Reflections from the River

My life inherently changed 7 months ago.

All my life I have been proud of my ability to do physical things. Mostly because it’s always hurt to do them, but also because I knew that I was quietly helping myself feel better. It has been an outlet of sorts for me. Any frustration, sadness, whatever-I could go to a gym, go to crazy jobs that I’ve had no business doing, take a fitness class, or go for a walk. It also helped with clots and swelling to pedal or do any of the aforementioned things when those started to flair up. Anyone that tells you that any sort of movement, if they are capable of moving, will not help them is flat out not being honest. 🤷🏼‍♀️ (or they’re just lazy. 👀)

I cannot move now without it being incredibly painful. I am also hunched over because standing upright makes me feel like letting out a yell. I have always waddled, but I corrected that for a time and now it’s a million times worse. I also drag my left side around all day. As a person who has honestly never really enjoyed attention, I’m hard to miss now when I move.

Some days the loss of physical anonymity makes me sad, or embarrassed, or ticked off. (Or a combo of all three!) But on this eve of the 7 month anniversary of my new life, I suppose I’m writing this to give myself permission to let go. Come what may God will see me through, and maybe I’ll be better than before my journey began. ❤️

What if you had nine hours of good time a day? By good I mean able to think and function relatively normally cognitively. I am in that position most days. Sometimes it’s more like 6-7 hours, but you get the gist. Plus, nine hours is definitely an improvement from the -2 hours I had going on for awhile there, so I’ll take what I can get!

I recently took a week off from my main social media account because I didn’t want to waste some of my 9 precious hours looking at all the political garbage happening in the US right now. But alas, it’s unavoidable no matter how hard I try. Maybe after November my nine hours can be filled with nothing but laughter, Jesus, prayer, hobbles with my dog up and down my street, watching an occasional show, this blog, reading, etc.

One of the most beautiful things that has happened to me amidst all the trauma and upheaval and fighting to survive from December of last year to now is a realization of sorts. It’s okay to say no. It’s okay to put up strict boundaries and protect your peace. It’s okay to hobble, not want to speak to awful people that you happen to be related to, and it’s okay to be yourself. It’s okay to use 9 hours of the time that you’re awake and with it cognitively however that looks for you(or maybe you’re lucky and get more time! ❤️😊) to be unabashedly you.

In the spirit of a podcast I just listened to, and also because I haven’t done it in awhile, I’m going to post a free flowing prayer as it comes to me. 10 years ago, my Uncle Ed taught me to pray after my brain issues really began. When he was in seminary at Duke he learned the ACTS prayer method which stands for Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, and Supplication. This method has saved my life a time or two, and has helped me to communicate with my best friend The Big Guy in Heaven when I have been out of words, or just had too many to make them make sense. So here goes:

Adoration: I am so thankful for the relationship that I have with you. A relationship that sustains and uplifts me even on days that I don’t realize it. Thank you for loving me and showering me with your Grace.

Confession: I am not always appreciative of the blessings I am given large and small. Sometimes, I am filled with fear because of the chaos that runs rampant in the government in the US. Sometimes I let the bad outweigh the good in my life when there is always more good.

Thanksgiving: Thank you for this apartment. Thank you for lights that turn on, water that runs, and a sink that is fixed, Thank you for every trial and struggle. Thank you for my angel Elles. Thank you for Catholicism. Thank you for my neurologist, cardiologist, and PCP.

Supplication: Please restore my faith in the government of the United States, and help all elected officials to see past their own egos. Help them to remember that they were elected to govern, lead, and help the people of this country. Please help me to maintain safety from Covid when I attend Mass, and am at the hospital.

Amen.

This is a departure from anything I’ve ever written, but sometimes it’s nice to write differently.

Yesterday after therapies, I was waiting for my Lyft to arrive in this open air area at the hospital. It was absolutely lovely. Normally, I sit on this little perch, or at the bistro where the employees eat but I wanted some quiet. It was the oddest thing, but I was mesmerized by the view. Odd because I could give two hoots about water and it takes a lot to mesmerize me. 😅 But, in that moment, I was relaxed. As I watched this sail boat on the river, I thought of all the years others had sat out there too. I wondered who was steering it, and if my childhood neurosurgeon still had a sailboat. I wondered about my future and the future of my country. But, as is the norm now, my back began to ache, and I got up to distract myself and wait for my ride home.

It is an undisputed fact for those that know me well that I should not be alive. The life that I have lived has been complicated at times, and seems like it’s been 70 years long instead of 35. What started the complications was that I was born with a condition that created lots of trials for me growing up in a teeny southern town. The only cure for this condition is brain surgery. Until high school, i never knew anyone with hydrocephalus. I just knew my head was heavy, running was a terrible idea, and I tripped a lot. Also that my head was very very big evidently. I went to a conference and was dumbfounded. Those kids and adults had had way more than four brain surgeries! Also that those kids and adults were ridiculously happy go lucky and felt fortunate to be alive.

My anxiety about functioning in the world with hydrocephalus was often misconstrued as other things. Then came blood clots, then came a withdrawal after heart ache, then intracranial bleeds, and then full on survival mode. Somehow, I’m still standing. But now I have to function with a new level of pain, a weird gait, and rolling cognition. Life is weird. Invisible illnesses are weird too. And hard. Especially in this new world we live in that seems to change by the second. Be kind out there, readers. You never know what battles someone is fighting. ❤️

The blog that you’ve stumbled across if you’re not a friend, acquaintance, or family member of mine has my heart in it. (Hence the website name) This blog has many layers, and if you start from its infancy to now it may seem as if you’re reading the thoughts of two different authors. But it’s just me. I have just been horrifically sick the last 7ish months. My brain has issues, and not like your ex did, but of the neurological variety. Around December of last year it began to be even weirder, and there’s been a relocation for medical care, and its healing itself. Again. These past months I’ve learned what, and who matters, and try to live my life as authentically as possible as a newly physically disabled person in the middle of the pandemic the world finds itself in.

I’m unapologetically honest, Catholic, and honestly have no idea what’s next for me. Im often a bit like that fish from the Disney movie that can’t remember much for long. But I’m alive, have the basics, a perfect dog, healthcare, and am making it so far just fine. If I don’t know you, welcome to this site you’ve stumbled across. I’m glad you’re here.

I didn’t think I was going to make it at the beginning of this year many times. That has a tendency to make someone pray harder, be a lot more kind, and wake up with a sense of purpose because you didn’t think you’d wake up again in the first place. There’s more to come for me, and with Gods help perhaps it will be wildly fantastic. Or perhaps it will be perfect in something as simple as remembering to eat and daring to dream.

Blessings and love,

Lisa

As more of my cognition returns to me in waves, I am able to think back on things from long ago more easily. Mostly memories of memorable things, and it’s almost as if my brain suppresses the painful ones to protect me. I realize that’s a super odd statement, but it’s a truthful one. My brain is weird, and with all it’s been through it does all sorts of weird stuff.

Anyway, today I was thinking back on a Spanish class I took when I finishing my Bachelors. There have been a handful of men that I have seen up close where I was dumbstruck by what they looked like, and frankly how pretty they were. This professor was no exception. But once I got over his good looks I remember appreciating how interesting he was. We did the most interesting things in his class as well. He challenged us on a regular basis and I learned quite a bit of Spanish that stored itself in this brain of mine. We learned about and discussed Spanish culture as much as we did pronouns, and one day he assigned each student a small group and a country where we had to research the healthcare for that country. He was well traveled and spoke multiple languages, and I remember being dumbfounded again, fresh from two brain bleeds, as he spoke of countries that cared enough about their citizens to offer them healthcare from birth. What a concept! I was living in a town where when I became dizzy and forgot how to ride my bike and went to the ER they didn’t know what hydrocephalus was.

In the United States at the present time we are asking ourselves and each other some hard questions. Are we equal? Does every person have value from the time they are in the womb until they pass away?- Not just the most wealthy, or celebrities in Hollywood in their mansions that complain about quarantining. Why is it okay to open public schools and not private? Are we really one nation under God when we do nothing to help each other-let alone the most vulnerable among us-and throw up our hands and wail when we are asked to wear a mask so the health system isn’t completely decimated and so that people that we and others love don’t die? Why is our military budget astronomical and our people are starving, homeless, and do not have the means to care for themselves as the economy gets worse by the day? Is the stock market indicative of a fabulous economy when people can’t keep their lights on? Where are our priorities?

I long for the United States that lives in my heart. A kind and prosperous place of equal opportunity where people have value at all stages of their lives. Perhaps this will come to fruition in my lifetime. I can pray that it does. ❤️

I go to various therapies at the local Catholic hospital for multiple medical issues. Today was an OT and PT day, and I had a substitute physical therapist. As a general rule, I respond to new people slowly and then don’t shut up. 🤷🏼‍♀️ But this lady I took to immediately. I was in an immense amount of pain today, but went to the hospital anyway because movement has always helped me; even now. It doesn’t make the pain go away completely, but it distracts me from it and does help a little bit. Anyway, this therapist was cautious because I admitted I was at around a 9.5 pain wise, but she still pushed and encouraged which I loved. Weird, right? Anyway, we were doing these step ups on a platform of sorts they have in the PT gym, and I asked her if she had ever noticed the cross on the roof top out the window if you look up. She said that she hadn’t and wondered if they were at all the corners of the hospital. I told her probably. Nuns like crosses. She chuckled heartily and said true. I also pointed at a chip underneath one of the windows. That a piece of the frame around the edge had fallen away years ago. Then looked at her with all seriousness and with a heart full of sincerity and said you know, hospitals don’t have to be fancy. It’s who works at them and how they treat every person that walks inside that matters. She nodded and smiled and said very true.

The world is a weird place. People hate each other for the most stupid of reasons when every last one of us were formed from the same set of hands. People care about things that are so shallow on this side of Heaven that will mean nothing when God calls us home. It won’t matter what car we drove or what kind of purse we carried. It will matter if we were kind. If we loved fiercely. If we were a helper to those that needed it. And most importantly if we were in genuine communion with Him.

On Monday I went to daily Mass at a new place where I live because the one at that time at my parish wasn’t able to continue.

It was a spur of the moment thing to get a Lyft ride there. I didn’t do any planning, or check for handicapped accessibility, but honestly I had such a hunger to receive The Eucharist that I just went. It was a beautiful Mass. SO traditional and I got there early, so I got to hobble around and look at the windows and say the Rosary beforehand with everyone. I just so happened to put mine in my purse before I left, but I think that was Mary giving me a little nudge. ❤️ Afterwards i had to do a tremendous amount of walking because this basilica is in a massive city and they lock certain areas and I didn’t know my way around, but I survived and made it home. Next time I’ll pay better attention to what the nuns do. 🤦🏼‍♀️ They just walked right out the front. 😂

Despite the physical impediments that I now have, Monday I found a corner of a massive city and spent some time with Jesus. People read this blog from all over the world. I think that no matter where any of us are located, He just wants us to find Him, and spend a little bit of time with Him.

The last seven months have taught me so much. They have taught me to always speak up for myself. They have taught me about the fragility of humans. They have taught me that life is short and fleeting, and when you’re given a second chance at it you should hang on tight, and make the most of your second chance; no matter what you look like when you walk or how much pain you’re in when you do it.

I find myself peaceful most days in these and many other realizations as the world goes bonkers out there. Life is a precious gift, and I’m so thankful for mine. Do I get frustrated? Worry about what my purpose is? Wonder what my vocation is at the age of 35? Certainly. But then I get a ride to Mass by a Knights of Columbus member who hadn’t been to church in a long while, stayed for the service, and loved the priest as much as I do. Or see my plants that were once just seeds grow bit by bit, share my produce box with my neighbors, take my dog for four ten minute walks a day in the sunshine, and make people smile with my social media posts about my daily activities and realize that perhaps I’m in the process of figuring it out. Thanks be to God for these blessings. May we all find rest in His arms that are welcoming and vast beyond comprehension. ❤️ Everything will work itself out according to His will and not ours eventually.