Friday, September 27, 2013

I need prayer-- Even more I need Hope.

Hi All.  I wish I could write this and be positive.  It's not happening right now.  I'm listening to Charlie Peacock's Unchain My Soul, and that is exactly where I am.  The pain from this month is beyond anything I even begin to understand.  I've cried more tears than even the moisture from my eyes would let on.  Most times I've just had to smile while I was dying inside.  The pain makes me angry, and I want to blame someone, but honestly human nature is probably the only thing to blame-- that and happenstance.  How do I make it through this?  The answer is I do not know.  The only thing I do know is that here too God will walk with me.  He died for me, and so even this is not too hard for him.  Who do I talk to?  Who do I trust?  Who even cares to hear the pain of my life right now?  Right now I don't know who my friends and confidants are.  I feel so alone and my life seems to be coming apart at the seams.  So here I am telling you who read this.  I'm sorry.  I'm not so sure you really want to listen to this, but this is the only place I know to bring this where other humans listen (or in this case read).  This is all I have.  I hurt, and I really don't know how to make it any better.

Today I go back to the doctor (our naturopath) with my daughter.  Today my husband comes home from Argentina.  Today I feel more broken than at any other time most recently.

But, perhaps, the last statement can be explained. Yesterday at the urgent care center the lesion on my daughter's foot turned into my dreaded fear.  We see a naturopath three hours away.  We've been fighting Staph all summer long; ever since she was in the hospital in May.  The latest battle has been over a rash on her legs.  We knew the Staph was causing it, but it just wasn't clearing easily.  She battled Staph in her lungs, and also in her urinary tract. The final straw was a scratch on the top of her foot, that turned into a small lesion, that turned into a severely infected sore.  In the moment of my final decision, I saw her step out of the car and suddenly scream out in pain from a small one inch lesion on the top of her foot that she had covered with a bandage.  She is a strong girl, and when she cried out in pain suddenly it makes this mother realize there is something desperately wrong.  So she called into work and I called the doctor, then my other daughter to watch the womb warped twins while I took care of my sixteen year old.

Within the hour we were headed for the urgent care center.  The doctors' think she has MRSA.  I don't even know if I have it spelt right.  I just looked it up and changed the spelling.  Well whether the spelling is right or not, I've been through MRSA.  I got it after surgery six and half years ago, and one of the reasons I keep
going to the naturopath we go to is because she was able to help me recover.
There is some huge differences between my daughter and me, though.  My sixteen year old daughter is allergic to what we used to make me better, and with all that she has had to fight off this year her immune system is much more at risk than my was at the time.

The doctors here in town are talking about I.V. antibiotics, and hospitalization. That might kill her.  She has severe chemical allergies, and antibiotics are almost deadly to her. But MRSA is deadly too.  She's had this rash all summer long after a long battle with her lungs-- both asthma and pneumonia/bronchitis in May and June.  A hospital stay in early May because of an allergic reaction makes MRSA suspect as we haven't been able to clear the Staph in the last four or so months.  But that battle has also left her immune system weak, and her body at risk-- especially if we need to resort to using antibiotics.

This comes on top of everything else that has happened this month.  So here we are, and sometimes, like this morning, I feel like I have nothing left, and in this battle I am very alone. I want to believe everything is going to be alright--  but I don't know.  It's not like things are getting better right now-- nor for the last several months.  Yet there is one thing I know that restores a little small measure of hope.  God.  He has been here with me all my life and he has seen me through when I shouldn't have made it.  He is not a respecter of persons, and so I believe he will be with my child so aptly named--  Hope.  She's always been called my 'Hope child', and maybe that title has brand new meaning.  Writing this has helped me focus on what is needed.

Hope.

Thank you for listening.  This is Cat out.

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