Gastroparesis, hemiplegia, Spastic Hemiplegia, Tubie


Earlier this week I swept the floor, hung a bulletin board on the wall of our house which sits almost two months later in a state of not feeling moved in yet, and I folded a load of laundry I had mananged to dump from the dryer into a heap on the couch three days prior. I stalked the clock until nap time, when I gladly collapsed into a heap in my bedroom once the house was quiet. And I wept. A silent pouring relief of tears plopped dark circles on my pillow and I cried of happiness. Tears because I was so grateful to have been able to do those three things for the first time in…. I don’t know. I realized in those moments that I have been so overwhelmed in the grief of losing myself and my normal, that I have forgotten to be so deeply thankful for the triumphs like these. I know by that evening I was scowling at myself again, because it is ever so easy to compare myself to the old me and measure myself by the things I used to be able to do, and it’s a painfully distant gap. I want to remember these moments of victory though. I want to learn to give myself grace and to be quick to gratefulness even over the wins that seem so small. It is the repeated small victories that give me the motivation to keep pressing on and leaning in; how unfortunate for them to be overlooked. Sweeping, hanging, folding… so small, but still proof of something mighty. What small victories are you celebrating today?



hemiplegia, hope, MRI

It’s just my brain, not my mind…

Many of you know the battle I have been engaged in the last few years, and some of you may not.  I do not widely share details because I don’t want my struggle to become my identity.  There have been times I have felt frustration when meeting up with people who would say “how are you feeling” or “what are the doctors saying,” instead of wondering how I am doing as a person, as a mom, as a woman with dreams and emotions and cravings for cold beer and hot wings just like the rest of you.  I am not what happened to me, I am so much more.

That being said, ok, I’ll talk about it.  It has been a difficult few years wading through this.  Between stretches of feeling strong and well and brave, there have been cycles of unfathomable weakness, agonizing pain, and joy-stealing defeat.  There have been periods of weeks where I feel like I spend more days sitting in a hospital or doctor’s office than I do anywhere else.  All of the testing and trying and  treatments leaving me wondering if I felt worse before the medicine, or after.

Right now, with some questions answered and many remaining, I’m taking a hiatus from the needles and the side effects and the seeing doctors’ faces in all my days.  I’m giving my body a chance to respond to some more natural therapies, and cashing the extra time in on the things, well the someones, that I love.  Having to step away from my passion on the ambulance for awhile seemed devastating at first, but experiencing the strengthening in the slowing of time has brought hope to my broken frame, and perspective and empathy to my heart, as well as to the loves caring for me.

There are so many voices willing to extend input and suggestion, and I ask that you please give us the freedom we need to pursue the avenues we have chosen.  There is so much to medicine, and so many possible equations that could be the catalyst to complete healing, but it can be overwhelming, and certainly impossible to try every regimen and procedure that’s out there.

When you look at me, please see past my illness…because really, it was there before you even knew to look for it.  Sure, there will be some days harder than others, but I’m still a wife, a mommy, a paramedic, a hemiplegic? Ehh, just makes things more interesting.

I appreciate your prayers as we change gears for awhile, that I would continue to gain strength and energy, relief from pain, and my story would bring glory to the One who chose it for me. 

Please leave me a comment, it lets me know you’re listening!