It's been twelve and a half years now, and it shocks me to see that number. I can recall every detail like it was yesterday, but sometimes it seems like a lifetime ago. I was living in Indiana, living and working on a large Thoroughbred horse farm, and I had just gotten remarried two weeks before. I went with my husband to help with a mare that was going down to be bred to a high dollar stallion in Louisville, Ky. My job was to stay with the 30 day old foal in the horse trailer while the mare was in the breeding shed. The farm I worked on really didn't handle the foals much at that age, so this little filly was quite frightened when her mom left the trailer. She weighed around 150 lbs at that point, about 30 lbs more than me at the time. During the hour the mare was gone, that little wild thing drug me around all over the trailer, while I tried my best to keep her from harming herself and me. It was not a good situation, and I came out of it with a grade one right shoulder dislocation. No big deal. This was February 15, 2003. I wore a sling, and it rocked on for 3 weeks, no better, no worse. Than, on March 4, I woke up and thought I had surely died and gone to hell, because I was in so much pain I couldn't believe I was still alive. I could not even say my name, all I could do was scream. My right shoulder and arm felt like it was simultaneously being burned and stabbed over and over. My husband took me to the doctor, and I was blessed to be seen by a doctor who immediately recognized what was happening, William F. Blaisdell, MD. I remember him saying, "I believe you have developed RSD. If we can get this pain stopped quickly, you have a good chance of recovering completely." I remember thinking, "RSD!? What in the world is that?" But at that point, all I wanted was the pain to go away, so I didn't question him then. He gave me some very strong pain meds in my IV, and I thought, "Oh good, I'll be feeling much better shortly." Not so. After giving me another round of IV pain meds, with no relief whatsoever, he injected my shoulder with a strong anesthetic, wrote a prescription for pain meds, and told me to come back first thing in the morning. I came home and sat in a recliner all night, literally crying and screaming in agony. The next day I was no better, and thus began a vicious downward spiral in my physical, emotional, and mental health. I had developed a crazy and debilitating disease called Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy, also called Chronic Regional Pain Syndrome. My sympathetic nervous system wouldn't quit firing pain signals in my right arm, and my circulatory system was trying to shut down in my right arm. Every day that week I was in the doctor's office, with no relief. I remember at one point asking him to just cut my arm off, because I didn't need it that bad. It was at this low point when I saw this picture of the most beautiful moth I had ever seen in a magazine in my doctor's office. I don't remember the name of it, but I remember seeing pictures of it as a worm, and then this picture of how beautiful it was after it "died" in it's cocoon and was reborn as a moth. It struck a chord with my spirit, because I felt like I was literally dying, and I wasn't sure I if I would emerge on the other side of this trial or not. As I stared at it, I could hear my Lord whisper to me, "This too shall pass, my child, and you will come out on the other side." A certainty, a hope, and a peace came over me, and I knew somehow, someday, it would be better. I remember tearfully asking Dr. Blaisdell if I could have the picture out of the magazine, and he so carefully cut it out for me and gave it to me, saying, "Honey, if it makes you feel any better, you can have any picture you want in that magazine!" That picture became a symbol to me, of hope and rebirth, and life after the storm. I became determined to emerge from this "cocoon of death" stronger and more beautiful than ever before. I endured years of stellate ganglion blocks, surgeries to implant devices to override the pain in my spine, and I was on so much medication I could barely function. Nothing really helped the pain, or the problems with the circulation in my arm. I lost down to 95 lbs, and some of the surgeries caused permanent nerve and ligament damage in my hips and spine, which left me unable to walk without a cane, and for a while I actually had to use a motorized chair for mobility. After some of the surgeries, I would be bedridden for months at a time. My right arm became essentially useless, all of the hair on it fell off and my fingernails came off. It was alternately hot, then cold, and I could stand no wind to blow on it, because it felt like darts on my arm. I lost my ability to write, which had always been my "outlet", and my ability to play piano. I almost lost complete hope. During one of my surgeries, I had to be resuscitated twice, and I became afraid to be put under anesthesia, fearing I wouldn't wake up. My kind, caring doctor was a blessing to me, and he insisted I be able to take my picture with me to every surgery and procedure I had. His orders were, "let her keep it with her until she is under anesthesia, then give it back to her as soon as she wakes up." It became my habit to look for my picture as soon as I was conscious again, knowing if I saw it that I had survived. There were days when staring at this picture and praying for God to carry me through to the other side of my storm was all I had the energy or courage to do. I carried it everywhere with me, believing in God's promise of a better day, of a rainbow after the storm, and a better life with less pain one day. My life verse has always been Job 23:10 - "But He knows the way that I take; when He has tried me, I will come forth as gold." This picture became a symbol of that promise to "come forth as gold". Now, I didn't worship this picture, so don't get me wrong, but it was the beauty of the ugly worm dying, and then living again, more beautiful and stronger, able to fly, that I clung to. I knew only God could do that, take something like a worm and make something so beautiful and graceful, and I knew He could do it for me, too. It was 7 years later, when I moved back home to Mississippi, that I finally began to "emerge" from that cocoon of pain and death. Sadly, my marriage did not survive that period, and I found myself alone, and disabled. I was still on about 20 different types of medications a day, most of them I took at least twice a day. I was still barely functioning, and now I was totally on my own, with only God and myself to depend on. The first six months, I was so scared and depressed, and I admit, several times I thought about dying. I came very close to being suicidal, and that is hard for me to admit. I went weeks without seeing another person, and days without even talking to anyone. Then I reconnected with an old friend, and she introduced me to essential oils, and she prayed for me and encouraged me to seek alternative methods of pain management. She was persistent in not letting me become the recluse I wanted to be, and I am ever thankful to her for that. As I began to use natural methods of pain relief, I found that they did help. I researched more, changed my diet to organic, healthier foods, and I began to notice a real difference. I credit God totally with this, because it is He who made those plants that the essential oils were derived from, it is He who created those healthy, nutritious foods, and it was He who carried me on those days when I literally could not walk, or move, on my own. It was God's loving arms wrapped tightly around me that kept me from ending my life when I got so low. As I got a little better, I began to rehabilitate myself, forcing myself to fight through the pain to walk without a cane, then to roller skate, like a baby at first (I had been a good skater in my youth), and finally progressing to the point I could whiz around that floor like I had wings. I remembered my picture of that beautiful moth I had carried all those years, and I knew God was fulfilling his promise to carry me through to the other side. I was able to wean off all prescription medications, and I began to toy with the idea of going back into Nursing, and getting off of disability. That day when I completed my "Reorientation to Nursing" course, required after so many years of being out, felt like the best day of my life. I felt like a new person, and I was. Those trials, those dark and hard moments I had endured, had caused me to grow in ways I never would have otherwise. I was tougher, but softer. I still had, and have, a lot of pain, but I have learned not to fear it, and to know my limits. I have learned to take better care of my body, and to give it the nutrition, exercise, and rest it needs to function. I have become much more sympathetic to others in pain, whether it is physical, emotional, mental, or spiritual pain. I have become more forgiving, more tolerant of other's mistakes and human ways, and I have become more appreciative of those little things we so often take for granted. I have come to the full understanding that no tomorrow is guaranteed, and today is fleeting. I have learned, with God's loving help and strength, to rely on Him, the One who knows me best, who desires only good for me, and who will never leave or forsake me. This is why I chose Nursing Behind the Wall, because I know what it is like to be in a dark place without hope, a prison of pain, and I want to share the Light of Hope, who is Jesus, with these people.
So dear friend, if you are going through storms, if life seems dark and lonely, and you are close to giving up hope, take heart! There is One who loves you more than you can imagine, One who wants to hold you close in His loving arms and whisper, "It will be ok my child." Seek God, through Jesus Christ, and draw near to Him. He will carry you through even the darkest night, the most violent storm, the biggest heartache, and the worst pain. Our Lord, the Great Physician, wants to heal you. All you have to do is trust in Him, believe His promises, and rest in His loving arms. This too, will pass, my friend. One day soon, that cocoon of death you are in will break open, and you will emerge stronger, more beautiful, and better for it. God bless....
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