Monday, March 4, 2013

Dreams - Wounds - Doctors

I've been having all kinds of crazy dreams the past few months. Some bad dreams and some that just make me smile. There are some that have a continual nature in them. They involve one of my favorite people in them and combine to tell a story. When I'm able to sit at the computer without further damaging my back, I plan to put them altogether into a book. Last night's was a great chapter. Not telling! 

Every now and then I have a dream about my family members who have passed on. I dreamed about my brother the other night. I dreamed he was sick and I couldn't get to him. He was calling for me and I heard him in the distance, but I just couldn't find him. I woke up crying. This dream came from a memory stemming from reality. When he was taking chemo, he spiked a very high fever one night. Being so exhausted, I fell into a very deep sleep and did not hear him calling me until half an hour had passed. When I finally heard him, he was shivering so badly I almost panicked. Instead God sent the most amazing peace. He told me what to do to bring the fever down and after an hour, my brother was sleeping peacefully. 

The next day I bought a baby monitor and slept lightly to hear him and my dad, who was also very ill and dying, in case they needed me in the middle of the night. 

I never forgave myself for falling asleep that night and not hearing him the first time. Even though I know I was doing the best I could on my own, it was still not good enough. For the past nineteen years I've beat myself up for not doing a better job caring for him, my dad and working a full time job. But that particular night seems to have scarred me the worst. 

I'll never forget the peace that came into that room and the words of guidance that came when I needed them. Many other times God sent help when we needed it. Without His help, I would have lost my mind. 

But there are many wounds I acquired during those years yet to be healed. Since my move to Wilmore, I have been experiencing "emotional" healing from the wounds I sustained in Alabama. With each wound surfacing, another one comes to surface needing attention so that it, too, can heal. 

My body is still falling apart. The fall I took over a week ago still shows damage on my knee, but I'm moving around and thankful to be walking. The nerves in my thighs are dying and I can feel the numbness coming quickly. I am so much more aware of walking these days because I can no longer feel my feet or legs. The strength in my hands is going faster than I thought. Graduating to plastic cups now. But I keep going to water aerobics and enjoy the friends and encouragement there. 

As for doctors, the one who read my MRI already sent out the written diagnosis before he bothered to see it. I've learned over the years once they put it into writing, no further action is done. They send it on to the primary physician. If you are blessed to find a good doctor, one who listens, who cares, who is willing to take time to search beyond the blood test, beyond the x-ray, hang onto him/her. Not all answers are in a blood test. My brother had several blood tests. Cancer did not show. He lived one year. He died when he was 46 yrs. old. 

Not all answers are found in a blood test. 


The same goes for people. Care enough to listen. You may not have answers. Just listen. It is the purest form of love. 


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