Painfully Blessed

          “Write down what it’s like,” many people have told me.

          For about thirteen months now – since the pain moved slowly but surely from hurt to agony, then inched towards the ‘unbearable’ line etched in the imaginary soil of my mind – those words have been spoken aloud often by those I meet. “Write down what it’s like.”

          That’s easier said than done. Most days, the pain edges as close to the unbearable line as it dares, held at bay by painkillers and smiles. On the worst days, it comes to a point where I can hardly tell from which area of my body it radiates, for it’s everywhere all at once. There are days where I sit on the edge of my bed and try to decide which leg needs to be favored the most, while both scream for the caution. After all, it’s a little hard to limp on both legs; yet there are days I have learned how.

          Beyond the pain, the exhaustion is often even more crippling. The very thought of sitting up seems as hard and painstaking as climbing Mount Everest, let alone making it all the way downstairs for breakfast. Often there are times when I put off taking a shower or bath for days because there’s simply no energy left to take a shower with once I’ve finished with the stairs. Add 15 to 45 minutes of daily exercise with physical therapy and my energy seems highly inadequate.

          Moving passed the exhaustion, you pass by confusion central, the almost-entirely-empty concentration barrel, and the field of foggy thoughts. The days where I can barely think, read, or even understand basic conversations are becoming more and more common. Sometimes it takes me three or four times just to understand the most basic concepts/sentences.

          The most basic tasks of existence feel insurmountable. Life in its simplest form seems terrifying.

          I can’t even remember the way it feels to be painless.

          So if I had to sum up my life this last year in just two words, it would be easy to choose them.

          So blessed.

          So blessed.

          In the midst of the pain, the exhaustion, and the confusion, there’s always been love. Every day, my family helps me eat, walk, laugh and smile. Every day, I wake up knowing that if I can’t make it down the stairs alone, they’ll be there to help me. Every day, I know no matter how hard and painful every step is, I don’t have to take them alone. And every day, I wake up knowing that I have one of the most loving, caring, encouraging families on earth. I’m so blessed.

          On the days I can’t make it out of bed hardly, when I’m trapped at home, in too much pain to go anywhere, I have friends who email, message, text, and chat with me. Who’ve stayed up late at night when the pain’s too bad to sleep. Who’ve spoken encouragement, sent virtual hugs, distracted me from the pain, made me laugh, made me smile, and touched my life in a hundred more ways than the pain ever could hope to. I am so blessed.

          Too sick to work or help with the cost of all the special care I now need, my church family has sent money, equipment, prayers, and assistance to my family and I. Gifts and cards have helped beyond words. I am so blessed.

          Where many people would have little reason to believe things will get better, I have a mom who looks every day for ways to help me. Who never fails to see the bright side and focus on the good. Who I know loves me more than anything in the world and reminds me that there’s always hope. I’m so, so blessed, because I think she’s the most amazing mom in the entire world, and she’s mine.

          With so many things to weigh me down or break me, things that leave me in agony nearly 100% of the time, that have robbed my ability to walk, function, think, do, and even hardly exist on the level most other people do… I have a God who whispers every single day, “I am with you. I love you. I will never leave you. I have given you everything you need to face this.” I have a God who every single day touches me and gives me the strength I need to make it to the next one. Who has given me everything – and everyone – I could possibly need to help me through this. The Creator of the Heavens and the Earth loves me and strengthens me. I am so blessed.

         

          I’ve had more people than I can count ask me how I can still be smiling. It’s very easy. I have over a thousand reasons to smile and just one reason not to.

          The pain doesn’t really stand a chance. 


~Miranda~