Missing this life today.
Sunday, October 19, 2014
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
Make It Count
I met a man in his early fifties at a Thalassaemia clinic yesterday.
He was a lovely guy who exuded life and spirit, and carried the weight of experience in his eyes. When the doctor began to settle paperwork during the consultation, it gave me and my friend the opportunity to ask him some questions about his condition. He started to speak of his thirty year journey, and how scary things were for him when he was diagnosed. He shared on how intimidating all the medications were, what it felt like to be labelled with a chronic disease and of the people who helped him through it the most simply by understanding.
He told us a story which reminded me so much of my own.
...
It's been a year and a half since I was told my blood wasn't very normal.
It's been a year and a half of big words, acronyms, medical appointments, medications, blood tests, worried texts, sympathetic looks, and labels. It's been a year and a half since I was last in that exact room, since I sat where he sat and talked to the doctor about my concerns.
However, it's also been a year and a half of overcoming, hope, joy in the midst, standing up the numerous times "blood disorders" have been prophetically called out for healing, and being told by others that they were passionately standing in the gap for me with their prayers as well.
Despite the circumstances, it's been a really, really good year and a half. I have no complaints whatsoever, and I am so thankful for all that God has molded into me through this. I sit here and type this a year and a half on, and can confidently say that my life has been so enriched, empowered and strengthened by this experience. There is so much that you will learn when you spend time with God in the 'valleys' of life that simply can't be learnt otherwise. I will never forget that one time I had to get a brain scan by myself. While I kept a brave face on, I remember how I felt so scared and alone.. but one prayer was all it took for the peace of God to wash over me and soak me through.
...
When my new friend talked about the people who understood him in those early few days, I immediately thought of my dad. My whole family has been absolutely amazing throughout this journey and my words alone cannot begin to express the gratitude I have for each of them, but dad.. he has always been somewhat especially supportive in his own way. He doesn't always say much, but I know that he listens intently every time I update him, and would go to lengths to educate himself and understand this disease and the medications involved. He would insist that I take the better medication I needed even though it was costly or that I stay here and forgo vacation plans home if that was better for my care. I know that both he and my mum would worry more than they let me know, especially each time I insisted to fly off yet once more to remote places and try to save the world again.
I can't believe I'm getting emotional as I write this.
But really.. thank you daddy, for carrying me through this as much as you possibly can and for still letting me run after my own dreams without being held back by a diagnosis. I love you so very much :)
And thank you mama for always insisting I drink boiled water, eat well and sleep more, and for flying all the way to care for me when things were at their worst. Thank you also to my two big sisters for being the first ones I tell every time I get new results, and for always just being there for me. :) You all get big sloppy kisses next time I see you. Haha.
So, when all is said and done, I wonder.. what will my life look like when I'm his age?
Will I still be carrying this illness?
I don't know, cause I still believe in a God that heals and I still have hope that things are going to keep getting better with time.
But if you ask me, will I one day be a fifty year old woman in my yellow sunshine jumper telling stories from my past to the next generation of young people with hopes to encourage?
He was a lovely guy who exuded life and spirit, and carried the weight of experience in his eyes. When the doctor began to settle paperwork during the consultation, it gave me and my friend the opportunity to ask him some questions about his condition. He started to speak of his thirty year journey, and how scary things were for him when he was diagnosed. He shared on how intimidating all the medications were, what it felt like to be labelled with a chronic disease and of the people who helped him through it the most simply by understanding.
He told us a story which reminded me so much of my own.
...
It's been a year and a half since I was told my blood wasn't very normal.
It's been a year and a half of big words, acronyms, medical appointments, medications, blood tests, worried texts, sympathetic looks, and labels. It's been a year and a half since I was last in that exact room, since I sat where he sat and talked to the doctor about my concerns.
However, it's also been a year and a half of overcoming, hope, joy in the midst, standing up the numerous times "blood disorders" have been prophetically called out for healing, and being told by others that they were passionately standing in the gap for me with their prayers as well.
Despite the circumstances, it's been a really, really good year and a half. I have no complaints whatsoever, and I am so thankful for all that God has molded into me through this. I sit here and type this a year and a half on, and can confidently say that my life has been so enriched, empowered and strengthened by this experience. There is so much that you will learn when you spend time with God in the 'valleys' of life that simply can't be learnt otherwise. I will never forget that one time I had to get a brain scan by myself. While I kept a brave face on, I remember how I felt so scared and alone.. but one prayer was all it took for the peace of God to wash over me and soak me through.
...
When my new friend talked about the people who understood him in those early few days, I immediately thought of my dad. My whole family has been absolutely amazing throughout this journey and my words alone cannot begin to express the gratitude I have for each of them, but dad.. he has always been somewhat especially supportive in his own way. He doesn't always say much, but I know that he listens intently every time I update him, and would go to lengths to educate himself and understand this disease and the medications involved. He would insist that I take the better medication I needed even though it was costly or that I stay here and forgo vacation plans home if that was better for my care. I know that both he and my mum would worry more than they let me know, especially each time I insisted to fly off yet once more to remote places and try to save the world again.
I can't believe I'm getting emotional as I write this.
But really.. thank you daddy, for carrying me through this as much as you possibly can and for still letting me run after my own dreams without being held back by a diagnosis. I love you so very much :)
And thank you mama for always insisting I drink boiled water, eat well and sleep more, and for flying all the way to care for me when things were at their worst. Thank you also to my two big sisters for being the first ones I tell every time I get new results, and for always just being there for me. :) You all get big sloppy kisses next time I see you. Haha.
...
So, when all is said and done, I wonder.. what will my life look like when I'm his age?
Will I still be carrying this illness?
I don't know, cause I still believe in a God that heals and I still have hope that things are going to keep getting better with time.
But if you ask me, will I one day be a fifty year old woman in my yellow sunshine jumper telling stories from my past to the next generation of young people with hopes to encourage?
You betcha.
For now, I'll just keep heading forwards. My bright future awaits me!
Love,
Dice
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