Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Stealing words’ Category

Hope only makes sense when it doesn’t make sense to be hopeful.

When I first read this speech, I was in a place of great uncertainty.  My health was failing, I was seriously struggling academically for the first time in my life, and I was 3000 miles away from many of the people I love most dearly. Hawken’s words were earth-shattering and life-changing. They resonate with me each and every time they come to mind. (I encourage everyone to read his words as the quote above is just a tiny sample of the way words can move mountains by speaking to one soul at a time.)
As an environmentalist (and humanist), his speech refers most directly to our relationship with the environment, but it certainly doesn’t end there. In fact, it barely begins there. When asked whether he is optimistic or pessimistic about the future (specifically of the natural world), he responds that a scientist can’t help but to be pessimistic when given the data. However, a human being can’t help but see the abundance of “ordinary people willing to confront despair, power, and incalculable odds in order to restore some semblance of grace, justice, and beauty to this world.”
In the last few years – and more specifically the last year – the data about my future has been pummeling my spirit to the ground. It is incredibly difficult – and nearly damned-well impossible – to hear about my failing systems and what I have to look forward to in the future without losing all hope. To hear that these continued sustained infections are not compatible with life.  To be disappointed each and every time you make a plan and have to cancel.  To awake upon a new day and find that you feel absolutely no better than you did just twelve hours before.  And indeed one does become hopeless.  It only makes sense when given the data. Luckily, it doesn’t end there; humanity gives endless hope when reality attempts to strip it away.
There is a shelf in my living room where hope collects like dust. Over the last twelve months, I feel shame that the shell of my former self has found such difficulty in expressing just how dearly I appreciate the love, care, and hope that has come my way, but please know that the cards, pictures, books, jewelry, pillow cases, balloons, and tokens of love serve as a daily and fervent reminder that hope is most definitely worth having. Especially when it doesn’t make sense.
Advertisements

Read Full Post »

In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer. ~Albert Camus

Sometimes those of us with chronic illness get so caught up in the can’ts. The shouldn’ts. The mustn’ts. I decided to focus this summer on the things I can do. From embracing the lives of loved ones lost to adventures in lands (not-so-)faraway. So we celebrated, joined, conquered, ventured, traveled, laughed, cried, and smiled. And we experienced life. It didn’t matter that I did most of it hooked up to at least 3-4 tubes at a time. It mattered that I did it.

Now that the summer comes to a close (thank you, labor day), I thought I’d go through the tradition of writing the back-to-school essay “What I did this summer.” Then I rethought. And decided I’d show you.

What I did this summer:

{And wished her Happy Birthday}

{At the 2011 UMDF Symposium in Chicago}

{With my Great Aunt Arden at the Sears Willis Tower}

{Lab safety is a must while tutoring}

{Sisters Day Out – Southwick Zoo}

{First time at Niagara Falls – Maid of the Mist}

{Seneca Falls, NY – With two of my most influential people – On the bridge from one of my favorite movies, It’s a Wonderful Life}

{For the first time since my license was revoked for seizure activity}

{TPN bag, enteral tubes, and all!}

{White Mountains in NH with my favorite in-laws}

{Haven’t attempted this since I was a gymnast – take that mito!}

{At the 2011 Mighty Matthew Benefit in Plattsburgh, NY}

{We love you, Princess Eithene!}

{So blessed to live in Boston, the Medical Mecca of the World!}

{With 4 adults, 2 kiddos, 2 dogs, and a partridge in a pear tree}

{Disappointing from the weather standpoint, but fun nonetheless}

{With a grand closing to a grand summer!}

And no one can say I didn’t do. Because I did. I really did.

Read Full Post »

Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.
-Dr. Seuss

Sometimes it surprises me how happy I am. How comfortable I am in my own skin. A year ago, I’m not sure if I could’ve seen myself this happy despite all that has changed (my zip code, my health, my occupation, my income, my aspirations, etc.). But I’m honestly, truly happy.

Keith and I deal with a ton of stressors with our daily life that shock many people. For instance, every day this week, I’ve had at least one medical appointment, over half of which were in Boston. (This is not out of the ordinary.) In addition, we’re watching my niece and nephew while my sister recovers from surgery. (This is something that Keith likes to call “birth control.”) We also deal with daily medical regiments including IV nutrition, stoma care, catheterizations, sterile procedures, and medical interventions. (This is in addition to Keith’s full-time student status and my work tutoring, researching, and volunteering.)

(more…)

Read Full Post »

Note: I wrote this blog nearly a month ago and am just now getting around to posting it because a good friend has been asking for it for ages and I thought she could use a small pick-me-up. This one’s for you, Liz…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here

This winter has been one full of challenges, stresses, adaptation, loss, learning, sickness, and love. Yes, love. Without it, I’m not sure I would’ve come out as relatively unscathed on this end.

This winter, New England received more snow than it had in years. It was blizzard after blizzard. It was cold and unrelenting. Even worse, my body appeared to be taking lessons.

One thing that I’ve always prided myself on is being able to rise from just about anything and everything stronger and smiling. After December, I was petering on the edge, still smiling, but straining and struggling not to lose myself. But after the second month of medical hell, I wasn’t sure that I wasn’t going to rise.

(more…)

Read Full Post »

Once you choose hope, anything’s possible. -Christopher Reeve

Four months ago I got my muscle biopsy results. It showed severe deficiencies and came with the official diagnosis of Mitochondrial Disease. Although I had lived over a year with a “clinical diagnosis,” it had suddenly become real. Really real. I found myself at a crossroad: I could breakdown and cry; or, I could do something about it.

That night I spoke with my best friend and expressed how I felt. Less than a year earlier, she had had the same conversation with her physicians. She heard those same words: “You have mitochondrial disease.” She felt the reality come over herself. And she chose to fight back.

We spoke for a long time about what we could do. How we could change the future. How we could keep this horrible disease from consuming our every wish and dream. Our every hope.

It was on that night that the Show of Hope was first conceived.

(more…)

Read Full Post »

Author’s note: This is a journal entry I wrote the day after my 26th birthday. While much has changed since then, the core of this entry has not. Therefore, I decided to share it again, the day after my 27th birthday, because it still rings true.

Of all the people that I admire – and there are many – three repeatedly come to mind:
1. Gandhi, because he said, “be the change you wish to see in the world”;
2. Ang, our angel, who lived that change for each of her 22 years;
and
3. My mother, because she reminded me of the belief I shared with Ang and Gandhi.

(more…)

Read Full Post »

While inpatient with mitochondrial disease, you’re often an enigma. Most of the health professionals have either never heard of this disease or might vaguely remember it being mentioned back in medical school. And those who have heard of it often have misconceptions (e.g. “all people with mito have some sort of mental delays/retardation” or “mito only affects infants and toddlers”). That’s why I make each and every admission a chance to educate about mitochondrial disease.

Because it’s a complex disease and involves “difficult” vocabulary, it’s easier to describe with analogies. Usually we use the “my batteries don’t work efficiently” analogy, but there are so many other ways to look at the disease. Recently, Chuck Mohan, the CEO of the United Mitochondrial Disease Foundation, made an extensive list of other ways to describe mitochondrial disease. Because it might just help one new person understand it, I’m going to share his list here:

Mitochondrial Disease is like:

  • Replacing your car battery with two Double “A” Energizers and wondering why it won’t start. But your car still looks pretty good, that is until it begins to rust from inactivity.
  • Trying to supply the electrical requirements of Los Angeles (pop. 3.7 million) with the one electrical plant in Ranchester Wyoming (pop. 701).
  • Swimming against Olympian, 8 Gold Medal winner, Michael Phelps, and you’re pool is filled with molasses.
  • That dream you have where you are trying to run away from danger but you just can’t move? Yep, that’s mitochondrial disease.
  • The way you feel after running a 50 yard dash compared to the way you feel after running a 50 yard dash with a 50 pound knapsack on your back.
  • The way you feel after working an 18 hour day or 18 days without a day off. Well, if you had a mitochondrial disease you’d probably feel that way after breakfast.
  • Buying a perfectly good Volkswagen Beetle with a 110 horsepower engine. It’s a great looking car and it runs terrific. Now take out a ring, gum up the valves, add some sugar to the gas tank and put in an old head gasket. The car still looks great but now it will only generate about 50 horsepower. That will get the Volkswagen around the flat streets of Kansas on a spring day, but now load it up with 3 of your hefty friends, or more if they’ll fit, with a trunk full of luggage and take it to the hills of Western Pennsylvania on a 90’ day. It won’t make it! But it still looks great!

For more from Chuck Mohan, go to umdfblog.com.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »