I am full of nervousness about writing this blog. It is such a controversial topic, with so much emotion associated with it. It's making me nervous writing it, because at the end of writing I may press publish and that will mean that more people than I would ever have wanted would know the thing that I am most ashamed of doing in my life - that I have had an abortion.
I had an abortion.
I was in my twenties, and at the time I suppose I thought that it was fine, it was your choice, whether or not you stayed pregnant. I knew people who'd had abortions, and I didn't blame them. I made the decision quickly I remember, looking back it's weird, why didn't I even think about keeping the baby until after the abortion? But I didn't, not until afterwards, and then I did. For years and even now I have wished with every fibre of my being that I didn't do it, but wishing won't change it. You see the problem is that the instant I had taken the medication to induce labour and rid my body of the baby I knew it was wrong, and not just "shouldn't have told that little lie" wrong, but irreversibly wrong. The kind of wrong that is so deep and vast and impenetrable that it grabs you in a choke hold and strangles the breath out of you. No-one said to me that it was wrong or bad, the few people that knew were very sweet and supportive, but I knew it. I knew it to the very depths of my bones. I wonder if everyone who's done what I've done feels the same, even if they don't say it. It doesn't matter what I thought about "when life starts", from the moment I realized I was pregnant it was a baby. I didn't walk around thinking, "yes I have collection of cells inside me", no I thought "I have a baby inside me!" (Exclamation being terror.) So when I chose to end the pregnancy, every part of me knew it was my baby I was ending, and there was no escaping that by relabeling the child as cells or a fetus or whatever. In my heart I had already called it child and child it was and child it is no more, because of me.
There is a lot of debate about this issue, and I'm not about to stand on any picket lines throwing blood on women seeking abortions, I'd have to throw it at myself, but it is wrong, so deeply wrong. I have grieved the death of my unborn child for so long, but it has been a complicated grief full of guilt, because I did it. The child was never born because of me. Had I not acted the child might be sat with me now, as a write a very different blog about how I was brave enough to keep her.
I share this for two reasons, firstly I suppose because you don't seem to hear that much from people like me, who've had an abortion and realized what a terrible thing it is. It's the shame I suppose, the deep deep shame that can't bare anyone to know. It's not just two sides, people who are against it and people who are for it, there are those of us who have done it. And the very loud and harsh political war that is being fought right now is hurting us. It hurts us when you scream about us being murders, trust me we know it, and it hurts us when you scream about it being our right, trust me we only think about the rights we denied our child. Maybe I "we" too generally, I don't mean to insult anyone with it, but I don't think I am alone in feeling this way.
My second reason is even though I still feel sadness about it sometimes, the Lord has recently taken me on a journey to understand and fully accept that I am forgiven.
I am fully forgiven.
I can't explain the fullness of it in words, it's so deep and vast and pentrating that it grabs you in resuscitation squeezing breath into places where there is no room for air.
I ended my child's life, and it took Jesus dying on the cross for the punishment to be fulfilled. But He did it, He wasn't disgusted with me, He saw me dying, dead, in a trap of my own making and loved me all the same. He died for me, adopted me into His family, by his blood I am saved and free! This sin isn't beyond the savior, and I am not meant to try and carry it as a burden for the rest of my life. It is paid for, like all the rest, and His sacrifice is counted to me by the faith I have in Him. It's not just a comfort, but an actual change in my condition, my heart pounds with the truth of it.
2 Corinthians 7:10 says "For godly grief produces repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death." I struggled for so long to achieve that last part, that "without regret" in this particular sin, because I did regret it so much. But Jesus didn't die so that I could feel trapped in regret. In holding onto my regret I was denying the efficacy of His work on the cross, it was like I was saying it wasn't enough. To be without regret doesn't mean that you don't recognize the wrongness of what you did, it means accepting that you have been forgiven, it's done, you repent and turn away from that sin in full confidence that the consequences have been dealt with in an eternal way, and they were dealt with long ago on a cross by a man who is God and who knew exactly what He was doing.
Everyday I need Him, and everyday He provides.
Everyday I stand before the cross and know that it is finished!
Thursday, 31 March 2016
Friday, 7 March 2014
On Marital Expectations (my Christian, I hope biblical, based perspective)
It's something I've been thinking about recently, expectations, in a marriage particularly. We marrieds have all been there, I reckon. You get home from work late, you thought the children would have been fed and bathed by now, but they aren't and you have to do it; or the house is a mess despite your spouse being at home all day; or your spouse just wants to watch TV to unwind but you want to chat.
We all have expectations of ourselves, of each other. We expect faithfulness, love, affection, support, respect, forgiveness, as well as the infinite minor details of day to day living: childcare, housework, employment, date night, vacations, together time, alone time, time out. I wonder if you've ever listed them out, just to see, you know, how long your list of expectations for your spouse actually is.
At this point, you may be thinking, yeah I have expectations, and they are no bad thing, they tell me what is reasonable and what is not. Therefore, I would like to make a distinction that whilst perhaps not Oxford dictionary accurate will all the same I hope be helpful in separating out close ideas. Expectations verses standards.
Standards - things which we think are right, true and worthy to be held up to.
Expectations - things we think people ought to do, should do, essentially even must do
I think everyone should have high standards. We shouldn't compromise on what is right, true and worthy to be held on to. So much can be easily corrupted and twisted.
Big expectations though, hmm, that's more tricky. People are sinful. Yes, they are! They do things that are basically wrong, and often intentionally. I sense you trying to argue against it, but just consider your own life honestly with yourself and admit it, you've done things, whatever your moral compass may be, that either you personally or the world in general have agreed are wrong, mean, hateful, inconsiderate, selfish. Given this fact, it will necessarily be the case therefore that at some point your expectations of another person are not going to be met. Big expectations can lead to big disappointment. Further, any expectation has this horrible preponderance to lead the expecting to be less than accepting of any forthcoming failure.
What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you? You desire but do not have, so you kill. You covet but you cannot get what you want, so you quarrel and fight. James 4:1-3
Expectations can end up an awful lot like demands, and when the demands are not met you get angry, and not just angry but maybe immovable on the point, accusatory. Your anger becomes rage and maybe before you know it, you're verbally pulling your spouse to bits either in your head or worse out loud.
Tearing him down rather than building him up.
"Why haven't you folded the washing? You never do it."
Accusing her as opposed to encouraging her and hoping for a better future.
"I haven't seen you pray or open your bible in months. Are you even a Christian?"
Gathering the rubble of hate over the rock of love.
"I can't believe you lied. I'll never trust you again."
Then comes the aftermath of the should have, supposed to and is meant to. He should have washed the dishes. She should have bathed the kids. He's supposed to lead family devotions. She's supposed to submit to my leadership. He's meant to tell the truth. She's meant to be faithful. And maybe all your should have's are true, but your expecting eye has had the magnifying glass hovering over the wrong area for too long. It's important to recognise that it's not your job to dissect and pick through the issues of the spouse's heart, their relationship with God, and daily walk in Christian life like a monkey searches for bugs in it's baby hair. Your marriage is a ministry of encouragement. Encouragement that has clearly examined it's own heart first, and in love seeks to support another in overcoming their own heart issues.
“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when you yourself fail to see the plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye. Luke 6: 41-42
Brothers and sisters, if someone is caught in a sin, you who live by the Spirit should restore that person gently. Galatians 6: 1
Keep your high standards, keep them, really, do. They are your anchor in a stormy wind. Be sure about right and wrong, have a clear understanding of what it means to love and hate. Know which one you wish to pursue.
But keep your standards for your understanding of the truth, not transformed into the rhetorical expectations of your married life.
Marriage, I feel, is more like a journey than anything else. Except that the destination keeps changing but your travel partner never does. It's two, very far from perfect, people coming together and saying "I'm going to stick with you in spite of your failings, in rejoice of your successes and loving you through both." So manage your expectations. Manage them, so that when they aren't met you can build up, encourage, hope and continue to love. Forgive your spouse, as you have been forgiven by your Lord Jesus through his blood shed for you on the cross. Hope in your faithful God, who always keeps His promises, to stand you firm until the day of His coming. Encourage with words of love, speaking the truth, holding accountable and lifting up. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your mind and with all your body, and love your spouse with a love that shows you know what love really is.
This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters. 1 John 3:16
We all have expectations of ourselves, of each other. We expect faithfulness, love, affection, support, respect, forgiveness, as well as the infinite minor details of day to day living: childcare, housework, employment, date night, vacations, together time, alone time, time out. I wonder if you've ever listed them out, just to see, you know, how long your list of expectations for your spouse actually is.
At this point, you may be thinking, yeah I have expectations, and they are no bad thing, they tell me what is reasonable and what is not. Therefore, I would like to make a distinction that whilst perhaps not Oxford dictionary accurate will all the same I hope be helpful in separating out close ideas. Expectations verses standards.
Standards - things which we think are right, true and worthy to be held up to.
Expectations - things we think people ought to do, should do, essentially even must do
I think everyone should have high standards. We shouldn't compromise on what is right, true and worthy to be held on to. So much can be easily corrupted and twisted.
Big expectations though, hmm, that's more tricky. People are sinful. Yes, they are! They do things that are basically wrong, and often intentionally. I sense you trying to argue against it, but just consider your own life honestly with yourself and admit it, you've done things, whatever your moral compass may be, that either you personally or the world in general have agreed are wrong, mean, hateful, inconsiderate, selfish. Given this fact, it will necessarily be the case therefore that at some point your expectations of another person are not going to be met. Big expectations can lead to big disappointment. Further, any expectation has this horrible preponderance to lead the expecting to be less than accepting of any forthcoming failure.
What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you? You desire but do not have, so you kill. You covet but you cannot get what you want, so you quarrel and fight. James 4:1-3
Expectations can end up an awful lot like demands, and when the demands are not met you get angry, and not just angry but maybe immovable on the point, accusatory. Your anger becomes rage and maybe before you know it, you're verbally pulling your spouse to bits either in your head or worse out loud.
Tearing him down rather than building him up.
"Why haven't you folded the washing? You never do it."
Accusing her as opposed to encouraging her and hoping for a better future.
"I haven't seen you pray or open your bible in months. Are you even a Christian?"
Gathering the rubble of hate over the rock of love.
"I can't believe you lied. I'll never trust you again."
Then comes the aftermath of the should have, supposed to and is meant to. He should have washed the dishes. She should have bathed the kids. He's supposed to lead family devotions. She's supposed to submit to my leadership. He's meant to tell the truth. She's meant to be faithful. And maybe all your should have's are true, but your expecting eye has had the magnifying glass hovering over the wrong area for too long. It's important to recognise that it's not your job to dissect and pick through the issues of the spouse's heart, their relationship with God, and daily walk in Christian life like a monkey searches for bugs in it's baby hair. Your marriage is a ministry of encouragement. Encouragement that has clearly examined it's own heart first, and in love seeks to support another in overcoming their own heart issues.
“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when you yourself fail to see the plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye. Luke 6: 41-42
Brothers and sisters, if someone is caught in a sin, you who live by the Spirit should restore that person gently. Galatians 6: 1
Keep your high standards, keep them, really, do. They are your anchor in a stormy wind. Be sure about right and wrong, have a clear understanding of what it means to love and hate. Know which one you wish to pursue.
But keep your standards for your understanding of the truth, not transformed into the rhetorical expectations of your married life.
Marriage, I feel, is more like a journey than anything else. Except that the destination keeps changing but your travel partner never does. It's two, very far from perfect, people coming together and saying "I'm going to stick with you in spite of your failings, in rejoice of your successes and loving you through both." So manage your expectations. Manage them, so that when they aren't met you can build up, encourage, hope and continue to love. Forgive your spouse, as you have been forgiven by your Lord Jesus through his blood shed for you on the cross. Hope in your faithful God, who always keeps His promises, to stand you firm until the day of His coming. Encourage with words of love, speaking the truth, holding accountable and lifting up. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your mind and with all your body, and love your spouse with a love that shows you know what love really is.
This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters. 1 John 3:16
Wednesday, 15 January 2014
On imagination stories
I've shot myself in the foot recently. It was about a few weeks ago when I took up the shot gun and applied the trigger, strangely enough not feeling the full depth of my injuries until the last week or so. In an attempt to prevent a long drawn out procedure with books and repeating stories, I created something called "The imagination story". I giggled internally at my own naming of this, as I knew fine well, that I had no imagination and so any story supposedly from my imagination would be ever so slightly lacking in creativity. And so it began. Stories from my so called "imagination", no pictures, sometimes without an ending for many days, multiple twists and turns and random dramatic events.
But now I can't get out of it, every darn evening, Ezra starts talking about an imagination story and finding out what happens next, she even remembers what happened last time which is good, because I don't. After a week or so, Israel caught on to this and picked out his favourite character from one story and now persistently asks to hear about "Israel the rescue truck". I've basically run out of ideas for the stories, and am asked to repeat stories that I can't remember, and there are an awful lot really gutted looks when I say no. What shall I do?
So for your amusement, of my poor story creation skills, here is a sample of a recent story:
Once upon a time there was a large castle in a beautiful land full of lots of trees, lakes and fields. In the castle lived Queen Rachel, King Paul, Princess Ezra and Israel the rescue truck.
One day Princess Ezra was playing basketball with Israel the rescue in the castle garden. While they were playing the horrible Dragon Thabiti swooped down and grabbed King Paul with his claws.
"Oh no! Oh no!" Cried Queen Rachel. "Dragon Thabiti has taken King Paul away!"
"Yum, yum, yum." Said Dragon Thabiti, "I'm going to enjoy eating this yummy King for my dinner."
"Oh no" said Queen Rachel, "I'll never see him again."
"Don't worry!" Said Israel the rescue truck, "I can rescue him! Princess Ezra jump in my cabin and we will go on an adventure to rescue King Paul from that nasty dragon."
So Princess Ezra jumped into Israel's cabin and pressed down very hard on the go pedal.
"Vrumm! Vrumm," said Israel the rescue truck, and off they went very fast.
They went over the fields of flowers, through the dark forest, around the lake of disobedient children and finally they were at the bottom of Dragon mountain.
It was very scary. There was lots of fog, sharp rocks and it was very steep to climb.
"How will we get to the top of this mountain, Israel?" Said Princess Ezra
"Hmmm, why don't you turn on my lights and press the button for my special climbing wheels?"
"OK!" So Ezra clicked on Israel's lights and pressed the button for his wheels.
"Now we are ready to go!"
Off they went up the steep mountain, through the fog and around the sharp rocks.
Finally, they got to the top. Israel the rescue truck rolled forward very quietly so Princess Ezra could see where King Paul was.
Princess Ezra peered around the corner and saw that Dragon Thabiti was sleeping. Slowly and carefully she crept forward very quietly so she wouldn't wake the dragon up. King Paul was tied up next to the fire waiting to be cooked for the Dragon's dinner, so she snuck over and untied him. Without saying anything they crept back towards Israel past the sleeping dragon. Just as they were getting to Israel, King Paul stepped on a stick. A loud crack resounded and the dragon awoke.
"What are you doing with my dinner?" He roared. "I'm going to catch you both then I will have dinner and dessert."
"Quick King Paul; we've got to get to Israel!"
They ran as fast they could and jumped into Israel's cabin.
"Vrumm! Vrumm!" Said Israel and off they sped.
Dragon Thabiti was chasing after them; he was getting closer and closer.
"Oh no," said Ezra, "Dragon Thabiti is going to eat us!"
"No he's not," said Israel the rescue truck "press my special red button."
Princess Ezra pressed the special red button and whoosh off they went up into the air!
Dragon Thabiti tried to follow them but he discovered that he couldn't fly. Israel had stuck his wings together while he was sleeping!
Princess Ezra, King Paul and Israel the rescue truck flew back to castle where Queen Rachel was waiting with a nice party to welcome them home from their adventure. They all had some lovely cake and laughed about how they got away from the Dragon Thabiti. The End.
But now I can't get out of it, every darn evening, Ezra starts talking about an imagination story and finding out what happens next, she even remembers what happened last time which is good, because I don't. After a week or so, Israel caught on to this and picked out his favourite character from one story and now persistently asks to hear about "Israel the rescue truck". I've basically run out of ideas for the stories, and am asked to repeat stories that I can't remember, and there are an awful lot really gutted looks when I say no. What shall I do?
So for your amusement, of my poor story creation skills, here is a sample of a recent story:
Once upon a time there was a large castle in a beautiful land full of lots of trees, lakes and fields. In the castle lived Queen Rachel, King Paul, Princess Ezra and Israel the rescue truck.
One day Princess Ezra was playing basketball with Israel the rescue in the castle garden. While they were playing the horrible Dragon Thabiti swooped down and grabbed King Paul with his claws.
"Oh no! Oh no!" Cried Queen Rachel. "Dragon Thabiti has taken King Paul away!"
"Yum, yum, yum." Said Dragon Thabiti, "I'm going to enjoy eating this yummy King for my dinner."
"Oh no" said Queen Rachel, "I'll never see him again."
"Don't worry!" Said Israel the rescue truck, "I can rescue him! Princess Ezra jump in my cabin and we will go on an adventure to rescue King Paul from that nasty dragon."
So Princess Ezra jumped into Israel's cabin and pressed down very hard on the go pedal.
"Vrumm! Vrumm," said Israel the rescue truck, and off they went very fast.
They went over the fields of flowers, through the dark forest, around the lake of disobedient children and finally they were at the bottom of Dragon mountain.
It was very scary. There was lots of fog, sharp rocks and it was very steep to climb.
"How will we get to the top of this mountain, Israel?" Said Princess Ezra
"Hmmm, why don't you turn on my lights and press the button for my special climbing wheels?"
"OK!" So Ezra clicked on Israel's lights and pressed the button for his wheels.
"Now we are ready to go!"
Off they went up the steep mountain, through the fog and around the sharp rocks.
Finally, they got to the top. Israel the rescue truck rolled forward very quietly so Princess Ezra could see where King Paul was.
Princess Ezra peered around the corner and saw that Dragon Thabiti was sleeping. Slowly and carefully she crept forward very quietly so she wouldn't wake the dragon up. King Paul was tied up next to the fire waiting to be cooked for the Dragon's dinner, so she snuck over and untied him. Without saying anything they crept back towards Israel past the sleeping dragon. Just as they were getting to Israel, King Paul stepped on a stick. A loud crack resounded and the dragon awoke.
"What are you doing with my dinner?" He roared. "I'm going to catch you both then I will have dinner and dessert."
"Quick King Paul; we've got to get to Israel!"
They ran as fast they could and jumped into Israel's cabin.
"Vrumm! Vrumm!" Said Israel and off they sped.
Dragon Thabiti was chasing after them; he was getting closer and closer.
"Oh no," said Ezra, "Dragon Thabiti is going to eat us!"
"No he's not," said Israel the rescue truck "press my special red button."
Princess Ezra pressed the special red button and whoosh off they went up into the air!
Dragon Thabiti tried to follow them but he discovered that he couldn't fly. Israel had stuck his wings together while he was sleeping!
Princess Ezra, King Paul and Israel the rescue truck flew back to castle where Queen Rachel was waiting with a nice party to welcome them home from their adventure. They all had some lovely cake and laughed about how they got away from the Dragon Thabiti. The End.
Sunday, 29 December 2013
On the Holy Spirit - Luke 2: 26-32
Luke 2: 26-35
25 Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was on him. 26 It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. 27 Moved by the Spirit, he went into the temple courts. When the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him what the custom of the Law required, 28 Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying:
I'm grateful to Pastor Bentley pointing out that this passages teaches us some of the characteristics of the Holy Spirit a couple of Sundays ago in the sermon (available to listen to in a couple of weeks: http://www.fbc.org.ky/category/sermons/). It really struck me afresh how powerfully He works.
1) The Holy Spirit was on him - He dwells specifically with people, not just generally omnipresent, but resides in the presence of a person, with them, on them. How wonderful to know that one of the trinity of God resides with the people of God who are righteous and devout.
(John 14: 16-17)
2) It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit - He reveals knowledge to the people of God, He gives us insight into the workings of God, He gives us understanding of God's word, and when we speak God's word to ourselves and others it is a working of the Holy spirit upon us.
(1 Corinthians 14:1, John 14:26)
3) Moved by the spirit - He causes us to act to fulfill the will of God, yeah that's right, the Holy Spirit can and does move us to act. Some might throw up hands and say what about my free will? Well I say to such independents - why would even want to act differently to how God wants you to act anyway? God is good, you want to put yourself on the opposite of that? Can't anyone claim they were moved by the spirit to justify their actions. They can, but knowledgeable Christians will always compare their claims to the truth of God's word and lovingly hold them to account if they try to add to change the Holy word of God. The Spirit moves us to act for the holy, righteous, will of God!
(1 Corinthians 14: 36-38)
The Holy Spirit is with us, He reveals truth to us and He moves us to act for the will of God to be fulfilled! Amazing!
25 Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was on him. 26 It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. 27 Moved by the Spirit, he went into the temple courts. When the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him what the custom of the Law required, 28 Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying:
29 “Sovereign Lord, as you have promised,
you may now dismiss[d] your servant in peace.
30 For my eyes have seen your salvation,
31 which you have prepared in the sight of all nations:
32 a light for revelation to the Gentiles,
and the glory of your people Israel.”
you may now dismiss[d] your servant in peace.
30 For my eyes have seen your salvation,
31 which you have prepared in the sight of all nations:
32 a light for revelation to the Gentiles,
and the glory of your people Israel.”
I'm grateful to Pastor Bentley pointing out that this passages teaches us some of the characteristics of the Holy Spirit a couple of Sundays ago in the sermon (available to listen to in a couple of weeks: http://www.fbc.org.ky/category/sermons/). It really struck me afresh how powerfully He works.
1) The Holy Spirit was on him - He dwells specifically with people, not just generally omnipresent, but resides in the presence of a person, with them, on them. How wonderful to know that one of the trinity of God resides with the people of God who are righteous and devout.
(John 14: 16-17)
2) It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit - He reveals knowledge to the people of God, He gives us insight into the workings of God, He gives us understanding of God's word, and when we speak God's word to ourselves and others it is a working of the Holy spirit upon us.
(1 Corinthians 14:1, John 14:26)
3) Moved by the spirit - He causes us to act to fulfill the will of God, yeah that's right, the Holy Spirit can and does move us to act. Some might throw up hands and say what about my free will? Well I say to such independents - why would even want to act differently to how God wants you to act anyway? God is good, you want to put yourself on the opposite of that? Can't anyone claim they were moved by the spirit to justify their actions. They can, but knowledgeable Christians will always compare their claims to the truth of God's word and lovingly hold them to account if they try to add to change the Holy word of God. The Spirit moves us to act for the holy, righteous, will of God!
(1 Corinthians 14: 36-38)
The Holy Spirit is with us, He reveals truth to us and He moves us to act for the will of God to be fulfilled! Amazing!
Friday, 15 November 2013
On Pain (the physical mild to medium non permanent sort)
Sat in the A&E chair next to the A&E bed I was reading a book and reflecting on what I had been through. I was a cubicle but apparently I was not injured enough to be told to lie down in the bed - I had to sit in the chair, as if to say, come on Ronnie, wimp girl, suck it up. Having gone in with a sore thumb (yeah I know but it really smarted), I was told I had something which I informed the Doctor was Latin for Dodgy Swollen Thumb. He didn't laugh probably like you aren't laughing now, but I think it is at least smilable. [Keep 'em smiling I say then they are more likely to think you can handle any truth and tell it to you quicker.]
Incredible as it seemed to me, Dodgy Swollen Thumb Condition (DSTC) actually required a course of IV antibiotics, of which I was receiving the last dose.
I've experienced some physical pain in my life: Getting kicked by thoroughbred horse as he galloped off was pretty painful, stubbing my foot so hard I broke a toe was pretty rough, six weeks off work with a buldging disk and we're getting higher on my pain scale, giving birth to my son (he was the second one, six hours, not too bad really), giving birth to my daughter as she protected her beautiful face with one hand on it (I can't even think about it without shedding a little pain memory tear).
So I didn't think when I discovered from the Doctor that I had DSTC that it would be too much trouble. By my third day, waiting for the third IV dose, I had come to realize that in Ronnie's world of pain tolerance DSTC is higher up the scale than first imagined.
DSTC Schedule of Pain
Day 1
Doctor prodding of swollen infected thumb - Ouch factor 3
Nurse putting in IV in my hand (five days later still bruised) - Ouch factor 7
Day 2
Nurse putting IV in arm this time, much better - Ouch factor 4
Day 3
Third IV in the arm again, for reason this hurt more, is the other arm more sensitive - Ouch factor 5
Told by self proclaimed Dr No Pain that thumb needs to be cut, looked aghast and asked if a coward, replied yes doctor and referred him to nurses notes from aforementioned child births - Admition factor 10
Ten needles in the thumb to create ring block - Ouch factor 3-7
Cutting of thumb - Ouch factor 0, Mental freak out when I looked factor 7
Wearing off of anesthetic (should have taken pain meds sooner) - Ouch factor 10
Day 4
Last IV needle, I'm old hat with this one now - Ouch factor 3
Taking off of post-op dressing, Dr No Pain tells me to take the last bit off myself, presumably to keep his reputation in tact, feel like skin being ripped off - Ouch factor 8
Examination of cut (read needless prodding of exposed flesh) - Ouch factor 15
Dr No Pain asks "Oh is it hurting?", smile and nod - Self control factor 100
Days 1-4
Removal of IV tape from arm, horrible every time, like slow waxing - Ouch factor 7
Throughout this process I've described to exactly two doctors and five nurses, exactly what kind of wimp I am, when it comes to physical pain. I felt it necessary so they didn't believe themselves to have accidently done something wrong. However, I have been informed seven times that actually this is not so and what I've experienced is actually quite painful. Is this true or a white lie? All I know is that it hurt me, a lot. There is no denying it, no Feng shuing it away by clearing out my pain corner, no meditating it into submission.
You see pain really hurts! You can't imagine it away, sometimes you can muddy it's waters with helpful medication, but eventually it wears off. So here are my tips for surviving pain - the physical mild to medium non permanent sort
1) Don't look, no really don't look, pain plus mental freak out, no good
2) Ask what is going to happen beforehand (the first time the IV went in I cried because of the thought that I would have a needle in my arm and what would happen if I moved and tore my vein - I wish I had just asked, like I did two days later, then I would have realized it is just a piece of plastic tubing in there)
3) Break it up into sections, this bit will feel like this, this bit will feel like that, and then you can mentally mark them off as you go, progress you see
4) Don't compare - you are in pain, it hurts, you aren't a traitor to humanity and other people in worse off cases for admitting it hurts
5) Don't pretend it doesn't - seriously what good does that do, a little yelp here and there eases the tension
6) Stay in control - think about what is actually real about this situation and make factual statements to yourself about it, e.g. gosh that hurts right now, it won't hurt so much once the needle is out.
7) Make jokes - it's something to do, you laugh, the nurse laughs, it's all good and it passes valuable pain seconds
On a serious note...
I marvel at people who intentionally subject themselves to pain of any kind. I'm not talking about the mentalists who do it for no reason. No. But the hero types. You know, the ones that push people out the way of moving traffic to save them, but getting hit themselves.
That's one of the many reasons I love Jesus. I was his enemy, but he took horrible pain and death to save me, so I could be with him. It's the only comparison when it comes to pain I'll ever make, nothing compares to what he suffered for me. If pain didn't exist, he wouldn't have been able to do it for me. It makes me a little glad for pain.
Incredible as it seemed to me, Dodgy Swollen Thumb Condition (DSTC) actually required a course of IV antibiotics, of which I was receiving the last dose.
I've experienced some physical pain in my life: Getting kicked by thoroughbred horse as he galloped off was pretty painful, stubbing my foot so hard I broke a toe was pretty rough, six weeks off work with a buldging disk and we're getting higher on my pain scale, giving birth to my son (he was the second one, six hours, not too bad really), giving birth to my daughter as she protected her beautiful face with one hand on it (I can't even think about it without shedding a little pain memory tear).
So I didn't think when I discovered from the Doctor that I had DSTC that it would be too much trouble. By my third day, waiting for the third IV dose, I had come to realize that in Ronnie's world of pain tolerance DSTC is higher up the scale than first imagined.
DSTC Schedule of Pain
Day 1
Doctor prodding of swollen infected thumb - Ouch factor 3
Nurse putting in IV in my hand (five days later still bruised) - Ouch factor 7
Day 2
Nurse putting IV in arm this time, much better - Ouch factor 4
Day 3
Third IV in the arm again, for reason this hurt more, is the other arm more sensitive - Ouch factor 5
Told by self proclaimed Dr No Pain that thumb needs to be cut, looked aghast and asked if a coward, replied yes doctor and referred him to nurses notes from aforementioned child births - Admition factor 10
Ten needles in the thumb to create ring block - Ouch factor 3-7
Cutting of thumb - Ouch factor 0, Mental freak out when I looked factor 7
Wearing off of anesthetic (should have taken pain meds sooner) - Ouch factor 10
Day 4
Last IV needle, I'm old hat with this one now - Ouch factor 3
Taking off of post-op dressing, Dr No Pain tells me to take the last bit off myself, presumably to keep his reputation in tact, feel like skin being ripped off - Ouch factor 8
Examination of cut (read needless prodding of exposed flesh) - Ouch factor 15
Dr No Pain asks "Oh is it hurting?", smile and nod - Self control factor 100
Days 1-4
Removal of IV tape from arm, horrible every time, like slow waxing - Ouch factor 7
Throughout this process I've described to exactly two doctors and five nurses, exactly what kind of wimp I am, when it comes to physical pain. I felt it necessary so they didn't believe themselves to have accidently done something wrong. However, I have been informed seven times that actually this is not so and what I've experienced is actually quite painful. Is this true or a white lie? All I know is that it hurt me, a lot. There is no denying it, no Feng shuing it away by clearing out my pain corner, no meditating it into submission.
You see pain really hurts! You can't imagine it away, sometimes you can muddy it's waters with helpful medication, but eventually it wears off. So here are my tips for surviving pain - the physical mild to medium non permanent sort
1) Don't look, no really don't look, pain plus mental freak out, no good
2) Ask what is going to happen beforehand (the first time the IV went in I cried because of the thought that I would have a needle in my arm and what would happen if I moved and tore my vein - I wish I had just asked, like I did two days later, then I would have realized it is just a piece of plastic tubing in there)
3) Break it up into sections, this bit will feel like this, this bit will feel like that, and then you can mentally mark them off as you go, progress you see
4) Don't compare - you are in pain, it hurts, you aren't a traitor to humanity and other people in worse off cases for admitting it hurts
5) Don't pretend it doesn't - seriously what good does that do, a little yelp here and there eases the tension
6) Stay in control - think about what is actually real about this situation and make factual statements to yourself about it, e.g. gosh that hurts right now, it won't hurt so much once the needle is out.
7) Make jokes - it's something to do, you laugh, the nurse laughs, it's all good and it passes valuable pain seconds
On a serious note...
I marvel at people who intentionally subject themselves to pain of any kind. I'm not talking about the mentalists who do it for no reason. No. But the hero types. You know, the ones that push people out the way of moving traffic to save them, but getting hit themselves.
That's one of the many reasons I love Jesus. I was his enemy, but he took horrible pain and death to save me, so I could be with him. It's the only comparison when it comes to pain I'll ever make, nothing compares to what he suffered for me. If pain didn't exist, he wouldn't have been able to do it for me. It makes me a little glad for pain.
Monday, 22 July 2013
On boasting on facebook
You probably have read on my Facebook page my most recent boast.
Here I'll boast about it again some more: I changed my broken wing mirror for a lovely brand new one! I took off the old one, and to do that I actually had to use some sort of contraption from my husband's tool box. It undoes bolts. You may know what it is called, I don't, but to get the correct size I had to fit four different parts together and I figured it out on my own! So I removed the bolts, pulled off the old wing mirror, got the new one, which yes I had purchased the correct side, and fitted it on, using the same gadget to tighten the bolts (ratchet is it?) and shoved the cover panel back on (sort of). All this whilst supervising the play of two very energetic children of 2 and 3 years (I just found them on the street and felt sorry for them).
I was so encouraged by this accomplishment that I actually thought I could also put some more Freon in my car's AC unit. Sadly when I opened the bonnet I could not find where to put it. Maybe I was looking in the wrong place. Anyway, I decided to leave that to someone else and go inside and boast on Facebook about my first achievement and skip over my complete failure.
So why the need to boast? Couldn't I have been internally satisfied with my victory, woman over machine, and just drive around with the happy knowledge that I am not totally defunct in this area.
No this is not good enough! I have to, in one easy swoop, tell 234 friends about it. The world must know what a champion I am!
And so is the curse of Facebook, giving you far too much opportunity to brag, and so, it would seem, is Blogging.
I think that perhaps this is all that this modern media is good for, showing off. Showing off how funny you are, showing off how wise you are, showing off how deep you are, how brave you are, how great your kids are, how wonderfully interesting and eloquent you are (I read a post today that was interesting and in the middle of it used the word "coterminous" - I mean come on, who uses a word like that in the normal course of things - sorry to the author if you are reading this but you know I will happily say it to your face with a nice smile and an expectation that you will laugh too). And not just showing off, it gives loads of people the opportunity to affirm you in your showing off through the comments section, and themselves buffed up by the fact that you might choose to respond to their comment and praise them for their insight. Maybe I'm just judging everyone else by the colour of my own heart, but isn't what it is all about, deep down? Comment on me! Praise me! Hear my voice! And agree with me! Like me!
I've only written a few blogs and this is what I sense underneath my own witterings on. I know I'm probably about the millionth person to make such a comment on social media. I do not claim to be original. I guess I'm having one of those "isn't this all madness" days.
Here I'll boast about it again some more: I changed my broken wing mirror for a lovely brand new one! I took off the old one, and to do that I actually had to use some sort of contraption from my husband's tool box. It undoes bolts. You may know what it is called, I don't, but to get the correct size I had to fit four different parts together and I figured it out on my own! So I removed the bolts, pulled off the old wing mirror, got the new one, which yes I had purchased the correct side, and fitted it on, using the same gadget to tighten the bolts (ratchet is it?) and shoved the cover panel back on (sort of). All this whilst supervising the play of two very energetic children of 2 and 3 years (I just found them on the street and felt sorry for them).
I was so encouraged by this accomplishment that I actually thought I could also put some more Freon in my car's AC unit. Sadly when I opened the bonnet I could not find where to put it. Maybe I was looking in the wrong place. Anyway, I decided to leave that to someone else and go inside and boast on Facebook about my first achievement and skip over my complete failure.
So why the need to boast? Couldn't I have been internally satisfied with my victory, woman over machine, and just drive around with the happy knowledge that I am not totally defunct in this area.
No this is not good enough! I have to, in one easy swoop, tell 234 friends about it. The world must know what a champion I am!
And so is the curse of Facebook, giving you far too much opportunity to brag, and so, it would seem, is Blogging.
I think that perhaps this is all that this modern media is good for, showing off. Showing off how funny you are, showing off how wise you are, showing off how deep you are, how brave you are, how great your kids are, how wonderfully interesting and eloquent you are (I read a post today that was interesting and in the middle of it used the word "coterminous" - I mean come on, who uses a word like that in the normal course of things - sorry to the author if you are reading this but you know I will happily say it to your face with a nice smile and an expectation that you will laugh too). And not just showing off, it gives loads of people the opportunity to affirm you in your showing off through the comments section, and themselves buffed up by the fact that you might choose to respond to their comment and praise them for their insight. Maybe I'm just judging everyone else by the colour of my own heart, but isn't what it is all about, deep down? Comment on me! Praise me! Hear my voice! And agree with me! Like me!
I've only written a few blogs and this is what I sense underneath my own witterings on. I know I'm probably about the millionth person to make such a comment on social media. I do not claim to be original. I guess I'm having one of those "isn't this all madness" days.
Sunday, 16 June 2013
On Heros
What is it about heroes?
What is it about them that excites the most extreme, genuine, heartfelt emotion of honour and gratitude?
I love a good hero. I love a good story with something heroic happening in it. You will find me blubbing whilst watching movies containing any vague act of heroism.
My husband is my daughter's hero. I can tell. It's the way she looks at him and shouts "Daddy!"
If I told her that Daddy could lift up a car she would believe, such is her faith in her hero.
She seeks him out in the middle of night, begs for him to check on her and protect her from "The Measure" (her own special brand of Bogey monster). If Daddy leaves the house she is instantly on high alert for his return.
Perhaps it is because when she was a baby she took naps in his nook. Perhaps it is because of the time he literally dived across the floor as she rolled off the sofa to prevent her from hitting the floor. Perhaps it is big muscles and an ability to do press-ups too numerous to count. Perhaps it is that even though she is only three he sits her on his lap and tells her that the only boy she hugs is Daddy. It could be that he throws her high in the air time and time again. It could be the way he grabs her and kisses her into submission when she is grumpy. It could be the way he tells her when she has done something wrong and lets her feel the blessing of repenting and being forgiven. It could be these and the many more things he does because he is her Dad, and he is our hero.
What is it about them that excites the most extreme, genuine, heartfelt emotion of honour and gratitude?
I love a good hero. I love a good story with something heroic happening in it. You will find me blubbing whilst watching movies containing any vague act of heroism.
My husband is my daughter's hero. I can tell. It's the way she looks at him and shouts "Daddy!"
If I told her that Daddy could lift up a car she would believe, such is her faith in her hero.
She seeks him out in the middle of night, begs for him to check on her and protect her from "The Measure" (her own special brand of Bogey monster). If Daddy leaves the house she is instantly on high alert for his return.
Perhaps it is because when she was a baby she took naps in his nook. Perhaps it is because of the time he literally dived across the floor as she rolled off the sofa to prevent her from hitting the floor. Perhaps it is big muscles and an ability to do press-ups too numerous to count. Perhaps it is that even though she is only three he sits her on his lap and tells her that the only boy she hugs is Daddy. It could be that he throws her high in the air time and time again. It could be the way he grabs her and kisses her into submission when she is grumpy. It could be the way he tells her when she has done something wrong and lets her feel the blessing of repenting and being forgiven. It could be these and the many more things he does because he is her Dad, and he is our hero.
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