Morning Cuppas With Glenys : Chronic pain

Showing posts with label Chronic pain. Show all posts

Chronically ill but faithful

Chronic illness can make us feel that we are incapable of many things. That can be true of physical things which for most of us who are ill or disabled, are now incapable of doing. But all is not lost as there are still things which are eternal that we can do.

We are told to pray without ceasing and prayer is something we can manage to do. Albeit in a different way to the "normals'" prayers, our disjointed or mumbled prayers are still as powerful and effective.

Just because we are sitting in our recliners, or in our bed, or sitting on a shower chair, in our wheelchair or resting on the seat of our walker- the fervent prayers we offer will reach the Ears of Him Who we serve.

We must never let the lies of the evil one cause us to doubt ourselves and then have us not pray at all. We are never wasting our life when we pray.

God does not class prayers according to the pray-ers' surroundings. Goodness knows, we have heard of soldiers praying in the trenches under fire and imminent death. No, our prayers are of equal importance to God.

Our prayers will drive the enemy away and cause him to tremble, because he knows wherever we pray is holy ground. He doesn't care about where or even how they are prayed. He hates the fact that we still pray.

Faithfulness is something chronic illness can't take away from us. No matter how hard the enemy tries to convince us that we are wasting our lives, we know he is just using wily and cunning ways to get us to stop praying and therefore serving God.

The prayers of the chronically ill are precious to the LORD, for He knows the battles we face just to be "normal". But we are more than "normal" as we come against illness and serve Him regardless.

Chronic illness will try to wipe us out physically, emotionally and spiritually if it can: but one thing we sufferers are is not only resilient: we are faithful.

Likewise the Spirit also helps in our weaknesses. For we do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. Now He who searches the hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because He makes intercession for the saints according to the will of God. Romans 8:26-27

Blanket prayers

With recent events and a knowledge of the scriptures, one can see that we are living in the end times. We know that Christ is coming for us soon, and we want to be ready.

Part of being ready is to pray for ourselves and for the world who don't know Christ or who haven't accepted Him as their Saviour. We need to pray prayers of repentance on behalf of our land that God will heal it. We need to pray for a revival. We need to pray for the lost. There's not a lot of time.

We have seen that prayer is a natural part of life for the Christian and we should do all we can to pray. But I know what you are thinking: I am so ill and fatigued, so brain fogged and unfocussed: how on earth can I pray? The good news is: we can pray in comfort and in trusting faith.

From the comfort of our bed, when disability or illness would preclude kneeling to pray, we can practise what I call "blanket prayers".

Not only can we pray in the comfort of our blankets, but we can pray knowing that if our words are jumbled, if we cannot think clearly through fibro fog or medication, if we fall asleep before we finish, that God knows the heart and intent and the Holy Spirit takes over for us.

I do not believe that because we are sick Christians that we are rendered totally useless spiritually. No, we are not bumps on a log. Our prayers of faith can move mountains. Because the prayer of the righteous is of great value, we can lift our prayers up to God, no matter how disjointed or incomplete they may be.

In line with the term "blanket prayers", I believe we can still pray for people simply by lifting them up before the Throne. No need to remember every name and circumstance, but trust the Holy Spirit to remember and make sense of them to God. A blanket prayer can be very effective too.

By being merciful and gracious to yourself, you can fight in this battle for the LORD and for souls. So snuggle in your blanket and start to pray. Lift up the lost and hurting. Ask for healing. Pray for revival. We will rout the enemy in any way we can and we will sleep the sleep of the just as we cover ourself and those prayer needs in blanket prayers.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Nothing to be ashamed of!

Fibromyalgia has made many changes in my life and one of them is my dislike of wearing clothes. The mere touch of fabric on my skin, or the tags on my clothing can send me into an itching frenzy.

Before I wear something new, I will cut off all the tags and if it has lace, particularly around the neckline, I will not buy it or I will cut the lace off.

Mohair drives me insane with itch and brings me up in a rash wherever it touches my skin. I won't buy it. If I have a woollen top on, I have to wear a blouse with a collar under it to stop the itching.

In dressing, I have to put layers on because fibromyalgia sufferers' thermostats are broken. They can't be adjusted or fixed. It is not uncommon to feel cold when everyone is hot and vice versa. Anyway, it is important to me that I can reduce or add on clothing as required.

Not that I really enjoy wearing clothes anymore. In fact, if I could be naked without offending, I would. Not that I do go publically naked of course. And I do dress modestly as it's important to our witness. Not to mention I don't want to be arrested! lol

I do go around the house naked in the summer. In case of visitors, I have my sundress in easy reach. It is never a problem to quickly slip it on if there is a knock at the door. Chris will always wait for me to get into our bedroom to change before he answers the door.

We are mindful of others at all times and keep our drapes closed when I walk around. Of course, it's not when we have guests or when grandchildren stay. If we are expecting company then of course I get dressed. If we are on holiday or guests, I wear a loose nightdress at night and clothes in the day.

I know I am in good company with Winston Churchill often holding interviews whilst in the bathtub or naked, even in his office. I am not that brazen...

But I know I am not alone in hating wearing clothes in the World of Fibromyalgia. I do not doubt that many fibro sufferers will join me in saying that they sleep in the nude as well.

Clothes can make one feel that they are strangling you in bed. Sheets, no matter how soft, end up causing the most awful itches and feelings of heat that most fibromites sleep with one leg out and a fan on. Even in winter.

There are so many changes in one's life with fibromyalgia and some you won't hear about. Such as a hatred of wearing clothes. We keep it secret, like it's something to be ashamed of.

Trying to keep oneself from scratching until one bleeds is a reason for compassion. If I only walk naked around my own home, with only my husband seeing me, I am not flaunting myself and being immodest.

Coping with illness is nothing to be ashamed of: it's all part of accepting it and moving on. I know my God would understand. I am not ashamed at all.

Sing, O heavens; and be joyful, O earth; and break forth into singing, O mountains: for the LORD hath comforted his people, and will have mercy upon his afflicted. Isaiah 49:13

We must overcome illness

Sometimes it is easy to give into the depression that pain from chronic illness can bring. Especially when we have lost sleep or had an unrestful night. It is so easy to allow the pain that sometimes overwhelms us in the morning to colour our whole day. We must try to overcome that because if we don't, we will make matters worse.

It is true that our thinking patterns dictate how our day to day living is going to be. We can literally talk ourselves into having a worse day than what it is. How? you say... by not clinging to the LORD and taking all of our thoughts into the captivity of Christ. In order to stop the continual downward spiral of depression that pain brings, it is imperative that we try to redirect our thoughts and literally force our focus onto something other than our pain.

We should treat ourselves with the pain relief that our doctor has given us, take our other medications and do whatever else we can to relieve it. Then we must try to focus our attention onto what we can achieve that will lift us up. Because if we don't, we will talk ourselves into such a state that it will exacerbate the pain. Thoughts can and will do that- and serve up a great dish of depression that is hard to shake.

Now please don't throw tomatoes at me for being direct, because I suffer pain in movement and just in breathing every moment of every day. I speak to you on your level and with understanding. That is why I know the reality of pain and its effect on our life. I know that to live a reasonably personally satisfying life, we must overcome the pain by redirecting our focus!

When I am in so much pain that I cannot stand it, I listen to worship music, blog or write my feelings in poetry. Poetry can be a healing medium and a release. Another thing I avoid like the plague is forums for disabled or chronically ill people. Why? Because they force us to focus on others' pain.... this can be too much to bear when we have our own. Believe me, you can dwell too much on your disability and pain and weaken your enjoyment of life.

Enjoyment of life? what enjoyment is there in life? you ask. There is always something to enjoy in life, even in the worst of times. Vision, hearing, touch, love, dear ones, sunshine, birds singing, coffee brewing, soft sheets, warm showers, freshly fallen rain, restful sleep after pain. I am sure you could add to the list. If you don't shift your focus, you will definitely sink into the Pit of Despair. And you *don't* want to go there!

What I am saying is that those of us who suffer from unrelenting pain *have to* make a supreme effort to shift our focus onto something *greater* than the pain. Because pain will be our constant companion, we therefore have to *live* above the pain factor. Easier said than done, you say! Of course it is, but what alternative do we have?

We have to overcome the psychological effects of pain as much as we are able or else our life will be one of constant distress and frustration. Lift your thoughts to a higher place if you can, and lean on God. It will be hard to not make matters worse for ourselves by refusing to accept our illness, but we must be overcomers...

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

[When thou saidst], Seek ye my face; my heart said unto thee, Thy face, LORD, will I seek. Psalm 27:8

Empty buckets

I did an enneagram test for fun the other day. It said I was a 2 which basically is a helper who needs to be needed. It sounds like me. Or the past me.

Always trying to help and indeed, called on often in time of trouble, it has been my pleasure to respond to the call. Until recently.

Since we had so many changes in the last 6 months, I have found my spoons are lacking. I cry easily, both when I am sad and also when happy. I hunger for solitude and just watching the bird life around us. I need time to heal not only from the meniscus tear in my left knee, but emotionally. I am tired.

No matter how tired I feel, I drag myself to church because I need it. I am indeed grateful to the LORD for so much. I love to listen to the Bible on You Tube and I play hymns in the background most of the day. Prayer is often ongoing for hours and I am gradually finding peace again.

It's good that we are now retired as there are days when the fibromyalgia flares and I can't stay awake, and I now just go to bed and have a nana nap whenever it is necessary.

It has taken me 66 years to realise that it is true that

I am not responsible for fixing everything or everyone who is broken. But I can pray for them.
It is OK to say no if I honestly can't cope with a request. I don't have to feel guilty
It is OK to admit to being over something and not to be stoic and push myself mercilessly

It is important to recognise burn out and to take steps to heal. Taking care of yourself is not being selfish. There will be time after your healing to be a helper again. Not recognising burn out will result in you having a physical or emotional meltdown. And no one is going to benefit if you have lost your joie de vivre or your milk of human kindness is dried up and you have only empty buckets to give.

And he said unto them, Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while: for there were many coming and going, and they had no leisure so much as to eat. Mark 6:31

Footnote: since writing this post, I have learned that enneagrams originated from new age practices and automatic writing. I will not be doing any quizzes etc regarding this again. Thank you, Janine for making me aware of this.

Job's comforters not required

I recently saw a post from a Christian woman who blogs about marriage and who believes she is an authority on all things spiritual. Along with this narcissim, she has a very prideful and uncompassionate and judgemental attitude. Plus she will never concede that perhaps, just perhaps, she is wrong.

She was exhorting us to not allow any sin into our lives: gluttony was high up on her list. And whilst gluttony is a sin- (anything taken into excess especially that which is harmful- is a sin)- she proceeded to broadcast her lack of knowledge in weight and health matters, and made the blanket statement that overweight is always due to gluttony and that is therefore sin.

So many chronically ill people commented and her attitude was one of "pipe down you glutton and confess your sin!" Many overweight people- Christians- were upset by her and I join them. I wrote a reply as this woman needs to be made aware that her judgements are not only spiritually wrong but also medically incorrect....

OK. So I am obese. After 3 heart stents, an underactive thyroid that took years to diagnose, fibromyalgia, Scheurrmanns Disease, spinal stenosis, hole in the heart and a torn meniscus in the left knee plus years of Prednisolone due to polymyalgia rheumatica, I don't move around much.

Every single one of the 30 pills I must take daily add to my chronic fatigue and lack of alertness. I eat healthy food and keep to 1200 cals a day. Due to meds, I must eat with them and I cannot fast- but I have tried. To make a simple equation in physics help me lose weight, I would be able to consume a plate of lettuce once a day. Which is unreasonable and unsustainable.

I am very close to God and am under absolutely no conviction that I am either a glutton or a consistent sinner. I am however, absolutely constantly reassured of a God Who loves me as a Father loves His child and I confess I cling to Him in my daily living with chronic illness and consequent obesity.

To have prideful and uncompassionate people act like Jobs' Comforters is no help at all and very unChristlike. Where is grace? Why the judgements? Thank God we have one Judge and Advocate: I thank God it's Jesus.

It is a shame that this woman is so unsympathetic and strident: she speaks a lot of truth regarding marriage, but again with the caustic remarks and prideful attitude one sees in her adored author Debi Pearl, as seen in her horrible book Created to Be A Help Meet.

A Christian teacher should be gentle, not prideful, harsh and downright cruel. There are so many of us who are overweight and who fight it daily. We do not need to be told that we are sinning because of our weight. It is a sad state of affairs when we have the added pain of condemnation from an unlearned individual to contend with as well.

Let us be slow to speak and then to do so in love, just as our Saviour taught us. We need His comfort as we battle our weight and illnesses, not some self righteous cowgirl galloping in on her stallion. Job's comforters are not required- (not that she tries to comfort anyway) Give us the comfort of Jesus.

I have heard many such things: miserable comforters are ye all. Job 16:2

Occupying until He comes!

As we have already discussed, it is harder to be a Christian as the days are getting darker. The time for the LORD'S return could be soon and we need to keep our lamps filled with oil so as not to be caught unaware.

How can we as chronically ill women keep our lamps filled with oil? It is hard enough coping with just breathing some days. But there are things we can still do to be prepared for the LORD'S return.

* We can pray

* We can listen to scripture even if we can't read the Bible anymore.

* We can bear our illness with courage and fortitude

* We can exude faithfulness in tribulation

* We can encourage others in compassion and wisdom

* We can serve God by our witness as women of faith even in our most trying of times

* We can let our light shine in spite of chronic pain and tiredness

* We can show an integrity of faith and trust in God that shines like a beacon to the unsaved.

We are called to serve God in whatever circumstance He calls us in. Sometimes that service may be from our sickbed or wheel chair.

In the eternal, that would not be a thing of no consequence. Your service to God will be rewarded.

We are only given this one life and whatever state we find ourselves in, we can still serve God and occupy until He comes.

And he called his ten servants, and delivered them ten pounds, and said unto them, Occupy till I come. Luke 19:13

And so this was Christmas

So, I am sitting here the day after Christmas. I have absolutely no energy and the paracetamol tablets have done nothing to alleviate my pain from my fibromyalgia flare, my back ache and my sore arthritic feet.

My fibromyalgia has been flaring for the past five months since we started life in the fifth wheeler: well, actually it was flaring before that as we sold or gave away all our extraneous stuff and packed the van and closed up our rented house.

Prior to that we had the search for the fiver and a tow vehicle, then finding someone to put in the hitch and then the long tow back from Ballarat to Pakenham. A long round about trip.

Three months into the trip, I tore my meniscus in the left knee again, and that put paid to being able to manage the seven steps up into the fiver. I became housebound and gained quite a bit of extra weight. We had to find a new rented home with no steps.

We have just moved into a renovated farm house in a small country township in East Gippsland. We picked up the keys Monday 23rd December and of course the next day was Christmas Eve. We had made plans to see our little granddaughter open her presents and that meant staying overnight. We honestly felt so tired that we wished we could just cancel Christmas...

Christmas Day I helped my daughter cook and we had Christmas lunch there and then made the long trip home. I was so tired that I fell asleep on the drive home and nearly garrotted myself on the seat belt. Chris said I was snoring sonorously. I believe him.

As it is our summer here in Australia, the weather was hot and this gave me trouble with my heart and caused my feet to swell alarmingly. I was so glad to get home and ditch my shoes and lay by the air conditioner for a bit.

This morning I took my sugars and was shocked by the high reading. I think I should not have had the choc ripple cake but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Although we still have stuff to unpack from the fiver and put in place here, the house is basically functional and very cosy already.

I did pause frequently to reflect on the reason for the season: the birth of our Saviour Jesus Christ. The best part is spreading love and spending time with family if possible. If they will allow it.

I cannot say how Christmas became so commercial and such a rush, but this year no one seemed very full of the festive spirit. In fact, most seemed flushed and rushed and to be honest, those we visited were bickering and fighting and that made me anxious.

As I pour myself the last of our egg nog and head to bed for a nana nap, I have purposed to stay at home next Christmas. It is time to accept that all the hype of what should be a holy and peaceful time, is playing havoc with my ageing body.

The beauty of the Saviour's birth will not be lost on me, but I will lose the expectation of sweet family gatherings and realise that my family is dysfunctional.

As I make my way to my room, I bow my head in thanks for God's wonderful gift of His Son. And I pray for peace for my family and others like it. I hope you all had a better Christmas than we did.... and so, this was Christmas!

Be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart, all ye that hope in the LORD. Psalm 31:24

Telling it to our cat

As you probably know, we are in the process of finding a new rental to live in. We are currently living in a fifth wheeler, but I have torn my meniscus again and I cannot handle the seven steps to get in and out. I am practically housebound.

My mother passed away a year ago and I must say that I am still feeling her loss keenly. Coupled with my meniscus tear, exacerbated spinal pain because of the bed and stairs and pulled arm muscles from heaving myself up the three steps from the first level to the bedroom and ensuite, I have the Mother of all fibromyalgia flares with arthritis to boot. It has been one continuous flare since we moved in here four months ago.

My depression is compounded by the chronic pain which is constant and I have gained even more weight as I cannot move much. I am close to the Pit of Despair and something that happened yesterday didn't help me much either...

We had to go food shopping yesterday. Chris was bringing the groceries up into the fiver and I was slowly plodding my way towards the steps. A woman who has a caravan near us spoke to Chris then came up to me and offered me her hand as I painfully managed the stairs. I was so grateful and heartened that she bothered to help me. Not many people make the effort.

At the halfway point wherein the flyscreen door swings out and one has to push it aside, I let go of her hand. I was telling her of the reason we were selling the fiver. At last I made it inside and I turned round to thank her, mid-sentence. She wasn't even there but I could see her almost at her caravan.

My feelings did a downward spiral as I realised I had been talking to myself and I felt again the loneliness of the chronically ill and disabled. From a fleeting feeling of respect and validation, I felt disrespected and my problems considered minor or of no consequence. The chronically ill or disabled will understand what I am speaking about.

We don't ask for constant validation and never ending compassion. We know that the "normals" who don't experience the pain and inconvenience of disease and disability, can't empathise, just sympathise. But what we do ask is that we be heard, respected and validated. Nothing compounds our physical pain as much as being ignored, made fun of or marginalised. This is important to us..

The "normals" can even help prevent a trip to the Pit of Despair by showing a bit of interest and compassion to us, so please don't be like our neighbour in the caravan park who didn't want to know.

I am not minimising the power of prayer, and we should pray and talk to the LORD, but we need another listening ear sometimes, but often people don't want to hear us and for all the good it does, we might just as well tell it to our cat.

Coping with change and disappointment

As you know, we live in a fifth wheeler RV We have been on the road for three months. Having sold or given away most of our stuff, we have very little left. But it didn't matter as this RV had most things we needed. It was a dream come true.

The dream is coming to an end. My body can't cope with RV life. All my ailments are exacerbated by living in the fifth wheel. I have torn my meniscus in my left knee and I can no longer manage to get up the seven steps and the three up into our bedroom and ensuite. I am almost housebound.

Because the bed is difficult to get in and out of, I need to pull myself up and my shoulder and neck muscles vie in hot contest of being the sorest. As a result, my polymyalgia rheumatica is back and bad.

I have to slide down the wall to help take pressure off my sore knee and this has played havoc with my spinal problems and after getting up the main steps, I suffer angina really badly.

My fatigue is so bad and my fibromyalgia is in a flare. The stress of finding a new house and forcing myself to use the steps in order to do that is causing me to go into a depression.

There's no way round it: no mobility aids to overcome the problem and we will have to sell the fiver. It is a very disappointing turn of events.

I had prayed that I would be making the right choice in buying the fiver and GMC tow vehicle and in how I used my inheritance my mother left me last year. I felt sure this was the way to go but three months into our venture, it is apparent that for me, it is not a lifestyle I can maintain.

In a Christian's life, there is nothing that God hasn't already seen, and in saying that, I must confess that I believe everything is for a purpose. Whatever is in the future is part of God's plan for my life.

In feeling the disappointment, I must remind myself of this. I look forward to looking over this chapter in my life's book and seeing God's purpose for this. God is good. All the time.

He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also He has put eternity in their hearts, except that no one can find out the work that God does from. Ecclesiastes 3:11

Feeling a bit washed out!

As you probably know, we live in a fifth wheeler RV full-time. It has some benefits which I am slowly starting to see, with compact living that reduces the work needed to maintain it a bonus.

We are by the sea at Seaspray Caravan Park. The weather has been great, but last night it rapidly became colder and today it is muggy and raining.

This doesn't normally worry me, but as a sufferer of fibromyalgia, it often brings on a flare and it has. I am overwhelmed with muscle and body aches and tiredness.

Although living in a RV makes it easier to keep clean and maintain, there are many things that need to be done daily. Especially when you have a cat that lives inside.

There are meals to cook and clothes to wash as well, and even when housework's shared with a partner, there are some things that a woman just has to do in homemaking. Life in a RV isn't just a long holiday.

As I type, I can see our bed and it is calling my name. Chris is going to tuck me in for a nana nap. Hopefully I will feel better after that and will have enough energy to cook a Shepherd's Pie for dinner.

After I am tucked up in bed, Chris has promised to run the Dyson Stick Vacuum over the floors. For the first time I am glad there aren't a lot of floors to do.

But for not the first time, I am glad that we have a queen sized cosy bed just feet away from me. I am going up the three steps to it as soon as I post this.

So much for one long vacation: fibromyalgia doesn't take a holiday. I am feeling a bit washed out.

Keeping house in a RV

As you know, we live in a RV. Most people think that life is one big holiday, but to be honest, each day brings its list of chores to be done. As our RV is our home, and we live in it full time, housework fills our days just as it does in a sticks and bricks home.

In an effort to keep my home as I like it, I use a combination of Sylvias' Lists according to the day, and FlyLady On any given day, I won't know which method I will be using until I wake, then it will depend entirely upon how I am feeling.

If I am feeling ill, I will just keep to Sylvias' Lists, just selecting the appropriate day in the sidebar and doing just that. If I feel well enough, I will use FlyLady, checking what Zone I am in at the time and doing a little of that as well as the days List in Sylvias' Lists. It is amazing how much you can fit in in 15 minutes. Usually though, that 15 minutes in my zone is enough to deplete my excess energy.

I don't obsess about it but follow my own methods of homemaking, nor do I allow myself to sink into false guilt - because feeling guilty just saps us of emotional energy we need to direct to something positive.

Chronic illness never goes on holiday so although I have less to keep clean than I had before, I find I still have to watch my spoons and pace myself.

I hope these Lists help you attend to your home as you cope with chronic illness.

"So teach [us] to number our days, that we may apply [our] hearts unto wisdom" Psalm 90:12

Have a good cry

So anyone who knows me, knows I am not a woman who cries easily. I am stoic and try to overcome my disabling symptoms.

Yesterday, after seeing my useless and unfeeling doctor, I got home and the pain in my joints, the muscles tearing and the pain in my calf and back and chest reached a crescendo in a climax of searing agony. I just bowed my head and cried. Not loudly, but deep from within like a soda that's been shaken up and then uncapped.

It was messy. It was wet. But it was healing. Finally, when I had cleaned up my face and wiped my eyes, I realised that it was OK to cry. And it was healing. The pain in my chest abated. I think an occasional cry is therapeutic.

So next time you fight back tears: don't. Let the healing tears come. Have a good cry.

Thou tellest my wanderings: put thou my tears into thy bottle: are they not in thy book? Psalm 56:8

Thoughts as the day comes to an end

I honestly never thought I would ever face the day I didn't have a bath or take a shower every day. Or put it on my to do list. Or have to factor it in, weighing up pros and cons of using too many spoons or not.

I never thought I would ever flake out on my bed after taking a bath or shower, too exhausted to dry myself, instead allowing the ducted air from the heater vent to dry me off.

Never did I envision myself too sore to put on a bra, or too stiff and sore to put my leg through my knickers or leggings, or having to call for assistance to put on my socks and shoes.

I could never have imagined my days spent in a dressing gown or house robe, with my slippers my only comfort in a world of pain. Forgoing clothes too hard to don and that make me itch mercilessly.

I can never imagine being thought of with compassion by outsiders who do not suffer from chronic illness or pain. Who judge without knowing facts. And their judgement is cruelly wrapped up in a word. Lazy.

Now I can never dream of doing these things that I took for granted in healthier years. But I can dream of things I can still do in the privacy of my home. Accept what is. Create my own new normal. Reach out to others like me. And pray.

"So teach [us] to number our days, that we may apply [our] hearts unto wisdom" Psalm 90:12

They suffer in silence

I write to encourage chronically ill women, but I know there are many men who follow with us, walking the long weary journey of pain with all its' ramifications.

Men are often the butt of jokes regarding "man flu" and so on, making out that they can't cope with pain or illness like we women. They are made out to be babies when it comes to illness: but I beg to differ.

I have seen chronic illness in men first hand with my own father and later step-father. Dad died at 50 and in his short life he battled through 8 heart attacks and 3 strokes. Even feeling at his worst, usually only a few weeks after a heart attack, he would front up to work in order to keep Mum and us 4 children. Even when taped up with broken ribs, Dad still went to work every day. He was my hero!

Forever stoic, he amazed the doctors when just days after his open heart surgery he raised his arms high during physio, ignoring the pain. He was determined to work through it all and get on with his life. Sadly this didn't happen and he died just 6 weeks after from complications.

My step-father fought a brave battle with emphysema, forever cheerful through gasped breaths. He too worked through pain to keep his family with 3 children and took on the role of carer for his first wife as she fought a brave battle with breast cancer. It was very rare that he bemoaned his twisted hands with arthritis from working outdoors filling petrol tanks on cars docked on the wharf and walking miles every day up and down those wharves.

So stoic was my step-father that the day before he died when he felt a bit agitated, I massaged his feet and cut his toenails, only to find the most deformed and gnarled feet that it took my breath away. Not a word of complaint all those years at work!

I sometimes wonder why ill men often don't make a fuss about their illness. I believe it is because men have been portrayed as strong at all times. And they certainly never cry. Yet to me, it would be somewhat therapeutic if they could cry, even in private.

Tears could come for all the physical pain involved in illness, all the anxiety of tests or chemo or surgeries or even needles. And surely a tear could expel some deep fears of not being able to earn enough to provide not only for family, but medical aid. But you rarely find a man will allow himself to break down, even momentarily.

It is common knowledge that most men won't see a doctor until they are truly ill. They continue steadfastly working and hoping that what ails them will pass. They are no sissy as jokes proclaim.

I do not like jokes about sick men. They (you if you are a man), carry not only the burden of their illness, but the burden of being a provider. They carry the burden of society's stereo-typing of their gender. Tough. Unbreakable. Superhuman. A big burden which causes tired shoulders to wilt.

To the sick men out there, I pray that you will find someone or somewhere to let down your guard and facade. I pray not only for your healing physically, but emotionally. I am praying for you to be respected as worthy of compassion and care. I want those who you serve and for whom you strive every. single. day. to appreciate your sacrificial love for them. And I want validation for you as chronically ill people.

You guys rock! So thank you from all of us who know you and love you. May the LORD richly bless you as you suffer in silence. For despite the jokes, reality says that you really do.

Beloved, I wish above all things that thou mayest prosper and be in health, even as thy soul prospereth. 3 John 1:2

Like a beetle on its' back

So I have managed to get up onto the X-ray table with great difficulty. It was so narrow that my sides were almost going over the edges. I was assured that I would only need a few pix of my spine and to be honest, I was glad about that.

Anyone who has had an X-ray when their back was screaming for mercy would know that they aren't the most comfortable of beds, so I settled uncomfortably, glad that it promised not be a long drawn out affair like an MRI.

My previous X-rays on my hands were no problem at all. But this back and neck pain being investigated by X-ray was proving to be a challenge. I lay there praying that the first set of pictures would be sufficient so that I could escape back to the safety of my home.

They had wedged some foam under my side and it was making my back muscles go into spasm and cramp. There was no give in the sterile table on which I lay and my fibromyalgia was making everything feel like torture.

The first sets of films were fine but the technician decided to take a few more pix higher up towards my neck. By the time I was allowed to get off the table, I was as stiff as a board.

I tried to raise myself up, but the pain in my muscles and neck made me flap and flail around helplessly. Like a drowning man, I jerked around trying to sit up whilst the technician retreated behind the screen.

Things were getting desperate as I saw that the table hadn't been lowered and the drop was great enough to make me fearful. So, with a final grunt as I pushed forward and slumped back, I called out in desperation for the technician to come and help me.

Finally upright, my head momentarily swam and I gripped the edge of the bed. Seeing my dizziness, the technician pushed my shoes towards me. I tried to lower myself off the bed again, and my knee with the torn meniscus gave way.

Down I came and fortunately the technician was able to break my fall: and not for the first time, I wondered why they don't help their patients a bit more. Arthritis, shot knees, Sheurrmann's Disease, ankylosing spondylitis, Polymyalgia rheumatica, fibromyalgia with obesity thrown in for good measure makes a good case for help getting on and off the table.

I just think that some people don't realise the limitations of chronic illness and disability. Sometimes I need their help. It's either that, or try and pick me up after I've fallen to the floor, landing like a beetle on its' back.

With the Psalmist, let us dwell on God for our strength as we cry, "I love you LORD my strength!" Psalm 18:1

Not just a bump on a log

When I was a young mother of four children under five, I was struck down with glandular fever that lasted for a full six months.

As you can imagine, with an illness lasting that long, I was often alone to manage as my then husband had to work and my mother lived far away. It was a long and difficult time that made me feel like I was just a bump on a log.

This wasn't true in fact because out of necessity, I found ways to run my household and look after my children unassisted and mostly from my bed. But not being able to get up for more than thirty minutes at a time without collapsing from fatigue made me feel useless.

In the morning no matter how exhausted I felt, I rose and got my oldest child off to school with my neighbour picking him up and dropping him off. I bathed my youngest babies and dressed and fed them then put a load of washing on. I took something out of the freezer for dinner. Then I staggered back to bed, a perspiring mess!

My four year old daughter lifted her siblings up onto the bed where I read stories to them, often falling to sleep with the book over my face and finding the children in the lounge room watching cartoons.

Sometime later, I arose again to change nappies and give them a snack or a bottle. I would put that finished load of washing into the dryer and set it going to dry. I would organise some play activities and would lie on the couch watching my little ones building a house with lego blocks. Then I would fall asleep again, drenched in sweat.

I was told to rest in order to kick the glandular fever, but as any chronically ill mother will tell you, that usually means that she does her home duties in her dressing gown or house coat. Her version of rest.

My husband would cook tea, following my instructions on what to cook and sometimes even how to cook it. If I felt well enough, I would bath our school age child to save his father the chore and then I would take a quick shower. It left me even more exhausted, but with glandular fever, one is bathed in sweat all the time and it is necessary to shower daily even when tired.

Finally the fever left me, but over the years I was troubled with Sheurmann's disease, a disease which ate the discs in my back and would have caused severe scoliosis, if not for enforced bed rest after a two week ordeal in hospital in traction, many times over the years.

I learned to plan my grocery shop, organise payment of my bills, delegate household chores, help with homework, listen to school readers, and be there for my growing children all from my bed. It was easy to think of myself as useless like a bump on a log, but in actual fact, I was anything but.

Chronic illness can take away many things from us, but don't let it take away your confidence in being mistress of your home. You will find that running your household from your bed is in fact possible, and proves that we are no bumps on logs.

Beloved, I pray that you may prosper in all things and be in health, just as your soul prospers. 3 John 1:2