Saturday, April 21, 2012

Why There Won't be a Zambia 2012 Trip

This has been an unpleasant morning.  All signs indicate that my body is generating endometriosis more quickly than my poor nervous system can tolerate.  I know I need to sit down and write about when I was first diagnosed and the 3 and a half years that followed to get my body stabilized, but I don't have the energy at the moment. 

I woke up feeling decent this morning, which is typical.  I'm rested after a good night's sleep, I haven't been on my feet in 8 or 9 hours, and my body is relaxed.  I decided I needed to get some house work done before the day wore on because I never know if it's a good day or bad day just from waking up.  (Have I mentioned how much I hate this disease?).  Our bathroom was a wreck from me neglecting it for a week, so I hit it up first.  By the time I was done with the tub, toilet, and sink, I was in so much pain I was in tears.  Not only was I hurting, but I was angry.  Very angry.  I don't want a repeat of '05-'07.  And, for the first time, it clicked why all the doors for us to go to Zambia this summer have slammed in our faces. 

When I walked out the door to leave for the History Grant Trip last June, Isaac promised me we'd go see our girl the next summer.  Yet, everything I tried to do to plan this trip failed.  I have felt incredibly guilty for talking about how we'd go this summer for it to fizzle apart.  But now I get it.  I'm too vulnerable to travel across the world this summer.  If I have to be hospitalized, with my severe allergies, I need to be here with my doctor and hospital that has my records to know what to do.  I can't serve to my full potential if my legs have given out and I can't walk.  And there's lots of gorgeous, beautiful, fun walking to do in Zambia!  Oh, it's amazing!  But I couldn't even get down our hallway this morning.  And so while I see my Daddy God is protecting me, I'm mad.  I don't want to be ill anymore.  I don't want to have to think long term before I make plans.  I don't want to have to live on a day by day and sometimes hour by hour basis to determine if I feel up to doing something.  It's miserable.  I hate having to depend on others to accomplish things I can typically do myself. 

And yet...through my tears this morning, and the agony that I need to write our girl a letter to tell her I'm too sick to come when in her eyes 'too sick' means death and America means simple cures, all I could think of was "If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus tis now."  And it's true.   

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