Category Archives: Miracles do happen

Disability, Exercise, Faith, Family, Health, Low vision, Miracles do happen, Multiple Sclerosis, Photos, Running, Stories

Marathon 2.0 training week 14

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I realize all I’ve been posting are training updates. I do. I realize marathon training is challenging and can consume your life. It’s clear that’s what has happened here, but I’m comforted that the race is less than 5 weeks away and then I can rest again and resume focus on other things. But also, it’s only 5 weeks away and I don’t know if I’m going to be ready. Which I think is probably true of anyone training for a race this big. I just have to trust that what I’ve been doing is enough on race day. And where it might not be, I can make up for it with that inner grit and grace I keep tucked away for emergencies. My only goal this time is to finish faster than the first one, and I do think I’m poised to make that happen. (Because the first one was laughably SLOW, but I finished!) I’m learning so much about my body and my endurance through this training process. So without further delay, here’s this week’s recap…

Sunday – I can’t count the 6 miles I ran on Sunday because I was viewing them as “make-up” miles from the day before and already included them in last week’s totals. Whatever.

Monday – this was a gym day and I got a really good workout for my legs with the weight machines. Seated leg press, leg & calf extensions, seated leg curl, hip adduction, glutes, and a little bit of arm weights (I did not look to see what the machine was called, but it was much like rowing a boat.) This time I was able to get a ride home from the hubby since it was Labor Day and he was home from work.

Tuesday – Rest.

Wednesday – My original plan was to run on the treadmill for 90 minutes but I was having abdominal cramping, lots of GI issues, so that sort of stole my day. I did manage to walk 1.6 miles at dusk, however, so that was nice.

Thursday – I took a 2 hour morning nap and the rest of the day listened to running podcasts for motivation. I hesitate in sharing this because it isn’t in the training plan, but I think it’s important to note that sometimes you have to listen to your body when it tells you it needs the rest. I’m just afraid my body’s ultimate intention is to keep me from running this race. And running podcasts do help to motivate and educate me, so I don’t believe this was a day wasted.

Friday – This was the big day. The weather was perfect for a long run of 22 miles and I went to bed the night before fully prepared. I had my hydration pack cleaned and filled, I had my gu’s and gels in the pockets of my backpack, and all my clothes and other gear were laid out. I left around 7:30 am, just after the kids left for school. It was misty and overcast and around 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Perfect! I was having so much fun on this run. I had listened to an interview with Martinus Evans, a back of the pack supporter, and he was recommending that we run our training runs slow, and he described it as “sexy pace” which I thought was hilarious. So every time I would notice I was speeding up too much I would say to myself, “Sexy pace, Mel, sexy pace.”

I think I must have been taking the sexy pace too seriously, swinging my hips too hard maybe, because at 7.5 miles that sharp pain in my right knee appeared, fierce and unrelenting. I had decided that day not to run with my knee strap, but I had packed it so I put that on, hoping it would relieve the pain. It did not. I sat down and called my sister, a veteran runner, and asked for her advice. She encouraged me to try walking, and at least that would be time on my feet, but ultimately listen to my body. I walked for another 1.5 miles, and the pain was coming and going, but never going for very long. At 9 miles I stopped and decided I was done for the day. I made a few calls and the first lucky person to answer was my husband, who graciously left work to take me home.

I took the above photo just before I decided to call it quits. I was walking, still in pain, and so happy to see that red house because it meant the public park I had been anxious to reach was just on the other side. I don’t know if you can see the red house, but it’s to the left of the two white houses. The park on the other side is the hub of our city’s local trails and I was really looking forward to running around the lake there.

Once I got home I ate some lunch and got to taking care of my knee. I put on my compression knee brace and kept that leg elevated as much as possible. Going up and down the stairs of our two-story home was painful and slow. I sat in bed, researching what I could possibly do to make this better and avoid it happening in the future. I came across some discussion about the run-walk-run method that I use, and discovered I really wasn’t doing it right. My intervals were running for 4 minutes, walking for one. But according to Jeff Galloway, the perfecter of this method, I shouldn’t be talking walk breaks longer than 30 seconds. And based on my pace and fitness level, I needed to look at a much shorter running interval. I read a comment from another runner who said she runs 60 seconds, walks 30, and that is what has kept her from her knee pain, so I thought “why not give that a shot?”. I changed the settings on my running watch and resolved to try it, once the knee pain was gone, of course.

And do you know what? I woke up the next day with zero pain. Not in my knee or anywhere else for that matter. It was no small miracle, if you ask me. So, I decided to get out and run again. I didn’t know if I could make up the 13 miles I was short the day before, but I wanted to see how the shorter intervals would work for me, and I would pay attention to what my body was doing. I stayed around the neighborhood this time, in case the whole plan went sideways. I could not believe what a difference the shorter intervals made. Before I knew it, I had knocked out 7 miles and felt like I still had a lot of gas in the tank. I would have gone for more but the temperature was rising and I didn’t want to push it. Plus on that 7th mile I thought I felt a whisper from my knee telling me it needed a break.

Now, I’ll be honest. I’m still pretty freaked out about how far I’ve had to stray from my training plan. I feel strong, yet I still have doubts I’ll be ready for this marathon in *gulp* 34 days. Even though I’ve been running for seven years it still feels new to me. I have learned so much but there is still so much more to learn. I guess you could say my faith was in the training plan, and now I’m having to redirect the source of my faith. Sure, ultimately my faith is in God, but I am a pragmatic and I have a healthy regard for the physical world and its limitations. Read: my physical limitations. Which, to be fair, are constantly changing and amazing me. I know that God has been the one to empower me to continue building a stronger heart, stronger legs, stronger lungs. I still remember needing to use a walker to walk, and I don’t ever want to forget that. Because while I’m trusting in God to keep me going, it’s important to respect where I was and realize that’s always still a possibility. Because M.S. is a permanent part of my life, unfortunately. And if I ever need motivation to keep racing, to keep running, that is it. That is my WHY. I’m doing it now because I CAN, and that may not always be true.

For those of you following along, I ran 17.6 miles this week for a total of 240.29 miles marathon training. Add that to the 193 miles I trained for the half marathon in May and you have a total of 433.29 miles banked for the upcoming race on October 15.

Anxiety, Cochlear implant, Disability, Faith, Family, God speaks, Health, Hearing Loss, Kids, Low vision, Memories, Miracles do happen, Multiple Sclerosis, Partial Blindness, Photos, Running, Stories, Visually Impaired

2023 Bayshore Half Marathon

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So. I ran another half marathon. This is the one I was training with a friend for, only she was not able to run the race due to a foot injury. However, she was sending me cheers from home throughout the race and was surely with me in spirit! Also, the race went as well as could be expected. Would you like to hear all about it? Grab a tasty beverage and sit back.

This particular race, Bayshore, has been kind of a dream of mine ever since I heard of its existence. The race offers 3 distances, the 10k (which I ran last year), the half marathon, and the full marathon. The races are located in Traverse City, Michigan, where my dad’s family essentially called home for many years. The small city is located in northern Michigan and is home to the Old Mission Peninsula, which is flanked by the Grand Traverse Bay. My grandfather owned property on the peninsula, on the West Bay, and my cousins and I spent a week every summer there. We have so many great childhood memories from our time “up north”. We ate cherries, we hiked, we swam, we strolled along the shore searching for Petoskey stones. My husband and I honeymooned at the cottage, sharing my childhood memories and making new ones. We’ve had family reunions there. My paternal grandparents are both now buried on the peninsula. The property my grandfather owned was eventually sold and the cottage is now gone, but a big piece of my heart still lives on Old Mission. So when I learned there was a race that actually allows you to run all over the peninsula? Sign me up! I ran the 10k last year, which was satisfying but slightly disappointing because only a small portion of the race I felt like I was ON the peninsula. The half marathon distance starts at the north end of the peninsula and follows the coastline of the east bay all the way south into town. This was the race for me.

Now I want you to understand that racing for me is terrifying at moments. Not being able to see the start from far away, being unfamiliar with the terrain. It’s not like home where I’ve memorized the potholes and cracks in the roads and sidewalks. My anxiety for this race began building several days before the race. But standing in the chute among all the other runners was somewhat calming. I was finally here. And I had trained for this, I was ready to go. Until I realized I was standing near the wrong pace group, among runners way faster than me. Not to worry, I simply shuffled back until I found my people. As I stood there waiting I checked my phone and realized I had lost my Bluetooth connection to my cochlear implants. It’s a good thing because reconnecting involves taking off my hat in order to remove my left cochlear implant, remove the battery, replace the battery to make it “discoverable”, put it back on my ear, put the hat back on, etc. So I’m glad I had that time to make sure I was connected. I rely on my music playlist to keep me going throughout these long runs.

Once I was situated and connected I got back to bouncing around to keep my legs warm and as I’m bouncing I realize there’s a strange stillness all around me. It occurs to me that everyone is looking in the same direction, some with hands on their hearts. Ah! It must be the National Anthem playing. I hope I didn’t do anything disruptive or disrespectful. It wouldn’t be the first time. No worries, carry on Mel.

I wish I could remember more of the details of this race, but I’ll share with you what I do remember. Coming up the first hill, I marveled at the vineyards stretched out on each side of me, and the East Grand Traverse Bay glistening in the morning sun ahead. The road leading me forward, filled with runners. I don’t want to forget that moment. Or later, coming around a curve to an open expanse, my view filled with brilliant blue water on my left and lush green evergreens on my right. I thought about taking a picture there because it was so freaking gorgeous but it wouldn’t have done it any justice, and it would have taken away from my enjoyment of it. I would have wasted the moment fiddling with my phone, most likely unsuccessful anyway.

I continued running, soaking in the atmosphere and the majestic scenery. All the anxiety had disappeared. I was thanking God for this experience. It was incredible. I felt strong. I was at peace. It wasn’t until I was about 6 miles into the race, that I started to really feel the burn and the soreness of my legs. I still felt strong, and my legs were moving well. That’s also about the time I started to see more and more spectators. Kids giving high fives, dogs wondering why all these people are running in the street. Posters lovingly prepared: DIG DEEP – a POWER button – WORST PARADE EVER. I love these races. You think making a poster and standing at the side of the road isn’t a big deal, but it IS. Without the spectators, it’s just a grueling training run. We NEED these people.

Around the 8th mile I was starting to really struggle because the weather had warmed up quite a bit. I decided to take my shirt off during my next walk break but with the deaf/blind vest and the sweat sticking to my shirt, it took longer than I anticipated. So by the time I got reset I was running through an aid station with a gang of onlookers to my comically awkward process. It didn’t matter. There’s no shame among runners, and these people understand and have likely seen it all. In fact, later in the race I was passed by a woman carrying her shoes, running in her socks to the next aid station. You do what you have to do. So it was a bit of a chore to get that shirt off but it was so worth it to lower my temperature a few degrees. It gave me the rejuvenation I needed to keep going.

The last few miles of the race honestly felt like drudgery and I just wanted to be done but those spectators kept me going! The runners were still moving ahead of me and I just kept reminding myself what I came for, and that was to complete this race. And I did! I finished! I set a new personal record for myself, and I did not fall. Though after the finish I was struggling to walk. My left foot knew we had crossed the finish line and just refused to lift, so I hobbled along the fence line until I saw my husband and kids walking up, all smiles. They escorted me to the recovery area and found me a chair and some ice cream. It was an incredible moment, getting to share this accomplishment with my three favorite people in the world. I tear up just reliving it.

Me, in my bright orange vest, running towards the finish line!

This was such a great race. It was so difficult, but I have to accept that reality because I’m signed up to run my 2nd full marathon in October. Yes, yes I did. I swore I wouldn’t run another one but it turns out I lied. I’m glad I already committed to the marathon, because I think I would have chickened out after this race. It was a sobering reminder of how difficult and painful it is to run a lot of miles, but it was also a good reminder of the immense joy I still find in running.

It’s serendipitous that my devotional this morning actually talked about how we can have joy and pain coinciding. We can feel both simultaneously, and that’s an incredibly mysterious fact of life. There will be pain. Expect it. But also we have in us what it takes to keep moving forward and find joy in the midst of it. I am so grateful that God has sustained me as I continue to run. That He has given me the inner strength to keep challenging myself and doing these ridiculous races that both terrify and thrill me.

Isaiah 40:29-31 ESV “He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.”

Coffee, Faith, Food, God speaks, Miracles do happen, Music

The Simple Things

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I drafted the following post back in 2017 and I think of the 30 drafts I have stashed over the years, this one still rings true. The good news is that through lots of intensive therapy I have come to find and embrace that self-awareness I was so lacking. I now have a strong sense of what I love and am getting pretty good at embracing it. I praise God every day for the healing He has accomplished in my life.

*****
I sometimes notice the people around me, enjoying things, and it often seems foreign to me. How can they know what they love? It must be really great to have that self-awareness, and to embrace it.

I don’t know if I’m making any sense here, but whatever. All that was to say that lately I’ve been trying to make note of the things that make me smile from the inside, deep down in my soul.

1) Parades. I freaking love parades. I can’t not be giddy watching a parade go by. I think it began when I was introduced to Easter Parade by the girls I used to babysit for. Maybe.

2) Caramel corn. I can’t stop eating the stuff. I lament that any time good snacks come into our home they get eaten before I even realize they are here. Not the caramel corn. That’s all mine. I will wrestle you to the ground for it. And if it has nuts? I’m not afraid to send you to the hospital.

3) Paisley. This is not a new realization, of course. I know I love it, and have for decades, and everyone else knows it too. You could even say that for this list, this one was my first love. It makes my heart flutter. Every time.

4) Led Zeppelin. In particular, Over the Hills and Far Away… something about how it eases you in, seduces you for a minute and a half, and then comes in pounding with those drums. It just gets me every time. There are certainly many other songs to love, like Kashmir, Ocean, or D’yer Mak’er, but Over the Hills was I think what sold me on the band in the first place. And it didn’t hurt that I first started listening to them on vinyl.

5) Sunrises. The rising and setting of the sun are visually similar, and both beautiful, but somehow the rising sun is what really calms my spirit and whispers to my soul. When I am privileged to stop and see the sunrise, I am always, always reminded that the fact that I am here another day is an enormous gift. Oh, and coffee. You can really enjoy a good cup of coffee while staring into the sunrise.
*****

I still love all those things and have added more since then. Sipping bourbon, writing, singing karaoke, dancing in my kitchen, listening to the mourning doves cooing in my backyard, tending to the lilies in my planters. Lots of simple things bring me joy. Things that have always been around but now I’m finally able to notice them and really enjoy them. I’m three seconds away from breaking into a Barbra Streisand song so I’ll stop here. Have a wonderful night, my friends. This week I challenge you to look for joy in the simple things.

Deafness, Deep thoughts, Family, Friends, Hearing Loss, Miracles do happen, Multiple Sclerosis, Prayer, Stories, Tinnitus, Trauma, Visually Impaired

Trigger Warning: Suicide

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Doctors never did figure out why I had been sleeping so much. They tested for all sorts of things, but came up short. They suspected Susac’s Syndrome, which at the time I thought was fatal, so I’m glad that turned up negative. I’ve had a couple fluorescein angiograms to take pictures of the blood vessels in my eyes, but both times they showed that everything was normal. To this day, I’m still a medical mystery. 

After sleeping a couple months of my life away, I started to wake up a bit more to what was going on. I was still very deaf and still could not see well, and still had no answers and no hope. The reality of it all was starting to set in. I was now, ironically, having trouble falling asleep at night. The tinnitus would get so loud. I remember the ringing sounded a lot like chanting monks, which would normally be a comfort to me, but at four in the morning it was a nuisance. I brought this issue up to Dr. Hong at a follow up visit and he prescribed me Xanax to help me sleep. It worked wonders. I was able to get proper rest at night and was miraculously still able to wake up in the mornings to help get the kids ready for school. 

I want to convey my level of desperation at this point in time without being overly dramatic. Mike and the kids had left me home alone for an evening because I had seemed to be doing so well, but that turned out to not be the case. I was feeling scared and beat down and I couldn’t see any way out of my situation. I was unable to communicate effectively with everyone I cared about. I felt utterly ALONE. I was at the end of my rope, and wanting to let go. I was feeling so desperate for a way out that I seriously considered swallowing the whole bottle of Xanax. Even more frightening than the hearing and vision loss was the thought that I wanted to check out of life permanently. I reached out to my girlfriends, hoping and praying that one of them could come over and save me from myself. My friend Tracy was the first to respond and she rushed over to the house. She prayed with me and hugged me and reminded me that I was not alone in this struggle. She left that night with the bottle of Xanax so I wouldn’t be tempted again.

As awful as it was, that night was a turning point for me. I had to stop retreating into myself. I needed to reach out, both to God and to the friends and family He had put in my life. After my family returned home that night and we put the kids to bed, I shared with my husband what had happened. I could see from his face that he was both shocked and sad, but he was glad I told him and he reassured me that we were in this together, and that he and the kids needed me. We hugged for a long time and he let me cry on his shoulder. It was good to be reminded that he was there for me because, while we didn’t know it yet, we had an important trip coming up at the end of the month to the Mayo Clinic. I’ll be sharing more about that in the next installment of Adventures with Mel 😉

Deafness, Disability, Food, Friends, Hearing Loss, Holidays, Kids, Low vision, Miracles do happen, Multiple Sclerosis, Partial Blindness, Stories, Visually Impaired

Wake up, Mindy

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A fascinating part of this story of my plunge into disability is that for almost a full two months I was sleeping close to twenty hours a day. That seems to fascinate the people who hear about it after the fact. For the friends and family who lived it, it was terrifying. And for me, well, I don’t remember much so you could say it was sort of a blur. 

I’m told a lot of things happened. There were times I was sleeping in bed or on the couch. Other times I was falling asleep at the dinner table. One time I was actually falling asleep while walking through Office Max with a friend. At least, that’s what I was told. I sort of wish I had that on video. 

I know I spent a lot of time in the hospital for monitoring and testing. I remember getting a spinal tap, a CAT scan, and numerous middle of the night blood draws. There was one particular night I woke up to half of my extended family sitting around the room with me. My aunt and uncle from Georgia, my cousin from Grand Haven, and perhaps my grandma and grandpa as well. These were all people who were following the progress updates being posted on Facebook and who sacrificed to be with me, to make sure I knew they were all in my corner.  I’m really grateful I was awake enough to remember their visit.

I had to take a visual field test at the neuro-ophthalmologist’s office to gauge what I could actually see. This is a pretty standard test where you sit with one eye covered and stare into a machine. You stare at the light in the center of the screen and click a button whenever you see a blinking light in your periphery. I’ve taken this test numerous times since, but this first time was the worst. If it was a pass or fail test, you could say I failed. I could not stay awake. It didn’t help that the room had to be dark for the duration of the test. It’s maybe a five or ten minute test and they kept having to stop the test to wake me up again. Over and over and over. It’s comical now, but it was pretty scary then. I vaguely remember this first test but I had no idea I had been falling asleep so frequently.

I slept through most of my daughter’s 4th birthday party. I remember bits of pieces of that event but only after I was shown videos and photos showing that I was there. I cried watching the video because I didn’t even feel like I knew who I was looking at. It felt like sort of an out of body experience. It breaks my heart a little to realize how absent I was for so much of my children’s everyday lives during this period. I can never get that back but you better believe I’m doing everything I can now to make up for it. I have asked my daughter over the years if she remembers me before I was deaf and she always says she can’t. She does remember thinking she had caused my hearing loss because she had been making too much noise. She was only four years old. You know?! See, now your heart is breaking too. 

I also remember Thanksgiving that year. It was the only year within the past decade I didn’t host. Because of course, I was checked out. This made me sad but I was grateful that my husband’s grandparents were willing to fill in and host at their house. I went with no expectations and I was happy to be with loved ones. But when I sat down at the dinner table, I looked down and could not decipher what was on the plate. See, my visual impairment also includes some atypical color blindness, making it difficult to identify anything with bland, muted, or similar coloring. I looked around the table at all the smiling faces as people chatted in silence over their meals. It was just too much. I was there, but I was still missing it. My favorite holiday. With tears spilling over my face, I ran to the bathroom. I was able to calm myself down but I didn’t want to face the family with this red, splotchy, sad face. I cleaned myself up and returned to the table, apologizing for my abrupt exit. I certainly didn’t want to ruin everyone else’s Thanksgiving. And then my daughter Natalie reached over and hugged me. Because God speaks love and grace through four year olds. Of that I am certain.

So that’s how I spent October and most of November. In a dazed, trance like state. I was never left alone. I had a friend who came and stayed at the house with me every weekday while she home-schooled her children. She made sure I was fed and that I took my medications. She even helped with housework quite a bit and kept me engaged as much as possible. When I was too afraid to do normal things like showering, she never laughed or pitied me. She somehow understood the state of fear I was in and rather than scoff at me, she gently encouraged me to take everything one small step at a time. 

When I was too afraid to cut an apple for fear of slicing my hand, she told me she believed I could do it and looked forward to the day I would have the courage to try again. So when that day came, I didn’t tell her what I was doing. I just slowly sliced that apple, artfully laid the slices out on a plate and walked up to the dining room table with a proud smile on my face. She smiled back with tears in her eyes (I imagine) and gave me a big mama hug. Cutting that apple was the first big step for me on the long and arduous path of healing and rehabilitation. I still had a long way to go, but that small but meaningful victory over slicing an apple gave me the courage and confidence to keep going, one tiny step at a time.

Deafness, Exercise, Faith, Family, Friends, Hearing Loss, Low vision, Miracles do happen, Multiple Sclerosis, Photos, Running, Visually Impaired

2019 Capital City River Run

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Welp, I did it! I ran a half marathon. All 13.1 miles with minimal walking. All of this training I’ve been doing really paid off, and I was able to run pretty much the entire way. I walked over slippery bridges and once late in the race because I was sensing some drop foot, but other than that I was good to go. I did NOT feel like I was dying, and despite how I looked to others at the finish line, I felt fabulous. I was all smiles and ready to sign up for the next one.

The Comradery: I simply could not have done this race without my friends. Alicia and Staci were with me every step of the way, guiding me away from obstacles and leading me down hills so I wouldn’t lose my balance. They even kept me from taking off in the beginning at too fast a pace, which is something I tend to do, and pay dearly for on these long runs. I happened to see a couple other running friends before the race started, and that really helped to boost my adrenaline. All the runners I have gotten to know are pretty special people. We are a diverse crowd, and yet everyone is so supportive of on another, regardless of all our differences. We are all running with the same goal, but for very different reasons, and I find that pretty awesome.

The Spectators: I had an entire team of spectators cheering me on throughout this race, and this was pretty dang awesome. My husband, my son and daughter (who had no shortage of hugs), my dad and stepmom, my sister and her boyfriend, my niece, and as a last surprise of the morning, my big brother. I was so surprised to see him there because he has been so busy working lately I just didn’t expect he would be able to make it. But he was there. They were all there, and they knew why this was such a big deal. It wasn’t just a race. This race happened almost exactly 6 years from when I lost my hearing and vision. In fact, that morning a memory came up on my husband’s Facebook feed. It was a posting he had sent out updating everyone on my long hospital stay. I was so sick and no one knew what was wrong with me, and I could not walk unassisted, among other numerous issues. So to have that come up on his feed the day I was running my first half marathon was just incredibly fitting.

The Final 5k: At 10 miles my family was there cheering us on, as they had in several other spots, and my son started jogging next to me. The excitement of the moment took over, and I invited him to run the final 3.1 miles with us. They frown on this sort of thing, I guess, but no one bothered us about it. He did a great job keeping me going and holding me steady down the hills. However, when we were nearing the finish, we were at the top of a very steep concrete ramp that feeds into the baseball stadium where the finish line was. He danced on ahead of me while Alicia and Staci took my arms to help me down. I was so embarrassed to see my husband at the bottom of the ramp, taking our picture. It looked rather pathetic, as if my legs had stopped working, but really it was just a matter of keeping my balance down the incline. When we reached flat land my son was waiting for me and we began to sprint the last stretch towards the Finish. I was so giddy I was almost in tears. And after I crossed the line I tried to stop but instead just fell to the ground. This is what seems to happen after my races and it alarms people because it looks like I’m hurt but really it’s just muscle weakness and poor balance. The motion of running keeps me on my feet somehow, so when I try to walk it never works. They brought me a chair and a woman put a medal around my neck and we all just stayed there congratulating each other and taking pictures.

It was a fantastic race and I am so glad I did it. Every time I try a longer distance I think about how far I’ve come, and I wonder how far I can go. My curiosity I think is what drives me. I just want to see how far I can go before my body says no. Yes, it tries to tell me no some days, but I’ll always try to call it’s bluff.

I am so grateful to everyone for supporting me and cheering me on. I could not have done this without you. Most of all though, I owe my gratitude to Jesus Christ. I would not have even started on this journey into running and health if it had not been for His sustaining grace and comfort. He is my constant, every day all day running partner. Hallelujah!

The Finish Line:

Books, Daily Snippets, Miracles do happen

Living History

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This story is coming a week or so late, and I do want to post about yesterday’s half marathon, but I just finished reading this book and I want to get this story posted while it’s still fresh in my mind.

After my last infusion a couple weeks ago I sat on the bench in front of the infusion center reading my latest library find, The Tattooist of Auschwitz. As I’m reading, the woman next to me asks me for the time. She too, is waiting for a ride home from our local paratransit service. I notice she has a slight accent and I ask her where she’s from. She’s from Latvia, she tells me, and asks me if I know it. I regrettable do not, as geography was never my strong subject. She proceeds to tell me all the surrounding areas, and I ask her more about her story, what brought her here to America. This opened up a big can of worms.

The woman was happy to share, not at all shy, about her experience. She lived through World War II. Her family was driven from their home in Latvia because her father owned land and the Germans wanted it. My dad tells me this was common during the war. This woman sitting next to me told me how she worked in slave camps during her teen years, until her family was able to escape to a refugee camp in Sweden. She came to America in 1950 and she’s been here ever since.

As we were talking, the paratransit van arrived and it turned out we were on the same van because we lived near each other. Our conversation continued until we arrived at her home.

It was incredible to talk with her, and I just wished we had longer together. But even in that short time we were given I learned that she is a survivor, though she was quick to deny it. She has PTSD from her experience. And because she subsisted much of that time on soy beans, she still can’t eat anything with soy. She smiles as she tells me that even soy sauce is unbearable. Those odors bring back horrific memories that she can’t bear, even all these years later. I tell her she is a survivor because she kept going when many others did not. She keeps going even now, as she suffers the residual effects of the trauma she lived through.

Her name is Mitsy. She has a precious cat who loves to greet her at the door and she looks fabulous in her big floppy red hat. Mitsy is a survivor. Living, breathing history. I thank God that I had the privilege of that brief ride home with her. It was an encounter that left an indelible mark on my heart.

Deafness, Dreams, Hearing Loss, Miracles do happen, Music

I guess R.E.M. is still my favorite band

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I had several vivid dreams last night and all of them were filled with the music of R.E.M., which is ironic and weird but also really awesome because I was able to hear and enjoy the music with working, human ears. In one dream I was actually chatting with Michael Stipe so that was an added bonus. He was his strange self but also very laid back and easy to talk to. Which was nice because even in my dreams I suffer from a little social anxiety. Ha!

Those types of dreams are so refreshing and a blessing to my heart. I consider them a gift from God and I am thankful for them. I’ve been deaf for a solid five years now but I will never lose my love for music.

Coffee, Daily Snippets, God speaks, Kids, Miracles do happen

Two for two

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2 Thessalonians 3:16 – “Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times in every way. The Lord be with you all.”

Having just shoved the kids off to the bus in typical hectic fashion, this verse today is an answer to a prayer I was too frazzled to make. I was frazzled, yes, but I didn’t blow my top today. I was miraculously able to stay calm – ish – and I did not raise my voice. A small victory, indeed.

Also, I’m drinking delicious coffee. Coffee that’s still hot. Miracle number two.

 

 

God speaks, Miracles do happen, Multiple Sclerosis

Angels Among Us

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I’ve been doing fairly well this week, dealing with this relapse with my vision and the steroid treatments. However, Friday afternoon I was approaching a meltdown. I was sitting at the kitchen table when it occurred to me that I was experiencing the dreaded MS hug. The MS hug is a neurological symptom experienced by many of us MSers. It feels, to me at least, as if I am wearing a super tight corset, and someone is pulling the strings tighter and tighter around my ribcage. It’s not dangerous or life-threatening in any way, but it can be painful. At a minimum, it’s extremely uncomfortable.

I think what bothered me about this the most is that I hadn’t experienced it in many years, and I felt that since I am currently treating a relapse, that I shouldn’t be experiencing any worsening symptoms. So, I was understandably freaked out. Knowing that I was probably overreacting, I called my mom so she could talk some sense into me. And that she did. While I freaked out, she reassuringly talked me off the ledge, consulting Dr. Google at the same time (she’s the ultimate multi-tasker), and gave me some guidance. We ended the call with a plan for me to take a warm Epsom salt bath, take a Gabapentin (the drug I take for the occasional fiery nerve pain in my feet and thankfully have plenty of), and watch a happy chick flick on Netflix. Oh, and we did a fair amount of Skyping while she helped me pick a movie to watch (I went with her suggestion of Under the Tuscan Sun). At the tail end of the call she showed me a great view of the Oklahoma sunset from her backyard. It was truly breathtaking, and left me speechless..

That sunset was the first of several ways God would speak to my heart, comforting me in very personal ways, letting me know that I am still never alone, never as long as I have HIM.

I woke up Saturday morning to a message from one of my very best friends, one whom I had purposely kept from reaching out to for help this week because she is recovering from a major surgery and I didn’t want to burden her further. It sounds so ridiculous in hindsight, and she would tell me that, I’m sure. Her message was so short and sweet, it cut right to my heart: “Love you. Miss you. And prayers for comfort.” And again I was left speechless. How could she have known how much I needed that? She couldn’t have. That’s all God right there. Grace.

One more though – ou all know I love checking the mail, right? Today my son beat me to it, so I didn’t get to run out to the mailbox like Blue, but when he handed me the mail, with a card addressed to me, I got just as giddy. A handwritten greeting card, from a familiar name. This was sent from a woman from my hometown. She knew me when I was in high school and she reads my blog. She wrote a beautiful note to encourage me and let me know she is always praying for me. I think she must have read the post about checking the mail and gotten my mailing address from my sister. But again, she couldn’t have known how much I was going to need that when she mailed it. But God must have stirred her heart to send me that note, and she took action, and my heart was comforted once again.

Guys, I believe in angels. I really do. And I believe God speaks to our hearts. I believe when we listen to that still, small voice and respond to it? We become God’s hands and feet. His angels here on earth. I have almost zero research to back any of that up, but I promise you with all my heart that it’s real to me. So you can take my word for it if you want, or you can try it on your own. Practice kindness and compassion. What can it hurt? At the very least you’ll brighten someone’s day.