Challenges and How NOT to Handle Them

 (Note:  This blog has been inactive since around 2019.  Either I lost inspiration or had a record-breaking case of writer's block.  Yesterday, after having a long chat with God, the Holy Spirit nudged me to get back in the saddle.  Evidently, I have more to say.  What though, I don't know.  Your guess is as good as mine!)

My husband, uncle (who has lived with us since 2012), and I relocated to Florida a year and a half ago to the lovely little town of Defuniak Springs.  The move was a positive change.  We loved our new surroundings, quieter lifestyle, and being close to cousins we have not had the luxury of living near before.  Life was good, then WHAM! 

    ➤On Christmas Eve Uncle Ray passed away at the age of 88.  He had taken a fall that was caused by cancer that had spread to his bones. He had been on heavy pain medication for other ailments and it masked the symptoms until it weakened him to the point of collapse. The hospital in our little town has limited diagnostic and treatment capabilities so they transported him to one 30 miles away.  Along with the commute, a lot transpired during the three weeks he was there that caused a great deal of dismay. It will suffice to say I wasn't pleased with the care he was receiving and made darn sure everyone knew. (Resulting in a letter of apology from the CEO of the hospital - a little victory).  A week before his death he was transferred to a hospice facility near our home.  That provided the opportunity to spend more time with him even though he was in and out of consciousness.  No matter how sick he was and knowing he was at the end of his life, the loss was excruciating.   

    ➤A week and a half later, my husband had a massive heart attack and I almost lost him.  He had to have a quadruple bypass due to 90% blockage. He was first sent to our little hospital, then transported to the one where my uncle was (GASP!),  but thankfully after having a heart catheterization, transported to one that specialized in cardiac surgery - 40 miles away - another long commute. 

    ➤As a member of the Silent No More Awareness Campaign, I had made reservations to attend the March for Life in Washington, D.C., scheduled for the end of January where I was going to join my Silent No More sisters and brothers in sharing testimonies on the steps of the Supreme Court. I also had tickets to two formal pro-life dinners, one in which Tim Tebow was speaking.  After my husband's heart attack and subsequent surgery, I was going to cancel the trip but he insisted I go since he was going to be well taken care of at inpatient cardiac rehab.  That all came to a screeching halt when two days before the trip, I came down with COVID. Not only did I miss the trip, but was quarantined - unable to visit my husband.  My COVID symptoms were mild, but at around 2 a.m. mid-quarantine, I woke up gasping for breath and having severe chest pains. Fearing I was facing the same fate as my husband, I called  911 and was transported to the emergency room of our little hospital.  Praise God it wasn't a heart attack.  I was diagnosed with pulmonary edema. I was given medication and sent home with instructions to rest and get a check-up with a cardiologist. 

Now, my friends and family consider me a strong person with a great deal of faith.  I hate to burst that bubble, folks - I might have looked in control but I was a mammoth mass of grief, worry, anxiety, and anger, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I am also embarrassed to say being alone in my house at night scared me to death.  I had my precious puppy, Maggie Mae, but that didn't alleviate the fear I had at every little noise.  Even the unloaded 9mm on my nightstand that would hopefully scare away a prospective intruder didn't provide a sense of security. (Thank goodness it wasn't loaded.  With the way things were going I probably would have shot myself in the foot or something).  I barely slept. 

Instead of turning towards God, I turned away because I felt he abandoned me (I'll show Him).  Instead of leaning on my family, friends, and church community, I allowed pride to get in the way.  All of them offered assistance but I didn't want to show any vulnerability.  (I am woman - hear me roar).  

As Forest Gump said, "Stupid is as stupid does."  I had made great strides in my personal growth and faith journey since what I call my "dark days," decades ago.  I thought I had this thing called life all figured out.  Through former challenges and lessons learned on dealing with them, I should have been prepared for what had happened.  But noooooo - those lessons were forgotten and I reverted back to a whining, self-pitying mess in one more self-imposed isolation.  I was on the verge of throwing in the towel once more - to the point of ending 24 years of sobriety along with my growing relationship with God.

Satan had been patiently waiting for a moment of weakness and he got what he was looking for ... but his victory was short-lived.  God heard and answered the prayers of my family, friends, and parish for not only the healing of my husband but for my strength and comfort (they must have also mentioned my sanity). He answered by slapping me upside the head by speaking to me through my AA sponsor and dear friend, Susan, who has always been lovingly but brutally honest with me. I should have known He would do that...He had done it before, using her to pull me back from the abyss more times than I would care to admit.

God provides enlightenment through challenges. I learned that leaning on those who offer support is not a sign of weakness but a gift from God ... a gift that should be humbly and gratefully received and cherished; that self-pity is counter-productive and isolating and stuffing fear, grief, anger, etc., increases stress to the point of affecting health with disastrous consequences.  

This whole situation reminded me of this quote:  

And might I add that He also puts the right people in our life at the right time. 😘

Uncle Ray - 12/10/33 to 12/24/2021

Michael on the road to recovery