They start with a tampering in my vision. Pixellated vision. Or white blotches. This is when I know to take my medication.
Then the pain. Gradually, and then its all in my mind. Pinching, piercing, taunting.
I want to groan, to scream, to cry out. I ask why it happens. I beg, plead. Just a little relief. Just one less time. Just a little more control.
Then the nasty part. I will need to vomit. And I feel so weak, and unable. So bound to a disgusting, frail body that wastes away day after day after day.
And as I tear, and after a few rounds of retching, I finally am given the solace of being able to fall into a sleep. And the medication then is able to make the problem fade.
I wake up weak, but I feel like the whole process had just been a nightmare. One that I know will return one day. And in the next instance, it will feel just as real, just as painful, and when its over, I will feel just as powerless. And I fear the next time it will come.
I was quite unwell a few weeks ago. I typically do not fall very ill very often. There's usually too much work to be done, and I can't afford to. Once I feel like sickness is on my doorstep, I usually start to hydrate myself better, sleep a little more than my regular pittance of hours, and of course pop in some flu/cold pills, especially if I feel like a running nose is coming on. I fell sick within a very short period of time. I knew that I had not been sleeping much the week. But I really began to feel the weakness seep in at the end of a long Friday at the store. I couldn't smile anymore. My body was beginning to ache. Running nose, coupled with the beginnings of a mild cough. Okay, no big deal. I would be okay. Its not like I haven't faced a running nose before. I pop in two pills and hope that I'm good for the night. But it gets worse, and I only get more tired. I cancel the night's plans.
In the end, I spend almost the week in bed. I have never taken so many days off before. I have never been confined to my bed, to my body, to how weak I am for such an extended period of time. I miss Church. I miss three days of school (unheard of! and definitely not lessening the amount of stress!). And somewhere in the midst of sick days, I feel so drugged up by the Buckley's pills. So out of my mind. So held together by chemicals. I feel sick of them, and I was sick of being ill.
I started to miss dosages of the medication. I wanted to be able to feel myself again. I didn't want to be on chemicals. But I wasn't getting better. I could feel, and I could get up, instead of barely being able to get out of bed, but I wasn't getting better. I had to go back to the pills, and by the end of the week, I was forcing them down my throat. I'm used to having to take pills due to my migraines. They go down in seconds, and I can even do them without water, bad as that is. But I hated them then. I hated how much I relied on them. How they knocked me out completely. Prevented me from doing a thing. No homework.... ... And on a totally random derailment of thought, I had never slept so much for the whole school year.
A day before I fell into that black hole of illness, I had been talking to a friend. And we touched on the subject of spiritual healing. I realized that I had never really questioned it, never given much thought on where it was in our day and age. I've never been proud of my body. I knew I was weak. I had never questioned those weaknesses. I always accepted them as part of being human– and as a sinner, who was I to ask for any better? Its by God's grace that I received any blessing at all. I guess I never really took on the "I'm a daughter of Christ so I deserve healing, physical strength, health" spectrum of thought.
If you asked me, I don't have an answer to why God doesn't heal us at times. But I do know from my own experience that weaknesses do bring us closer to Him, more than any strength can in many cases. And I do know that if I were to pick spiritual healing, emotional healing, mental healing, or physical healing, I'd rather pick the spiritual healing first. For these all stem from it. And it lasts eternally. Our lives start with God. And when we can see and understand from where He sees and where His heart is, we will be healed in emotional aspects. We will be given a new mental perspective. And He will give us strength beyond the natural. The rest of our lives start at one point. And that's where we go to Him first.
I'd like to end the post with a short description of the last migraine I had.
I was groaning in bed. Again, asking God why, and praying for the pain to cease. I could feel it move about my head as I turned and turned. And I screamed out. Finally, I picked up my phone and started a worship list that I had saved on it. Four songs. Overcome (Jeremy Camp), You're Beautiful (Phil Wickham), Lord I offer my Life to You (Hillsong), How can I keep from Singing (Chris Tomlin). And I sang. In pain. In weakness. In humility. And I knew that I was leaning on Him alone.
Each situation of pain is different. And in each case God may show Himself in different ways. For me, I do believe that in my weakness, God is lifted higher. I trust in Him more. And I know He vindicates me of being just a physical being.
I think we all have to grapple with our own understanding of how God is working in our lives, and it is okay to ask Him.
Oh and about the long week and a bit of illness– I had lost my voice. If I recall correctly, I got it back in a whisper, just as I had lost it. The first day that I could sing again was beautiful.
