The heavens proclaim his righteousness;
every nation sees his glory. (Ps 97:6 NLT)
Every morning around 6:30am I try to go for about a 10 minute walk, regardless of how I happen to be feeling. Today I was blessed with one of the most gorgeous sunrises I've ever seen in Seattle, with Mt. Rainier in the distance, bathed in array of gentle pink, orange, and purple light. It was great to start the day by dwelling on something lovely, instead of obsessing over pain. I smiled and spoke outloud the beginning of Psalm 19 - "The heavens declare the glory of God, the skies proclaim the work of his hands!"
I got back to the house and pondered for a moment the events of the recent past. Two weeks ago at this very time I was laying on a cot in the ER of Swedish Hospital, pumped full of pain meds, eating some biscuits and gravy (the anti-nausea medication gave me back my appetite for the first time in weeks and I was ravenous), waiting to be formally admitted. The week leading up to my second ER visit was something of a nightmare, my back and "sit bone" pain steadily increasing each and every day, and the amount of sleep I was getting decreasing at the same time. By Tuesday night I couldn't sleep at all, pacing back and forth like a caged animal until finally around 5am I cracked.
When the attending physician in the ER said she wanted me to be admitted to the hospital, my wife and I were hopeful - perhaps the doctors would finally take the time to dig a bit beneath the surface to find out what was wrong. Unfortunately this didn't happen; I pretty much spent 3 days in bed being pumped full of more medications than I can easily recall. Upon discharge that Saturday morning I felt completely dazed, and later that afternoon my wife and sat in bed and wept uncontrollably. Where was God? Why was this happening? What were we going to do? So many questions and no answers, at least not yet.
Spending three days in bed definitely stiffened things up, especially my hamstrings. The hardest part emotionally was accepting the fact I now needed narcotic medication to control the pain. After being sober for almost 8 years I was terrified of somehow become addicted to prescription drugs. Fortunately I was blessed with both my wife and some good friends in the medical profession who reminded me such medicine is a legitimate tool to use for times like these, and that my openness in sharing my fears was a good sign of using them for the right reasons.
Yesterday I saw a neurologist at the University of Washington, basically to rule out any problems with my nerves that might be contributing to chronic pain. I figured he would do some tests and then say, "Well, everything looks normal!" but that didn't happen. My feet, lower legs, and abdomen all showed signs of decreased sensitivity to pain and temperature. The doctor gave me a preliminary diagnosis - peripheral neuropathy. Basically, damage to secondary nerves is causing decreased sensation in parts of my body, and in order to compensate my brain has decided to turn up the sensitivity of other nerves - or something like that. The condition itself can't be fixed, but the symptoms can be treated successfully, and in general peripheral neuropathy isn't degenerative.
However, it can be very, very painful, which I have definitely experienced. The thought of living with a chronic pain condition for the rest of my life... well, it sends me back to Paul in II Corinthians, where he proclaims the sufficiency of God's strength to help us in our weakness. Somehow in that process God is glorified, which is good because to be honest right now I don't much care for being weak and I'm really tired of pain - figuratively and literally.
In an hour I start yet another new therapy to help cope with chronic pain. I just want to lay down and sleep. Jesus - thank you for being my strength!
