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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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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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