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Alterations

On Easter Sunday in 2002 I sat at the dining room table in front of my makeup mirror. This was the first time in months that I bothered to apply makeup and the lighting revealed changes in my skin. The texture was no longer smooth and the pores were huge. It looked acne prone but no acne was present. And if that wasn’t enough, I had a beard — a thin layer of light hair or “peach fuzz” outlining my face.

That’s a steroid for ya. It turns men into women and women into men.

I was the unfortunate recipient of prednisone side effects. I’d been using the drug for six months and that was enough to cause damage. As was the case when I discovered bald spots on the back of my head on Steve’s birthday, I tried to make myself look pretty. I felt altered. It took herculean effort to muster a good attitude. I forced a smile at chapel but inside I grieved. Of course, no one else knew the difference, but no one else had my face. I hoped these changes would be reversed if I quit taking prednisone. (I will go ahead and tell you now they never were. Physical changes from prednisone usually are permanent.)

In the meantime I continued my supplement regimen hoping that it would be strong enough to hold off the disease process. But soon my hopes would be dashed. One day in the bathroom I looked down at my legs. They were covered with red-purple blotches. It looked like my blood was trying to escape. Along with this horrifying discovery came irritated elbows and knuckles. Red streaks lined my fingers. An excruciating blend of weakness, pain, and burning attacked my upper arms.

These alarming new developments prompted me to contact Tricare to see if I could get a different rheumatologist closer to Clarksville. They accommodated my request and I managed to get an appointment scheduled for June.

By the time June rolled around my condition deteriorated. Every activity was a chore. I was so listless that even holding my Bible was hard. I didn’t want to listen to the radio. Didn’t want to read. Didn’t want to watch TV. I lay there staring at the ceiling praying to God in my mind, “Lord, I’m too weary to move my lips. Read my heart.”

It wasn’t long before someone recognized the severity of my health. Steve got word that we were being sent back to Fort Carson. It was sort of a compassionate reassignment without the official title. It really was more of a compassionate early PCS. Under normal conditions we would have remained at Fort Campbell for another 6-12 months. God orchestrated this move and had the Army send us back to where I had family and access to better specialists.

Because we only had a month before moving I canceled my appointment with the rheumatologist. What was the point of getting started with a new doctor when I was leaving? I was ready to move on, ready to get back home.

God came through with provisions for our move. It was obvious he had everything worked out ahead of time. Again I would see Him acting on my behalf. Yet, I sense a question circulating, “Why did He allow this to happen to you in the first place?” That question would be answered in months to come.

THE JOURNEY CONTINUES:

“Why?” It’s a question we find ourselves asking at times, especially when something horrible happens that seems to have no valid purpose or reason. I like to have answers. I like information. I try to figure things out. I need to know that somehow God will replace my ashes with beauty, my grief with joy (Isaiah 61:3).

What I’ve come to accept is that God will always be incomprehensible. God has a plan that involves the universe and I’m a microscopic part of that. God’s plan is something so massive and astounding that I wouldn’t understand it even if He tried to explain it to me. When I get outside myself and acknowledge the fact that life involves things much bigger than me, and recognize that God is God and that He has eternity in mind, my perspective becomes a little clearer.

All I can do is throw myself at His feet in surrender and trust that He will make all the suffering worthwhile. . . . He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end . . . (Eccles. 3:1-9).

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Life Happens – Jesus Answers is a weekly column addressing the challenges we face in life, coupled with the presence and grace of Jesus, our One True Source of hope and peace. The column’s author, Laura Firtko, can be reached by email here: LifeHappens@pwoc.org

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Waiting for Relief

The ER doctor inquired while assessing the condition of my thumb,“Why is your thumb black and how long has it been that way?” My response eased his furrowed brow, “My mother thought that applying a poultice to the area would draw out any infection. We just applied it today.”

Now more amused than concerned, he stated, “At least the black color isn’t from necrotic tissue. I thought you might lose your thumb.” Then he proceeded to clean off the sticky black stuff and asked me to sit in the waiting area – without pain killers.

Dad and I took seats. We waited. We sat. We waited more. I don’t think the ER staff took me seriously. Eight hours went by and the tears rolled. During those hours I never saw anyone having a heart attack or bleeding profusely. Those cases are always taken first. If they aren’t present who goes next? Apparently people in extreme pain go last.

It was hard to tell why the other people were there. They sat calmly like they were waiting for haircuts. None of them appeared to be hurting. Was I dismissed because my excruciating pain came from an area the size of a large pin head? Did the size matter in their minds? Did they think I was a wimp with a low pain threshold? That’s how I felt.

Finally, around 8 p.m. I was taken to an area partitioned by a curtain and told to lie down on a bed covered with thick black plastic. It was creepy. It reminded of death. I waited more. Then a male nurse wearing light green scrubs came in. He took my vital signs and asked with an air of doubt, “All this pain is coming from that?” as he gawked at my extended thumb.

My response to that insensitive nurse was a simple “yes” but if I had to relive that moment I would say something like this: “Yeah. Go get me an ice pick. Hold out your thumb. I’ll be glad to demonstrate for you how much pain you can have from an area this small!” I didn’t need questions and doubts. I needed morphine!

Once I had been placed behind the curtain I expected quick relief. But they had to take blood. Then they had to wait for results. All this time I waited – again without pain killers. They always like to get results before medicating a patient. Why? I don’t know. Maybe to test liver and kidney function to see if the organs can process the drug safely.

The day was so long and tiring I don’t remember if I prayed. I was too miserable to do anything but clench my teeth and cry. This was the first of several visits to the ER and it wasn’t over.

THE JOURNEY CONTINUES:

Why is life filled with pain? Sin. We have Adam and Eve to thank for trips to the ER. Otherwise we’d be enjoying pain-free living. As we all know, life brings more than physical pain. It brings emotional, mental, and even spiritual pain. Hard experiences can cause us to close our hearts toward God, especially when they seem to be without any worthwhile purpose. That’s when we are forced to choose – do we withdraw from Him or trust Him?

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Life Happens – Jesus Answers is a ongoing weekly column addressing the challenges we face in life, coupled with the presence and grace of Jesus, our One True Source of hope and peace. The column’s author, Laura Firtko, can be reached by email here: LifeHappens@pwoc.org

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A Shock in the Mirror

My visit with the rheumatologist in Bowling Green, Kentucky, is hardly worth mentioning. He was sorry to hear about my miscarriage, but he offered no relief from the lupus or hair loss. And his carelessness with prescriptions made me uneasy. If I had actually taken the Vioxx he tossed at me back in February, which typically is prescribed for rheumatoid arthritis and not lupus, I would have blamed myself and the medication for the miscarriage. No doubt I would have blamed the doctor too.

I see God’s grace in this.

My previous experience and knowledge with medications gave me the wisdom not to take the Vioxx. In subsequent years I saw law office television ads naming Vioxx as a villain in countless stories about horrific side effects. I had been spared unrelenting torment.

Soon June 2001 would be upon us and I had lost so much hair it looked sparse and straggly. To shield my waning self esteem from further humiliation I began wearing ball caps. When Steve returned from Fort Jackson he didn’t mention the condition of my hair and I wasn’t aware of its severity.

When Steve’s birthday arrived in late June I wanted to look pretty for him so I took time getting ready. It’s hard to believe that during all those months since February I hadn’t considered checking the back of my head.

Until that day.

I turned my back to the sink and held a mirror with my left hand while examining my hair with the right. Shock pulsated through my heart. I was transfixed. Anyone walking past would have thought I was a statue.

How could this be? Where there once was beautiful sandy blonde hair there now appeared three bald spots the size of golf balls. Steve entered the bathroom and I showed him the back of my head. He hadn’t noticed it before. Really?

I questioned, “What can I do? How can I cover the spots? I can’t wear a ball cap with a dress!” He suggested I try one of my summer hats. Although the idea sounded abhorrent it was either that or stay home.

I slowly walked into the bedroom to get a pair of earrings and the tears broke loose. As I reached for my jewelry pouch Steve came over to console me. With despair I cried, “I wanted to look pretty for you but I’m not pretty anymore.” He responded with a very male comment, “It’s okay. I don’t love you for your hair.”

I returned to the bathroom and struggled unsuccessfully to style the straggles. And even though the hat covered my scalp, it couldn’t erase the horrifying image I’d seen in the mirror. From my perspective the evening was marred by a new thing to grieve. Never before had I felt so ugly.

I began to wonder what all this was about. Why was it progressing? Was God punishing me? As far as I knew I wasn’t anymore sinful than any other Christian. I felt singled out. No other spouses in my military circles were enduring anything remotely close to this. Would I have to walk this road alone? How long would it last? How bad would it get?

Only God, and time, would tell.

THE JOURNEY CONTINUES:

Have you ever walked a path that seemed to have no clear direction? Did you feel as though you were suffering for nothing? During times when God brings perplexing circumstances into our lives it helps to adopt a God perspective or an eternal perspective. Remember that He sees things much differently and has a plan involving the entire universe.

An important question to ask during trials is, “Father, what can I learn from this?” Then wait for His answer.

In the meantime, read Isaiah 55; 1 Peter 4:12-19; and bury your face in the Psalms.

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Life Happens – Jesus Answers is a weekly column addressing the challenges we face in life, coupled with the presence and grace of Jesus, our One True Source of hope and peace. The column’s author, Laura Firtko, can be reached by email here: LifeHappens@pwoc.org

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Emergency

The next morning Steve and I ate breakfast in my hospital room and around 9 a.m. I was discharged. After a quick stop at the pharmacy for pain medication and Gas-X we headed home. The old familiar emotions that jarred me the day before began rumbling again and I was grateful we lived only twenty minutes from Fort Campbell.

We pulled into the garage, got out of the car, and Steve opened the door to the house. With each step I felt waves of grief rising, overriding my weariness. Seconds after I stepped inside new sobs escaped for the first time in 24 hours and I released them on Steve’s shoulder.

Not having the same connection to the pregnancy, Steve was somewhat perplexed by my outburst. The whole experience was surreal to him. It might have been more mutual if he had known about the pregnancy beforehand, but men react differently.

Once the waterworks subsided I led Steve over to the end table in our living room and showed him the sonogram photo. With tears in his eyes he said, “It’s very sad.” At that point the loss became a little more tangible. However, he would never understand my trauma.

That night I developed a fever of 101-F along with severe pain in my abdomen. Ibuprofen didn’t break the fever and it rose to 101.7-F so we took off to the ER. This time I was really glad that Fort Campbell was only twenty minutes away.

After waiting a couple hours I was finally seen by a doctor. He asked several questions, looked at my medications, and glared at me when he saw the OB/GYN had prescribed Tylox for pain. With a strange blend of astonishment and anger he announced, “This is for end stage cancer patients!” I was so bewildered by his remark that I just stared back at him. I wasn’t sure if he was angry with me for not taking it (I had chosen not to because I didn’t want liver damage) or if he was floored that the doctor had prescribed such a potent drug. Whatever the case, this doc had a lousy bedside manner.

Once the happy doctor left the room Steve walked me over to the bathroom. As soon as I set foot inside I dropped to the floor. I’ll never know what caused the blackout but I was glad Steve was there to catch me. The last thing I needed was injury. Again I sensed God’s protection and provision.

We returned home around 1 a.m. and I managed to sleep through the night. Steve had been given a four-day pass from school at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, so he was able to stay for only three more days. During those days he made meals, bought take out, and monitored me to make sure I didn’t have another fever. Then he departed, reluctantly, on Wednesday, April 25, 2001.

So there I was, left with unresolved grief from a miscarriage and the unrelenting reality of lupus and hair loss. I was teetering between caring for myself and slipping into debilitating fatigue. Soon I would be in for another road trip.

THE JOURNEY CONTINUES:

Stay connected for more. Jehovah Jireh keeps on providing. The mysteries and complexities of our lives might never be clear in our time, but one thing is certain: God’s ways and thoughts are higher than ours (Isaiah 55:8-9); and, His plans for our future are laced with goodness and hope (Jeremiah 29:11).

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Life Happens – Jesus Answers is a weekly column addressing the challenges we face in life, coupled with the presence and grace of Jesus, our One True Source of hope and peace. The column’s author, Laura Firtko, can be reached by email here: LifeHappens@pwoc.org

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Contradictory Doc

The ob/gyn who discovered my miscarriage had contacted my friend, called the Red Cross, and sent me to a different ob/gyn who would perform the D & C. This new doctor explained the importance of getting it done immediately to prevent complications over the weekend. So, there I was on Friday, April 20, 2001, undergoing the first phase of preparation. I won’t bother describing it here. It’s a tad indelicate.

While I finished getting dressed my friend arrived. She pulled back the curtain, hugged me, and I let out a brief sob. After exchanging a few sorrowful words, we took a seat on the brown leather couch in the doctor’s office. While he was filling out paperwork I gazed at the décor on his walls and desk. It suggested he was a Christian; and this was enough to ease my anxiety since I was about to go under his knife. But it wasn’t long before my encouragement degenerated.

I don’t recall our conversation exactly, but as we chatted about the procedure he said something that sent my heart plummeting: “It was only a blob.” I could feel my face stretch lengthwise as my eyebrows rose, my eyes grew larger, and my mouth fell open. I was so dumbfounded I couldn’t audibly question his ridiculous comment. My innards stirred. If I hadn’t been so stunned I probably would have broken into another atrocious wailing episode.

What’s the deal? Was this guy a Christian or not? Doesn’t he understand that a human life begins at conception? My brain shouted, It wasn’t a blob! How can you say that?! Images of that first sonogram raced through my mind as I recalled the head, the heartbeat, and the clearly formed arms, legs, hands and feet. The baby kicked vigorously. “It” was not a blob. He was a baby!

The doctor’s hand was busy writing and his eyes followed his pen. My eyes glared at him with disgust. The contradictions between his apparent beliefs and his words astounded me. Could it be that he was in the habit of making this offhanded comment to women who had miscarriages just to minimize their loss? Was this his lame way of attempting to assuage their pain? It did the opposite.

When he was finished with the paperwork he handed it to me and told me to go to admitting where I had to fill out more paperwork. What a weird feeling. I still couldn’t comprehend what was happening. My friend and her husband sat with me as I completed the forms. I valued their presence. My mother and sister were in Colorado and they still hadn’t heard. Neither had Steve but he wouldn’t be able to fly from Kansas to Tennessee in time to be with me anyway.

Sitting in the waiting area anticipating the procedure made me restless. I felt so many emotions I wasn’t sure which one to pick. Yet, despite the emotional upheaval, I sensed an inner stability and courage that couldn’t have come from me. God was strengthening me with His special brand of peace that defies explanation. And that wasn’t all He did. Awaiting my discovery was a gift He planted in my hospital room months before just for me.

TO BE CONTINUED:

Stay connected! In the next installment God displays His compassion and sovereignty. Even when He allows hard things in our lives He reveals His loving kindness. As difficult as it is to accept sometimes, Romans 8:28 really is true. This week reflect on what God has done in your life and let Him show you where He has brought good out of hardship, sorrow and pain.

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Life Happens – Jesus Answers is a weekly column addressing the challenges we face in life, coupled with the presence and grace of Jesus, our One True Source of hope and peace. The column’s author, Laura Firtko, can be reached by email here: LifeHappens@pwoc.org

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Grief Emerges

When the doctor returned to the examining room I was sitting on the table composed but stunned. The questions that bounced around in my brain still couldn’t be asked. My mouth wasn’t ready to engage. This had been my first pregnancy. At the time I didn’t know it would be my last. The road ahead would be long and hard but I had to stay present in this dark moment.

The doctor began asking necessary questions: “Where is your husband?” I responded, “He’s not here. He’s at school. He didn’t even know I was pregnant . . . no one knows.” Her eyes widened in disbelief. Then embarrassment climbed atop all the other emotions accumulating at my core. Suddenly I was no longer napping in denial. Reality woke me up.

It rumbled and pushed its way up from a depth I didn’t know existed. Like hot bubbling lava desperate to burst forth from an active volcanic core, grief emerged indescribable. All I did was answer the doctor’s question, but that was enough to cause anguish to churn and rise like waves of nausea determined to force out projectile vomit. Only, this wasn’t vomit, this was the very essence of my being — my soul. My soul knew what happened. It knows everything. It writhed and groaned like it wanted to leave my body in search of relief from the agony holding it captive.

By the time the doctor asked the next question grief gripped my heart. “Where is he?” she inquired with concern. I couldn’t answer. My body felt paralyzed. Waves of sorrow swirled upward and made their way to my shoulders and neck. My head grew hot. As I opened my mouth and struggled to speak, the waves unleashed streams of despair through my eyes. With labored breath I spoke in a slow, quiet whisper, sobs punctuating the sentence, “Heee’s at . . . he’s . . . he . . . heee’s at . . . Fort . . . Leaven . . . worth . . . Kansas.”

The doctor couldn’t understand what I said so she asked the question again, “Where is he?” Once more I fought to release the words, “Fort Leaven . . . worth . . . Kansas.” Then it came. What had been rumbling from the depth of my being finally made its way out in full force. With raw, uninhibited emotion my vocal chords emitted something like the sound of a soul tormented in hell. Crying and sobbing were done. For the first time in my life I WAILED.

It came from a deep, dark, black hole — a place outside my body — a dimension unknown to mankind — a place I’d never been. The doctor held my head to her BDU clad chest and spoke gently, “This is the hardest part of my job.” She had done this before, many times.

She gave me a few minutes to expel the first wave of volcanic grief. A hazy cloud formed around me. I felt anesthetized. In a kind, compassionate manner the doctor continued her questions, “Is there anyone here we can call?” I had to think for a minute but one person came to mind. With that name the doctor went over to her desk and set the notification process in motion.

TO BE CONTINUED:

Women of PWOC, and other interested parties, stay connected for the rest of the story. God displays His faithfulness and compassion each step of the way. He is El Roi: God of Seeing; El Shaddai: God All Sufficient; Jehovah-Jireh: The Lord will Provide; and ultimately, Jehovah-Rophe: The Lord Who Heals.

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Life Happens – Jesus Answers” is a weekly column addressing the challenges we face in life, coupled with the presence and grace of Jesus, our One True Source of hope and peace. The column’s author, Laura Firtko, can be reached by email here: LifeHappens@pwoc.org

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Beginnings and Endings

Along came November and December 2000. If I recall the holidays correctly, I flew to Colorado Springs, Colorado, for Thanksgiving, and Steve arrived later for Christmas. He brought our sweet little beagle, Bridgette, to spend the holidays with my family. Through the coming trial, Bridgette would be much more to me than a canine family member. She would be a tool in God’s hand to teach me important lessons about life and love. More about Bridgette down the road.

That Christmas, my family was more puzzled than concerned about my condition. To date the symptoms included swollen, inflamed gum tissue; facial rashes; burning hand skin; frost-bite sensation on my hands when exposed to cold water or frozen food; numb, white fingers that took a long time to come back to life; purple blotches on my hands, and fatigue. Although these symptoms were serious, they were more annoying than debilitating, and we continued to believe they would go away.

Despite our false beliefs, Mom took me to see a naturopathic physician. He initiated a program that included nutritional supplementation to help my immune system combat the “lupus.” It was this physician who informed me that I likely had Raynaud’s Syndrome also. This circulatory autoimmune disease is one that tends to tag along with its nasty sibling “lupus.” Raynaud’s Syndrome causes constriction of the blood vessels, typically in the extremities, when they get cold. This is what led to the symptoms on my hands. Upon returning to Clarksville, Tennessee, I continued my supplement regimen, and my journey with alternative medicine began. It wouldn’t cure me, but it complimented traditional treatment methods.

In January I continued attending PWOC and took on the role of Prayer Chairperson. This was my first attempt at leadership since Germany when I served as President/1st VP for a year. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long. Each new month brought new symptoms. The connective tissues in my hips and knees grew tighter making Pilates mat work impossible, and muscle fatigue decreased my exercise tolerance on the treadmill and elliptical trainer. My cardiovascular fitness would have allowed me to work harder on this equipment, but muscle fatigue forced me to move at a much slower pace. Frustration brewed in my soul like a percolating coffee pot, and I quit exercising altogether.

By the end of February I got winded so easily that I couldn’t stand during worship at PWOC. Feeling sheepish and regretful, I stepped down from my position as Prayer Chairperson. Never in my life had I “quit” anything so soon. Judgment and disdain glared at me from behind the eyes of the PWOC President who projected the perception that I had no reason to quit, and that I did so because it was too hard. This wasn’t the reaction I expected from a Christian woman in leadership, who also happened to be married to a Chaplain. Hadn’t she learned anything about love, grace and compassion? Apparently, what she hadn’t experienced was true hardship and suffering. As I was going to learn, there’s nothing like a personal, physical trial to develop the fruits of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22-26).

I remember signing in at PWOC one Tuesday morning, looking down at my hands, feeling alarmed and embarrassed at the deep purple blotches. No one else seemed to have any problems, but mine were getting worse. Strength, motivation, and energy ebbed away only to be replaced by weakness, lethargy, and sorrow. I felt like an anomaly, a freak, a side show, as my immune system morphed me into a broken woman. Even worse, I was about to hear words from my new primary care physician that would send me reeling into a pit of disbelief and confusion.

TO BE CONTINUED …

Women of PWOC, stay connected! In the coming weeks I will continue sharing my Journey of Transformation from being wounded and angry to healed and thriving. My purpose in sharing this story is to glorify God, to show the truth about Him, to display His goodness and provision in the midst of suffering, and to give you hope. No matter where you find yourself at this time in your life, be assured that God is trustworthy and faithful despite how you feel about Him. He does have good plans for you. “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” (Jer. 29:11).

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Life Happens – Jesus Answers” is a weekly column addressing the challenges we face in life, coupled with the presence and grace of Jesus, our One True Source of hope and peace. The column’s author, Laura Firtko, can be reached by email here: LifeHappens@pwoc.org

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Doctor! Doctor!

In July 2000 we packed our household goods, cleaned our apartment, moved into the Ray Barracks guest house, and eagerly anticipated our PCS to Fort Campbell, Kentucky. My “lupus” symptoms hadn’t changed. As far as I could tell, the condition remained isolated to my gum tissue, and I kept hoping it would go away.

By the end of August we were settled into our little rented house in Clarksville, Tennessee, and I began exercising. I felt fine and seemed relatively healthy except for the red rash that appeared across my nose and cheeks. I looked like Mrs. Tomato Head, especially after exercising. Needless to say, I was embarrassed to be seen at the fitness center.

In September the skin on my hands became extremely sensitive. It felt like third-degree sunburn each time I handled the window shade cords or attempted to tie my shoelaces. Any object with a ridged or slightly rough texture caused a burning sensation. When October brought three raised red bumps to my forehead, it was time to get this mysterious disease investigated more thoroughly. Unfortunately, my first few visits to primary care doctors and physicians’ assistants (PAs) resulted in frustration and serious doubt about the medical profession. The first doctor told me the skin changes would subside in a couple weeks and not to worry about them. One PA told me I had rosacea (reddening of the facial skin that usually occurs in older adults). My eyes got big, my anger rose up, my mouth wanted to yell, “You have got to be kidding me! This isn’t rosacea! You’re not serious, are you?” Instead, I simply asked, “Are you sure this isn’t something more like lupus? After all, that’s what other doctors have suggested.” Then she shot a wide-eyed gaze at me as if I had no business questioning her. Gimme a break. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

Eventually I landed in the office of a dermatologist who actually seemed to give a rip. Results of a skin biopsy led him also to “suspect” lupus. At this stage it only appeared to be discoid lupus – a less serious form that remains isolated to the skin. He did warn me, though, that it could become systemic, meaning full-blown Systemic Lupus Erythematosus (SLE). Hadn’t I heard that before from a certain periodontist in Hanau, Germany? Hmmm … I vaguely recall … Yes! Now two different doctors agreed with each other. In order to halt the progression of the disease, the dermatologist prescribed a drug called Plaquenil, an anti-malarial drug, interestingly enough. Did it help? I don’t remember, but I didn’t get malaria! Whew. Close call.

Following one of those uplifting dermatology appointments, I went to the restroom and examined my face in the mirror. Fear of the unknown swirled around within me as denial rose to the surface and evaporated. Reality was staring back at me. I inquired of the Lord, “Father, what’s happening to me? Is this rash going to scar me for life? Will it ever go away? Will I ever be the same? How long will this last?” The reflection in the mirror was of someone I never saw before and didn’t care to see repeatedly. I recalled the days when people complimented my skin. After this, could anyone bear to look at me?

God had the answers to my questions, and He chose to reveal them one step at a time, one symptom at a time, one day, one month, and one year at a time. The trial before me would be treacherous. It’s a good thing I didn’t know what was next.

TO BE CONTINUED …        

Women of PWOC, stay connected! In the coming weeks I will continue sharing my Journey of Transformation from being wounded and angry to healed and thriving. My purpose in sharing this story is to glorify God, to show the truth about Him, to display His goodness and provision in the midst of suffering, and to give you hope. No matter where you find yourself at this time in your life, be assured that God is trustworthy and faithful despite how you feel about Him. He does have good plans for you. “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” (Jer. 29:11).

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Life Happens – Jesus Answers” is a weekly column addressing the challenges we face in life, coupled with the presence and grace of Jesus, our One True Source of hope and peace. The column’s author, Laura Firtko, can be reached by email here: LifeHappens@pwoc.org

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