Winter Woes
I know I'm not alone in saying that I think the winter has gotten the best of me. Or maybe it's the worst. This physical season, invariably, coincides with seasons in life that are just hard, long, cold, discouraging. It seems like this year will be no different.
I've stayed away from writing for the past several weeks as I've struggled to get my head around the answers that are coming in. I'm so grateful for all of you who are walking alongside us, cheering for us as we finally have the thing we've prayed for for so many months and years: diagnoses. I appreciate all of you who've offered ideas and recipes and encouragement as I make the change to a gluten-free diet. A few of you even knew how upset my kids were that the doctors wanted to screen them for celiac disease, and the moment of drama as we all waited for answers (they were negative!). Thank you for walking with us, praying with us, and encouraging us. We've appreciated every one of you.
Behind the scenes, though, this has been an incredibly difficult season. We wanted for so long to find answers that I think we lost sight of the fact that having answers meant having concrete, lifelong diagnoses. It's a reality that's hit harder than I expected. There is hope mingled with our answers, since it's possible making the dietary changes will help the parts that have been affected by celiac disease, and treatment could improve some of the symptoms caused by the small fiber neuropathy. But the reality is both are life-long diseases. Knowing our enemy helps, but now we also know the enemy's not going away.
Adjusting to the celiac diet came with some challenges. For one, I experienced GI symptoms for the first time in this whole process (I am grateful they haven't been a major contender all along). I felt pretty crummy for the first week or two. I'm gradually feeling a little better as my body adjusts to the new diet. There haven't been any major improvements in my other symptoms, but I'm grateful to at least feel a little more like I did before changing my diet. I underestimated the amount of work and time and thought that would go into making this change. I joke that I feel like I'm setting up a sterile field when I cook my food, but it's not far from the truth! Compounding it all is the fact that I don't have GI symptoms, so when I've been exposed to gluten, I don't really know it. That means I'm constantly vigilant and thinking through what I'm doing to avoid exposure that could do further damage to my nervous system. Eventually the hyper-vigilance will probably lessen. For now, it adds still another layer of worry and exhaustion.
I won't follow up with the neurologist until next week, so we're still in a holding pattern waiting to hear what we will to do manage the neuropathy. Most likely it will be a new medication, which always comes with its ups and downs. I have a list of questions prepared for her, and in the meantime I'm doing what homework I can to learn about both of these diagnoses.
Physically, too, it's been a really rough couple of weeks. I think it's fair at this point to call it a flare-up. Several days ago, already feeling badly, I decided I'd try to work out to see if that would help boost my mood and make me feel better. I didn't come close to over-doing it, but the little that I did was still too much. I've paid for it for almost a week. The physical setback is frustrating, but in all honesty more frustrating is the psychological element. That silly workout seemed to embody a lot of this season: there's nothing I can do to get out of this. There's nothing I can do to improve it. In fact, more often than not when I try to improve, I land farther behind than when I started. It's not getting any better.
Of course I know there are still unknowns, still room for improvement, still hope. But in full transparency, this season is just difficult. It's been a long, hard slog to get here and the sun's not going to come out any time too soon. So we press on. A day at a time. Sometimes an hour at a time. We know God is faithful in the dark seasons just as he is in the summer seasons. But we acknowledge that some chapters are just hard. This is one of them.
We're walking with many of you through your own painful chapters, and we're working out our faith together with you. Truthfully, it's a privilege to be able to set aside our own worries and carry yours. It lightens the load for all of us. I'm glad we're not in this alone.
And the spring will come, sooner or later, to all of us.
I've stayed away from writing for the past several weeks as I've struggled to get my head around the answers that are coming in. I'm so grateful for all of you who are walking alongside us, cheering for us as we finally have the thing we've prayed for for so many months and years: diagnoses. I appreciate all of you who've offered ideas and recipes and encouragement as I make the change to a gluten-free diet. A few of you even knew how upset my kids were that the doctors wanted to screen them for celiac disease, and the moment of drama as we all waited for answers (they were negative!). Thank you for walking with us, praying with us, and encouraging us. We've appreciated every one of you.
Behind the scenes, though, this has been an incredibly difficult season. We wanted for so long to find answers that I think we lost sight of the fact that having answers meant having concrete, lifelong diagnoses. It's a reality that's hit harder than I expected. There is hope mingled with our answers, since it's possible making the dietary changes will help the parts that have been affected by celiac disease, and treatment could improve some of the symptoms caused by the small fiber neuropathy. But the reality is both are life-long diseases. Knowing our enemy helps, but now we also know the enemy's not going away.
Adjusting to the celiac diet came with some challenges. For one, I experienced GI symptoms for the first time in this whole process (I am grateful they haven't been a major contender all along). I felt pretty crummy for the first week or two. I'm gradually feeling a little better as my body adjusts to the new diet. There haven't been any major improvements in my other symptoms, but I'm grateful to at least feel a little more like I did before changing my diet. I underestimated the amount of work and time and thought that would go into making this change. I joke that I feel like I'm setting up a sterile field when I cook my food, but it's not far from the truth! Compounding it all is the fact that I don't have GI symptoms, so when I've been exposed to gluten, I don't really know it. That means I'm constantly vigilant and thinking through what I'm doing to avoid exposure that could do further damage to my nervous system. Eventually the hyper-vigilance will probably lessen. For now, it adds still another layer of worry and exhaustion.
I won't follow up with the neurologist until next week, so we're still in a holding pattern waiting to hear what we will to do manage the neuropathy. Most likely it will be a new medication, which always comes with its ups and downs. I have a list of questions prepared for her, and in the meantime I'm doing what homework I can to learn about both of these diagnoses.
Physically, too, it's been a really rough couple of weeks. I think it's fair at this point to call it a flare-up. Several days ago, already feeling badly, I decided I'd try to work out to see if that would help boost my mood and make me feel better. I didn't come close to over-doing it, but the little that I did was still too much. I've paid for it for almost a week. The physical setback is frustrating, but in all honesty more frustrating is the psychological element. That silly workout seemed to embody a lot of this season: there's nothing I can do to get out of this. There's nothing I can do to improve it. In fact, more often than not when I try to improve, I land farther behind than when I started. It's not getting any better.
Of course I know there are still unknowns, still room for improvement, still hope. But in full transparency, this season is just difficult. It's been a long, hard slog to get here and the sun's not going to come out any time too soon. So we press on. A day at a time. Sometimes an hour at a time. We know God is faithful in the dark seasons just as he is in the summer seasons. But we acknowledge that some chapters are just hard. This is one of them.
We're walking with many of you through your own painful chapters, and we're working out our faith together with you. Truthfully, it's a privilege to be able to set aside our own worries and carry yours. It lightens the load for all of us. I'm glad we're not in this alone.
And the spring will come, sooner or later, to all of us.
