On May 30, 2008, a little over a year ago, I thanked God for my health. I remember very specifically writing the words and in fact, I pulled out my journal just to prove that it happened. I wrote, “Thank You for today. Thank You for my health and the fact that I can get up in the morning and walk.” I do not know what prompted this. Moreover, I cannot remember a single time before this that I specifically thanked God for my health and mobility. I should have been praising Him daily for it, but I hadn’t been. I think that I considered health more of privilege than a blessing. But on this day in May, beneath the Roman sun, I was convicted that I did not have a right to my health, that the Lord blessed me with the ability to walk, and I was so grateful.
Today, I woke up at 8:30 for class. I made myself presentable and rode my bike to the quad. I made it through all my classes, even Logic and Reasoning, which is excruciating. Between classes, I had a quiet time with the Lord. I rode my bike home.
These are normal, basic college activities. But again, on this day in September, I find myself praising the Lord for the body He has given me and the ability to walk. The fact that I can ride a bike shocks me. I am amazed that I can function in a classroom. Because three weeks ago, I couldn’t even walk.
The day after I wrote my journal entry in Rome, I had a seizure that most likely set in motion a number events that left me with a chronic illness called fibromyalgia. Never before have I had a seizure and to be honest I couldn’t even describe it if I wanted too. One minute I was talking with friends and the next thing I remember, I cannot hold myself up. My bones are liquid; I have no strength. Two people sit beside me literally holding my limp body upright and magically a bowl appears in front of me so I can vomit. When I hear someone on the telephone, apparently talking to the hospital, say, “We have a girl who just had a seizure and we need an ambulance,” I protest. In my head, I think, “Are you even kidding right now? What an exaggeration! I am just nauseous” but my mouth can only manage a slurred, “No. No. I’m fine.” In fact, I do not even believe the seizure took place until, lying in the ambulance stretcher, the nice Italian paramedic, pulls down my lip. I had bit through it.
I haven’t been the same since the seizure and after a long and serious process of doctors, tests, more doctors, I was officially diagnosed with fibromyalgia. It’s a long strange word that some people know about and others don’t. I never really know how much or how little to tell people but in this blog, I want to be real. I want to glorify the Lord and one of the ways He is working in my life is through this disease, so I have to explain it.
Here is what happens: after a traumatic even (like a car accident, pregnancy, or…oh wait, a seizure), the stress of the event causes the body to overreact to protect itself from further stress. The spinal chord sends messages to the brain of pain, throughout the body, even though there is no stimuli for the pain. There are a lot of unknowns when it comes to fibro. Everyone is a little different with varying degrees of pain. For me, fibro means constant, chronic pain. There were times I can’t walk or move because of the pain. Some days I can’t feel my legs or move them, for that matter. Because my brain is dealing with this constant influx of pain, it retreats into itself to hide. I have memory problems and holding conversations with people can be brutal. A lot of the time, I just don’t feel like myself.
This summer, instead of going on a mission trip to Rome, I was home, dedicated to getting better. I told myself (and God) that by the time the school year started, I would be back to normal. But the summer didn’t go as planned, because I am not in charge. A week before school started, I had a flare up. It was some of the worst pain, I’ve ever had.
But the Lord provides and He is good. By His grace, I’ve improved. He is helping me to get through school. He is with me when I ride my bike. He is with me when I ice my body at night. He is with me. He is with me. I pray for healing everyday but I also pray that His will would be done. I pray that as I deal with this messy, strange disease, that He would be drawing me nearer to Him.
As for that journal entry, I don’t know why God chose to lay my health on my heart the day before I had the seizure. But I know it wasn’t malicious. I know He wasn’t laughing at me, thinking, “Haha, Nina. Take that.” He is good and He loves me. He wants His best for me and so do I. Fibormyalgia is not fun to say aloud (it is a weird word) or to deal with on a daily basis. But more than health, I want Jesus. I will walk with Him even if I can’t walk.
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