Thank God for David Jeremiah and others like him

who preach the word of God in season and out and never fail to make it a balm instead of a brickbat.  Tonight he talked about depression, using the book of Job as his text.  Until you’ve experienced deep depression, keep your opinions to yourself.  The brain is no less an organ than the pancreas, with associated fallen chemicals/hormones/whatever it is that makes it function.   If I were diabetic would I feel compelled to make excuses for needing insulin?  Or hormones to tame the menopause beast?  Then why is depression treated like an invalid problem?  Why is emotional or mental or psychic pain treated as personal weakness?   Obviously, making the sufferer feel less-than does nothing to speed up or even encourage recovery.  If anything, smug attitudes do more to confirm the depressed person’s perspective that life and certain surrounding humans are painful to deal with and need to be avoided.   I am speaking as one who has dealt extensively with depression, caused both by physical illness as well as just plain hypersensitivity.   Some close to me call it “over-thinking,” and they may be on to something.  For me, it is like living with a large area of skinned tissue, or perhaps a place where the blister bubble has pulled away.  Hypersensitive?  You bet.  Now, cover it with a bandage and take the opportunity for friction away.  The pain is less and healing can begin in earnest.  For me, this is what antidepressants do, the right ones in the right amounts.  They are the protective covering over the emotional sores.   Why am I like this?  I don’t want to blame anyone.   It’s more just the luck of the draw – of the genes, I mean.   Again, overly sensitive, overly analytical, overly emotional, not in a dramatic way, just feeling too intensely.  As I age it has mellowed somewhat, but the basic tendency is never far away.  Prayer and faith in Jesus Christ have been the major balm, but I have to also give thanks for the wisdom that God has put within mankind to develop remedies to help people like me.   Oh, yes, besides my basic genetic makeup, I fight with COPD and live on prednisone (a steroid) in order to keep my airway open.  Anyone who has been on prednisone can vouch that it is a real mood-breaker.  Even on a low dose (10 mg/day), it still affects overall body (and brain?) chemistry.   So off I go to the herb/alternative health store and try to counter the side effects as best as I can.  My understanding is dim at times, and sometimes my mood is even dimmer, and it is then time to retreat to my bed.   My sanctuary, my bedroom.  No stimulation, no input, no demands.   Except, that is, for Jack, when it is time for breakfast…or supper….or when she decides that no human of hers can sleep her life away.   Thank you, God, for my lovely kitty, Jack Stripe, aka Great Stripes, Stripedoodle, Stripe-a-lottamus, Perfesser, my friend.   A little chow, a few treats, a dripping faucet and a clean cat box, and she is very happy.  And I do love her so.

I just thought I was retired.

“You have hedged me behind and before…”  Psalm 139: 5-6

How am I hedged in?  By my health, or lack thereof?  By my inability to work at my old job?  By my circumstances that are interwined with others’  lives?  And my grumbling?  is it against God’s providence?  I think so.  So I’d better quit complaining and start giving thanks.  Thanks for work, for the ability to earn some sort of living in this screwed-up topsy-turvy economy that promises to become even more unraveled, or so the people who know claim.  I will not worry about those things.  I will not worry about not having “free” time to do what I please.  I am still on God’s time clock – I had forgotten that.  I am like the horse turned out to pasture that would prefer to be left out to swat flies all day and graze and nap at will.  When the Lord approaches me with the saddle, here comes the attitude, and I want to head to the other end of the paddock.  What thankfulness is that?  He owns me.  What right do I have to evade His harness?  He gives me all that I have, including my very breath, and I should be so unappreciative?   No, I will submit and do so with a smile and nary a grumble.

Work is not a punishment, it is a privilege to work alongside our God as He blesses both the just and the unjust.  Where did my work ethic go?

Remember, Mary, work is a privilege.  Labor faithfully, knowing that you labor along with the Lord Jesus Christ as He brings His plan and Kingdom to pass.

My Christmas Gift to me.

Is a membership in Story Circle, along with an online portion which will allow me to do a host of things that right now at 12:25 a.m. CST escape me.  However, I am sure it is worth it; it seemed to be so when I was more conscious yesterday at 4 p.m.

It will demand something that I don’t like to give – commitment.  I’m too used to doing what I want when I want.  Not the best road to a self-disciplined life, for sure.  The Mom in me has got to take over again, because that bratty little girl is much too inclined to overeat all the wrong stuff, stay up way too late, and needs a cattle prod to fulfill many of her obligations.  Hey, I’ve been at everyone’s beck and call for decades now, a very responsible and upstanding adult, full of some visible amount of integrity.  Why can’t I just flake off for a while?

Here come’s “Mom” preaching, “Because life doesn’t stop and neither do the bills.  Or the dishes.”  So, the implication is that now I’ve had my little vacation from life, so let’s get back to it.  Which is where confusion moves in.  What am I supposed to get back to?  I’m applying for SS/Disability due to chronic, progressive lung disease that took a downward spiral in 2009.   My memory and cognitive function took a downturn as well, causing me to distrust myself  and my accuracy in transcribing  medical records.  Too many ways to make errors that could kill a person.  No thank you.   I need another way to make a living, preferably in an artistic field.  Hopefully by myself.  Some days I don’t play well with others.  That’s why writing has appeal.  It’s solitary and creative.  And possibly lucrative.  However, I’ve been to those book stores where  obscene piles of books written by unheard-of authors are sold for a song.  These stacks of books each represent someone’s dream, and they haunt me.   Fear then asks me, “Why do you think that anyone would actually spend money to read what you have to say?”   Fear reminds me that I, too, could fall into that Books-A-Million swamp, and has so far been very effective in corralling the second page of the book’s very first chapter.   Somehow Page One escaped on its own, and is now begging Page Two to quit being such a wimp, continuously knocking at the door and hollering that Pages Three and Four should come along as well because the adventure wouldn’t be complete without them.

Thanks to the commitment mentioned above, it will all escape anyway, never mind the consequences.

What’s my point? Or, Why Do I Exist?

There’s a reason I am alone so much, but why?  I feel set aside, in which state I WAS content, however, now I question what my purpose is?  If I only have a few years or so left, what should I be doing?

I’m lonely without knowing who for.  I have a close relationship with Jesus Christ, and as I once more realized during the recent drive to and from Atlanta, traveling with Jesus means I did not go alone.

If I feel compelled to do anything, creative or otherwise,  I must question my motives.  Is the purpose of the activity to bring glory to God our Creator or Jesus Christ as Savior, OR to showcase my gifts, or to justify my use of oxygen and other resources, or ????f

Reading posts on Facebook jogs my thinking.

If I died tomorrow, what would I regret leaving undone?

Does poor gas exchange capability in my lungs correlate to leaving a smaller carbon footprint?

Christians by and large believe in the concept of “destiny,” as do many others.  However, I’ve heard two sermons on this topic today alone.  Here are some random notes from Paul Scanlon’s sermon Sunday night.

This p.m., Pastor Paul Scanlon in the UK related a story about a piece of ear cartilage excised and used as graft material to reconstruct a man’s nose.  The cartilage graft in the nose “remembers” that it was once part of the ear, thus continues to grow back into the shape it was as part of the ear.  Every few years surgery is done to re-whittle or shape the graft back into the shape needed to support the nose.  However, the cartilage never forgets its original shape, and continues to need the reminder of the surgeon’s scalpel.

Destiny is like that – it is our inner “true north,” our deepest peace, our happiest self, our real “shape.”

Jesus to Paul in the book of Acts:  “Why are you kicking against the inevitable?”  (or “destiny.”)

Am I kicking against my destiny?  Is this the permissive will of God, or the perfect will of God?

Talked about Esther being made Queen, wife of Ahasuerus, not because of her beauty, but because of God’s favor – and how she was indeed brought to her position “for such a time as this.”

Randomness versus alignment (in term of magnetism) with atoms lined up.

Fall into the slipstream of God and creativity will flow.

What is it that I have forgotten to be?  What in the world is my “shape?”

Remember this word:  Gravitas.  No, does not mean gravity.  Per Wikipedia, Gravitas = Dignity, duty, seriousness.

In another vein, how grateful I am to see other sold-out believers in Jesus Christ worshiping their Savior in the U.K., China, South America, Australia, South Korea, Nigeria, India, South Africa, everywhere.  Thank You, Great Lord Jesus, for so many, many brothers and sisters!

Several days later….

Still testing the waters with serrapeptase.   Results ok but inconclusive.   From time to time (that is every 3rd or 4th day) flu-like symptoms begin to pop up and I squelch them with a combination   of BeeAlive royal jelly, liquid olive leaf, and a teaspoon each of elderberry extract and pomegranate extract, taken every 4 hours  for a 24-hour period, and this seems to put the brakes on .  Mucus is  a little thinner and coming up more easily and more frequently.

It’s been 2 days since last dose.  Will take again on Monday morning.

Guinea Pig – Day 2

Serrapeptase:   Source Naturals Serrapeptase (120 vegetarian capsules), take one or two 500-mg capsules daily.

Serrapeptase (also known as serratopeptase) is a proteolytic (protein-dissolving) enzyme which I am trying out, now on day 2.   Starting out slowly, I am only taking one 500-mg capsule a day, taken on a full or almost-full stomach.   The recommendation is to take this on an empty stomach with about 8 oz of water. However, after reading so many complaints of digestive upset related to serrapeptase, I decided not to chance this on an empty stomach.  No digestive trouble yet.

Friday, 11/6 results:  No problems last night at all.  Perhaps it was my desperate imagination, but within 15 minutes of taking the capsule, this particularly tight spasm seemed to lessen just a bit.  Since I was not familiar with serrapeptase’ function as a bronchodilator, I doubted my perception.  After checking further I found that serrapeptase can act as a bronchodilator.  As no other meds or supplements were taken within an hour either way of this dose of Serrapeptase, there was most likely no nteraction.  However, I’m no scientist, in fact, I have no letters at all after my name. What I do have, or rather, what I lack – is sufficient oxygen intake under my own steam secondary to severe asthma that has morphed into COPD.   Now on oxygen 24/7, some of my brain cells have regenerated – hopefully the more civil and productive ones (but I have my doubts) – and in spite of enriched air, my airways remain hyper-reactive and unstable most of the time. At worst, I am short of breath even at rest. At best, I am relatively comfortable until I get up to do anything. Brushing my teeth is exertion. Showering is a workout. This gets old in a hurry. As you can imagine, there is little I won’t consider doing to alleviate the constriction, including opening a toe of garlic, crushing it, and inhaling the fumes as deeply as possible.  This works well as a bronchodilator, but doesn’t last more than a few minutes. Since 1977 I’ve been studying and researching asthma, hoping to find a magic bullet that would not require a doctor or insurance or vast quantities of money. So far, no luck. There are many time-honored herbal therapies to treat asthma and bronchitis. Some are slightly effective (mullein, valerian, kava), and some are too dangerous (ephedra and lobellia).  Some are surprisingly helpful in reversing chest tightness (Yerba Mate, olive leaf, passion flower) – but only to a degree.  Sometimes the best medicine is to knock  myself out with enough olive leave, passion flower, and valerian, then go to bed where the CPAP machine can relieve the work of breathing and give my chest and back muscles a break.  Talk about relief…a little taste of heaven, if you ask me.

The plan is to document my trial of serrapeptase, recording daily doses, side effects and/or results over a 2-week period starting Friday, November 6, 2009. Today is Nov. 7. Obviously.

I took one 500-mg capsule tonight at 6:30 p.m. At 8:20 p.m. far so good. No hair on knuckles yet.

A desperate guinea pig

That would be me.

Wearing O2 24/7 helps, but my lungs of late have made it clear that they just can’t handle the normal atmosphere of earth.  Not without the CPAP machine, but until I can figure a way to fasten it to a skateboard and roll around the house with it, that therapy is confined to the bed or sofa.

Finally worked up the nerve to take the wonder enzyme, serrapeptase, or serratopeptase, that I have been extensively researching and alternatively either putting on a pedestal or looking at with suspicion.  Some people say it’ll open up the airways and eat up old scar tissue, also loosen and remove mucus which is abnormally thick and viscous in asthmatics.  All that would be great, but I am desperate for relief from the chronic bronchospasm.  Even a little hydrocodone helps in the form of low-dose Lortab, 1/2 a day, which gives a little relief.  Sometimes doubling the dose of yerba mate tablets works for several hours.  Sometimes nothing helps but the CPAP.  Why or why not is anyone’s guess, it changes day to day and hour to hour, much like it has been since I was 12.  A good day is a rare and special blessing.  More often it’s a struggle to breathe even while sitting perfectly still.  Again, who knows?  Tempermental lungs.  And don’t say one bloody word about my cats.  Take them away and I will still have reason to wheeze – mold, dust, mildew, pollen, air, gremlins, fat, sweat, perfume, obtuse politicians, rainy weather, dry weather, snow, heat, my heart beating, etc.  The cats make me laugh and therefore fall into the “things that improve quality of life” category.  Hah, a pun, not intended – see it?  Cat-egory.  Well, I thought it was funny.

So I took 1 capsule of serrapeptase at approximately 12 a.m. on Saturday morning, 11/7/09.  I don’t feel bad yet, in fact, I detected a lessening of  the bronchospasm within about 10 minutes of taking it.  Thank you Lord God for any help at all.

I’ll just document this as I take it, along with any side effects or relief I experience.

Get the obituary ready.

At last.  Time to do what I want to do.  But it’s 12:27 a.m.  You need to be in bed says my Mom voice, which I have learned how to ignore quite well.  All day long I do what needs to be done, for myself, for Dad, for the house, for world peace, for the cats, for the sake of having a/c, Direct TV, and lots of junk food. I’m on short-term disability.  I can’t breathe right most of the time.  But I’m still busy.  I got frustrated last week and had a tantrum and a pity party all at once.  You know that I could be am amputee, an amputee losing ALL FOUR of my limbs, and I’d still be the busiest person around.  Somehow.  I have a knack for hyperbole, don’t I?  Well, at the time it FELT believable.

And now, here’s more news on Fox.  I like Fox, love the personalities, they appear sincere, almost like family.  Wonder why they lead in the ratings?  Not if you watch on a regular basis – then it’s no surprise.   However, when the health care morass comes up, it doesn’t matter who is tossing the facts around.  The topic is maddening.  I personally think it’s all window-dressing.  The Dems are going to pass the damn thing, read or not, and it will have a public option, now called a “consumer option” per Nancy Pelosi.  Never mind the people’s opinion – ignore the town halls and tea parties, overlook even some Dems’ dislike of the bill.  They’ve already made up their minds that this is what we get, so tough cookies.   And that is maddening.   Why bother discussing anything at all?  Why is it even an issue?  They are going to pass the mess simply because they want to.  Wherever did we get the idea that we have a representative form of government?  It’s obvious that our reps don’t give a damn what their constituents think.  We  have practical socialism, and we won’t do anything to stand against it.  We’ll complain and wring our hands, but still, nothing will happen.  Worse and more odious bills will be passed, all with great discussion and fanfare and panic, but……they will pass and no one will lift a finger to resist.  The U.S. is in the ICU at this point.  Soon Soros will take it off the respirator, and again, no one will care enough to try to revive its spirit.

The real U.S. A., for all practical purposes, exists only in history.   We should be ashamed.

 

 

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