Lenten Goal For this year...

Compliments of St. Josemaria Escriva

"There are no bad or inopportune days. All days are good, for serving God. Days become bad only when men spoil them with their lack of faith, their laziness and their indolence, which turns them away from working with God and for God. 'At all times I will bless the Lord.' Time is a treasure that melts away. It escapes from us, slipping through our fingers like water through the mountain rocks. Tomorrow will soon be another yesterday. Our lives are so very short. Yesterday has gone and today is passing by. But what a great deal can be done for the love of God in this short space of time!"

Phase 4

Phase 4 is upon us, and it makes me miss the relative bliss of Phase 3.  But it's okay, because I know it's just temporary, and it's nice to see the light at the end of the tunnel (Phase 5 in 3 days!  Phase 6 in 10 days!)  I'm documenting here what I'm feeling, not because I'm complaining (Phase 4 is still light years better than Phase 2), but because I want to remember what being "severely hypothyroid" feels like, in case my meds ever need adjusted, and I can immediately recognize what's going on, without a lot of hullabaloo. 

So, for the human body of middle-aged, pre-menopausal Monica, being "severely hypothyroid" feels like this:

No saliva.  Whatsoever.  Which is weird.  And makes it hard to swallow.  And makes my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth when I sleep.
Blurred vision (had to up the strength of my reading glasses)
Headaches
Puffiness, and huge bags under the eyes/haggard look.  I've gained at least 10 years in the appearance department over the past few weeks.  I look OLD. 
The hands of a 100 year old woman
Muffin top from Hades
The voice of a smoker
Fatigue
Cold.  All. The. Time.
Flatulence.  Sorry.  But true.  Wicked. With associated abdominal cramps and frequent trips to the toilet. 
General malaise/achiness.
Nausesa that wakes me up in the middle of the night
Five o'clock shadow by noon, despite my best efforts.  Ever see that Tim Allen "The Santa Clause"?  I kinda feel like that.

I just got done grocery shopping, and happened to see an acquaintenance of mine at the store.  Not knowing anything about what is going on with my health status, she said "You look like you need to get straight home and crawl back into bed."  Yeah.  I'm looking THAT good these days. 

So far no real depression or irritability, at least that I can tell (my family might tell you differently).  I have a feeling the current lack of stress in my life plays a good part of that.  I'm now legitimately glad that I am off work at the moment, and not having to feel the strain of "doing it all", during this time.  As far as I can tell, I'm not losing any hair or anything either yet, which I know is often a sign.  Just generally feeling kind of bloated and yucky.  So remember this feeling, "future Monica", and recognize that it's time to call the endo for a little adjustment if it should happen to come back!  And for you right now, "Phase 4 Monica"... keep remembering that this too shall pass in a very, very short period of time, and you are ALMOST DONE!!  Hip Hip, HOORAY!!!!

And in case "future Monica" experiences the Zombie Apocalypse, or the collapse of society as we know it... you have AT LEAST a couple of weeks before things catch up to you!!  So stock up on that Synthroid now while you can!

ADDENDUM: ANNNNNNNDDDDDD... at least one or two items on that list above I'm pretty sure have nothing to do with being hypothyroid.  Welcome back, C. diff (NOT).  You've been gone not nearly long enough.  We'll be confirming that with lab results today or tomorrow, but it could NOT have happened at a more inopportune time.  I have a five hour car trip to make in two days' time, during which I'm not allowed to stop in public restrooms.  So.... hmmm.  How's that gonna work?  Feels a little like "Repeat to Phase 2 , then D.S.al coda."

What a Wise Priest Once Said....

.... who just happened to grow up to become Pope Benedict XVI.  Prophetic, actually.

By Fr Richard Heilman on ROMAN CATHOLIC MAN

In a 1969 German radio broadcast, Father Joseph Ratzinger offered this prediction of the future of the Church:

“The future of the Church can and will issue from those whose roots are deep and who live from the pure fullness of their faith. It will not issue from those who accommodate themselves merely to the passing moment or from those who merely criticize others and assume that they themselves are infallible measuring rods; nor will it issue from those who take the easier road, who sidestep the passion of faith, declaring false and obsolete, tyrannous and legalistic, all that makes demands upon men, that hurts them and compels them to sacrifice themselves.

To put this more positively: The future of the Church, once again as always, will be reshaped by saints, by men, that is, whose minds probe deeper than the slogans of the day, who see more than others see, because their lives embrace a wider reality. Unselfishness, which makes men free, is attained only through the patience of small daily acts of self-denial. By this daily passion, which alone reveals to a man in how many ways he is enslaved by his own ego, by this daily passion and by it alone, a man’s eyes are slowly opened. He sees only to the extent that he has lived and suffered.

If today we are scarcely able any longer to become aware of God, that is because we find it so easy to evade ourselves, to flee from the depths of our being by means of the narcotic of some pleasure or other. Thus our own interior depths remain closed to us. If it is true that a man can see only with his heart, then how blind we are!

How does all this affect the problem we are examining? It means that the big talk of those who prophesy a Church without God and without faith is all empty chatter. We have no need of a Church that celebrates the cult of action in political prayers. It is utterly superfluous. Therefore, it will destroy itself. What will remain is the Church of Jesus Christ, the Church that believes in the God who has become man and promises us life beyond death. The kind of priest who is no more than a social worker can be replaced by the psychotherapist and other specialists; but the priest who is no specialist, who does not stand on the [sidelines], watching the game, giving official advice, but in the name of God places himself at the disposal of man, who is beside them in their sorrows, in their joys, in their hope and in their fear, such a priest will certainly be needed in the future.

Let us go a step farther. From the crisis of today the Church of tomorrow will emerge — a Church that has lost much. She will become small and will have to start afresh more or less from the beginning. She will no longer be able to inhabit many of the edifices she built in prosperity. As the number of her adherents diminishes, so it will lose many of her social privileges. In contrast to an earlier age, it will be seen much more as a voluntary society, entered only by free decision. As a small society, it will make much bigger demands on the initiative of her individual members. Undoubtedly it will discover new forms of ministry and will ordain to the priesthood approved Christians who pursue some profession. In many smaller congregations or in self-contained social groups, pastoral care will normally be provided in this fashion. Along-side this, the full-time ministry of the priesthood will be indispensable as formerly. But in all of the changes at which one might guess, the Church will find her essence afresh and with full conviction in that which was always at her center: faith in the triune God, in Jesus Christ, the Son of God made man, in the presence of the Spirit until the end of the world. In faith and prayer she will again recognize the sacraments as the worship of God and not as a subject for liturgical scholarship.

The Church will be a more spiritual Church, not presuming upon a political mandate, flirting as little with the Left as with the Right. It will be hard going for the Church, for the process of crystallization and clarification will cost her much valuable energy. It will make her poor and cause her to become the Church of the meek. The process will be all the more arduous, for sectarian narrow-mindedness as well as pompous self-will will have to be shed. One may predict that all of this will take time. The process will be long and wearisome as was the road from the false progressivism on the eve of the French Revolution — when a bishop might be thought smart if he made fun of dogmas and even insinuated that the existence of God was by no means certain — to the renewal of the nineteenth century.

But when the trial of this sifting is past, a great power will flow from a more spiritualized and simplified Church. Men in a totally planned world will find themselves unspeakably lonely. If they have completely lost sight of God, they will feel the whole horror of their poverty. Then they will discover the little flock of believers as something wholly new. They will discover it as a hope that is meant for them, an answer for which they have always been searching in secret.
And so it seems certain to me that the Church is facing very hard times. The real crisis has scarcely begun. We will have to count on terrific upheavals. But I am equally certain about what will remain at the end: not the Church of the political cult, which is dead already, but the Church of faith. It may well no longer be the dominant social power to the extent that she was until recently; but it will enjoy a fresh blossoming and be seen as man’s home, where he will find life and hope beyond death.”

Something to Contemplate

"And so the idea of peace came down to do the work of peace: The Word was made flesh and even now dwells among us. It is by faith that he dwells in our hearts, in our memory, our intellect and penetrates even into our imagination. What concept could man have of God if he did not first fashion an image of him in his heart? By nature incomprehensible and inaccessible, he was invisible and unthinkable, but now he wished to be understood, to be seen and thought of. But how, you ask, was this done? He lay in a manger and rested on a virgin’s breast, preached on a mountain, and spent the night in prayer. He hung on a cross, grew pale in death, and roamed free among the dead and ruled over those in hell. He rose again on the third day, and showed the apostles the wounds of the nails, the signs of victory; and finally in their presence he ascended to the sanctuary of heaven. How can we not contemplate this story in truth, piety and holiness?"  St. Bernard

Phase Three

I feel like I'm entering a new phase in the health drama.  Rebuilding.  Restoring.  Preparing.

Surgery was December 26th.  Phase one was "vocal cord paralysis" and "recovery from surgery".  It lasted pretty much 3 weeks.

Phase two was "sheer hell, immunocompromised", with c. diff, pseudomembranous colitis,  a kidney infection, a respiratory infection, and a yeast infection... simultaneously.  The worst of it lasted pretty much 3 weeks, much of which was spent flat on my back in bed, or on the toilet, or with my head in the toilet.  This was my Rock Bottom.

Phase three is "recuperation".  I feel half way decent for the first time since Christmas.  Still have a remnant of a cold, the remnants of gut issues.  But I feel human again.  Out of shape, flabby, weak.    Pale.  But human.  With a voice that is audible, with the ability to talk and walk and not gasp.  With enough energy to stay out of bed the majority of the day.  So now I work hard on my health, building my immune system, cleansing my liver, getting back to exercise and movement.  I have one week until Phase four hits, and I need to be ready... most people have a month to get ready physically for Phase four.  I have a week.

Phase four is "hypothyroidism".  Not just a little low, but the deep plunge to zero.  Starving my body of all thyroid hormone, and all iodine.  This phase includes lethargy, weakness, hair loss, weight gain, depression, joint pain and stiffness, hoarseness, poor temperature regulation, heavy periods, and dry skin, among other things.  At the same time, I will start the low iodine diet, eliminating all dairy, chocolate, seafood/sea based products, iodized salt, eggs, and cured meats.  As I'm still trying to build up my immune system from the hit it took during stage 2, and will take again in stage 5... I also need to avoid any raw fruits and vegetables, rare meats, and well water/ice. 

Phase five: Radioiodine treatment.  Liver and kidneys need to be in shape for this, because it's their job to filter out the radiation to be expelled.  Immune system will take a hit, so needs to be built up enough that C-diff does NOT come back.  Isolation for a week, followed up by a PET Scan.  Low Iodine Diet will continue for the first few days, and then can resume eating normally. 

Phase six: Either... DONE AND NORMAL (with follow ups every six months), or mets found and more surgery/radiation.  We're planning for option 1, but in stage 3 papillary cancer, the chances of that are 50/50.  Right now, I'm planning for a March 10th "celebration and return to life as we know" it date.  But I'm smart enough to prepare myself mentally for option 2.  If it rears it's ugly head, I won't be blind sided. 

It helps me to see it all down in black and white like this.  Makes it more manageable.  More "wrap my brain" around-able.  Just doing the steps, preparing for the next phase, so that life can resume.  This family will get there.  Just have to persevere and prepare.  And pray pray pray.

AMEN.

"I am not what I ought to be, I am not what I want to be, I am not what I hope to be in another world; but still I am not what I once used to be, and by the grace of God I am what I am."

John Newton

God Bless My Husband and Mother

I am a pretty weak person.  Physically - yeah, pretty pathetic right about now.  The addition of a respiratory infection to the list of ailments has me in bed, and worse... in tears... most of the day. For the last 11 days, really - I've been in bed, first with c-diff, then with kidney infection, and now with a respiratory infection.  All at the same time.   All while my body is supposed to be healing and preparing for radiation treatment in a few short weeks.   But far worse, and far more disconcerting to me, is that I am weak spiritually.   As gracefully as I want to deal with what is going on with my body, I am NOT handling it gracefully.  I am miserable and cranky.   Thank God, literally, for my mother and my husband.  Because they have a way of opening my eyes, and adjusting my attitude, in ways that it really, REALLY needs.

When a gal is miserable, she just wants her Mom.  And so, I called my mom, and promptly burst in to tears.  "I've been trying to stay positive.  I've been trying to be patient.  But you know what?  I HURT.  I DON'T FEEL GOOD.  As soon as one thing starts improving, the next one comes, and I've HAD IT.  I can't take it any more.  I'm sick of myself and my own whining.  I know it's just a cold, but I'm tired of being in bed.  I'm tired of SIX WEEKS of one thing after another.  I'm tired of being a horrible mom, a horrible wife, a horrible coworker.  On top of everything else, now there's headache and chills, and not being able to breathe out of my nose, and a sore throat... I just can't take it."  BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH.  Wah wah wah.  I am NOT strong.  I am miserable, and tired, and sick of it ALL.  Sick of being sick.  Sick of myself and my whiny attitude.  ALL OF IT.

And my mom didn't console me.  She didn't commiserate, and tell me "poor baby".  She said what I needed to hear.  "REPEAT AFTER ME.  JESUS, I GIVE THIS ALL TO YOU."  "But He doesn't WANT it!" I cried.  No one would.  It sucks.  "Yes, He does.  He wants it all." she said to me.

And then later, my husband came in and joined me in the darkness.  "You're so blessed," he said.  I get it, I told him.  Yes.  I know it could be worse.  Others have it so much worse than I, and I shouldn't feel this down on my own situation.  I shouldn't be such a baby about all of this.  "No.  Not that.  You get to suffer.  And that gives you such an opportunity that most people don't have.  Use that!"

OH. 

"Offer it up.  Join in Jesus' suffering, and turn it in to something good.  Don't wallow in it.  There are so many people hurting in this world and the next.  There are souls crying out in Purgatory.  Your grandparents.  Carly.  Dorothy.  Your aunt Marian.  Aunt Joan.  USE THIS.  Take this, and offer it for their sakes, by name, that they might enter into the presence of God."  Then he stopped himself, and said "just a few years ago, that would have sounded absolutely crazy to me.  But now I know. I see them - especially your Aunt Marian, for some reason, even though I only met her once.   We are a part of this great, huge family - living and dead.   We're connected to them. They are crying out for our prayers, and the vast majority of this world forgets them, ignores their souls, as they are being prepared to enter into glory.  But you've been given the opportunity.  OFFER THIS UP." 

That stopped me cold.  Instead of wallowing in self pity and misery, or even trying to "be brave and positive and learn my lessons", I can turn this into good.  Into an act of love.  St. Paul understood this, when he said "In my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the Church....Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake".  Once again, as I learn over and over and over (to the point where you'd think I'd get it by now)... this is NOT ALL ABOUT ME.  And I keep trying to make it about me, and what I'm going through. 

I'm still weak, and feeling crappy, and tired of it all.  But I am OFFERING IT UP.  I am no longer going to see this as a test to withstand, but an opportunity. A blessing.  Salvifici doloris.  It is an indelible mark of humanity to suffer - even in the minor way that I am now.  Lord, through my discomfort, which is only a pale shadow of Your immense suffering on the cross... join it to Your sacrifice.  Unite it to Yours, I beg.    May it be used for the benefit of those suffering everywhere, most especially my loved ones.   Please allow it to lessen their suffering, that I may share in just the tiniest of ways to the suffering You did for me.  Imperfect and inconsequential as I am, please take and use me as you will.

And forgive me my weakness, Lord.  Thy will be done.

Trainwreckitis: The Immunocompromised Edition

If I stop to think (maybe I shouldn't), this is the tally.

Since November 6th, 2016 (the past three months), I have had

• a sinus infection
• 3 yeast infections
• 2 bouts of oral thrush
• c difficile
• a kidney infection

I have been on antibiotics 3 times (soon to be a fourth), and prednisone twice. I have used natural remedies that painted my tongue purple, used anti-fungals, mega-dosed vitamin C and cranberries.   Throw in a the odd surgery, a flu shot, and cancer... my immune system is just shot.  Pretty sure the upcoming radiation is not going to help that situation too much (although my plan is that it will kill any remaining bugs!!)  My complications are having complications.  It's just getting ridiculous. 

So enough whining.  I'm trying to keep my chin up, and stay positive (from the tone above, you can see I'm not really good at that).  It could really be much, much worse.  It really could, and for that I'm truly thankful. And I keep looking for the lessons that I'm supposed to learn throughout all of this.   Is God trying to teach me the value of solitude and quiet? Is He trying to teach me empathy for being a patient?  Is He trying to teach me perseverance?  Is He trying to show me  how awesome those around me really are?  Is He trying to show me that I need to rely on others sometimes, because obviously I can't do it myself?  Humility?  Patience?    Because He's definitely taught me all of that.  IS TEACHING me.    He's granted me abundant blessings through all of this, and I am eternally grateful that He has allowed this all to happen to ME and not to my CHILDREN - because that would be horrible.  Much worse, by a thousand fold. 

I have been able to receive the sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick twice through all of this.  That's a first in my world.  There is grace to be had there.  I have had the time to actually, in a formal way, pray for others.  Not just say the words.  I've had time to say my rosary.   I'm on my third Novena.   I wish I could say that I've spent this down time reading and bettering myself... but I've been very poor at that.  I've read maybe four books, but the majority of the time is wasted away, lying in bed, watching tv, being a blob.  I haven't yet developed the self-discipline to put facebook away, and use this time productively (spiritually, if not physically). 

Don't know where I'm going with all of this.  I'm not past it all yet, so I guess I'm more documenting this "in the heat of it" moment, and trying to put things in words, to gain some perspective.  Giving myself a little pep-talk if you will, because seeing things in black and white helps me to see things more objectively, and not be overwhelmed by it all. 

It's coming.  I'll get there, hopefully.