A Thanks-giving Promise

6 04 2015

Thanks to Lindsay Coursen, Laura Thompson, Elizabeth Parker and Jenny Huisenga’s collective decision and effort to fund-raise for us, we have LESS THAN $700 to go!!!!! 

WOW! 

Can I just say that our family is right bowled-over with everyone’s love and support and encouragement and kindness and empathy and compassion? You better believe that we are chomping at the bit to get the very most we can out of this opportunity and come home to a new life of implementing some remarkable changes to improve upon our overall health and happiness, as well as improve upon, more specifically, my unique health and pain management issues. And along with that, comes the very special privilege to seek out opportunities to PAY IT FOWARD. 

We take to heart that our journey through this lifetime is endowing us with the very important and solemn responsibility of teaching our children the truth of giving and receiving. Of graciously accepting and joyfully offering. Of humbly seeking help, and unconditionally and unabashedly acting upon a recognition of another’s plea for help. And you, who have shared our needs with others, who have given what you can, you have intersected with our life-path, and you have done good! (And well. This is one of those rare times when that phrase is intentional and grammatically correct;  when “good” is good😉.)

Though the financial portion of the chain of events required to make this trip happen has almost become a good strong link, another (unexpected) link has weakened, as many of you may know. Admittedly, I have felt panicky over this latest challenge: what started out with “this is probably just a 24 hour bug that hit me hard and the attack will subside as soon as the bug clears up” has turned into a much more serious and potentially dangerous situation RIFE with complicated…complications. Today I must make the difficult decision to do what I am worst at doing. 

I must choose to relinquish control. 

I pledge to do so to the best of my ability, while continuing to advocate for myself and responsibly act upon the doctors’ and nurses’ suggestions and “orders” (insofar as they do not conflict with my intuition or general knowledge of what is safe for porphyria) and I will accept that I can not change the outcome of whatever has been set into motion. 

Because maybe, MAYBE, I’m not supposed to! 

I can’t possibly predict which way this whole thing is gonna go, so there is nothing responsible or wise or safe about exerting stress-energy and control-energy over the infection lurking in my body. It brings me so much sorrow and disappointment to even ACKNOWLEDGE the possibility that come 5:30 am Friday morning I am not physically well or strong enough to get on an airplane and fly west. But if that IS what comes to be, there must be a very important reason for it. I will be open to learning, I will be receptive to the lesson. I vow to not let my selfish rage over my perceived unfairness of it all blind me to the likely simple, yet HUGE, and BEAUTIFUL, thing that I’m supposed to gain from that possible outcome.

Or, perhaps, tomorrow: 

My fever will break. The staph will exit my system entirely. I’ll get another PICC-line (the current is considered contaminated of course) to last me the month until they clear me for a new port. I’ll go home the following day (Tuesday) armed with my new IV meds regimen to REALLY, REALLY be thorough about clearing out every last residual bit of infection. I’ll spend Wednesday scrambling, panicking, giggling, taking care of last minute details. And with help from several – as in ALL – of the alarms, at 5:30 on the beautiful morning of Friday April 10, Eric and I will board our wide-eyed kids onto a big, real-life airplane, and we will try not to let anyone (especially each other!) see that we’re getting misty-eyed over seeing our beautiful girls so unabashedly and authentically and genuinely full of wonder, discovery, joy. 

Maybe. Juuuuussssstttt maybe. 

  

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