what to write.  I really want this blog to be an honest reflection of my life, but when things get really sticky, it's not something that you necessarily want to share.  But since this is my Road to Recovery, and it is my emotional recovery just as much as my physical or spiritual recovery, I am going to share it.

I had an amazing weekend.  But I also had a completely rubbish weekend.  And unfortunately, the rubbish is what you stew on in the week following.

On Saturday I caught up with a friend, one who I hadn't spoken to in 2 years (almost to the day!).  It was hard for me to contact her, I knew I owed her an apology, but I felt very hard done by, and felt that as I was in the right (or so I told myself), I was better off without her.  I was wrong.  Having coffee with her, I knew that I had missed her, and I am very glad that I have gotten to the point where I could admit my mistakes and apologise.  We both agreed that we were in a really bad place at the time, and that we both made mistakes.  I know I can't jump straight back into the deep friendship I had with her, but I hope over time that we can build back up an even better relationship.

On Sunday, after church, we went and had a picnic at Avoca Lake

We took our own kayaks down, and shared a fun afternoon with two different families.  I was nervous inviting the second family, because I had originally organised the picnic with one of my oldest, dearest friends, but the day was so much fun for everyone.The guys watched the kids on the water, while the ladies chatted and had a child-free (ish) afternoon, it was sublime!

Unfortunately that was the end of the amazing weekend.  That afternoon I received a very toxic text from a different friend, abusing me for a mistake I had made in communication that week, and ending our friendship.  She said some very hurtful things in the message, and I am still floundering to work out where it all came from.  

Then that night, probably because I was so stressed from the text, hubby and I had the argument that had been simmering away for a couple of weeks now.  It was one of those arguments that are completely awful when you're in it, but it actually got things resolved..... I think.  Neither of us were feeling heard by the other, and it was interesting when we worked out that we were both arguing the same issue, but from our own point of view.  I hate that sometimes in marriage, you can be completely convinced that your spouse is trying to hurt you, and that everything they do is a calculated attack on you emotionally.  I wish that when I was in that head-space  that I could remember that he is the one person I know that has always had my back, and that the thought of hurting me is the furthest thing from his mind.  I also wish that I could stop reacting to every little thing, so I will stop making him feel that I am attacking him.

So now I am stuck in the aftermath of the weekend.  I keep stewing on what happened with the toxic texts.   I know that I handled things badly in this situation, but I cannot work out why things have blown up like they have.

My biggest stress in this is I am asking myself, have I been a true reflection of Christ?  I stood up for myself, and my daughter, and refused to have someone dictate how I should behave or allow them to treat us unfairly.  Did I do that with honesty and integrity?  Does being a Christian mean that I have to just lie down and take it?  I really don't think so.  I am so tired of having people accuse me of not being a Christian when I am not willing to let them walk all over me.  Why does being a Christian mean that I am a wimp?  Jesus certainly wasn't a wimp!

So that is the question I am left with, and one I will put to you, my dear readers:

If you are being treated unfairly, how should you respond?  And if it means that the person attacks, what do you do then?

What would Jesus do????????