"There are no bad or inopportune days. All days are good, for servingGod. 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 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."
.... 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.”
"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
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.
"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."
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.
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.
.... I will be declared cancer free, c. Difficile free, in-radioactive, and of full voice, possessing unimpeded breathing and swallowing.
In celebration of the above inevitable good news, I will purchase a Fit bit for myself to embark on my new regime of health and fitness.
I will go to a beauty salon and have my hair done.
I will vow to remember the lessons I am learning.... namely the value of quiet, the value of stillness, the balance of alone time vs the joy of togetherness, and the priorities of faith, family and friendship above all else.
If He had chosen the great city of Rome, the change in the world would be ascribed to the influence of her citizens. If He had been the son of the Emperor, His benefits would have been attributed to the latter’s power. But that we might acknowledge the work of God in the transformation of the whole earth, He chose a poor mother and a birthplace poorer still. Council of Ephesus, A.D. 431
"Since all our love for God is ultimately a response to His love for us, we can never love Him in the same way He loves us, namely, gratuitously. Since we are fundamentally dependent on God and in His debt for our creation and redemption, our love is always owed to Him, a duty, a response to His love. But we can love our neighbor in the same way that He loves us, gratuitously—not because of anything the neighbor has done for us or because of anything that we owe him, but simply because love has been freely given to us. We thereby greatly please the Father. God the Father tells Catherine [of Siena]: This is why I have put you among your neighbors: so that you can do for them what you cannot do for me—that is, love them without any concern for thanks and without looking for any profit for yourself. And whatever you do for them I will consider done for me." -- Ralph Martin
I haven't been afraid up to this point. Really, I haven't. Even when they tossed around the words vocal cord paralysis, tracheostomy, feeding tube, cancer. None of those really scared me. Because I educated myself, and knew the research and the odds, and the prognosis. If anything, I've been feeling guilty that the words are so scary to everybody ELSE. I know, because I'm living it, that it's okay. I had a few panicky days in the beginning about aspiration, but once the swallowing and temperature improved, and now the voice is improving... I know the whole vocal cord paralysis thing is temporary. And it's improving far quicker than anyone anticipated, and so... that is good. And the cancer thing. My dad went through it, my friend went through it. And they're both fine. No big deal. Good prognosis - a little surgery, a little radiation and then... you're good to go. Even stage 3 cancer, as mine is classified. The endocrinologist called it "intermediate risk", but still... a really good prognostic outcome. Not much of a battle. Easily conquered. So I haven't been AFRAID through any of this.
Yesterday, I got news that frightened me... a little. I'm trying to not jump to conclusions, and I'm trying to just trust. And maybe that's what this is all about anyway. Trust. Maybe that's what God is trying to teach me, and up until now, I've trusted too much in what the research and science and my doctors have told me, and haven't been afraid ENOUGH. There has to be a point when I can't trust science and research, so I can trust God. Maybe that's what I'm supposed to learn.
The endocrinologist's office called yesterday, and told me that the results of my blood test came back. The blood test looked at Thyroglobulin levels - a protein made by normal thyroid tissue, and thyroid cancer. Well, my "normal thyroid tissue" was completely removed two weeks ago. I no longer have any "normal thyroid tissue". So the doctor was anticipating that my thyroglobulin levels would be zero, or very close to zero. Instead, they came back as high as if I had never even had my thyroid removed. SOMETHING is making all that thyroglobulin, and it's not my thyroid. Which means... there's a chance (maybe even a pretty good chance) that the cancer has metastasized - spread somewhere else outside of the thyroid. And that scares me. Because that means the battle isn't quite so straightforward as I'd hoped.
The doctor's plan at this point is to give me the highest possible dose of radiation, and see what all we can kill with it, then do a whole-body scan and see what lights up. But that's not until March, because it takes six weeks to prepare for all of that. So, for the next six weeks, I need to process the likelihood that we DIDN'T get all the cancer with surgery alone, and that the battle might take a little more fortitude than I was anticipating it to take.
So this is where my lesson takes place. What I've been doing up to this point has been "flippancy", not "peace". And there's a big difference between the two.
Lord, help me to trust in You. Grant me peace and acceptance. Grant me strength. In your Son's holy name. Amen.
So... for the past 11 days, I've been processing. Processing what is happening. There was surgery, and I wasn't nervous about it in the least. It was just something that needed done, and I was finally getting around to doing it at a convenient time. No big deal. Rob and I drove to Ishpeming the day after Christmas, and it was going to be like a little romantic get away for us. That's how I envisioned it in my head at least - just some quiet, after-Christmas time, just he and me. Sure, there was a short hospital stay involved, but maybe we could hit some stores afterwards, or stop somewhere for dinner on the way home. And all would be no big deal, just one thyroid less, and then continue on with Christmas break.
When I woke up from surgery, I immediately knew something was wrong. I began choking, and not being able to breathe. Panic. Struggling for air. That was my first recollection upon waking up from anesthesia. "I can't breathe!" And a nurse helping me to sit up, leaning me forward, so that I could breathe. And I calmed. But my breathing still sounded odd. Wheezey. Is that normal? To sound like Darth Vader when you breathe?
Then I was in the hospital room, and I had no voice. Surely, this is just how it always is after such a surgery. I texted my dad, who had the same surgery, 7 years ago. "Dad, could you talk after surgery?" He thought his voice had been hoarse right afterwards. From the intubation and such. OK. Good. It's normal. I texted a friend of mine, who had also had her thyroid removed. "Tiff, could you talk after surgery?" It's all normal. That's normal not to have much a voice immediately afterwards. But when the nurse came in and I asked... "No. That's not typical at all," he said. REALLY? That's not typical? He was a night nurse, though. Never trust a night nurse. They only deal with sleeping people. What does he know?
They let me have mashed potatoes and gravy for dinner that night, and I choked with every bite. At one point, I coughed so hard that milk splattered all over the tray. In that wheezy, high-pitched cough that sounded horrible. Rob told me to slow down. It was better eating if I slowed down. And if I tucked my chin a little. That seemed to help. I texted my speech therapist friend. How do I keep things from going down the wrong tube? Chin tuck. Yes. I'll try that some more.
I slept upright that night. It was easier to breathe that way. The new night nurse was far more knowledgeable and responsive than the first. She didn't make a fuss about the way I sounded either, but I was still wondering if it was normal.
The next morning, the day time nurse came in. She said I could order anything off the menu I wanted. Seriously??? I was too scared. Still couldn't talk, wheezed when I breathed, choked when I ate. I chose mashed potatoes and gravy again. And with every single bite, I coughed. I choked. It went down the wrong tube. She heard me from the hallway.
"Is that you?" she asked. Yes. "Are you coughing while you eat?" Yes. "With every single bite?" Yes. Hmmmm. She left, only to come back a few minutes later.
"You're supposed to go home this morning," she told me. "But I think I'm going to leave your IV in, because you may not be going too far." What? What was that about?
The physician's assistant came in to discharge me, but as soon as he heard me, he paled. "We checked your nerves during surgery," he said. "We stimulated them, and they both worked. We need a scope to see what is going on."
I got dressed, and they brought a wheelchair to take me down to the office for a scope, but I refused. I could walk. It's not that far. Half way there, though, I had to stop. My breathing was too hard, I couldn't catch my breath. And the wheezing just would not let up. With every intake, I hummed. It was annoying.
The scope showed that both vocal cords were paralyzed, in the median position. In some ways, the place they froze was fortuitous - if they froze all the way open, my windpipe would have no protection at all, and I would aspirate everything I ate. All the way open would mean a feeding tube. If they froze all the way shut, my windpipe would be blocked. All the way shut would be a tracheotomy. Median... neither swallowing nor breathing was good, both were compromised. But not completely.
I could tell the PA was nervous. He kept repeating over and over again "We stimulated both nerves! They were working during surgery!" He reiterated that this had never happened in the doctor's 20 year history of doing this surgery. Sure - he had had a nerve not stimulate before - twice - and the respective people couldn't talk for four months. But not this. Never when the nerves were supposed to work. And never with both nerves, instead of just one. That had just never happened before. He had been doing 10 of these surgeries a week for the past 20 years. This just DID.NOT.HAPPEN.
"You're going to be out of commission for awhile" he told me. "It could take up to six months, just to warn you. And we need to decide soon if you need a feeding tube and a tracheotomy or not. You need to get in to speech therapy immediately."
We lived an hour and a half away, but speech therapy was something that I had the right connections for. I texted my work. Any openings with the speech therapist? In two hours? Who for? Me. Book it. We'll be there. The doctor was on the phone with the speech therapist as I was wheeled out to the truck. It was a snow storm out - it may be a little slow going, but Rob would get me there in time. It was in the truck that I noticed... they never had taken the IV out of my hand. The "just in case" IV was still there.
Apparently, it was the speech therapist's decision whether or not I'd need a feeding tube and tracheotomy. And she wasn't about to make that decision without a swallow study. So we met with the radiologist and the team, and I ate some food, and the machine recorded. Some flash aspiration of thin liquids, but with a chin tuck, able to tolerate purees. If I was good, ate only things the texture of pudding, and used the techniques she taught me - no feeding tube. Deal. I would get to go home.
Mom and Dad met me out on the porch as soon as we pulled up. Dad smiled and gave a hug. "This isn't exactly what you had planned, is it?" No. Not really.
I'd had a low-grade temp since surgery, and wasn't feeling so hot. I choked a lot with eating, and coughed the same cat-with-a-hairball wheezing cough. I slept upright in a recliner in front of the fire. When I tried to lie flat, I choked on my own saliva. My medicine I had to crush and eat with yogurt. No water at all - too thin. Couldn't control it. Even chewing gum make me choke, because it generated too much saliva. It was ridiculous.
On the third day after surgery, the stridor stopped. I was thrilled. I could breathe in silence again. But I was coughing a whole lot more - constant coughing. And I felt hot. Our thermometer didn't work, and I was getting panicky. What if I had aspirated? Pneumonia with paralyzed cords. That could be bad. That would mean tracheotomy for sure. I texted my speech therapist repeatedly. "I'm not aspirating right? Because I can't stop coughing and choking. But I'm okay right?" She told me to stop eating altogether, at least for the day. I did. Wasn't hungry anyway, and now eating was scary.
But the next day, I wasn't coughing quite so much. And swallowing seemed a little easier. By day 5, I felt brave enough to try scrambled eggs moistened with cottage cheese... and it went down just fine. Still no voice whatsoever - was talking via a text to speech app on my phone, but.... it might be a little better.
The stridor came back whenever I moved too much, but as long as I was fairly low key, I could breathe okay. By day 8, I could lay flat in bed without choking on my saliva. I could swallow a little better, as long as I took small bites and still did my chin tuck. The speech therapist advanced me to "soggy bread" consistency. Communication was still by text only. At one point, Reagan asked if I could read her a bed time story, and I broke into tears, because I couldn't. The thought that this was permanent scared me. What if I could never read my daughter a book again? What if I could never sing at church, or take communion again? What if I could never cheer my boys on at a soccer game? And when my parents go home? How would I talk to them on the phone? They were horrible about texting. But my mother, bless her, completely ignored my pity party. Which is exactly what she should have done. This was temporary. There are worse things than having to sit by a fire all day and be quiet. Get over it.
On day 9, the most glorious thing happened. The kids had gone back to school, my parents had left to go back home, and this was my third full day of not talking at all. It was a big storm outside, and as I looked out the window, the song "Baby it's cold outside" ran through my head. Inadvertently, I began humming the song. HUMMING! There was actual sound with the humming!! Vibration!!! I called my husband up, and hummed into the phone.
"What the heck is THAT?" he asked. THAT is me. Humming!! Can you hear it? Can you hear it??? He could hear it. I was making sound!
So, every day I am getting a little better, feeling a little better, moving a little bit more. Swallowing is getting easier, and I've been able to eat a little more normally. Things are improving, and I have hope that I won't be out of commission for six months like the doctor thought I would be.
Yesterday, I went for my follow up appointment with the surgeon. He asked where my husband was, and I told him work. Odd that he would assume we would come as a team. "Does he need to be here?" I asked. Not necessarily, he assured me. Just assumed he would be. Then he proceeded to tell me that it was a good thing we did remove the thyroid, because it was cancerous. Not the big, huge, 5.2 cm nodule that we all were worried about. That one wasn't cancerous. But one of the smaller ones on the opposite side was. It had tripled in size over the past few months. He handed me a pathology report, and told me he would refer me to a local endocrinologist for follow up. "They may do radioiodine therapy, they may not. They'll have to do an ultrasound to see if lymph nodes are affected. And some blood work." I texted Rob to come to the hospital immediately, to hear from the doctor directly, and to answer any questions he might have. In the mean time, I had another scope, which showed that the vocal cords were starting to move a little. GOOD SIGN. The paralysis is improving. I could tell. The humming, the swallowing. Everything is getting better.
So, now I process. We told the boys, but not Reagan. No need at this point. And thyroid cancer has an excellent prognosis. My dad had it, my friend had it. I'm not afraid. I've done my research, and I know. It's a scary word, cancer, but I am not scared. I think maybe Rob is more afraid than I am of the dreaded word. But if you're going to get cancer, thyroid cancer is the type to get. It's slow growing, and it responds to treatment. And it's nearly always curable. So... it's a bump in the road but not a change in the life path.
Plus, as I think about it... right now I'm as cancer-free as I've been for at least the last two years. I DID have cancer, but they removed it when they took out the thyroid. I just didn't know I had it! And now, without that dang thyroid, there is less cancer in my body, and we just have to make sure we got every last little bit of it. So the diagnosis is really kind of retro-active, in any case.
Things are improving. I will be off work for awhile, and I'm learning the value of silence. The kids respond to me better with my quiet voice, which is interesting. When I whisper, Reagan whispers back. It's nice not having to yell. When I repeat myself now, I can just hit a button. I am losing weight (there's got to be a better way). And I am really at peace. I love the slower pace of this life. I am not productive, and when I try, I have difficulty breathing, but... that just reminds me. Slow down. Read a book. Listen more. Take breaks. I find I snuggle more with my kids, because I'm not always thinking about the next thing that has to be done. I sit and "talk" more with my husband. I'm spending way too much time thinking about myself and my own well-being at the moment, but that will fade as I get used to "the way things are". There are blessings with this way of life, temporary as it is. I am processing. I am learning.
I didn't write this. I wish I had. Because it is beautiful and succinct, and speaks truth. For your enjoyment, on this Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception, I present... "Why the Devil Hates the Blessed Virgin So Much (And Why You Should Love Her)" by Sam Guzman.
Satan hates the Blessed Virgin Mary. In fact, he has been doing everything in his power to discourage devotion to her and instill hatred for her for two millennia. Have you ever noticed that it is Marian dogmas and devotions that stir the strongest reactions in those who reject the Church? Even some good Catholics are embarrassed by devotion to our Lady, and they feel we should not be too extreme in our veneration of her.
Perhaps you, too, have wondered why the Church holds the Immaculate Virgin in such high regard. Perhaps you have wonder why God has chosen to use her in the work of redemption. Today, I’d like to take a look at why the devil hates the Blessed Mother so much, and why we should be her devoted knights.
She will crush your head
The scene is the garden of Eden. The characters are God, the serpent, Adam, and Eve. The devil is smirking in triumph. He has just deceived Eve, and through her, Adam. Oh, he is proud of himself. You can almost feel the demonic pride in destruction, for he has successfully marred God’s handiwork of creation, and dragged human beings—for whom God has a special love—into death and misery.
God has appeared on the scene to clean up the mess, declaring the tragic curse that has arisen from sin, but also to proclaim the protoevangelium, the first hint at the Gospel and the devil’s doom.
God starts by addressing Satan, telling him he is going to eat dirt for the rest of his days. Then he reveals something that makes Satan cringe in horror—his ultimate defeat will come at the hands of a woman.
And I will establish a feud between thee and the woman, between thy offspring and hers; she is to crush thy head, while thou dost lie in ambush at her heels (Genesis 3:15, Knox)
Now, scholars argue about whether or not the pronoun is masculine or feminine in the sentence, “She is to crush thy head”—that is, whether it refers to the Virgin Mary or Jesus Christ. But I’m going to let you in on a little secret: it doesn’t matter. You see, Jesus is going to crush Satan through Mary.She is the instrument Jesus is going to wield when he destroys his ancient enemy.
With that in mind, it is just as legitimate to say, “he will crush your head” as it is to say, “she will crush your head.” It’s kind of like telling an armed assailant, “One more step and I will shoot you” and “One more step and my .44 magnum will blow you away.” They are both true statements.
So why does being defeated by Mary pain the devil so much? Why does God want to use Mary to defeat Satan?
“He has put down the mighty from their seat…”
The devil hates, I mean he loathes the fact that his ultimate defeat will come at the hands of a lowly handmaiden. In a way, his proud heart could handle being defeated by God himself because he’s almighty and omnipotent. But being crushed by a little Lady from Nazareth? The thought is absolutely humiliating. It drives him crazy. For if there is one thing the most proud creature in all of creation hates, it is being humiliated.
Satan finds his defeat by the Virgin Mary humiliating because she is a woman, and women are the weaker sex (1 Peter 3:7), and he despises weakness. He loves nothing more than to see women abused, degraded, and objectified. Not to mention that our Blessed Lady is a human, and Satan hates humans because we have bodies, and he is a pure spirit that thinks bodies are disgusting. But there’s another, more profound reason Satan hates being defeated by Mary: She is his replacement in heaven.
You see, Lucifer was originally God’s finest achievement. He was more beautiful, more powerful than all the other creatures that God has made. And as we all know, it went to his head. He was so gorgeous, so mighty that he really thought he could be better than God. The defining marks of Satan are pride and envy of the Almighty.
And what are the defining characteristics of our Lady? First and foremost, she is supremely humble. In fact, she is the most humble creature that has ever existed. For every ounce of pride the devil has, Mary has twice as much humility. For every drop of hate-filled and bitter envy in Satan’s black heart, Mary’s heart is filled with twice as much praise, worship, and love. For every bit of warped and destructive depravity in the devil’s soul, Mary’s heart is filled with more purity and fruitfulness. And by grace, God has made her the most exquisite and most glorious creature in all the universe—the title the devil used to claim.
In every way, the Immaculate is Satan’s polar opposite. In every way, she is his replacement, and he knows it. This Divine exchange of Mary for Satan is revealed in our Lady’s hymn of praise, the Magnificat.
My soul magnifies the Lord; my spirit has found joy in God, who is my Saviour, because he has looked graciously upon the lowliness of his handmaid. Behold, from this day forward all generations will count me blessed; because he who is mighty, he whose name is holy, has wrought for me his wonders. He has mercy upon those who fear him, from generation to generation; he has done valiantly with the strength of his arm, driving the proud astray in the conceit of their hearts; he has put down the mighty from their seat, and exalted the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty-handed. He has protected his servant Israel, keeping his merciful design in remembrance, according to the promise which he made to our forefathers, Abraham and his posterity for evermore.
In the Magnificat, we see the role of Mary in salvation summarized beautifully:
Mary’s humility- “he has looked graciously on the lowliness of his handmaid”
God’s marvelous work of grace in her: “Because he who is mighty, he who name is holy, has wrought for me his wonders”
God’s casting out of Satan: “Driving the proud astray in the conceit of their hearts, he has put down the mighty from their seat”
His exalting of Mary in Satan’s place: “He has…exalted the lowly.”
Worst of all for Satan, his replacement in heaven is none other than the mother of the Eternal Word, Jesus Christ, whose passion and death redeemed the very humanity he has worked so hard to destroy. Her Yes to God undid the disobedience of Eve, paving the way for the saving work of the New Adam. The very weakness of Eve that Satan so scorned was replaced by the humble obedience of Mary, an obedience to the will of God that has made her powerful beyond limits.
This is the Divine plan for the defeat of his enemy. This is Satan’s humiliation and his doom.
Hasta la vista, Satan
In case you didn’t realize it, Satan hates you. His bitter envy inspires him to destroy God’s creation, to drag it down into the abyss of hell. He would love nothing more for you—image bearer of God—to join in him in the eternal flames of the lake of fire, for misery loves company.
But fear not. The ancient serpent is powerless against the Immaculate Virgin, for in God’s plan, she is the instrument that Jesus will use to humiliate and demolish him. Do you want to crush the head of the devil in your life? Do you want to make it safely through trials, temptations, and storms to our eternal Home? The answer is simple: Call on Mary. Love her, be her devoted servant. Be her knight, her defender, her apostle. Consecrate yourself to her totally and completely—for nothing that belongs to her will be lost. As St. John Damascene said so beautifully, “To be devoted to thee, O holy Virgin, is an arm of salvation which God gives to those whom He wishes to save.”
Satan is on a rampage, wreaking as much havoc as he possibly can—because he knows his time is running out. He is afraid and he is angry, for he knows that one day very soon, he will be crushed by the Woman who makes his heart quake, the woman who “looks forth like the dawn, fair as the moon, bright as the sun, terrible as an army with banners” (Song of Solomon 6:10).
— Prayer
Majestic Queen of Heaven and Mistress of the Angels, thou didst receive from God the power and commission to crush the head of Satan; wherefore we humbly beseech thee, send forth the legions of heaven, that, under thy command, they may seek out all evil spirits, engage them everywhere in battle, curb their insolence, and hurl them back into the pit of hell. “Who is like unto God?”
O good and tender Mother, thou shalt ever be our hope and the object of our love. O Mother of God, send forth the holy Angels to defend me and drive far from me the cruel foe. Holy Angels and Archangels, defend us and keep us.
"Your Lord is seated at the Father’s right hand in heaven. How then is the bread His body? And the chalice, or rather its content, how is it His Blood? These elements are called Sacraments, because in them one thing is perceived by the sense and another thing by the mind. What is seen has a bodily appearance; what the mind perceives produces spiritual fruit. You hear the words, ‘The Body of Christ’, and you answer ‘Amen.’"
I've been struggling to put into words what I feel about what just happened with this national election. The campaign was ugly. It was a dirty, ugly, all-out fight.... the worst in memory, and politics was bad enough to begin with. It brought out the absolute worst in both major-party candidates, and for that reason, I struggled HARD with a decision on who to vote for. Not between the two of THEM... that wasn't the hard decision. I knew that I could never support a continuation of the relativistic, anti-life, world-on-it's head, group think that we've had for the past eight years. So, I knew undeniably that I couldn't vote for HER. But could I vote for HIM? The arrogant, brash, big-mouthed, piggish, self-serving, gold-plated HIM? Did he represent ME and MY VALUES in any form whatsoever??? It certainly didn't seem so. So, for much of the campaign, I fretted and stewed, and felt like a truly "disenfranchised voter" with nowhere to go, and no one representing decent, common-sense (is there such a thing any more?) Christian values. Others around me assured me he was the guy - just the guy to stoop to the gutter where the fight takes place, to be victorious. But I didn't just want victorious. I wanted HOPE. I wanted a return to all that is good about America. I wanted someone who would remember that we used to find these truths self-evident: that all men are created equal, and endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; among those life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
So I struggled, and argued with my husband (whose mind was made up decisively and early), and fretted, and prayed for a last minute knight on a white horse to prance in and give me SOMEONE I could vote for with a clear conscious. It was evident, though, that anyone who was qualified for the job, didn't want the job. I certainly couldn't blame them. The job of President of the United States is vicious. It sucks. I wouldn't want it. And there were other considerations to take into account. When Justice Scalia died, and a Supreme Court vacancy was suddenly on the table, the election's ramifications became even starker. Stakes were HIGH... not just for four years of one presidency or another, but for the lives of my children well into the future.
And then Evan McMullin appeared out of nowhere (well, Utah... same thing). I heard him first on the radio, and he was saying everything I wanted to hear. He understood ME, he represented MY values. More than any candidate in recent memory, he was reflecting my hopes for this country. And he was stepping forward out of a sense of service, not entitlement, because he loves America and wants the best for it. And I thought "YES! Here's my guy!" Knowing that my vote doesn't matter in this heavily blue state anyway, I might as well vote for someone I actually AGREE with, even if his chances of winning were nil. Plus, every poll, every pundit, every newspaper article, every newscast, told me that this election was in the bag for HER. 99% certain, anyway. It was a done deal, the election was a formality. It was her turn. She'd done all the required steps, and now she got to be the first woman president, because it's all about gender and breaking a glass ceiling, and WINNING for HER. Puke.
But then, I got to thinking. If Evan McMullin took Utah... that's a red state. OK. Sacrifice those red votes and turn them independent, but that's still minus for the red column, and if anyone was to stop the other two schmucks from winning 270 electoral votes, we really needed to take some votes from a blue column. We needed a blue state to turn red. And right before the election, my solidly blue state started turning... purple. For the first time in a generation. Well, maybe light blue, according to the polls. But not dark blue, like it always had been. Which meant... I had to play defense, if I wanted my guy to have a chance (he didn't. But theoretically). I had to plug my nose, and vote for the big-mouth, and take one for the team, because my part in the strategy was defense. Decision, one week before the election, was finally made.
The day of the election, I told my children it was "my day of despair" because I believed what I was told, and that we were about to be subjected to four more years of the debacle of Obama-care, gender-identity crisis, the wholesale slaughter of the unborn, unsecure borders, and the relativism of a nation who had lost its moral compass utterly. We'd lost before we'd even begun. Everyone said so. Those people who remembered a time when there was such thing as a right and a wrong... they were gone. We Christians are out of touch, out of date, backwards. We are bigots, homophobes, racists, xenophobic paternalistic misogynists. They all said so. All the loud people in the media, all the loud people on Facebook. All those emails leaked from HER campaign. All the shouting people everywhere. They believe that of us. They really do. Despair.
And then.... the unthinkable, the unbelievable happened. The 99% certainty didn't happen. It DIDN'T HAPPEN. Not by a decisive long shot! Definitively! As state after state turned red on the electoral map on November 8th, I was stunned. Are you serious???? Really really??? I stayed up as late as I could muster, watching the news, and by early morning it was official. HE had won. Not HER. HIM. The big-mouth. I hadn't wanted him, even though he got my vote. The educated woman who everyone said would never vote for the likes of HIM had voted for HIM, and apparently, so had a lot of other people. A LOT of quiet people, who nobody knew were out there. So, what was I supposed to feel now?
I'll be honest. You know what I feel? RELIEF. R.E.L.I.E.F. The certainty of what another four blue years would have held has been dispelled, and that is a fantastic thing. FANTASTIC. And, even though I am really nervous about the future of this country, I feel like we have a chance now to regain our senses. If for no other reason than that Supreme Court vacancy, this was a victory for America. We have a chance.
And now we pray. We pray for HIM, that he would learn humility and wisdom, and surround himself with the best and brightest that our country has to offer. That HE takes on this responsibility with a sense of service and love of God and country. We pray for the 50% of this nation that is scared to death, because they believe the lies about the other half of us... that we are racist, xenophobe, misogynist bigots. We are NOT. And our vote for HIM doesn't make us so. Not by a long shot. And we are dang tired of being labeled as such, just because we have beliefs and values that are as long as the history of the human race, and have not just evolved over the past 30 years like theirs. We pray for healing, and repentance. We pray for a return to common sense, a return to faith, a return to justice.
We pray for America. We've got a lot of work to do.
"We should recall thatno man is an island, entire of itself. Our lives areinvolved with one another, through innumerable interactions theyarelinked together. No one lives alone. No one sins alone. No one is saved alone.The lives of others continually spill over into mine:in what I think, say, and do, and achieve. And conversely, my lifespills overinto that ofothers: for better or for worse. So my prayer for another is not something extraneous to that person, something external, not even after death." Pope Benedict XVI
SO, my son dropped his binder outside on the way to the bus today. That's only significant because it means that I made an unexpected trip into town to deliver it to him at school. On my way there, from out of the LITERAL GUTTER next to the road... a gigantic bald eagle came out of nowhere and attempted to fly into my car. I was going around 50 miles per hour at the time, and I stared at the thing eye to eye through the windshield on the passenger side. A BALD EAGLE.
I swerved into the other lane, and missed the thing by inches. No exaggeration. INCHES. And then I swerved back into my lane, and the car wobbled and took a second to right itself. It all happened so fast. My heart was pounding, it was so surreal. I almost killed a BALD EAGLE, our national bird. He was almost road kill.
It took only a nanosecond after that to find the significance of that encounter. Our nation is currently in the gutter with this election. We have stooped to such lows as have never been seen before. If we stay on our current path - what with the election only a few weeks away - WHAMMO. America as we know it is a gonner. But if we do the unexpected, if we swerve suddenly at the last minute instead of staying the course... we can avert disaster. It may cause things to go a bit crazy in the short term, but we will right ourselves again. America, like that huge bald eagle, will soar once again. Out of the dang gutter.
I'm going to swerve. I don't know if anyone will swerve with me, but I hope so, as I kind of feel like it's our only hope. I'm going to vote my conscience, and I hope every one else does, too. I'm not going to feel obligated by the miserable choices I've been given.
I mean - what IF, for the first time in decades - people on both sides of the aisle cooperated on this ONE THING to save our country. What if the people who are voting for Hillary because they don't want Trump, and the people who are voting for Trump because they don't want Hillary... what if those people didn't vote for them, and instead voted their consciences? What if they really voted for who they really wanted to vote for? And America could start anew???
"Our first duty, therefore, precisely in order toheal this world, is to beholy, configured to God; in this way we emanate ahealingandtransforming powerthat alsoacts on others, on history. . . In this regard, it us useful to reflect that theTwelve Apostleswerenot perfect men, chosen for their moral and religious irreproachability. They were indeedbelievers, full ofenthusiasmandzealbut at the same timemarked by their human limitations, which were sometimes even serious. ThereforeJesus did not call them because they werealready holy, complete, perfect,but so that theymight become so, so that they might thereby alsotransform history, as it is for us, as it is forall Christians."
"Walking by faith, let us do good works. In these let there be a free love of God for His own sake and an active love for our neighbor. For there is nothing we can do for God. But because we have something we can do for our neighbor, we shall by our good offices to the needy gain the favor of Him Who is the source of all abundance. Let us then do what we can for others; let us freely bestow upon the needy out of our abundance".
Yes. Let us show our love of God to one another. It's really that simple.
What I wish Calvinist's understood about Free Will. This makes so much sense.
"To the extent that we abandon our personality to Him, He will take possession of our will and work in us. We are no longer ruled by commands coming from the outside, as from a cruel master, but by almost imperceptible suggestions that rise up from within. We feel as if we had wanted all along to do those things He suggests to us; we are never conscious of being under command. Thus our service to Him becomes the highest form of liberty, for it is always easy to do something for the one we love."
This morning's Gospel reading from Luke was powerful.
Someone asked him, “Lord, will only a few people be saved?” He answered them, “Strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough.
That one word jumped out at me. STRIVE. Jesus didn't answer the questioners directly. He didn't say "Yeah, I only chose a few elect, and those are the ones I'll grab by the hand and escort through the narrow gate, so just stand there and wait for me." He certainly didn't say "The gate's wide open, everyone saunter on in!" He directly gave a command. We are called to STRIVE. So much in that one word. It is a call to action. Doing. Growing. Trying. It implies strife, difficulty, obstacles. It demands effort, and lots of it. The going will be tough, so DO SOMETHING. It's not enough to desire to be saved. Jesus calls us to ACTION. He Himself has opened the gate, but He is calling to us, and it's our job to live this life in such a way that we COME TO HIM. We, for all our trying, will never beat down that narrow gate if it's closed. But if He opens it for us... we need to be strong. We need to STRIVE.
The other thing that struck me about the way the Lord answered the questioners, was that Jesus made it clear that it wasn't HE who was the limiting factor on who got saved. He's not picking favorites. There's not a definitive number. The limit is US. "Many will attempt to enter but not be strong enough".
I can read a passage a thousand times, and it isn't until the 1001st time that it's full impact becomes clear - just when I need to hear it.
"You must not abandon the ship in a storm because you cannot control the winds… What you cannot turn to good, you must at least make as little bad as you can."
— St. Thomas More
Here's to making as little bad as I can in November.....
"Everybody today seems to be in such a terrible rush, anxious for greater developments and greater riches and so on, so that children have very little time for their parents. Parents have very little time for each other, and in the home begins the disruption of peace in the world."
Today is the Feast of St. Veronica. Given that we were just in the presence of her veil, I feel the need to document this day accordingly. Here's a little info on her.... St. Veronica (1st c.) is one of the holy women of Jerusalem who accompanied Jesus on the Way of the Cross. Out of her sorrow and compassion she offered Jesus her veil to wipe the blood and sweat from his face as He carried the cross on the way to His crucifixion. In gratitude for her simple yet gracious act, Jesus left an image of His face on the cloth. According to tradition, Veronica afterwards went to Rome and brought the cloth with her. This piece of cloth, known as Veronica's Veil, has been venerated as a holy and miraculous image of Jesus Christ ever since. It has been kept since ancient times in St. Peter's Basilica. On the Via Dolorosa (Way of the Cross) in Jerusalem there is a small chapel called the Chapel of the Holy Face that was built on the site of St. Veronica's home and the location where the miracle took place. St. Veronica's feast day is July 12th.
And here's what we saw, a little under a month ago.....
This feast day has taken on a whole new significance.
AND... these men are the proof. Let's just look at some of these great scientists:
1. Copernicus (1473–1543)
Remember Copernicus?! The Catholic priest who practiced medicine and then went into astronomy developing heliocentrism. He discovered that the earth is not the center of the universe, not even of this solar system. He is believed to have entered the priesthood later in life. His contributions to astronomy revolutionized the field and the world.
2. Albertus Magnus, O.P. (before 1200 – 1280)
What’s a list of major intellectual achievements without a Dominican or two on the list?! Fr. Albertus Magnus is the patron saint of the natural sciences and a Doctor of the Church because of his great work in in physics, logic, metaphysics, biology, and psychology.
Fr. Lemaitre with his colleague, Albert Einstein.Belgian priest and father of the Big Bang Theory. Fr. Lemaitre was a contemporary of, and based his work on Einstein’s Theory of General Relativity. Lemaitre also spent time serving as the Director of the Pontifical Academy of Sciences.
4. Gregor Mendel (1822-1884)
Gregor Mendel was an Augustinian Friar who was the founder of the modern science of genetics. Yep! The study of genetics was started by a Catholic priest. If you have taken a science class and had to learn the terms “recessive” and “dominant” it is thanks to Fr. Mendel.
Priest, volcanologist, and director of the Vesuvius Observatory who is best remembered today for his Mercalli scale for measuring earthquakes which is still in use. Yes, the scientific inquiry of Catholics knows no bounds, even volcanoes and earthquakes have been studied.
6. William of Ockham (c. 1288 – c. 1348)
Have you heard of Ockham’s Razor? He is the Franciscan Scholastic who wrote significant works on logic, physics, and theology; known for Ockham’s Razor. Yet, another Catholic priest’s whose work had a huge impact on the natural sciences.
7. Giovanni Battista Riccioli (1598–1671)
Jesuit astronomer who authored Almagestum novum, an influential encyclopedia of astronomy. He was the first person to measure the rate of acceleration of a freely falling body; created a selenograph with Father Grimaldi who now adorns the entrance at the National Air and Space Museum in Washington D.C. Catholic priests remembered at the Smithsonian!
8. Francesco Maria Grimaldi (1618 – 1663)
There are a lot of Jesuit priest-scientists! Fr. Grimaldi was an Italian Jesuit priest, mathematician and physicist who taught at the Jesuit college in Bologna. A crater on the moon is named Grimaldi after him.
9. Nicolas Steno (1638-1686)
Nicholas Steno made great strides in anatomy and geology. He eventually became a Catholic Bishop. Various parts of the body are named after him: Stensen’s duct, Stensen’s gland, Stensen’s vein, and Stensen’s foramina. He is also the founder of the study of fossils.
10. George V. Coyne, S.J. (born January 19, 1933)
George Coyne, S.J. wiki imageMount Graham International Observatory (MGIO) is one of the observatories used for the Vatican’s scientific inquiries.How about somebody current? Fr. Coyne is a Jesuit priest, astronomer, and former director of the Vatican Observatory and head of the observatory’s research group which is based at the University of Arizona in Tucson, Arizona. Since January 2012, he has served as McDevitt Chair of Religious Philosophy at Le Moyne College in Syracuse, NY.
11. Fr. Stanley Jaki (1914-2009)
Stanley Jaki, O.S.B wiki imagesFr. Jaki was a Hungarian Benedictine priest and Distinguished Professor of Physics at Seton Hall University, New Jersey. He most notably taught that science developed out of Christianity and he bridged the divide in the manufactured division between science and faith. You can read about his teaching in the book Science Was Born of Christianity by Stacy Trasancos.
