My Moment With God

In March of 2004, I had an abdominal surgery for Inflammatory Bowel Disease, secondary to a surgery performed the year prior: after spending 7 months with an ileostomy bag, surgery was performed to give me an internal J-Pouch and ileoanal anastomosis. 

The surgery itself went alright, but my post-op recovery was tumultuous. I had multiple allergic reactions to medications, a severe stomach bleed, a nasal-gastric tube that caused a stomach ulcer, and a lost stitch that wound itself around muscle so badly that I had to go digging for it the day I was discharged. 

It wasn't exactly smooth.

The day that I had the stomach bleed was the most severe. I had been horrendously nauseated for days. All I wanted was to vomit to feel better, and for it to be anything except stomach acid and bile. A bucket was perpetually in my hands and I could barely stand without vomiting or dry-heaving. Then I got my wish. Something came out (and a whole lot of it)... and it wasn't bile or stomach acid. That brief moment of relief was short-lived. 

It was blood. 

Before I knew it, my roommate and my parents had been ushered out of the room and I was surrounded by nurses, doctors, and an x-ray technician. The pain was so intense that I was literally writhing on the bed. 

Everything was chaotic - nurses holding me still, shoving a nasal-gastric tube down to my stomach, being positioned for x-rays with the mobile machine, measuring my blood output, and trying to figure out what the hell happened. 

Then, quiet. 

I couldn't hear or see anything. I also couldn't feel anything - no pain, no nausea, nothing. It was as though everything just paused. It couldn't have been more than a few milliseconds, but everything stopped. 

I didn't hear any kind of a voice. I didn't see any kind of a light, no pathway, no gate. I experienced something else entirely: 

A decision. 

In that brief moment, I suddenly knew that I had a choice. I knew that if I let go, I would never have to experience any pain again. That would be the end, right then and there, and I would go blissfully and gently away from this broken body. 

However, if I decided to stay, I was making the conscious decision to fight. I would have to accept that I would be in pain every day, and that I would have to fight each day for the rest of my life. 

I chose to fight. 

Maybe that's part of figuring out how to cope with these kinds of illnesses. While my life was on pause, I was actually given the opportunity to either choose to live in this body, or to cut and run. So now when I have a really hard time, I remind myself that (in some cosmic way) I chose this. I promised to keep fighting; I was given a way out and chose to stay anyways. Despite the pain and the illness.  

So whatever comes at me, I owe it to myself to keep going. 

Was it a moment with God? Was it a trauma-induced hallucination? Was it just my brain firing random thoughts because I was so near death? Did I actually choose, or was it pure fantasy? 

And does it really matter? 

I can't remember if I have ever shared this story beyond my immediate family, but this was one of the most pivotal moments in my life when it concerns my illnesses.  

I don't automatically think that I am 'destined to do great things' or that I was kept alive for some gargantuan, predetermined, purpose. To know great love, to live a simple life, and to find happiness through all of the muck is more than enough for me. 

Bravery in Chronic Illness

There is all this talk about acceptance and how many different ways it can be viewed in the realm of chronic illness.
For illnesses that have no pinpointed cause, a cure seems that much further out of reach. We fundraise and fundraise and donate and research and we always feel as though we are making progress, but then when you actually hear the stories and see the individuals suffering, it makes you wonder how in the world we will ever be able to find a cure.
So what should we do?
Should we sit back and just accept that we are already doing everything we can, that no cure has been discovered, and that we are on the best course?
Do we fight and refuse to accept that a cure isn't within arms reach?
Do we make a life based on the idea that we may never be cured and live in the moment?
Do we cease to stop and take a breath because SO many people are suffering and we need to find a cure?

I guess my own point of view on this is somewhere in the middle. We need people on both sides. We need the relentless individuals who bravely (and sometimes selflessly) dedicate hours and years and money and often their entire lives just searching for a cure.
We also need people who are able to show us that we can still live full and joyful lives without a cure.

Should we act as though a life is not worth living just because of an incurable disease?
Should we act as if there is no hope for improvement, and so we should simply get on with our lives?

The question is, which kind of fighter are you?

Are you the brave individual that focuses on nothing but curing some of the most painful and life-long illnesses?

Are you the brave individual who proves to others that it doesn't matter if a cure is found or not because you can be happy AND severely ill?

Are you the brave individual who tries to do everything normally and pushes boundaries and pretends that nothing is wrong just to feel normal?

Are you the brave individual who caters to your disease, trying to live cooperatively and being cautious to appease a part of your rebellious body?

Are you the brave individual who speaks out about severe illness and embarrassing symptoms to shed light on rare diseases?

Are you the brave person who plasters a smile on your face every single day, trying not to let anybody in on your medical secret?

Are you the brave person who lives every day moment to moment, completely unsure of how you are going to feel at any given time? Are you just trying to survive today?

Are you the brave person who researches day in and day out about new medical avenues?

Are you the brave person who tries to rely on only your faith and hope and thoughts rather than symptom management?

Are you the brave person who complains and gets loud to try and shout from the rooftops how difficult these illnesses can be?

Are you the brave person that suffers in silence and wears makeup to the hospital because you never want to complain about anything even though you know you need treatment?

The truth is, every single person who has a chronic illness is brave. It does not matter how a person lives their life - if someone has severe illness of any kind, that person is brave.

Illness and Faith

Watching Grey's Anatomy tonight brought up a topic that I thought I would write about.

There is a conversation on the show about having a crisis of faith. That there are people in this world who do not seem to have any moral compass or code, who are not stricken with horrible parts of life like illness or death or tragedy. Sometimes, people who have no regard for anyone, who have no care for what is considered 'right' or 'wrong' seem to live their lives without struggle.

Then there are those people who do whatever they can to stay 'good' people. Who follow the general guidelines about treating people well and having faith and seeing heartbreak and struggle and tragedy as a learning experience; a test of faith. That these people, no matter how fervently they try, each and every single day, to be the representation of what God intended, it feels as though they keep getting bombarded with situations that have no rhyme or reason. Tragic, horrific, traumatic situations that leave no room for reason.

All of this can often make people wonder those two so very common words: "Why me?".

I do not talk about faith much. I believe that faith is one of the most personal parts of life that any of us will have. How many of us are 100% completely honest, every day, with anyone around us about what our faith-life entails. It is one of the most complex relationships an individual can have - regardless of what a person actually believes.
Maybe you don't believe there is a higher power. Maybe you have zero faith-life and have never even wondered about it. Or, maybe you go to church and pray and hope, but maybe there is doubt. Maybe you wonder every day whether today is the day that He relieves you of all of your pain and allows you to live the remainder of your life in peace. Maybe one day you will find clarity. Maybe something has happened and you are so heartachingly furious with the idea of faith that you cannot even discuss it. Maybe you think that the idea of 'everything happens for a reason' is just a way for people to justify things that go wrong.
Think about it - it is a LIFE long relationship. You are bound to have a few fights. Even have a falling out... sometimes over and over and over again. Or maybe it's like that arch-nemesis that you secretly would prefer to be friends with but you rarely speak, if at all.

Here is what I believe:
I believe that it is vitally important to try and be kind to people whenever we can, and that kindness will get you farther in life and farther in your relationship with yourself than any other endeavor. I believe that there have been far too many coincidences in my life to completely rule out this idea of things happening for a specific reason. I believe that questioning and reacting in a way that makes you feel tormented by something you have no control over is a very natural feeling. I believe that every single person struggles in their life - that even the people we think are the happiest, the luckiest, the most successful, are fighting battles that we will never know or understand.
I believe that there is a lesson in every single situation.

Life seems unfair. It can be. Life is NOT fair at many different points. We all come across road blocks and instances of incessantly pouring rain of complete bs.

I also believe that catharsis is one of THE most vital and necessary parts of life - and not just the life of one human being. I believe that the universe and everything in it is always moving towards catharsis.

So get angry. Get angry, be sad, question your struggles, allow yourself to be depressed when your body needs it, but also allow yourself to try and learn, open your mind to whatever new detour you have to navigate, and take a deep breath. We all deserve happiness. We all struggle. We will all experience tragedy and we will all have a cathartic moment, if not many.

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