Day Off - Day ON - Day Off / FERN
So Saturday was quite an eventful day for us. We left bright and early, around 8:30 am for a full day ahead. Knowing this in advance, I had purposely had a "slow and easy" day on Friday.
I was able to complete eight Angel Gowns earlier in the week (YAY!!) so David drove us to Charlotte for a Caleb Ministries meeting. How wonderful to walk in and be greeted by Sandy, Craig, Ellen, and the other folks who volunteer with this beautiful organization! We heard from a young couple who had received one of the PAT boxes, and they shared about their precious son and how much the gift of his short life had brought to them, as well as the comfort the ministry had been in their lives. I picked up a few more supplies to work toward making gowns for next month, then we had a quick lunch before heading to our next event -- a Myasthenia Gravis Support Group meeting.
I have found a lot of help -- and GREAT friends -- in online support groups over the years. I joined my first one in 2002, an old Yahoo group called "Coping With Divorce and Separation." I lurked for several months, reading the posts but not posting anything myself, just getting the feel of where I may fit. When I felt comfortable, I was able to open up and share -- and I received a great deal of advice, support, and comfort from the members there. I remain good friends with many dear folks I met in that group.
In more recent years, I have found a few Facebook groups that offer similar support for issues I face and causes I follow. I belong to a few MG Facebook groups, and it has been quite beneficial to "compare notes," share success stories, ask questions, offer encouragement with other people (and caregivers) who are managing this disease.
Online support is great -- and I thrive on it. But I like being able to put "real faces" with names. So when the Charlotte MG Awareness group posted that they were having a monthly meeting on the same day as the Caleb Ministries meeting, I was happy to be able to dovetail the two trips.
What a great group of folks! The meeting this time was small, about a dozen people there. But everyone was super friendly, and we chatted about what was going on in our lives, including sharing something REALLY GOOD that had happened to each of us in the past week. It always pays to share positive stories, especially when you are facing things that are not always "rays of sunshine." David and I both enjoyed the gathering, and are interested in the topic of the next meeting so I hope to be able to attend that one too.
Something I've never really dealt with before MG is social anxiety. I feel really antsy, not quite panicky, but anxious when I am out in public. My heart just pounds like it is jumping out of my chest, and I feel like I am vibrating. I joke that maybe it's all burning calories, but it doesn't really feel "funny." Even at my church, where I am comfortably among precious friends -- I just feel anxious and quite nervous. Most of my life, I've been a person who could get up and speak before a crowd with absolutely no problem (I was a school teacher and a lay speaker with the United Methodist Church for years.) However, at this point, with MG, it takes an enormous amount of effort, physical energy, and "Positive Mental Attitude" to just show up -- much less open my mouth to say much. Maybe it is the medications, I don't know. It's just "one more thing" I am trying to deal with.
At any rate, after we left the MG Support Group, we made a couple of quick stops. We needed canned cat food, or face Ninja Cat Mutiny by dawn's early light. They are so spoiled.
I realized that I was fast "hitting a wall" with my stamina ("spoons") for the day. We stopped at Legal Remedy in Rock Hill for an early dinner. It's one of our favorite places to eat, they serve great food. I began to struggle with blurred vision, and chewing my sandwich became almost laborious -- both sure signs that I was tiring out. I only ate half of the Cuban I ordered. I honestly felt like I could just lie down on the pavement and rest. I smiled and pushed through. David marveled to me, at how well I was doing -- and in my mind I was thinking, "If you only knew how I REALLY feel, how hard I am working to do this..."
One last stop at Wendy's for a chocolate frosty (my reward, haha), and we arrived at home around 6 pm. I was in my pajamas by 6:30, asleep by 9 pm.
Sunday morning, and my body felt like it was made of rubber gloves filled with wet sand. I got up at 7, had my breakfast and medications, then went back to bed until 11. I NEVER stay in bed all morning. But I absolutely felt like I could not move. I made myself get up and at least sit up on the sofa a while, but to do much other than type this out on my keyboard is like slogging through quicksand carrying buckets of cement.
The GOOD news, though, is that I am able to enjoy another beautiful day. I woke up, my 5 senses of sight, hearing, taste, touch, and smell are all fully operational and wonderful. I have the love of family and friends. My home is comfortable, the cats did not mutiny. There's nothing I needed to do, so I can relax and keep breathing, giving thanks for all of the blessings I enjoy.
So this is MG -- when you KNOW you have a big event or big day ahead, you learn to take a day before to rest in preparation, and you will HAVE to take a day afterward, to rest in recovery.
Just another life adjustment. I'm getting there, counting my blessings as I go.
I was able to complete eight Angel Gowns earlier in the week (YAY!!) so David drove us to Charlotte for a Caleb Ministries meeting. How wonderful to walk in and be greeted by Sandy, Craig, Ellen, and the other folks who volunteer with this beautiful organization! We heard from a young couple who had received one of the PAT boxes, and they shared about their precious son and how much the gift of his short life had brought to them, as well as the comfort the ministry had been in their lives. I picked up a few more supplies to work toward making gowns for next month, then we had a quick lunch before heading to our next event -- a Myasthenia Gravis Support Group meeting.
I have found a lot of help -- and GREAT friends -- in online support groups over the years. I joined my first one in 2002, an old Yahoo group called "Coping With Divorce and Separation." I lurked for several months, reading the posts but not posting anything myself, just getting the feel of where I may fit. When I felt comfortable, I was able to open up and share -- and I received a great deal of advice, support, and comfort from the members there. I remain good friends with many dear folks I met in that group.
What a great group of folks! The meeting this time was small, about a dozen people there. But everyone was super friendly, and we chatted about what was going on in our lives, including sharing something REALLY GOOD that had happened to each of us in the past week. It always pays to share positive stories, especially when you are facing things that are not always "rays of sunshine." David and I both enjoyed the gathering, and are interested in the topic of the next meeting so I hope to be able to attend that one too.
Something I've never really dealt with before MG is social anxiety. I feel really antsy, not quite panicky, but anxious when I am out in public. My heart just pounds like it is jumping out of my chest, and I feel like I am vibrating. I joke that maybe it's all burning calories, but it doesn't really feel "funny." Even at my church, where I am comfortably among precious friends -- I just feel anxious and quite nervous. Most of my life, I've been a person who could get up and speak before a crowd with absolutely no problem (I was a school teacher and a lay speaker with the United Methodist Church for years.) However, at this point, with MG, it takes an enormous amount of effort, physical energy, and "Positive Mental Attitude" to just show up -- much less open my mouth to say much. Maybe it is the medications, I don't know. It's just "one more thing" I am trying to deal with.
At any rate, after we left the MG Support Group, we made a couple of quick stops. We needed canned cat food, or face Ninja Cat Mutiny by dawn's early light. They are so spoiled.
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| Diane Sugarfoot |
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| Jack Moondance |
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| Madame Mia |
One last stop at Wendy's for a chocolate frosty (my reward, haha), and we arrived at home around 6 pm. I was in my pajamas by 6:30, asleep by 9 pm.
Sunday morning, and my body felt like it was made of rubber gloves filled with wet sand. I got up at 7, had my breakfast and medications, then went back to bed until 11. I NEVER stay in bed all morning. But I absolutely felt like I could not move. I made myself get up and at least sit up on the sofa a while, but to do much other than type this out on my keyboard is like slogging through quicksand carrying buckets of cement.
The GOOD news, though, is that I am able to enjoy another beautiful day. I woke up, my 5 senses of sight, hearing, taste, touch, and smell are all fully operational and wonderful. I have the love of family and friends. My home is comfortable, the cats did not mutiny. There's nothing I needed to do, so I can relax and keep breathing, giving thanks for all of the blessings I enjoy.
So this is MG -- when you KNOW you have a big event or big day ahead, you learn to take a day before to rest in preparation, and you will HAVE to take a day afterward, to rest in recovery.
Just another life adjustment. I'm getting there, counting my blessings as I go.
*** *** *** *** ***
Untethered Time Travel: THE FERN
It is 2004. I am 47 years old.
It's a particularly difficult time of my life; changes and frustrations are the norm. An impending divorce makes me feel like I am at the mercy of all the elements of the universe, tossing about on a sea of uncertainty.
Seeking an anchor, I spend weekends with my Grandma Eula Belle.
Belle is a fiercely independent woman, in her 90's. Time has slowed her step, but she remains just as sharp as ever. She allows me the freedom to express myself, she listens to me without judgment as I try to sort out the details of my life.
My Grandma Eula Belle
This spring day, I am helping her move her plants outdoors into the sunshine. She has a huge asparagus fern, with lacy green fronds reaching up and cascading around the giant pot that is its home. I comment that I'd like a fern like that. Belle says, "Let's divide it!" Off we go to the back yard with the plant. She leans on her cane and directs me as I perform the dissection.
I realize quickly this is not an easy task. The fern is so root-bound I have to cut the plastic pot off of it with garden shears. When I finally get the plant out of the pot, I discover it is a big mess of tangled roots
with very little fertile soil left in the pot.
Now I have to divide that mess of roots into two parts. I try pulling it apart, no luck. I grab the shears, but they just gnawed on the roots like a toothless dog trying to chew a bone. I plunder in the barn, and emerge with a hatchet and a shovel. I spend the next twenty minutes hacking, chopping, and jumping up and down on the shovel. At last I can separate the tangled mess of roots into two separate balls.
I wipe the sweat from my brow, and find two large pots to replant each piece. Following Belle's instructions, I dump in potting soil, nestle the root balls into the dirt, add a bit of fertilizer, then pack more soil around the plants. I water them well, rinse the dirt from my hands, and think, "Ahh. Sweet success!"
The next day, I take my newly potted fern home, put it on the porch. I wait.
Over the next three weeks, that plant looks horrible. I think it is going to die. The leaves become spindly and brittle, they take on a sickly, yellowish caste.
I figure I've killed it, and that I likely killed Belle's plant too.
That plant looks as terrible and lifeless as I feel.
But one morning, to my delight, I see a delicate new green shoot poking up from the dirt! A couple of mornings later, there was another, then even more. Within a month or so, it grows into a gorgeous lush green fern, strong with bright new growth. I begin to realize that God used that fern to teach me a few lessons.
First, the original plant was root bound. The plant had outgrown its container and forced out most of the soil. It received very little nourishment.
Sometimes relationships and situations are like that. Things happen that cause people to get so bound up in issues that they no longer receive much nourishment. It is not particularly anyone's fault -- just as an illness is no one's fault -- it just happens.
Second, separation was painfully difficult. Man, I hacked at that thing with a hatchet, for goodness' sake! The roots had gnarled themselves together to the point that it was impossible to separate without damaging the root system. Even when splitting apart is ultimately the best thing, there are hurts, and cuts and bruises to the very souls of family members.
Likewise, separating the "new normal" out from the "old me" is tough.
But here is the strongest lesson.
As my newly potted plant recovered, it looked pretty bleak on the outside. At times I seriously thought about chucking the whole thing in the trash and just buying a new, pretty fern!
But all the while underneath the soil, big changes were taking place.
God was working in the unseen areas, growing new strong roots, healing the cuts and breaks. This was giving my plant a new, firm foundation.
It was only after that strong foundation was in place that new growth could poke its' head up out of the dirt and face the bright sunshine of the future.
I realize -- once again -- that in times of great upheaval in my life, times when even breathing can cause pain. God is working at healing in the unseen places.
He is rebuilding my root system, putting my foundation into place, making me stronger in new ways. I simply have to learn to have patience, endurance, and trust as He takes care of me.
Adjusting to life changes is tough. It takes time, and there are days when all I can do is crawl back in bed and rest a while.
But if I remain patient, remember that God is healing the root system, and allow time for that foundation to become firm, I will emerge from trying times
a better person, stronger and more secure in my faith.
I can then grow in the reassurance of God's care and love, just like my fern, in the bright sunshine of His future for me.
It is 2004. I am 47 years old.
It's a particularly difficult time of my life; changes and frustrations are the norm. An impending divorce makes me feel like I am at the mercy of all the elements of the universe, tossing about on a sea of uncertainty.
Seeking an anchor, I spend weekends with my Grandma Eula Belle.
Belle is a fiercely independent woman, in her 90's. Time has slowed her step, but she remains just as sharp as ever. She allows me the freedom to express myself, she listens to me without judgment as I try to sort out the details of my life.
This spring day, I am helping her move her plants outdoors into the sunshine. She has a huge asparagus fern, with lacy green fronds reaching up and cascading around the giant pot that is its home. I comment that I'd like a fern like that. Belle says, "Let's divide it!" Off we go to the back yard with the plant. She leans on her cane and directs me as I perform the dissection.
I realize quickly this is not an easy task. The fern is so root-bound I have to cut the plastic pot off of it with garden shears. When I finally get the plant out of the pot, I discover it is a big mess of tangled roots
with very little fertile soil left in the pot.
Now I have to divide that mess of roots into two parts. I try pulling it apart, no luck. I grab the shears, but they just gnawed on the roots like a toothless dog trying to chew a bone. I plunder in the barn, and emerge with a hatchet and a shovel. I spend the next twenty minutes hacking, chopping, and jumping up and down on the shovel. At last I can separate the tangled mess of roots into two separate balls.
I wipe the sweat from my brow, and find two large pots to replant each piece. Following Belle's instructions, I dump in potting soil, nestle the root balls into the dirt, add a bit of fertilizer, then pack more soil around the plants. I water them well, rinse the dirt from my hands, and think, "Ahh. Sweet success!"
The next day, I take my newly potted fern home, put it on the porch. I wait.
Over the next three weeks, that plant looks horrible. I think it is going to die. The leaves become spindly and brittle, they take on a sickly, yellowish caste.
I figure I've killed it, and that I likely killed Belle's plant too.
That plant looks as terrible and lifeless as I feel.
But one morning, to my delight, I see a delicate new green shoot poking up from the dirt! A couple of mornings later, there was another, then even more. Within a month or so, it grows into a gorgeous lush green fern, strong with bright new growth. I begin to realize that God used that fern to teach me a few lessons.
First, the original plant was root bound. The plant had outgrown its container and forced out most of the soil. It received very little nourishment.
Sometimes relationships and situations are like that. Things happen that cause people to get so bound up in issues that they no longer receive much nourishment. It is not particularly anyone's fault -- just as an illness is no one's fault -- it just happens.
But here is the strongest lesson.
As my newly potted plant recovered, it looked pretty bleak on the outside. At times I seriously thought about chucking the whole thing in the trash and just buying a new, pretty fern!
But all the while underneath the soil, big changes were taking place.
God was working in the unseen areas, growing new strong roots, healing the cuts and breaks. This was giving my plant a new, firm foundation.
It was only after that strong foundation was in place that new growth could poke its' head up out of the dirt and face the bright sunshine of the future.
I realize -- once again -- that in times of great upheaval in my life, times when even breathing can cause pain. God is working at healing in the unseen places.
He is rebuilding my root system, putting my foundation into place, making me stronger in new ways. I simply have to learn to have patience, endurance, and trust as He takes care of me.
Adjusting to life changes is tough. It takes time, and there are days when all I can do is crawl back in bed and rest a while.
But if I remain patient, remember that God is healing the root system, and allow time for that foundation to become firm, I will emerge from trying times
a better person, stronger and more secure in my faith.
I can then grow in the reassurance of God's care and love, just like my fern, in the bright sunshine of His future for me.
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| Three Descendants of Belle's original ferns, recently repotted. |
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