The only nice thing about it

So we went to the doctor yesterday to get our results from blood tests taken a few days ago. My blood pressure was 140/90 which was slightly better than last time, but still high.

He asked was anything bothering me and I had to tell him I am worried about Chris. Both of us have heart failure, high blood pressure, diabetes and cellulitis plus I have fibromyalgia. 

We both have pitting oedema on our feet and legs and the fatigue that comes from obesity and feeling sick. Dressing and showering is shared in that we help each other and because of exhaustion from showering, we shower every second day, taking opposite days. That way, we can help each other.

Our love language is touch in the form of massaging each other's feet and legs and our speech revolves around spoons and how much sugar is in everything that passes our lips.

We rarely leave home any more except for the doctor or chemist and our rubbish bins go out more than us. The highlight of our day is to discover we don't have any appointments or need a blood test. We are extremely relieved to know we can just stay home and have a PJ day.

It is unusual to call on us and not find at least one of us having a nana nap, particularly if we haven't slept well the night before.

When massaging Chris's feet or watching him sleep upright so that he doesn't feel like he's drowning in his fluid, I become anxious about how ill he looks and I fret that I will lose him.

I can't bear to think of that and when I do, I have to give it to the LORD in prayer and trust that He will grant us more time together.

All this angst does nothing to alleviate my fibromyalgia pain or help me get over a flare and I find myself taking mild pain relief every 6 hours. As the doctor advised.

Our home is able to be company ready in half an hour as it is basically tidy all the time. True, there may be slippers in the lounge or a cup on the table, but this can easily be fixed. I just close our bedroom doors to hide the permanently clean but unmade beds.

We love our home as we feel it nurtures us and even though we only may be gone a few hours when we have to go out, we find we are really looking forward to coming home again.

When we were engaged, we agreed that it would be nice to grow old together and we have. Twenty-five years later, it isn't so nice. But thank goodness we have each other and that's the only nice thing about it.

Teardrop babies.

WARNING- POSSIBLE TRIGGER FOR THOSE WHO HAVE LOST A BABY: 

Many years ago, my mother went to the hospital bleeding heavily during her 13th week of pregnancy. It was unclear on her admission if she had in fact lost the baby she had planned. She was laying in the cubicle awaiting results of the examination of her lost tissue to see if she had miscarried or not. It was in the days before ultrasound.

Eventually a nurse came in, winked conspiratorially at Mum and announced that it looked like she had miscarried. Her demeanour was like she was the bearer of good news and that Mum should be grateful that she was no longer pregnant. Mum just turned her face to the wall and cried.

As a young woman, I too had a loss of a much wanted pregnancy. At the time I conceived, I had to have an emergency surgery. I was so ill for so long after the anaesthetic that it dawned on me that it could be morning sickness. It was.

I prayed that I would not lose the baby but it was not to be. A few weeks after my morning sickness disappeared- and I was always morning sick the entire 9 months with my other babies- I started bleeding.

Eventually I lost my baby and Mum had advised me to keep any tissue I lost to show the doctor. I fetched out my lost tissue and found a little embryo, all curled up and just forming its eyes. I was devastated. 

I showed the little one to my then husband, who sniffed and said what a  silly looking little thing it was! Something inside me died and I went outside and wept for the baby who would join its stillborn twin sisters, Sarah and Ruth in God's nursery. I named it Leslie because that name would do for either gender.

Wiping my eyes, I thought about how precious these lives were and how sad most women feel when they never see the light. By far there are more women who grieve over the loss of a baby than who feel relieved or rejoice. I decided that I would call lost babies Teardrop Babies. For many would shed a tear over their loss.

No Teardrop Baby is lost to God and is known to Him and that brings me some comfort. All mothers of those babes will see them again if they know the Giver of Life. I believe that goes for aborted children as well. Many a woman who aborted a baby will suffer great anguish over that choice and if she repents, God will forgive her and show her His great mercy and grace.

No matter what people tell us about our lost Teardrop Baby being just a bunch of cells or tissue, we know that they were our potential son or daughter and we will grieve for them with many tears. Another reason I call lost babes Teardrop Babies.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written, The days fashioned for me, When as yet there were none of them. Psalm 139:16

Probably for the children.

We lived in a low income housing estate owned by the Housing Department. The Navy bought a lot of these homes to house the Naval families and it was there that I met Jezebel.

She was a young wife, quite pretty and she knew it! Most of her day was spent outside sunbathing or shopping. She had two young children who she treated with indifference. They were often playing with my children when we visited my mother who lived next door to her.

We sometimes had to call on her to bring our children back to Mum's and her house was immaculate. As far as these concrete houses went, hers was well furnished with expensive drapes, couches and lamps- and something unheard of in the day- with wall to wall carpet. She was not one to have a conversation with, unless it was about herself or her children, who she considered pests. Or occasionally she would talk of her absent husband, who we were told was a complete boring pig!

That was an enigma to us as he obviously was supporting her and the children very well. In fact, whenever he was on shore leave, we would find him at the clothesline pegging out loads of washing and sheets. Jezebel didn't believe in working when her husband was home. She was a true feminist.

One day, I called on her to pick up my children and she confided in me that she was pregnant to her pig of a husband! (Her words) She had just come home from the doctor and she told me she had informed him that she would notify him if she decided not to go through with the pregnancy. Not after a discussion with her husband. Maybe he wouldn't even be informed, I thought.

I know she had the child, her third son, because I bought her pram for my coming baby. She was wondering how she was going to offload it, she said. It certainly wouldn't be needed again. The Pig had had a vasectomy! 

To this day, I don't know what became of this family as Jezebel's husband was deployed elsewhere, and she went with him. But I do wonder if they are still married and if so, how happy are they. Was The Pig ever valued as a good husband and father, or did he only have Jezebel's scowling and barked orders to look forward to whenever he got home?  

Reflecting on this feminist's treatment of a good man, I felt sorry for her husband and children. I can only hope that Jezebel, so nick named for her horrid feminist ways, has found the LORD and that her children have grown up with some self-confidence and feelings of having been loved. For I am sure  that as hungry as The Pig was for love and respect, he would have made sure the children would have been loved.  

I do pray for them all, and for "The Captain", not "The Pig".  I salute you, Sir for staying with  your Jezebel. Probably for the children.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Nevertheless let every one of you in particular so love his wife even as himself; and the wife see that she reverence her husband. Ephesians 5:22:33

We both are spoilt girls

With heart failure and certain blood pressure tablets, my feet and legs puff up with fluid. I have pitting oedema which means that the indent when a finger is pressed on the limb, stays for a long time. My heart is not working as it should.

At the end of the day, when we watch TV together, Chris will automatically reach for my feet and gently massage them, rubbing the fluid upward towards the heart. He also rubs my toes which burn and sting with neuropathy from diabetes.

The other night as Chris rubbed my foot, Xena jumped up onto the couch and lay beside me. Not wanting to miss out on cuddles, she put her paw up on Chris's arm, purring loudly. It was a lovely relaxing time and helped lift our depression. 

Neither Chris or I are doing too well physically at the moment. Chris's sugars are uncontrolled and he has fluid on his lungs from heart failure.

Such is the loving nature of this man that he rubs my feet continually, even when he needs his own done. I do rub his feet and legs at least once a day and when I cut his toe nails for him. But it must be said that his ministrations to me are more frequent than mine to him. I simply have no spoons at the end of the day. 

I manage the house with all that entails and Chris knows that my spoons are in short supply, especially with a fibromyalgia flare, and so he seeks to bring me some comfort and pleasure at the end of the day.

Xena seems to pick up on the loving atmosphere and always makes sure she's between us in order to be included in the cuddles. 

She loves her Daddy too and we consider her as our feline child-and because she loves her Mummy as well, she purrs contentedly as she wonders which one of us is a spoilt girl. We both are spoilt girls.

Rejoice in being a home maker

When a demanding and chaotic world is so overwhelming, and a woman’s role is somewhat confusing, the result is the ‘depressed housewife’. ‘Housewife’ is a term used loosely, since today’s women are much more than simple ‘housewives’, and their contribution to society is so often taken for granted. 

Most women are confused by their role in life. The feminist movement has empowered the woman to achieve corporate success, while the natural yearnings of her soul lead her toward the security, love, and tenderness of a family-life.

How does this confusion affect the average woman? When ten to twenty percent of the general population is depressed at some point in their lives, and this percentage is made up of twice as many women as men, the answer is so obvious that it hurts.

For the past thirty to forty years, women have been fighting for respect and recognition as more than just ‘housewives’. Women are now encouraged from childhood to put away their dolls and get an education. After the education is complete, a family is started and the woman is in pursuit of her career. She soon finds herself praised on one hand for her accomplishments, and persecuted on the other for neglecting her role as a dutiful housewife!

There is also found a handful of women who cannot ignore their desire to experience the traditionally accepted life of a woman. These are the women who devote their lives to nurturing a home and family. Their aspirations are no doubt cherished by their children, and perhaps even their husbands. However, equal disapproval is shot their way by those who view them as inferior, lacking ambition, and possibly even plain old lazy.

How, in the face of these conflicting opinions, is the woman expected to find her niche? How is her soul, the center of her being, expected to be at peace when it is torn so violently in different directions? How can the devastating reality of the ‘depressed housewife’ be overcome? author unknown.

This article expresses a basic struggle of most housewives who have been blinded by feminist views. How does one overcome? Through accepting Gods' Word about our worth as homekeepers and resisting worldly views of worth.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Favour [is] deceitful, and beauty [is] vain: [but] a woman [that] feareth the LORD, she shall be praised. Proverbs 31:30

This too will pass

 

It's been nearly a week without spoons. I have absolutely no energy to speak of and have just been focussing on keeping the clothes washed, kitchen clean and cooking.

I suppose it's my fault. With some recent spoons, I probably overdid it and hence the Flare of Flares. It's sort of predictable with fibromyalgia. But I was hoping to break out of the pain/fatigue cycle. I haven't.

 

The doctor has become concerned about my blood pressure being high 160/90 and has been trying to get me to give myself a once a week injection of a drug that's supposed to help me lose weight as well as keep the sugars low. I don't want it.

My feelings are that once you inject something, you have to put up with any side-effects for another week, unlike oral tablets that you have some control over. You can stop taking them: not so with injections. Yes, you can stop using them but the chemical is in your system for a week.

I am sick enough with the antibiotics I am taking for suspected cellulitis in my leg. They are very rugged and have given me thrush as well. But I need to finish the course to heal my leg.

So because I have an infection, I am listening to my body and taking a nana nap if I need it. And I don't feel guilty for napping.

I am trying to keep upbeat and not stress too much. It's hard for me as Chris is suffering with his heart failure as well.

I know better days must come and that's why I chose the picture above. With prayer and leaning on the LORD, this phrase often comes to mind:  "this too will pass" and it will- eventually. 

The fruits will be there

As a chronically ill woman who truly doesn’t eat much, my weight gain is mainly inactivity and taking Prednisolone and other drugs for depression and polymyalgia rheumatica etc. If I dwelt on weight gain and my consequent obesity, I would be so depressed that I wouldn’t have time to write for the LORD, or feel close to Him. 

Having said that, it is my intention to give my eating to God and ask for His help in making good food choices, and in self control.  I will try to exercise gently by walking and seeking out a swimming pool so that I can exercise without hurting my muscles, back and torn meniscus. It will be a balancing act so as not to bring on a new flare of my fibromyalgia or an angina attack. 

Because obesity can effect our spirit, I would say that we have to bring negative thoughts about our bodies and weight loss in general, into the captivity of Christ and not allow it to distract us from what He has for our life. 

In practice,  healthy weight loss will take time and it will be necessary to be patient with my body as it slowly releases the fat and comes into subjection. For it is going to be a battle: I know that, and it is a battle I simply must win.

In starting each day, I will be asking God for wisdom in what to eat and when. I will be making losing weight a priority after God, one which I know is in His will and that will please Him.

I am expecting a very slow reduction in my BMI, a very slow introduction to movement and a rather rapid new intake of water daily. In return I am expecting a reduction in blood pressure, pain with arthritis, depression, GERD, and lower HBA1 C for my diabetes. I am expecting a reduction in medications. 

Boring subject that it is, nevertheless weight loss is often so depressing and consuming that it can distract us from our relationship with Jesus. In fact, weight loss can become an idol. We must avoid becoming obsessive with it.

A new outlook has taken me to seeing that loving myself enough to lose the weight that is literally killing me is pleasing to God. He wants the best for me. So knowing this, I can rely on help from the Holy Spirit in putting an end to living trapped in a sick and grossly overweight body. 

I have tried diet pills in the past, but they made me anxious, wound up and irritable. I can't take them. Even if I diet and don't lose weight, at least I will know that I have lived trying to look after my body.

Love for God and pleasing Him,  joy in obedience in the journey, peace in being proactive, patience in the struggle, kindness to myself when I stumble, will produce a woman who is feeling better and more able to be kind, good, faithful and gentle, through obedience to God through self-control. After repentance and obedience, the fruits will be there. 

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Against such there is no law. Galatians 5:22-23

The downside of country life

So  the other night I was going into my bathroom when I noticed this huntsman on the frame near the door. My heart nearly stopped!

Walking into the bathroom, I must have passed close to this horrid spider who could easily have jumped on my head and such is my fear of spiders, it possibly would have killed me in a cardiac event brought on by fear!

Not an overly big spider by huntsman standards, he would have been about 3 inches across. But he was big enough to induce panic in us as we scurried to find a broom and the fly spray!

I didn't want to lose this guy as we wouldn't know where we would find him, so there was a great over use of flyspray and frantic loud bangs of the broom. Suffice it to say, he got a burial at sea!

It is said that they come in pairs, so we were watching everywhere until his mate was found. And she was...

I was in the adjacent laundry and found her sunning herself on the glass panel in the back door. I grabbed my flyspray and went to spray it, but then realised that she was outside the door. She too had to be gone because I didn't want her coming in the house. I'd had enough excitement with her mate's intrusion.

A few sprays of the flyspray had her on the move, and a few heavy thumps of the broom, and she was no longer. Except for food for the birds and ants. 

Indeed, I had to chuckle at how fast I moved, considering my two damaged knees and fibromyalgia. It's marvellous what an adrenaline rush can do for a body! 

Not only did the fear of losing the huntsman to perchance come back to terrorise me, rattle me, but so did realising that I had married a man who refused to rescue me from dangerous wildlife! Such was my expectation of my knight in shining armour! :)

Don't get me wrong: I still love living here in the Australian bush with my liver-lilied Chris,  but snakes and huntsmen are definitely the downside of country life.

When you got no spoons everyone has to help!

So my respite from pain has come to a sorry end. I have been hit with the Mother of all Flares. Just breathing is too much effort and sleep is brief and light. The truck that hit me didn't even stop. 

I have been pacing myself majoring on keeping the dishes and the washing up to date. It hasn't been too difficult really as I have planned in advance for the inevitable fibromyalgia flare that comes after a respite.

Most people who don't suffer from fibromyalgia would call me a pessimist, but we Fibromites know how fickle our body is and how greedy it is for spoons. We never can have enough spoons to say we are energetic. Spoons are energy measures

It's enough to have enough spoons to take a shower some days, and we usually suffer after for it in spite of the pride in ourselves that we made the effort and did it..and the luxurious feeling that being dainty brings.

No, we are realists who accept that our bodies are treacherous. They lure us into a false sense of joy in a seeming abundance of spoons- well enough spoons to make us believe that we can change the sheets, bake a cake, vacuum the lounge room or go shopping. In real life shopping, not just on the computer.

Knowing better really, but delirious in the freedom that a few spoons brings, our joy knows no bounds and we actually dare to live like we did before Fibro claimed our lives, bodies and joy. And we keep living in the moment full of joie de vie until the joy and spoons are gone.  

No, I knew from 20 years experience that my respite from pain would be short-lived and it was.  But because of planning for it, it hasn't seen me in a total mess, overwhelmed with meals and mess.

I had my handmaiden, aka dishwasher and I kept up with the dishes. I did a load of washing a day and I dried it in the dryer. But my greatest life saver was my frozen dinners I have in the freezer. They saved the day.

In all honesty, though I haven't kept the house running smoothly all by myself. I have had to enlist Chris to help me with stacking and unstacking the dishwasher and I asked him to put his own clean clothes away as soon as they came out of the dryer.

He has been really good actually- a blessing really. He also encourages me to take a nana nap, and feeling so fatigued and sore, I am so glad. We all need a hand when we are feeling so wretched and when you got no spoons everyone has to help! 

We don't want to live without it

I read a statement today that said, "I don't want to be a part of a world where being kind is a weakness!" I have found in my life that people equate kindness with weakness and nothing can be further from the truth. Sometimes being kind to someone is an internal battle that strives with the urge to treat that person as we have been treated: unkindly. 

Kindness is an attribute of God and is a fruit of the Spirit, and as such, is highly regarded by Him. Being kind is something we should all aspire to be as Christians. And it often requires being strong in spirit. It means being forgiving. Loving. Selfless. Sacrificial. It includes purity of heart, mind and speech. It imparts grace. 

The King James Bible speaks of kindness 43 times, and from that one can see the importance of being kind in all its' aspects. Many verses exhort us to be kind and they extol kindness's virtues. 

Choose to be  kind even if that person doesn't deserve it, because that is what God has done for us all: saved and unsaved. That takes strength and prayer. Be kind. Because a world without kindness is a world none of us would really want to live in.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks   

 

Put on therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, longsuffering;  Colossians 3:12

Christ is there to carry us

There's no doubt that we are in the end times and that the world is getting darker. It is harder to be a Christian than it was even twenty years ago.

We are not being killed like our brothers and sisters in Christ overseas,  but we are in a place where our freedom of speech and freedom in general is being curtailed.

Often the butt of jokes and criticised for our faith, we are likened to children who believe in a fantasy: a God Who cares deeply for us is a stumbling block to many.

Workers can be dismissed for mentioning Jesus (although it is fine if they are using His Name as a curseword) and in some countries nurses have been dismissed for praying for a patient or simply wearing a cross around their neck...

We of all people are most misjudged and vilified by the world. When we stand up to society about matters that go against God such as same sex marriage, abortion and infanticide, we are told we are judgemental, unloving and biggotted.

What can we do? We can stand firm. Even if we can't stand physically, spiritually we stand firm. Our foundation is the Blood of Christ and His Word.

We live a life of faith and we aspire to be more Christ-like daily. We pray for ourselves, others and the world that it comes to a saving knowledge of God.

In our daily living, we stand firm in our convictions, no matter what the cost. This can be so difficult.

Shining our light in a dark world is never easy, but we must continue to shine. We must win the lost through our example, and our example should be Jesus.

Many have fallen away and backslidden. We must pray for them and pray daily for our own strength and commitment to Christ to stay firm.

It is imperative that we Christians, able bodied or not, stand firm. And we can. We have the Rock to cling to and the firm foundation of His Word.  

Allowing God to save our eternal soul gives us hope and faith, even when we feel we cannot stand-because we know that in the moment we fall, Christ is there to carry us.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

And ye shall be hated of all men for my name's sake: but he that endureth to the end shall be saved.  Matthew 10:22

You just don't know when it will break.

 

Over the last week I have been enjoying a respite from fibromyalgia pain and fatigue. I don't know why it happened, but of course I am glad it did.

During that time I have been busy cooking meals in advance for the next time I have the inevitable flare. It has been working out really well.

I have been carefully pacing myself, allowing 15 minutes of decluttering then resting. Emotionally, it's very satisfying.

Well, I woke up this Sunday morning and have had an unwelcome guest: you guessed it: another fibromyalgia flare. So I guess that I overdid it..So today I will be reaping the benefits of preparing some meals in advance. 

Conversely, though suffering physically, I am not depressed by this: I knew my respite wouldn't last forever. But oh how wonderful it was to have some spoons and to be able to go a whole day without a nana nap!

We Fibromites in regards to spoons and flares, are definitely babies in cradles swinging from the tree tops. We know that at any time the bough can break and we will come tumbling down. 

But it's best if we just learn to go with the flow and try to enjoy the respite: the bough might not break for ages, but you never do know.