something to smile about

Lately I've been giving 3-sentence updates about everything going on and it's been awhile since I've posted details about much of anything. Some of it's because I'm lazy and/or rushed and don't want to take the time to spell it all out, and the other reason is because if I'm talking about anything even slightly emotional or hard, listing the details puts me into self-pity mode, which we all know is bad news. On the other hand, most of the people who read this blog come here not because I'm a great writer (God must have forgotten to give me that talent), but because they want specific updates.

Here's the thing, though. I don't want to sound depressed, because I'm not. I don't want to sound hopeless, because there is Hope. I don't want to sound angry, because (most of the time) I'm not.
If I try to scoot away from coming across as bitter and morose, I don't want you to think I have it all together either. I don't want you to think I'm always happy and care-free, or that I'm unemotional and can't feel anything (though that would be nice). I'm no fighter, but I'm fighting. Lovers of Patty Griffin should appreciate that last line. Ok, updates....

I think I'm currently at a stand-still with my doctors. I can't figure them out. They all think I'm fascinating, which you'd think would make them want to put their heads together and come up with a game plan. Instead, I'm pretty sure they're content to point and stare and parade their residents in and out to look at me. I got the low-down from one resident I met for the first time a few weeks ago:
Me-- Hi, I'm Cathryn.
Dr--Haha, you don't have to introduce yourself, I know who you are. You're a legend around here, you know.
Me--I don't even want to know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
Dr--Yeah, I've only been here for a couple of months, but they're all talking about you.
Me--Oh that's good, so they're talking about treatment options?
Dr--Oh no, they're just talking about you.
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The diagnosis is still Chiari. Curious as to why no one will talk to me about fixing it, I did some researching. I've figured out that basically the only known fix is brain surgery. And since most of us know what happened to Jeremiah when he had that surgery, it's not an option.
I have another set of MRIs coming up where they will look more specifically at the bottom half of my brain. I recently had a 3hour long test of my optic nerves. The good news is, the nerves haven't been damaged, they're being sat on by my brain. That means if my brain goes back to normal, those nerves should be unharmed. Which means I'll still be able to see and hear.
My neurologist thinks that exercising (which hurts like nothing else) and steroids will help. My anesthesiologist thinks that narcotics are going to be my best friends for the rest of my life. My unfortunate psychologist thinks I need to think more positively and smile more often. The docs in ENT, of all places, think that I'm way too young to settle for drugs for the rest of my life and they want to find a way to fix the actual problem. Shocking, I know.

Those are the facts.
Here's the honesty.

I'm really tired. I feel like I'm 90 years old and like I'll never feel good again. The pain has gotten much worse in the last 2 weeks and it's wearing me down. When I hear that there's no alternative to brain surgery, I get panicky. I start freaking out that it's never going to go away and there's no way I can handle this forever.
That lasts for about two days and then somebody will be around to wake me up and wind me down. It's usually Dad, and then other times it's Mom or one of my sisters. Sometimes it's Dirk's sermon or one of the amazing people at COG. The most recent attack of panic was calmed by some dear friends who have been in our lives since before I was born. You can go to Mom's blog to read more about their visit. I didn't grow up around them (though I wish I had) so I don't really know them all that well. But I love them like I love my own grandparents because I know how much they mean to my parents and A-team. Several times during their weekend visit they came up to me and would just lovingly remind me to not give up and to try to visualize just how many people around the country are praying for me and what an honor that is. That really put things back into perspective for me and helped me breathe again.

I may have said this before, but this always comes to mind when I think about all the people who are committed to praying for us. This is an uphill battle and sometimes when my family and I think we can go no further, the Lord reminds us that we have hundreds of people holding us up in prayer. It always reminds me of when the Israelites were fighting a war and God told Moses that as long as he kept his arms raised, they would be winning. If he let his arms down, the enemy would take over. Just when Moses was getting too tired to hold his arms up anymore, two of his friends came up beside him and held his arms high in the air until the Israelites had defeated the enemy.

So thanks to all the great people in my life, I'm back to (as one of the above docs suggests) thinking positively and smiling more. I have much to smile about, so I try to keep those things in mind. The world isn't falling apart, and God is still God. Now that's something to smile about.