I passed the Qualifying Exam for my interpreting program!!! This was no easy feat, mind you. I’ve failed it twice before and last year the passing rate for those who took it was about 15%. It’s totally only because of God that I passed, and I’m very thankful for the prayers and support from my friends and family, too.
For several years now I’ve felt like I was marching around the Jericho wall, knowing this was the path God had for me, but feeling almost silly in light of the huge obstacles I faced. My learning disabilities and health problems seemed focused on making sign language interpreting as difficult as possible, but I’ve just kept walking… or stumbling… on.
Now it finally feels as though the walls have fallen down. Not to say there are no more obstacles, but just that they are more conquerable… or perhaps it’s that I know with God all things in His plan are possible!
The next step is internship. Within a couple of weeks I’ll be assigned internships with skilled interpreters in various college classes that have Deaf students. I’m finally getting to interpret for real, live people! I’ll start out observing the current interpreter, and then will gradually take over until it’s switched, with the mentor observing me interpret.
Also exciting news is that Peculiar People’s next collaborative book is finally published! The completion of Delivered has been a long-time coming because of one delay after another, not the lease of which was me getting Fibromyalgia right in the middle of the project. I was the director and a contributing author of this book. You can check it out here and can buy copies directly from me. Let me know if you want one.
God has definitely blessed me this year. I can’t wait to see what He has in store for next year. I pray each of you have a blessed year. Happy New Year 2010!
.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Finding the Pace of Life
Last week I was chatting with my young nieces about writing and drawing, when one of them commented, “Maybe when you grow up you’ll be a writer.” I had to laugh, but I also still get a little thrill sometimes when I realize, I am all grown up and I am a writer. Last month I got published for something like the fifty-fifth time, and last month I also started working professionally as a freelance editor. Of course, I’ve been doing small editing projects for friends and for PeP for years, but not full-sized manuscripts for strangers for pay!
This term I’m not taking any regular classes—just mock interpreting in one class and doing a Human Development correspondence course, as well as continuing with a little interpreting training with tutors. It’s a quiet schedule that seems just about right for my body, and lets me do occasional writing or editing in the evening.
I feel like my Fibromyalgia is finally as under control as it’s gonna get. My overall fatigue and especially pain levels are a little lower, and the cognitive problems aren’t as severe or as frequent. The only problem is that I’ve discovered in order to keep things that way, I have to limit my active activity time to about three hours a day, most days, with some rest days and lots of naps. So it limits things a lot, but I’d rather have a few hours I can do things well than have almost no good hours like happens when I push myself too hard.
On November 16th I have the next attempt at the Qualifying Exam for my interpreting program. I have to pass it in order to get an internship next term, graduate in the spring, and begin working part time as an interpreter. I feel fairly confident that I have the skills, I just have to pray my body will let me access them. It’s a performance exam, so not really something I can study for—just need to keep practicing.
Today I went to the DeafNation Expo. I took a couple of friends with me, one of whom doesn’t know much sign, so I got to do a bit of interpreting for him. Real life practice is always the best. We saw tons of people we knew at the Expo, so it was a lot of fun.
.
This term I’m not taking any regular classes—just mock interpreting in one class and doing a Human Development correspondence course, as well as continuing with a little interpreting training with tutors. It’s a quiet schedule that seems just about right for my body, and lets me do occasional writing or editing in the evening.
I feel like my Fibromyalgia is finally as under control as it’s gonna get. My overall fatigue and especially pain levels are a little lower, and the cognitive problems aren’t as severe or as frequent. The only problem is that I’ve discovered in order to keep things that way, I have to limit my active activity time to about three hours a day, most days, with some rest days and lots of naps. So it limits things a lot, but I’d rather have a few hours I can do things well than have almost no good hours like happens when I push myself too hard.
On November 16th I have the next attempt at the Qualifying Exam for my interpreting program. I have to pass it in order to get an internship next term, graduate in the spring, and begin working part time as an interpreter. I feel fairly confident that I have the skills, I just have to pray my body will let me access them. It’s a performance exam, so not really something I can study for—just need to keep practicing.
Today I went to the DeafNation Expo. I took a couple of friends with me, one of whom doesn’t know much sign, so I got to do a bit of interpreting for him. Real life practice is always the best. We saw tons of people we knew at the Expo, so it was a lot of fun.
.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
When I grow up, I want to be...
This year God has been teaching me two things: complete dependence on Him, and, in that dependence, how to find true joy. He’s been showing me that we were created to be happy, because in Him is fullness of joy. Here on this earth that joy will never be pure and complete, and we will face many trials and times of suffering, but even in the midst of those times, He will provide joy, if we wait on Him.
This is a bit of the story of my journey. I know it’s long, so if you don’t have time to read it all, please at least read the last part.
I started grieving in the summer of 2007. The loss had come a long time before that, but I’d never fully accepted it.
The life I was grieving was my own.
Each time I waited for test results, waited for a doctor appointment… each time I writhed in pain or was too tired to hardly hold up my own head, I wondered what it would be like to get the news that I was dying. I thought about what it would be like to know I had only a few months to live, or a few years. I hoped it would be long enough to finish a few books, to leave a legacy behind. I planned what I would say to my friends, how I would tell them. I even planned what to write on my blog.
Even more, I thought about how it would be to get the other answer--the one that told me what was wrong and how it would be fixed. I didn’t have to think much about what I would do when I got that answer, because I knew. I’d been planning my life since I was little, dreaming about what I would be when I grew up, just like all kids.
But the thing I didn’t think about was what I would do if neither of those happened. I didn’t think about what would happen if the answer wasn’t death, or really even life, but something in between. How do you plan for something that isn’t a “yes” or a “no”…something that’s not even really a “wait,” but is just, well… an “is.”
And yet, it’s something we should all be planning for, something we all should know will happen. Because the day will come for all of us when God says, “You don’t get to live according to your plans. You get to live My plans.”
This is a bit of the story of my journey. I know it’s long, so if you don’t have time to read it all, please at least read the last part.
I started grieving in the summer of 2007. The loss had come a long time before that, but I’d never fully accepted it.
The life I was grieving was my own.
Each time I waited for test results, waited for a doctor appointment… each time I writhed in pain or was too tired to hardly hold up my own head, I wondered what it would be like to get the news that I was dying. I thought about what it would be like to know I had only a few months to live, or a few years. I hoped it would be long enough to finish a few books, to leave a legacy behind. I planned what I would say to my friends, how I would tell them. I even planned what to write on my blog.
Even more, I thought about how it would be to get the other answer--the one that told me what was wrong and how it would be fixed. I didn’t have to think much about what I would do when I got that answer, because I knew. I’d been planning my life since I was little, dreaming about what I would be when I grew up, just like all kids.
But the thing I didn’t think about was what I would do if neither of those happened. I didn’t think about what would happen if the answer wasn’t death, or really even life, but something in between. How do you plan for something that isn’t a “yes” or a “no”…something that’s not even really a “wait,” but is just, well… an “is.”
And yet, it’s something we should all be planning for, something we all should know will happen. Because the day will come for all of us when God says, “You don’t get to live according to your plans. You get to live My plans.”
****************************************
Once I grew past the stage of wanting to be a pink and purple kitty cat, my childhood dreams for my future never changed a lot. All through my school years I had the same answer to that perpetual question of what I wanted to be when I grew up: A stay-at-home homeschool mom and a missionary, preferably to Mexico. The number of kids I wanted did change, rather drastically. As I matured, I realized my childhood visions of a dozen kids might be just a tad lofty. I adjusted it to the more reasonable number of six, and later even less, saying, “I’d be happy with at least four.”
I’ve always loved kids, and kids have always loved me. My mom calls me “the kid magnet.” Seriously, I can spend a total of 60 seconds with a youngster and the next time he spots me he’ll start screaming, “Amy!!” and jumping up and down excitedly. I pictured myself as the ultimate involved, imaginative Mom, with enough discipline to keep everyone happy, but with lots of adventures and fun. I figured I’d be married in my early twenties, start our family a year or two later, and after everything was settled down several years after that, perhaps be called to the foreign mission field.
You may wonder why writing didn’t play a role in what I wanted to be, and that’s because being a writer has never been something I want to attain someday. It something I am. I’ve always been a writer and I always will be one. A novelist, however, now that’s something I attain to be!
So I went happily through my young life, picturing my adult self as a wife, mom, writer, and missionary. In my senior year of high school, my hopes shifted slightly to accommodate a new love of figure skating, and a growing love of American Sign Language. My next-oldest sister and I began taking ice skating lessons. Though we were comparatively old to be learning that skill, and we both were beginning to struggle with our health, we threw ourselves completely into it and joined the group of “rink rats.” We were on the ice at least four days a week, practicing and soon entering competitions and working as assistant skating teachers. We even got to do some informal mentoring of the younger skaters in our social group.
Now my goals included becoming a figure skating coach, preferably with a lot of Deaf clients. Despite growing pain and fatigue levels, I made it farther than any of the coaches and parents expected. After four years of skating, I was able to do one of the lowest sit spins at the rink (though my camel spin, on the other hand, looked horrid! lol), could land all my single jumps, and was working on my axel and double sal cow jumps. Then, slowly, skating got too expensive and time consuming, and too painful.
Besides, God was drawing me toward another focus. Two summers in a row I attended ASL camp in Tennessee at the Bill Rice Ranch, a Christian Deaf ministry. It was there God began letting me know He had plans for me as a sign language interpreter.
Though I’d been playing around with sign language since elementary school, and more recently pursuing it more strongly, the thought of being an interpreter when I grew up had never crossed my mind. And yet, it fit so perfectly. I love languages, cultures, and people. I have a deep empathy with others, am not shy, and experience little to no stage fright. Perhaps the Deaf and interpreting community was to be my mission field. And though no husband was in sight yet, interpreting was something that could easily be adapted to being a stay at home mom. I could work one or two nights a week while my husband was home with the kids, or I could just accept special assignments like weekend Homeschooling workshops.
Still, if I had not known so clearly that this was the path God wanted for me, I would have given up so many times. The two year interpreter training program is stretching into four years, as I’ve been faced with learning disabilities and visual struggles, and one health problem after another. But there was always the bright future ahead. A future after the training program, when I would finally have a basic set of skills to build on, and I could go conquer the world. Perhaps I would meet the right guy shortly after I was done with school, and I could work as an interpreter for a bit before turning my focus to a family. I would be happy and healthy and my own energetic, happy-go-lucky self as an interpreter, wife, and mom. I could be a missionary here at home, or go work with foreign Deaf missions. And in between all that, I could write all those novels building up in my head.
And then…
Then came that answer, the diagnoses after all the tests and all the doctors. Fibromyalgia. It was a long word, and one I understood too well, since my oldest sister lived it every day. It was the answer that wasn’t a yes and wasn’t a no. It wasn’t death and heaven, and it wasn’t health. Instead, it meant a life of constant pain and fatigue, a life of sudden boughts of cognitive dysfunction, IBS, and innumerable other symptoms. A life with an illness that doesn’t kill you, but yet doesn’t get better or go away.
It meant a life that didn’t match my life. Suddenly my brain doesn’t always work well enough to understand English clearly, much less translate it into a whole second language system. Suddenly I’m so fatigued I can hardly think of any words, much less write amazing fiction stories. My pain levels teeter so high I can hardly load the dishwasher, sign for more than a few minutes, or hold a pen long enough to write a thank you note.
The thought of working full time and then returning home to an evening of housework and socializing suddenly is impossible. Thinking of caring full time for children is overwhelming. Life becomes defined by four letters: PACE. Pacing is the single most important thing to managing my symptoms enough that I can live…at least a little. I must work a little, and rest a lot. Before I do anything, I must think how it will affect me, and if it’s worth it…which is certainly challenged by the fact that how it affects me changes daily or even hourly.
“Why?” I cry out to God. “Why do you give me all these talents, skills, and dreams in one hand, and then fill the other hand with…this? How can I grow up to be the successful person You want me to be, if I’m to be sick, forever?”
Slowly, as I learn to accept my disability and learn how to live life as fully as I can with my limitations, I begin to see. Still, only as in a mirror dimly, but I see in my reflection how God uses my life--not the one I dreamed of, but the one I have--to bring Him glory, to reach people that other life would never have touched, and to trust Him and depend on Him completely.
As I do that, I see bits of those talents He’s given me can still be accessed. I grasp a little energy to write with, and times of less pain to interpret a while. As I learn to pace, those times grow. Perhaps someday I’ll even gain the strength to care for a family. I don’t know what the future holds. But I do know one thing.
God is enough. In Him is fulfillment, and in Him is fullness of joy. Despite this earth, with its emotional and physical pain, we were created to have joy. Though it won’t come completely until we reach heaven, for now it is enough.
Today, on my twenty-seventh birthday, when my life is so different from how I dreamed it, I know what I’m going to be.
When I grow up, I’m going to be happy.
I’ve always loved kids, and kids have always loved me. My mom calls me “the kid magnet.” Seriously, I can spend a total of 60 seconds with a youngster and the next time he spots me he’ll start screaming, “Amy!!” and jumping up and down excitedly. I pictured myself as the ultimate involved, imaginative Mom, with enough discipline to keep everyone happy, but with lots of adventures and fun. I figured I’d be married in my early twenties, start our family a year or two later, and after everything was settled down several years after that, perhaps be called to the foreign mission field.
You may wonder why writing didn’t play a role in what I wanted to be, and that’s because being a writer has never been something I want to attain someday. It something I am. I’ve always been a writer and I always will be one. A novelist, however, now that’s something I attain to be!
So I went happily through my young life, picturing my adult self as a wife, mom, writer, and missionary. In my senior year of high school, my hopes shifted slightly to accommodate a new love of figure skating, and a growing love of American Sign Language. My next-oldest sister and I began taking ice skating lessons. Though we were comparatively old to be learning that skill, and we both were beginning to struggle with our health, we threw ourselves completely into it and joined the group of “rink rats.” We were on the ice at least four days a week, practicing and soon entering competitions and working as assistant skating teachers. We even got to do some informal mentoring of the younger skaters in our social group.
Now my goals included becoming a figure skating coach, preferably with a lot of Deaf clients. Despite growing pain and fatigue levels, I made it farther than any of the coaches and parents expected. After four years of skating, I was able to do one of the lowest sit spins at the rink (though my camel spin, on the other hand, looked horrid! lol), could land all my single jumps, and was working on my axel and double sal cow jumps. Then, slowly, skating got too expensive and time consuming, and too painful.
Besides, God was drawing me toward another focus. Two summers in a row I attended ASL camp in Tennessee at the Bill Rice Ranch, a Christian Deaf ministry. It was there God began letting me know He had plans for me as a sign language interpreter.
Though I’d been playing around with sign language since elementary school, and more recently pursuing it more strongly, the thought of being an interpreter when I grew up had never crossed my mind. And yet, it fit so perfectly. I love languages, cultures, and people. I have a deep empathy with others, am not shy, and experience little to no stage fright. Perhaps the Deaf and interpreting community was to be my mission field. And though no husband was in sight yet, interpreting was something that could easily be adapted to being a stay at home mom. I could work one or two nights a week while my husband was home with the kids, or I could just accept special assignments like weekend Homeschooling workshops.
Still, if I had not known so clearly that this was the path God wanted for me, I would have given up so many times. The two year interpreter training program is stretching into four years, as I’ve been faced with learning disabilities and visual struggles, and one health problem after another. But there was always the bright future ahead. A future after the training program, when I would finally have a basic set of skills to build on, and I could go conquer the world. Perhaps I would meet the right guy shortly after I was done with school, and I could work as an interpreter for a bit before turning my focus to a family. I would be happy and healthy and my own energetic, happy-go-lucky self as an interpreter, wife, and mom. I could be a missionary here at home, or go work with foreign Deaf missions. And in between all that, I could write all those novels building up in my head.
And then…
Then came that answer, the diagnoses after all the tests and all the doctors. Fibromyalgia. It was a long word, and one I understood too well, since my oldest sister lived it every day. It was the answer that wasn’t a yes and wasn’t a no. It wasn’t death and heaven, and it wasn’t health. Instead, it meant a life of constant pain and fatigue, a life of sudden boughts of cognitive dysfunction, IBS, and innumerable other symptoms. A life with an illness that doesn’t kill you, but yet doesn’t get better or go away.
It meant a life that didn’t match my life. Suddenly my brain doesn’t always work well enough to understand English clearly, much less translate it into a whole second language system. Suddenly I’m so fatigued I can hardly think of any words, much less write amazing fiction stories. My pain levels teeter so high I can hardly load the dishwasher, sign for more than a few minutes, or hold a pen long enough to write a thank you note.
The thought of working full time and then returning home to an evening of housework and socializing suddenly is impossible. Thinking of caring full time for children is overwhelming. Life becomes defined by four letters: PACE. Pacing is the single most important thing to managing my symptoms enough that I can live…at least a little. I must work a little, and rest a lot. Before I do anything, I must think how it will affect me, and if it’s worth it…which is certainly challenged by the fact that how it affects me changes daily or even hourly.
“Why?” I cry out to God. “Why do you give me all these talents, skills, and dreams in one hand, and then fill the other hand with…this? How can I grow up to be the successful person You want me to be, if I’m to be sick, forever?”
Slowly, as I learn to accept my disability and learn how to live life as fully as I can with my limitations, I begin to see. Still, only as in a mirror dimly, but I see in my reflection how God uses my life--not the one I dreamed of, but the one I have--to bring Him glory, to reach people that other life would never have touched, and to trust Him and depend on Him completely.
As I do that, I see bits of those talents He’s given me can still be accessed. I grasp a little energy to write with, and times of less pain to interpret a while. As I learn to pace, those times grow. Perhaps someday I’ll even gain the strength to care for a family. I don’t know what the future holds. But I do know one thing.
God is enough. In Him is fulfillment, and in Him is fullness of joy. Despite this earth, with its emotional and physical pain, we were created to have joy. Though it won’t come completely until we reach heaven, for now it is enough.
Today, on my twenty-seventh birthday, when my life is so different from how I dreamed it, I know what I’m going to be.
When I grow up, I’m going to be happy.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Fulfillment
The last two weeks have been wonderful, not just because they were fun and exciting and different, but because I was doing what I was created to do. There’s nothing quite as exciting and filling as taking small steps toward fulfilling God’s purpose in our lives.
Two weekends ago I joined my church’s young adult group on a retreat to the beach. This group has been my primary church family for over a year now. I was drawn to them because they are drawn to God. Unlike many youth groups that are focused on who’s going out with whom, or light games, this group is focused on God and on how we can support each other in our pursuit of Him. It’s a great mix of young adult ages, and meets less than five minutes from my house (when you live in the country, that’s pretty remarkable).
The retreat’s theme was glorifying God in our relationships, specifically relationships with our parents, significant others, peers, and God. After each sermon, we had a time in small groups to share what those truths meant personally. In between gatherings, we had time of fellowship, getting to know each other better and just having fun, surrounded by the sand, waves, and skies that delighted in showing off their Creator’s glory.
I had three days at home after the weekend retreat, resting, preparing to leave again, and continuing with my interpreting practice. On Thursday I flew to Detroit for the FaithWriters second writers conference. The flight there was a bit crazy, with several flight changes. I ended up having to fly all the way to Philadelphia and then back to Detroit, arriving about three hours later than planned. I was thankful I’d come in early, giving myself ample time to get there and to rest. I was glad, too, that I’d decided to buy a cane for the occasion. The flight and fatigue amplified my balance problems, so it was nice to have something to hang onto, plus it gave those around me a visual clue that I’m not quite as hardy as my age and appearance would indicate. Airline workers were quick to help with my bags and make sure there were electric carts to take me to my next location within the huge airports.
The conference itself was wonderful, of course. FaithWriters has been my second family for over four years now. The wonderful people there have come along side me through the message boards, instant messages, email, phone and texts, and now FaceBook, not only building my writing skills, but encouraging me physically and spiritually. It’s been an honor to be able to give a little back by helping coordinate the writing conferences every year.
It was great actually getting real hugs (rather than cyber hugs) from dear friends like Shari, Joanne, Laury, and Deb, and meeting many other friends like Josh and Vonnie for the first time. Though we didn’t get much sleep, it was fun to lay awake all night and chat in the dark with my roommate Karlene, g
etting to know her better. It was good to know Shari, one of my first FW friends, and I haven’t lost our connection. She might as well be a blood sister, the way we can finish each others sentences, and almost unfailingly answer the exact same things on games, or at least know for sure what the other one’s answer was!
There were a few writers there who are close to my age, too. Sara is so bouncy
and bubbly and joyful, literally jumping up and down and clapping her hands half of the time. I just wanted to take her home with me. Leah, I actually could take home with me, almost! She also lives in Washington several hours north of me, and we determined that we’ll definitely not wait for the next conference before getting together again. It was sweet how many people would stop me and check to see how I was feeling, or be sure to make sure I had a chair--taking care of me without babying me. The workshops were full of great information, too, and I came home with many ideas for furthering my writing career. After the workshops, we played games late into the night, giving us a chance to get to know each other better. I got a little closer to a few people I hadn’t gotten a chance to know much, like Di, Peej, Allison, and Chely, and so many others. 
I arrived back home Sunday night, had a day of rest and then, with little time to miss my friends, jumped right into volunteering as a student interpreter for a drama group. On Wednesday I worked a full 8 hour day, and though I was very tired and in pain by the end of it, I made it through that and interpreting the next two half days. The drama was great fun, as that is one of my passions, and nice because it’s scripted and practiced, so easier to interpret (though I had a terrible time finding a teammate to help). I also interpreted for rehearsals and director’s instructions, and found that it wasn’t scary at all, especially in this low risk setting. In fact, I can do this, really do this! Of course I made plenty of mistakes, and learned a lot, but my clients were able to understand the information and interact with each other. It built my confidence a lot, and was a wonderful opportunity. I’ll hopefully get to work with this group again in the future.
I thank all of you who prayed and encouraged me through these busy weeks. It’s a testament to God that my body held up and I was able to accomplish everything. I had to be careful to rest as much as possible (and even skipped one of the writing workshops to lay down) but got through successfully and don’t seem to be crashing now too much. I know it helped that I’ve been able to rest and store up spoons earlier this summer.
Now things are quieter, and I suddenly have more time to miss my FaithWriter friends, and go back to the more boring interpreting homework assignments. At least I get to see my church friends tomorrow, and have plenty of writing projects to keep me busy, when I’m not resting or signing.
Two weekends ago I joined my church’s young adult group on a retreat to the beach. This group has been my primary church family for over a year now. I was drawn to them because they are drawn to God. Unlike many youth groups that are focused on who’s going out with whom, or light games, this group is focused on God and on how we can support each other in our pursuit of Him. It’s a great mix of young adult ages, and meets less than five minutes from my house (when you live in the country, that’s pretty remarkable).
The retreat’s theme was glorifying God in our relationships, specifically relationships with our parents, significant others, peers, and God. After each sermon, we had a time in small groups to share what those truths meant personally. In between gatherings, we had time of fellowship, getting to know each other better and just having fun, surrounded by the sand, waves, and skies that delighted in showing off their Creator’s glory.
I had three days at home after the weekend retreat, resting, preparing to leave again, and continuing with my interpreting practice. On Thursday I flew to Detroit for the FaithWriters second writers conference. The flight there was a bit crazy, with several flight changes. I ended up having to fly all the way to Philadelphia and then back to Detroit, arriving about three hours later than planned. I was thankful I’d come in early, giving myself ample time to get there and to rest. I was glad, too, that I’d decided to buy a cane for the occasion. The flight and fatigue amplified my balance problems, so it was nice to have something to hang onto, plus it gave those around me a visual clue that I’m not quite as hardy as my age and appearance would indicate. Airline workers were quick to help with my bags and make sure there were electric carts to take me to my next location within the huge airports.
The conference itself was wonderful, of course. FaithWriters has been my second family for over four years now. The wonderful people there have come along side me through the message boards, instant messages, email, phone and texts, and now FaceBook, not only building my writing skills, but encouraging me physically and spiritually. It’s been an honor to be able to give a little back by helping coordinate the writing conferences every year.
It was great actually getting real hugs (rather than cyber hugs) from dear friends like Shari, Joanne, Laury, and Deb, and meeting many other friends like Josh and Vonnie for the first time. Though we didn’t get much sleep, it was fun to lay awake all night and chat in the dark with my roommate Karlene, g
etting to know her better. It was good to know Shari, one of my first FW friends, and I haven’t lost our connection. She might as well be a blood sister, the way we can finish each others sentences, and almost unfailingly answer the exact same things on games, or at least know for sure what the other one’s answer was!There were a few writers there who are close to my age, too. Sara is so bouncy
and bubbly and joyful, literally jumping up and down and clapping her hands half of the time. I just wanted to take her home with me. Leah, I actually could take home with me, almost! She also lives in Washington several hours north of me, and we determined that we’ll definitely not wait for the next conference before getting together again. It was sweet how many people would stop me and check to see how I was feeling, or be sure to make sure I had a chair--taking care of me without babying me. The workshops were full of great information, too, and I came home with many ideas for furthering my writing career. After the workshops, we played games late into the night, giving us a chance to get to know each other better. I got a little closer to a few people I hadn’t gotten a chance to know much, like Di, Peej, Allison, and Chely, and so many others. I arrived back home Sunday night, had a day of rest and then, with little time to miss my friends, jumped right into volunteering as a student interpreter for a drama group. On Wednesday I worked a full 8 hour day, and though I was very tired and in pain by the end of it, I made it through that and interpreting the next two half days. The drama was great fun, as that is one of my passions, and nice because it’s scripted and practiced, so easier to interpret (though I had a terrible time finding a teammate to help). I also interpreted for rehearsals and director’s instructions, and found that it wasn’t scary at all, especially in this low risk setting. In fact, I can do this, really do this! Of course I made plenty of mistakes, and learned a lot, but my clients were able to understand the information and interact with each other. It built my confidence a lot, and was a wonderful opportunity. I’ll hopefully get to work with this group again in the future.I thank all of you who prayed and encouraged me through these busy weeks. It’s a testament to God that my body held up and I was able to accomplish everything. I had to be careful to rest as much as possible (and even skipped one of the writing workshops to lay down) but got through successfully and don’t seem to be crashing now too much. I know it helped that I’ve been able to rest and store up spoons earlier this summer.
Now things are quieter, and I suddenly have more time to miss my FaithWriter friends, and go back to the more boring interpreting homework assignments. At least I get to see my church friends tomorrow, and have plenty of writing projects to keep me busy, when I’m not resting or signing.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Plain. Very Plain. Very plain with nothing on it.
I have food allergies. A lot of them. My sisters do as well and when my family gets invited to a friend’s house for dinner, our typical response is, “Are you sure? You might want to just invite us over for games or something.” As for eating out, we’ve learned which restaurants are allergy friendly, and which aren’t. Some places are great and will go out of their way to make sure there is tasty food we can eat. Some try to be helpful, but don’t realize to be careful about cross contamination and such (i.e. using utensils that have touched the allergen foods). Then there are the people who are just clueless.
“No, this gravy can’t have milk in it. Duh. It’s brown, not white.”
“You’re allergic to wheat? No problem, this isn’t wheat bread, it’s a white bread.”
These are the places that promise their meat is plain with no spices. Then they bring it out covered with marinade and spices. Turns out, they, themselves, personally didn’t add any spices. The manufacturer may have, but the cook himself didn’t. My sister and I have a rap: “Plain. Very plain. Very plain with nothing on it.” But you have to know what questions to ask to insure that it really, honestly is plain.
Right now my diet is even more restricted than normal because I am in a research study to see the effects on Fibromyalgia of avoiding excitotoxins (additives like MSG, which is often called natural flavors, or artificial flavors and artificial sugars), so I can’t have any processed foods.
Today I went to the doctor’s office to pick up barium packets for the CAT scan I’m having on my abdomen next week. They had told me there would be an ingredient list on the packets, but it only said, “Barium sulfate 2%.” The X-ray front desk lady told me that meant that was all that was in it.
Uh huh. Right. What’s the other 98%? So she agreed to call the electro imaging department. They, too, promised that there was only barium and water in the packets.
“So, there’s no flavorings?”
“Oh, it has a flavor.”
Yeah, last I checked, flavorings had to be made from something. Usually, from nasty stuff like excitotoxins. I finally gave up trying to get info from the doctor’s office (“It’s just barium, really. This is medical stuff. Of course it would never have MSG in it! Definitely not!”). I found a phone number of the manufacturer on the packets of barium. I left a message and they called me back promptly with a list of ingredients. A long list. A list full of natural flavors and artificial flavors and fake sugars. In other words, MSG.
The company worker said they do actually make a barium that is, honestly, just barium, but it has to be special ordered by the doctor’s office. I think I’m gonna go ahead and just drink the poison. By the time I get the CAT scan next week I will have had this weird abdominal pain for eight weeks. We need to find out what’s wrong. So next Wednesday I get to drink three glasses full. Yum!
“No, this gravy can’t have milk in it. Duh. It’s brown, not white.”
“You’re allergic to wheat? No problem, this isn’t wheat bread, it’s a white bread.”
These are the places that promise their meat is plain with no spices. Then they bring it out covered with marinade and spices. Turns out, they, themselves, personally didn’t add any spices. The manufacturer may have, but the cook himself didn’t. My sister and I have a rap: “Plain. Very plain. Very plain with nothing on it.” But you have to know what questions to ask to insure that it really, honestly is plain.
Right now my diet is even more restricted than normal because I am in a research study to see the effects on Fibromyalgia of avoiding excitotoxins (additives like MSG, which is often called natural flavors, or artificial flavors and artificial sugars), so I can’t have any processed foods.
Today I went to the doctor’s office to pick up barium packets for the CAT scan I’m having on my abdomen next week. They had told me there would be an ingredient list on the packets, but it only said, “Barium sulfate 2%.” The X-ray front desk lady told me that meant that was all that was in it.
Uh huh. Right. What’s the other 98%? So she agreed to call the electro imaging department. They, too, promised that there was only barium and water in the packets.
“So, there’s no flavorings?”
“Oh, it has a flavor.”
Yeah, last I checked, flavorings had to be made from something. Usually, from nasty stuff like excitotoxins. I finally gave up trying to get info from the doctor’s office (“It’s just barium, really. This is medical stuff. Of course it would never have MSG in it! Definitely not!”). I found a phone number of the manufacturer on the packets of barium. I left a message and they called me back promptly with a list of ingredients. A long list. A list full of natural flavors and artificial flavors and fake sugars. In other words, MSG.
The company worker said they do actually make a barium that is, honestly, just barium, but it has to be special ordered by the doctor’s office. I think I’m gonna go ahead and just drink the poison. By the time I get the CAT scan next week I will have had this weird abdominal pain for eight weeks. We need to find out what’s wrong. So next Wednesday I get to drink three glasses full. Yum!
Friday, May 22, 2009
Voice Acting--the stuff of life!
Today is the stuff life is made of. I volunteer weekly (when health permits, anyway) at the local state school for Deaf kids, helping out during after school electives. This term I was thrilled to get to work with the elementary drama group. I love acting, I love that age of kids, and I love signing…how much better does it get? (one more better, but I’ll get to that!)
Sometimes it was a little challenging because most of the kids only had a line or two in the skit, meaning at any given time during rehearsal there were about 12 bored little kids waiting for their turn, LOL. But that gave us volunteers something to do (help keep them out of trouble).
Young kids can be a challenge to understand in any language, and many deaf kids get no access to language until they arrive at school--putting them behind. Of course, it’s my second language, so that adds to the challenge. I started volunteering there (off and on) three years ago. It’s exciting to see my progress in receptive skills since then. Now I can understand pretty much everything going on, even overheard conversations (oh my, the little six-year-olds’ are sooo adorable, even when they are mad, haha. ASL is such an expressive language and they take full advantage of it! “If you do that, I’ll cry and cry! I’ll cry a roomfull of tears and drown in them!”).
The grand performance was tonight. On Tuesday near the end of practice we suddenly discovered that, contrary to what we assumed, there would be no voice interpreter for the play. Some of the audience doesn’t know sign, and the students really wanted their hearing guests to be able to understand the play they’d worked so hard on. Guess who got called on? You guessed it--me! Of course, I can’t technically interpret yet, but because we’re working with a script and get to practice with the actors it’s considered “voice acting” instead of interpreting.
I’ve loved reading out loud or doing dramatic readings with all the voices for as long as I can remember, and voice acting for real live people instead of fictional written characters is even better! I’ve had the opportunity to voice act for plays at the school before, and loved it. Though that time I actually got to prep and practice a bunch ahead of time, ha. This time we had a total of one afternoon of rehearsal. I asked a classmate to help me, so we could do the back-and-forth dialog. Of course, I’d seen the play (in bit and pieces) as they’d been learning it, but my classmate hadn’t seen any of it and wasn’t familiar with the kids.
The afternoon rehearsal today was pretty important. Yeah. Well. Both of us ended up stuck in freeway traffic. For almost an hour and a half. Meaning: we completely missed the rehearsal. Boo for forgetting it was Memorial weekend and realizing that meant everyone and their fifteenth cousin would be on the freeway.
Allrighty then. Thank God for a laidback group of people. We were able to at least talk over the script with the assistant director and introduce my classmate to the students and their roles. Then, right before the performance started, the kids went through the play one last time out on the back patio. Phew. We voiced it and worked out a few kinks and were ready to go!
It went marvelously. Of course there were mistakes, mostly things like voicing a line for the king with a high-pitched voice and the queen with a low voice--oops--but overall it went quite well. There’s nothing quite as satisfying as being rewarded with a ripple of laughter from the audience for a line well-acted and well-voiced. The kids did a great job of ad libbing and knowing that "the show must go on" when prop problems showed up, even when the princess (from Princess and the Pea) tumbled right off the tall bed with the air mattresses and covers crashing down on top of her! It rather added to the comic effect of the play.
After our elementary kids’ skit, the high school students did a play (without a voice interpreter). Wow. They did an incredible job with acting and props. It was beautiful.
[OK, survey--and I honestly want to know. I sat down to write a brief post about my day, and it turned into a page-long novel. Do you guys like reading my accounts with lots of details like this, or would you rather have a brief account with just the main info and a few funny anecdotes?]
Sometimes it was a little challenging because most of the kids only had a line or two in the skit, meaning at any given time during rehearsal there were about 12 bored little kids waiting for their turn, LOL. But that gave us volunteers something to do (help keep them out of trouble).
Young kids can be a challenge to understand in any language, and many deaf kids get no access to language until they arrive at school--putting them behind. Of course, it’s my second language, so that adds to the challenge. I started volunteering there (off and on) three years ago. It’s exciting to see my progress in receptive skills since then. Now I can understand pretty much everything going on, even overheard conversations (oh my, the little six-year-olds’ are sooo adorable, even when they are mad, haha. ASL is such an expressive language and they take full advantage of it! “If you do that, I’ll cry and cry! I’ll cry a roomfull of tears and drown in them!”).
The grand performance was tonight. On Tuesday near the end of practice we suddenly discovered that, contrary to what we assumed, there would be no voice interpreter for the play. Some of the audience doesn’t know sign, and the students really wanted their hearing guests to be able to understand the play they’d worked so hard on. Guess who got called on? You guessed it--me! Of course, I can’t technically interpret yet, but because we’re working with a script and get to practice with the actors it’s considered “voice acting” instead of interpreting.
I’ve loved reading out loud or doing dramatic readings with all the voices for as long as I can remember, and voice acting for real live people instead of fictional written characters is even better! I’ve had the opportunity to voice act for plays at the school before, and loved it. Though that time I actually got to prep and practice a bunch ahead of time, ha. This time we had a total of one afternoon of rehearsal. I asked a classmate to help me, so we could do the back-and-forth dialog. Of course, I’d seen the play (in bit and pieces) as they’d been learning it, but my classmate hadn’t seen any of it and wasn’t familiar with the kids.
The afternoon rehearsal today was pretty important. Yeah. Well. Both of us ended up stuck in freeway traffic. For almost an hour and a half. Meaning: we completely missed the rehearsal. Boo for forgetting it was Memorial weekend and realizing that meant everyone and their fifteenth cousin would be on the freeway.
Allrighty then. Thank God for a laidback group of people. We were able to at least talk over the script with the assistant director and introduce my classmate to the students and their roles. Then, right before the performance started, the kids went through the play one last time out on the back patio. Phew. We voiced it and worked out a few kinks and were ready to go!
It went marvelously. Of course there were mistakes, mostly things like voicing a line for the king with a high-pitched voice and the queen with a low voice--oops--but overall it went quite well. There’s nothing quite as satisfying as being rewarded with a ripple of laughter from the audience for a line well-acted and well-voiced. The kids did a great job of ad libbing and knowing that "the show must go on" when prop problems showed up, even when the princess (from Princess and the Pea) tumbled right off the tall bed with the air mattresses and covers crashing down on top of her! It rather added to the comic effect of the play.
After our elementary kids’ skit, the high school students did a play (without a voice interpreter). Wow. They did an incredible job with acting and props. It was beautiful.
[OK, survey--and I honestly want to know. I sat down to write a brief post about my day, and it turned into a page-long novel. Do you guys like reading my accounts with lots of details like this, or would you rather have a brief account with just the main info and a few funny anecdotes?]
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Hold on Tight--life's a wild ride!
Life is certainly never boring around here. Let’s see, last blog post I was waiting to hear back from my echo on my heart, right? Thankfully it turned out normal. Most all my symptoms can be explained by Postural Tachycardia, which is annoying but not serious, and more related to the circulatory system then the heart itself.
As I’d hoped, my health started getting a little better this term, now that my school schedule is more sane. I finally got a sleep aid that helped, also (before that, if I was sleeping at all, I was waking up as often as every fifteen minutes). I finished up the study I was doing on the new Fibro med. I’m hoping to be able to stay off a pain med and just have the sleep med. I really don’t like to be on prescription meds at all if I can help it. So, I had about two weeks of things going pretty well.
Then the next thing hit.
I started having a lot of nausea and abdominal pain, different and longer-lasting than what I normally have with IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome--goes along with my Fibro). It didn’t feel like a virus or bug to me, so after several days I saw a doctor who decided it seemed to be a bad flare of IBS and gave me a med, with warnings to watch for appendicitis symptoms.
On Wednesday I was feeling sick and out of it with Fibro Fog, but went to school anyway. At least the cognitive problems provide good humor relief, if you let them! To give the rest of us practice interpreting in K-12 classrooms, a classmate was pretending to teach a 1st grade class, teaching shapes. Those who weren’t interpreting were pretending to be the 1st grade students. Some students pretended to answer questions wrong. As for me, haha, I didn’t have to pretend at all! The “teacher” passed out cardboard shapes and asked a question about road sign shapes. I held up a triangle and announced that yield signs were that shape--rectangles! Then when asked to find two squares, the “teacher” looked at what I was holding up and said, “Um, good try, Amy. You’re almost right!” LOL
I was finally feeling better last Thursday morning. I was excited because my Deaf interpreting tutor, James, had time free during my Mock Interpreting class for the first time all school year. (Mock is where a partner and I go to a real college class and interpret, but with only an imaginary Deaf client). I’m loving the class we’re interpreting in, though it’s a challenge, and I like having a real person to interpret for, so I was looking forward to having James be there. My Mock partner is a classmate, sister in Christ, and dear friend, Holly.
Thankfully I got through the class just fine and was headed to lunch with Holly before we met the tutor again to get feedback. We were almost to the cafeteria when pain hit. Bad. Like a knife ripping straight down from my belly button to my groin. For the next hour it hit me every few minutes. Sitting and laying down just made it worse.
I decided I better call my doctor. I knew they’d want to know if I had a fever, so I asked the college librarian if there was a nurse on campus. By that time I was shaking violently and pale and sweating from the pain. She quickly called security (1st aid response). He was cute. I told him I had Fibromyalgia and he looked blank for a minute and then brightened. “Oh, that’s a liver disease, right?” Um, yeah, not so much. I would have giggled if I hadn’t been so sick.
By then it was time to meet James. The stabs were coming a little less frequently, so stubborn me decided I would try to just push through the hour tutoring time so we could get feedback from James while it was still fresh in his mind. James watched me for a minute and then just got up and left. He’s like, “I’m leaving. Holly is driving you to the doctor.”
It’s so cool how I can see God’s hand in even things like this. Besides the timing of being able to finish the Mock class, it “just happened” that Holly was driving to a place a few blocks from my doctor’s office. She lives 45 minutes away in the opposite direction. That doctor looked at me and sent me straight to the ER (Mom came and picked me up).
I wish I could have the ER doctor for my primary care doctor. He actually talked to both mom and I (instead of ignoring one of us like many do) and explained the options and his opinion but let us have the final say without being pushy. They did blood and urine work and then did an ultrasound of my lower abdomen. Thankfully by then I wasn’t in too much pain. I can’t imagine having to go through an ultrasound if pressure caused pain. As it was, it was a little uncomfortable but mostly just interesting. I could see the pictures on a monitor over the gurney. Much of it wasn’t recognizable, but I was able to pick out my appendix and ovaries. The pictures are so curious…it isn’t a clear picture, but looks more like looking at something that has a thin piece of rubber stretched over it. The harder they push on the ultrasound wand, the tighter the rubber is pressed, making the outline of the organ a little more distinct. The pictures suddenly struck me funny and I got the giggles right in the middle of the ultrasound. Twice! I felt so bad because the poor tech lady couldn’t exactly do her job when the abdomen in question was shaking violently from giggles. Certainly that’s one of the few times in my life when I was saying to myself, “Think sad thoughts. Think sad thoughts.” LOL!
The ultrasounds looked normal. Five hours after arriving at the ER and eight hours after the bad pain first hit, I was sent home with only answers of what it wasn’t… The ER doctor said about 50% of the time they never do figure out what causes that kind of pain.
I’m still feeling a bit odd and achy in my lower right abdomen, but thankfully haven’t had any more severe pain. I have a follow up appointment next week. Unfortunately, I picked up a bad cold, probably compliments of the ER, and now have a bad cough. Just in time for mid-terms.
Ah well, such is life. I’m staying in pretty good spirits despite everything. School itself is going okay, other than the health stuff getting in the way. We have three extra interpreting tutors this term, two Deaf and two hearing interpreters, so we’re getting a variety of perspectives. It’s awesome and they are all so helpful and encouraging.
Last week Debbie Roome of Take Root and Write published an interview of me talking about life with an invisible disability. She writes the column “Daring to Love the Disabled.” The interview is here. I’m thankful for the opportunity to help spread awareness. I also have an article coming out soon in HopeNotes, a Christian magazine for people with chronic illnesses, and an interview being published in a book for teens who have Fibro. I’m thankful that God uses my trials to be able to reach out and help others.
.
As I’d hoped, my health started getting a little better this term, now that my school schedule is more sane. I finally got a sleep aid that helped, also (before that, if I was sleeping at all, I was waking up as often as every fifteen minutes). I finished up the study I was doing on the new Fibro med. I’m hoping to be able to stay off a pain med and just have the sleep med. I really don’t like to be on prescription meds at all if I can help it. So, I had about two weeks of things going pretty well.
Then the next thing hit.
I started having a lot of nausea and abdominal pain, different and longer-lasting than what I normally have with IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome--goes along with my Fibro). It didn’t feel like a virus or bug to me, so after several days I saw a doctor who decided it seemed to be a bad flare of IBS and gave me a med, with warnings to watch for appendicitis symptoms.
On Wednesday I was feeling sick and out of it with Fibro Fog, but went to school anyway. At least the cognitive problems provide good humor relief, if you let them! To give the rest of us practice interpreting in K-12 classrooms, a classmate was pretending to teach a 1st grade class, teaching shapes. Those who weren’t interpreting were pretending to be the 1st grade students. Some students pretended to answer questions wrong. As for me, haha, I didn’t have to pretend at all! The “teacher” passed out cardboard shapes and asked a question about road sign shapes. I held up a triangle and announced that yield signs were that shape--rectangles! Then when asked to find two squares, the “teacher” looked at what I was holding up and said, “Um, good try, Amy. You’re almost right!” LOL
I was finally feeling better last Thursday morning. I was excited because my Deaf interpreting tutor, James, had time free during my Mock Interpreting class for the first time all school year. (Mock is where a partner and I go to a real college class and interpret, but with only an imaginary Deaf client). I’m loving the class we’re interpreting in, though it’s a challenge, and I like having a real person to interpret for, so I was looking forward to having James be there. My Mock partner is a classmate, sister in Christ, and dear friend, Holly.
Thankfully I got through the class just fine and was headed to lunch with Holly before we met the tutor again to get feedback. We were almost to the cafeteria when pain hit. Bad. Like a knife ripping straight down from my belly button to my groin. For the next hour it hit me every few minutes. Sitting and laying down just made it worse.
I decided I better call my doctor. I knew they’d want to know if I had a fever, so I asked the college librarian if there was a nurse on campus. By that time I was shaking violently and pale and sweating from the pain. She quickly called security (1st aid response). He was cute. I told him I had Fibromyalgia and he looked blank for a minute and then brightened. “Oh, that’s a liver disease, right?” Um, yeah, not so much. I would have giggled if I hadn’t been so sick.
By then it was time to meet James. The stabs were coming a little less frequently, so stubborn me decided I would try to just push through the hour tutoring time so we could get feedback from James while it was still fresh in his mind. James watched me for a minute and then just got up and left. He’s like, “I’m leaving. Holly is driving you to the doctor.”
It’s so cool how I can see God’s hand in even things like this. Besides the timing of being able to finish the Mock class, it “just happened” that Holly was driving to a place a few blocks from my doctor’s office. She lives 45 minutes away in the opposite direction. That doctor looked at me and sent me straight to the ER (Mom came and picked me up).
I wish I could have the ER doctor for my primary care doctor. He actually talked to both mom and I (instead of ignoring one of us like many do) and explained the options and his opinion but let us have the final say without being pushy. They did blood and urine work and then did an ultrasound of my lower abdomen. Thankfully by then I wasn’t in too much pain. I can’t imagine having to go through an ultrasound if pressure caused pain. As it was, it was a little uncomfortable but mostly just interesting. I could see the pictures on a monitor over the gurney. Much of it wasn’t recognizable, but I was able to pick out my appendix and ovaries. The pictures are so curious…it isn’t a clear picture, but looks more like looking at something that has a thin piece of rubber stretched over it. The harder they push on the ultrasound wand, the tighter the rubber is pressed, making the outline of the organ a little more distinct. The pictures suddenly struck me funny and I got the giggles right in the middle of the ultrasound. Twice! I felt so bad because the poor tech lady couldn’t exactly do her job when the abdomen in question was shaking violently from giggles. Certainly that’s one of the few times in my life when I was saying to myself, “Think sad thoughts. Think sad thoughts.” LOL!
The ultrasounds looked normal. Five hours after arriving at the ER and eight hours after the bad pain first hit, I was sent home with only answers of what it wasn’t… The ER doctor said about 50% of the time they never do figure out what causes that kind of pain.
I’m still feeling a bit odd and achy in my lower right abdomen, but thankfully haven’t had any more severe pain. I have a follow up appointment next week. Unfortunately, I picked up a bad cold, probably compliments of the ER, and now have a bad cough. Just in time for mid-terms.
Ah well, such is life. I’m staying in pretty good spirits despite everything. School itself is going okay, other than the health stuff getting in the way. We have three extra interpreting tutors this term, two Deaf and two hearing interpreters, so we’re getting a variety of perspectives. It’s awesome and they are all so helpful and encouraging.
Last week Debbie Roome of Take Root and Write published an interview of me talking about life with an invisible disability. She writes the column “Daring to Love the Disabled.” The interview is here. I’m thankful for the opportunity to help spread awareness. I also have an article coming out soon in HopeNotes, a Christian magazine for people with chronic illnesses, and an interview being published in a book for teens who have Fibro. I’m thankful that God uses my trials to be able to reach out and help others.
.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
In the land of Uz
I’ve been waiting for this week for a while, but it didn’t bring the answers I’d hoped for. I had my cardiology appointment on Wednesday and got the results back from my second Qualifying Exam yesterday. I was really hoping to pass the QE, and I feel I have the skills to do so, but because of the cognitive problems caused by my Fibro, I often can’t access those skills. It didn't help that I'd just come down with the flu the night before the test. Well, I improved on the sign to voice section of my QE, and passed it, however I actually got a worse score than before on the voice to sign part. Since we have to pass on both parts to get an official Pass, I won’t be able to get an internship or graduate this year. The next opportunity to take the QE is in nine months (we get four total chances to take it).
I have to admit I’m frustrated and discouraged, but I know God has plans. I can see that it was a very good thing I didn’t pass the first QE (no possible chance I could have made it through this term with the addition of an internship--almost didn’t make it as it is), so I know I may look back on this one and see the reasons I didn’t pass. As it is, I’m hoping that I’ll actually be able to take care of myself sufficiently enough to be higher functioning a greater part of the time. This weekend I realized that for the past two terms I’ve been having to spend nine to twelve hours at school (including driving time) everyday. That’s a crazy schedule even for a healthy person. (Because of the specialized program I’m in, I’ve had no control over my schedule.)
Next term will be a little easier since I won’t have the internship. I have my schedule for that term planned out, hopefully with a good balance of rest and continued practice, but I’m not sure what my plan of action will be for over the summer and next year. I need a few more general ed classes for my AA degree, and I need to continue to focus on my interpreting skills, but I think the main key to my success will be to get healthier, and about the only way I can do that is to rest more so my Fibromyalgia symptoms are lessened. I’m praying for guidance as I figure out where God’s leading me for the next year.
Speaking of health, my cardiologist appointment was…interesting. The guy had a rather condescending attitude and I’m quite sure he thought I was 18 and didn’t bother looking at my chart to see that I’m much older than I look. My impression of him didn’t improve when his response to my sign language interpretation studies was, “Oh, then you must work at the blind school.” (believe it or not, that type of comment actually isn’t unusual… but hello, this was a doctor with how many years of schooling??)
Anyway, the cardiologist declared that all my symptoms were simply because I don’t get enough exercise. However, according to my research, it seems that lack of exercise can’t cause heart irregularities. Exercise might help some heart conditions, but lack of it doesn’t cause them. I will be getting a second opinion, but now that my schedule will be getting a little closer to sane, I’ll go ahead and try to add in swimming a few times a week. I’ve heard it often helps Fibro as well as some heart issues.
I suspect my heart issues are actually caused by Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS), which actually isn’t a heart problem, but more of problem with the way the brain communicates with the circulation system. Basically the body has trouble regulating blood circulation, especially when standing, and therefore the brain doesn’t have enough blood. Apparently it’s fairly common for people with Fibro to also have POTS, and unfortunately some of the symptoms are the same. That means if I have it, I’m getting a double dose of debilitating fatigue, cognitive problems, and sleep disorders. Next week I go to my doctor for a prescription sleep med, so I’m hopeful that will help things a little.
*Title from Job 1:1
I have to admit I’m frustrated and discouraged, but I know God has plans. I can see that it was a very good thing I didn’t pass the first QE (no possible chance I could have made it through this term with the addition of an internship--almost didn’t make it as it is), so I know I may look back on this one and see the reasons I didn’t pass. As it is, I’m hoping that I’ll actually be able to take care of myself sufficiently enough to be higher functioning a greater part of the time. This weekend I realized that for the past two terms I’ve been having to spend nine to twelve hours at school (including driving time) everyday. That’s a crazy schedule even for a healthy person. (Because of the specialized program I’m in, I’ve had no control over my schedule.)
Next term will be a little easier since I won’t have the internship. I have my schedule for that term planned out, hopefully with a good balance of rest and continued practice, but I’m not sure what my plan of action will be for over the summer and next year. I need a few more general ed classes for my AA degree, and I need to continue to focus on my interpreting skills, but I think the main key to my success will be to get healthier, and about the only way I can do that is to rest more so my Fibromyalgia symptoms are lessened. I’m praying for guidance as I figure out where God’s leading me for the next year.
Speaking of health, my cardiologist appointment was…interesting. The guy had a rather condescending attitude and I’m quite sure he thought I was 18 and didn’t bother looking at my chart to see that I’m much older than I look. My impression of him didn’t improve when his response to my sign language interpretation studies was, “Oh, then you must work at the blind school.” (believe it or not, that type of comment actually isn’t unusual… but hello, this was a doctor with how many years of schooling??)
Anyway, the cardiologist declared that all my symptoms were simply because I don’t get enough exercise. However, according to my research, it seems that lack of exercise can’t cause heart irregularities. Exercise might help some heart conditions, but lack of it doesn’t cause them. I will be getting a second opinion, but now that my schedule will be getting a little closer to sane, I’ll go ahead and try to add in swimming a few times a week. I’ve heard it often helps Fibro as well as some heart issues.
I suspect my heart issues are actually caused by Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS), which actually isn’t a heart problem, but more of problem with the way the brain communicates with the circulation system. Basically the body has trouble regulating blood circulation, especially when standing, and therefore the brain doesn’t have enough blood. Apparently it’s fairly common for people with Fibro to also have POTS, and unfortunately some of the symptoms are the same. That means if I have it, I’m getting a double dose of debilitating fatigue, cognitive problems, and sleep disorders. Next week I go to my doctor for a prescription sleep med, so I’m hopeful that will help things a little.
*Title from Job 1:1
Saturday, February 21, 2009
With Wings
The time has come. I’ve had four years of hard work, challenging work. There were many times I wondered if I would ever make it this far. Yet, by God’s strength, here I am, facing the Qualifying Exam for my interpreting program. All of the work, sweat, tears, and yes, joy, comes down to twenty minutes. Two ten minute texts for which I must absorb every word, figure out the meaning, translate into another language and culture, and produce smoothly--all while still understanding the next sentence, and the next, never loosing a concept.
If I pass the QE on Monday the 23rd, I’ll be assigned an internship with a few skilled interpreters, and will began working under them as a classroom interpreter. Then I can graduate this spring (though I’ll have to take a few summer general ed. classes to complete my AA degree) and begin working in low-risk settings as an interpreter.
We have four chances to pass the QE. My class took the first one a few months ago. Only one student passed. I almost passed that one and was feeling confident about passing this next one. But God has a way of making sure that every time I start trusting in myself, a reminder comes along that HE is the one my strength comes from--I can’t do it myself. And so it was that I had a bad flare during much of this school term, primarily debilitating fatigue and cognitive problems. I went almost a month with only a few hours of interrupted sleep most nights. I failed a test because my short term memory couldn’t grasp what I was seeing quite long enough to write it down. I was having language production problems, meaning I was walking around saying things like, “Dad, it’s your turn to heat your food up in the dishwasher.” or, “Wheryugn?” And that was just the English chat, my ASL was worse and my interpreting… well, mostly wasn’t.
I’m doing mostly better now, but besides the tests I messed up, I feel like I lost about three weeks of practice time, and maybe even went backwards in skills. So here I am, facing the QE feeling totally unready, but trusting God because He’s already proved that He can do the impossible in my life.
This term hasn’t been all bad, though. In school we are focusing on K-12 classroom interpreting and our last topic in ASL class was interpreting children’s books. We each got to pick a book and then performed the story for our test. I wish all tests could be like that! I love it and had so much fun. I posted a video of it here.
I continue to be encouraged by how God uses my struggles to reach out to others. I was recently interviewed by a researcher from OHSU for a book she’s writing for teens who have Fibromyalgia. Then just last night I was invited to sit on a workshop panel of interpreters with disabilities. The workshop will be this spring and the panel will have a mix of hearing and Deaf interpreters with visible and invisible disabilities. Also this spring, HopeKeeper’s magazine is going to publish an article I wrote shortly after being diagnosed with Fibro.
Oh, I guess I should give an update on my heart, too. I now have a heart monitor, which has proved to be rather noisy and sort of amusing. When I start feeling heart palpitations (which is generally constantly from evening through to the morning, and occasionally all day) I’m supposed to push the button to record my heartbeat. Then the little machine gives off a loud tone with an even louder beep for each beat. Thankfully I can mute it a little by putting a finger over the speaker, but it still distracts my classmates. Then it rings every half an hour until I can get to a phone (can’t use a cell) to transmit the recording. I just lay the receiver of the phone over the monitor and it screams its beep into the phone at four times a faster speed. It often sounds rather like a beeping tea kettle. Somehow I don’t think that’s quite what a heart is supposed to sound like… I see the cardiologist next month. If something is wrong with my heart, I’m sure that’s contributing to my fatigue and sleep problems.
But those who wait on the LORD Shall renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles, They shall run and not be weary, They shall walk and not faint. (Is. 40:31)
If I pass the QE on Monday the 23rd, I’ll be assigned an internship with a few skilled interpreters, and will began working under them as a classroom interpreter. Then I can graduate this spring (though I’ll have to take a few summer general ed. classes to complete my AA degree) and begin working in low-risk settings as an interpreter.
We have four chances to pass the QE. My class took the first one a few months ago. Only one student passed. I almost passed that one and was feeling confident about passing this next one. But God has a way of making sure that every time I start trusting in myself, a reminder comes along that HE is the one my strength comes from--I can’t do it myself. And so it was that I had a bad flare during much of this school term, primarily debilitating fatigue and cognitive problems. I went almost a month with only a few hours of interrupted sleep most nights. I failed a test because my short term memory couldn’t grasp what I was seeing quite long enough to write it down. I was having language production problems, meaning I was walking around saying things like, “Dad, it’s your turn to heat your food up in the dishwasher.” or, “Wheryugn?” And that was just the English chat, my ASL was worse and my interpreting… well, mostly wasn’t.
I’m doing mostly better now, but besides the tests I messed up, I feel like I lost about three weeks of practice time, and maybe even went backwards in skills. So here I am, facing the QE feeling totally unready, but trusting God because He’s already proved that He can do the impossible in my life.
This term hasn’t been all bad, though. In school we are focusing on K-12 classroom interpreting and our last topic in ASL class was interpreting children’s books. We each got to pick a book and then performed the story for our test. I wish all tests could be like that! I love it and had so much fun. I posted a video of it here.
I continue to be encouraged by how God uses my struggles to reach out to others. I was recently interviewed by a researcher from OHSU for a book she’s writing for teens who have Fibromyalgia. Then just last night I was invited to sit on a workshop panel of interpreters with disabilities. The workshop will be this spring and the panel will have a mix of hearing and Deaf interpreters with visible and invisible disabilities. Also this spring, HopeKeeper’s magazine is going to publish an article I wrote shortly after being diagnosed with Fibro.
Oh, I guess I should give an update on my heart, too. I now have a heart monitor, which has proved to be rather noisy and sort of amusing. When I start feeling heart palpitations (which is generally constantly from evening through to the morning, and occasionally all day) I’m supposed to push the button to record my heartbeat. Then the little machine gives off a loud tone with an even louder beep for each beat. Thankfully I can mute it a little by putting a finger over the speaker, but it still distracts my classmates. Then it rings every half an hour until I can get to a phone (can’t use a cell) to transmit the recording. I just lay the receiver of the phone over the monitor and it screams its beep into the phone at four times a faster speed. It often sounds rather like a beeping tea kettle. Somehow I don’t think that’s quite what a heart is supposed to sound like… I see the cardiologist next month. If something is wrong with my heart, I’m sure that’s contributing to my fatigue and sleep problems.
But those who wait on the LORD Shall renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles, They shall run and not be weary, They shall walk and not faint. (Is. 40:31)
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Guinea Pig Me!
I am now a participant in a research study on a new med for Fibromyalgia, called Reboxetine. It’s supposed to help not only with the pain, but also primarily with energy, FibroFog, and even sleep. I’m excited about both the med and the chance to be able to help other with Fibro by being a part of the study. I have a 75% chance of getting the real deal rather than a placebo.
I finally had my first appointment today with OHSU, whom I’m doing the study through. The snow and ice kept causing my appointment to be postponed and today was the last possible day to join, so I’m happy it worked out. I was there three hours, full of paperwork, lab tests, and a physical exam. Besides the appointments, I’ll have to phone in every day and enter a pain level number for the day.
During the exam, this doctor had me assign a pain level number to each pressure point. o_0 I hate having to pick a number and here I am signing up for 17 weeks of it, ha. As the doctor pushed on the first place on my back, I took a deep breath and said, “Five.” The doctor, standing behind me, commented (in his charming English accent), “You aren’t very remonstrative, are you? Most people say, ‘ouch!’ or cry out.” He didn’t get a gasp from me until a spot where the pain was 8. :-p
I guess I just don’t show my pain much. I’ve always wondered why people around me don’t seem to respond with “are you okay?” or such more often when I’m in a lot of pain. But even my family says they have a hard time telling how much pain I’m in. I guess I have a more internal reaction and hold my breath through severe pain.
One of the routine tests they did today was an ECG. For a while now I’ve been having heart palpitations and thought something seemed a little off, but my doctors just dismissed it so this is the first time anyone has ever tested my heart. Whaddya know, I was right! Turns out I do have an irregular heart beat, though that usually doesn’t cause problems. However, the test also showed a possibility of an enlargement of my right atrial. He said something about it being connected to my Raynaud’s*, but I’ve never heard of Raynaud’s affecting the heart, so I’ll have to find out more about that. I’m going in to my new primary care doctor in two weeks, and they should do an echogram.
I’m excited about being seen by this research doctor who not only is familiar with Fibro but has done extensive research on it. I’m hoping my new regular doctor will be good, too.
*Raynaud’s is a circulation problem in the extremities--mostly the hands. Blood vessels overreact to cold and constrict too much. Typically it only causes minor discomfort and slightly slower healing in that area.
I finally had my first appointment today with OHSU, whom I’m doing the study through. The snow and ice kept causing my appointment to be postponed and today was the last possible day to join, so I’m happy it worked out. I was there three hours, full of paperwork, lab tests, and a physical exam. Besides the appointments, I’ll have to phone in every day and enter a pain level number for the day.
During the exam, this doctor had me assign a pain level number to each pressure point. o_0 I hate having to pick a number and here I am signing up for 17 weeks of it, ha. As the doctor pushed on the first place on my back, I took a deep breath and said, “Five.” The doctor, standing behind me, commented (in his charming English accent), “You aren’t very remonstrative, are you? Most people say, ‘ouch!’ or cry out.” He didn’t get a gasp from me until a spot where the pain was 8. :-p
I guess I just don’t show my pain much. I’ve always wondered why people around me don’t seem to respond with “are you okay?” or such more often when I’m in a lot of pain. But even my family says they have a hard time telling how much pain I’m in. I guess I have a more internal reaction and hold my breath through severe pain.
One of the routine tests they did today was an ECG. For a while now I’ve been having heart palpitations and thought something seemed a little off, but my doctors just dismissed it so this is the first time anyone has ever tested my heart. Whaddya know, I was right! Turns out I do have an irregular heart beat, though that usually doesn’t cause problems. However, the test also showed a possibility of an enlargement of my right atrial. He said something about it being connected to my Raynaud’s*, but I’ve never heard of Raynaud’s affecting the heart, so I’ll have to find out more about that. I’m going in to my new primary care doctor in two weeks, and they should do an echogram.
I’m excited about being seen by this research doctor who not only is familiar with Fibro but has done extensive research on it. I’m hoping my new regular doctor will be good, too.
*Raynaud’s is a circulation problem in the extremities--mostly the hands. Blood vessels overreact to cold and constrict too much. Typically it only causes minor discomfort and slightly slower healing in that area.
Monday, December 15, 2008
And the wall came a tumblin' down!
The first term of this year is over and I made it through! Health-wise it was a difficult journey, many days finding me in tears because I was so tired or in so much pain with still too much homework to do. One weekend I went on a short hike with my HomeschoolAlumni.org friends and about landed myself in the urgent care from the pain. Then for about three weeks in the middle of the term I got hit with bad FibroFog (kinda hard to interpret when you can’t remember a word for more than 0.1 second…, and hard to get around when you’re not quite sure what one is suppose to do with the elevator buttons, much less what floor you’re on ;-p ).
BUT! God is so faithful and gave me just enough strength to get through. Thanks for all your prayers. My family and friends were encouraging (and sister-in-Christ classmate Breezy was always ready with a helpful “Amy, you won’t go to hell if you don’t finish your homework.”). My tutor has been so patient, too--he’s a huge part of the reason I’ve made it this far.
As many of you know, I’ve been struggling with my interpreting skills for a few years now. Because of my vision-related learning disabilities and my Fibro, it’s often seemed foolish to keep pushing on against what felt like an unmovable wall. I added a year to the program and voluntarily repeated a few classes in hopes that it would help, but last year it didn’t seem to have made that much difference. Yet I still felt God telling me to keep walking. So I did…just kept marching in silly circles around that Jericho wall, staring at those solid stones, knowing only God could knock them down, and trusting that somehow He would.
And He did!
The end of last term and over the summer I started seeing little cracks in that wall. This year it’s come a tumbling down! My health issues have still been big chunks of rock littering my path, but my interpreting skills have grown in leaps and bounds. Last month we took our first try at the big Qualifying Exam. Most people don’t pass it the first time and I passed the voice part and was fairly close to passing the signing part. I didn’t qualify for the internship yet, but I’m so happy with my score and am confident that I can pass the next one. Just today I got my grades back from all my classes this term and I got all Bs and As. For me that’s particularly amazing.
Now I’ve got three blessed weeks off. I’ll be spending them continuing to practice interpreting, working a little, resting a lot, and finally writing! I’ve so missed writing this term. I’ll be wrapping up the last few details of the latest Peculiar People book, Delivered, and then hopefully getting back to the Heirloom Chronicles.
This month I’m also joining a study at OHSU for a new med for Fibromyalgia. It’s suppose to help with both pain and the FibroFog, so I’m excited about it and am praying I’ll get the real med and not a placebo. I was suppose to have my initial four-hour-long appointment today, but icy roads nixed that plan. Hopefully the roads will clear up sooner than the weather people think, as the longer I wait for my appointment, the longer I’m off pain meds. My family is suppose to head to the beach on Friday, too, and right now the pass is pretty much impassible. At least the snow is pretty on the foothills!
.
BUT! God is so faithful and gave me just enough strength to get through. Thanks for all your prayers. My family and friends were encouraging (and sister-in-Christ classmate Breezy was always ready with a helpful “Amy, you won’t go to hell if you don’t finish your homework.”). My tutor has been so patient, too--he’s a huge part of the reason I’ve made it this far.
As many of you know, I’ve been struggling with my interpreting skills for a few years now. Because of my vision-related learning disabilities and my Fibro, it’s often seemed foolish to keep pushing on against what felt like an unmovable wall. I added a year to the program and voluntarily repeated a few classes in hopes that it would help, but last year it didn’t seem to have made that much difference. Yet I still felt God telling me to keep walking. So I did…just kept marching in silly circles around that Jericho wall, staring at those solid stones, knowing only God could knock them down, and trusting that somehow He would.
And He did!
The end of last term and over the summer I started seeing little cracks in that wall. This year it’s come a tumbling down! My health issues have still been big chunks of rock littering my path, but my interpreting skills have grown in leaps and bounds. Last month we took our first try at the big Qualifying Exam. Most people don’t pass it the first time and I passed the voice part and was fairly close to passing the signing part. I didn’t qualify for the internship yet, but I’m so happy with my score and am confident that I can pass the next one. Just today I got my grades back from all my classes this term and I got all Bs and As. For me that’s particularly amazing.
Now I’ve got three blessed weeks off. I’ll be spending them continuing to practice interpreting, working a little, resting a lot, and finally writing! I’ve so missed writing this term. I’ll be wrapping up the last few details of the latest Peculiar People book, Delivered, and then hopefully getting back to the Heirloom Chronicles.
This month I’m also joining a study at OHSU for a new med for Fibromyalgia. It’s suppose to help with both pain and the FibroFog, so I’m excited about it and am praying I’ll get the real med and not a placebo. I was suppose to have my initial four-hour-long appointment today, but icy roads nixed that plan. Hopefully the roads will clear up sooner than the weather people think, as the longer I wait for my appointment, the longer I’m off pain meds. My family is suppose to head to the beach on Friday, too, and right now the pass is pretty much impassible. At least the snow is pretty on the foothills!
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Tuesday, September 16, 2008
8 random things about me...
Lori at Persevere tagged me with this fun MeMe.
Eight Random Facts About Myself:
1. When I was little I had an imaginary twin sister named Jamie.
2. I love to do dramatic readings with all the voices (yes, I hear voices in my head!).
3. When I was young I thought crutches were the coolest thing ever and I hoped I’d break my leg so I got to use them. It started when my older sister had to use crutches and a removable cast for a while. When she recovered, the crutches were returned but the cast stayed and I loved to put it on and hobble around the house.
4. I can mimic whistling songbirds.
5. I can copy pretty much any accent I hear, but the Australian accent is harder for me to keep.
6. I love languages and culture. I started creating a fictional language and culture when I was twelve (someday I’ll write the book that goes with it) and today I’m fluent in two languages (English and American Sign Language) and know a smattering of a third (Spanish).
7. I am easily amused. I generally don’t mind people laughing at me because, hey, what they are laughing about IS funny, haha!
8. I’m a little face blind--that is, I have trouble telling people apart. This means when I’m watching a movie with a lot of characters, I have to keep asking, “Which character is that?” And if it’s a Who Dun It and the face of the bad guy finally pops on the screen, everyone gasps… except me. “Um, which guy was that?”
In real life it means I’m always running up to someone and then as I get close suddenly pretending I was waving widely at the person behind them, because it wasn’t who I thought it was. Or the most embarrassing is when a stranger asks me to save a chair for them and then when someone comes up to use the chair I’m not sure if it’s the person I’m saving it for or if I need to say, “This seat is taken.”
Just this weekend I was at a Deaf event talking to a friend and another lady when I spotted someone across the room and said, “Hey, look! There’s *insert name of well-known interpreter*!” My friend and the other lady looked at the person and looked at me, then looked at each other. My friend says to her, “It’s okay. Amy just gets a little…confused sometimes.” LOL
Now I have to tag eight blogger friends to do this game...
1. Joanne
2. Laury
3. Josh
4. SisJ
5. Purple Kangaroo
6. Jules
7. Jan
8. Kasha Sue
Eight Random Facts About Myself:
1. When I was little I had an imaginary twin sister named Jamie.
2. I love to do dramatic readings with all the voices (yes, I hear voices in my head!).
3. When I was young I thought crutches were the coolest thing ever and I hoped I’d break my leg so I got to use them. It started when my older sister had to use crutches and a removable cast for a while. When she recovered, the crutches were returned but the cast stayed and I loved to put it on and hobble around the house.
4. I can mimic whistling songbirds.
5. I can copy pretty much any accent I hear, but the Australian accent is harder for me to keep.
6. I love languages and culture. I started creating a fictional language and culture when I was twelve (someday I’ll write the book that goes with it) and today I’m fluent in two languages (English and American Sign Language) and know a smattering of a third (Spanish).
7. I am easily amused. I generally don’t mind people laughing at me because, hey, what they are laughing about IS funny, haha!
8. I’m a little face blind--that is, I have trouble telling people apart. This means when I’m watching a movie with a lot of characters, I have to keep asking, “Which character is that?” And if it’s a Who Dun It and the face of the bad guy finally pops on the screen, everyone gasps… except me. “Um, which guy was that?”
In real life it means I’m always running up to someone and then as I get close suddenly pretending I was waving widely at the person behind them, because it wasn’t who I thought it was. Or the most embarrassing is when a stranger asks me to save a chair for them and then when someone comes up to use the chair I’m not sure if it’s the person I’m saving it for or if I need to say, “This seat is taken.”
Just this weekend I was at a Deaf event talking to a friend and another lady when I spotted someone across the room and said, “Hey, look! There’s *insert name of well-known interpreter*!” My friend and the other lady looked at the person and looked at me, then looked at each other. My friend says to her, “It’s okay. Amy just gets a little…confused sometimes.” LOL
Now I have to tag eight blogger friends to do this game...
1. Joanne
2. Laury
3. Josh
4. SisJ
5. Purple Kangaroo
6. Jules
7. Jan
8. Kasha Sue
Saturday, September 13, 2008
I see friends...
Yesterday I attended a Deaf gathering at a Starbucks located a few towns to the south of me. It’s a monthly event but I haven’t gone for several months due to other obligation or to pain, so it was nice to go again. Since driving tends to aggravate my pain, and to save gas and have time to chat, I carpooled with my friend from school, Breezy. As always, we had a great chat during the hour drive to and from the gathering, about God and life in general.
We went early for the event and parted ways to meet other friends for dinner, then joined up again at Starbucks. I had dinner with a school friend from my first year in the interpreting program. She also has Fibromyalgia and is a Christian and the two of us leaned on each other a lot in order to get through that year of school. Her young daughters joined us for dinner and we had a lovely time.
Events like that are hard on me physically, but I always enjoy chatting with old friends and making new friends. Getting a chance to use ASL in casual, real-life situations is invaluable, too. I got to meet a couple of students who are entering the interpreting program this year. They seem nice. One of them was very observant and asked me if I was okay (I wasn’t ;-) ) and if I needed to sit down.
He had on a t-shirt that said “Got Candy?” Breezy and I laughed that I needed one like that because I’m infamous for the amount of candy I eat (hey, I can’t do or eat anything else, so why not enjoy my lollies?). They were rolling their eyes at the fact that I stay thin no matter what I eat and he said something about switching bodies. Breezy’s like, “Oh no! No way I’m switching bodies with Amy! Nuh uh!” LOL
Later another interpreter I haven’t seen for a while came in and I discovered that she also has Fibromyalgia. I think she is a Christian, also. She and I had chatted a little in the past, but we really hit it off that night. It’s always fun to find someone who can really understand what we’re going through.
As the night wore on and my pain climbed to more severe levels, a Deaf friend was kind enough to give me a gentle back rub, which helped, some. I think I want to see if I can get my insurance to cover some massage treatments for me.
Leave-taking always takes a long time in the Deaf Community, and as I was making my rounds saying good bye and giving hugs, I thought about how much more freely many of those in the Deaf Community casually offer a platonic “I love you” along with the goodbye hugs and waves. Perhaps some of it has to do with the fact that ASL can so easily incorporate the classic “I love you” sign into a good-bye wave, but I suspect it is even more because of how highly Deaf people cherish friendship and communication--some of them have had so little of either, especially in the past.
I’ve always been one to liberal with hugs and “love ya”s for my female friends, but occasionally in the hearing community I’ve gotten funny reactions--anything from a startled “oh, um, yeah” to “Ohhh, you’re so sweet! You know, people don’t say that often enough--we just assume they know it and we don’t bother taking the time to actually say it.”
But whether we say it, or show it, or both, I’m sure thankful for the love and care of my friends. I’ll definitely be needing a lot of it as I start the challenge of school in a week.
I see friends shaking hands, sayin’, “How do you do?”
They’re really sayin’, “I love you.”
...And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.
from “What a Wonderful World” by George Douglas and George David Weiss
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Heroes Among Us
The cry was faint. Gabriel stopped, holding his breath, hoping, waiting for it to come again. For a minute all he could hear was the mother’s stifled sobs behind him.
“Mama…”
“There!” Gabriel sprinted through the trees. He pushed through a thicket and his feet dropped out from under him. For a second he dangled over the edge of a cliff, clutching at thin sapling. His foot found a root and he pulled himself to safety.
From below, a faint whimper drifted on the wind. Gabriel leaned over the drop-off. A glimpse of pink showed, wrapped around a sharp rock.
“Mandy, honey, stay really still for me, okay?” Gabriel pulled a rope from his pack and looped it around a nearby tree. His first step down the hill sent a volley of rocks tumbling beneath him. The wails of the child increased. Finally he reached the child, who dangled secured only by a loop of her skirt that had caught around a boulder. The steep slope below the girl turned sheer, solid rock plunging another fifty feet to the bottom.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
*snap*
Caleb jumped and almost dropped his book. He scowled and looked around the crowed airport.
*snap*
There it was again. He ran his eyes over the row of waiting travelers across the isle from him, noting the teen biting her already reddened lip, the mother grabbing for her runaway toddler, and--aha--a man studying a crossword puzzle and tapping his pen against his forehead. There it came. His fingers wrapped absentmindedly around the pen’s pocket clip and pulled. *snap*
Caleb picked up the book again.
Gabriel struggled to steady himself in the loose dirt and stones as he reached for the girl without dislodging her. Slowly, slowly…
*snap*
The book came down again and Caleb rolled his eyes. How could such a small sound bother him so much in a noisy, crowded terminal? And how was he supposed to get through college if he was so distracted.
“FL…T 93, BOAR…ING GROUP …. NOW.” The voice over the intercom was loud, but surprisingly muffled.
“Ah, that’s my flight.” Caleb stuffed his book, Real Life Stories of Real Life Heroes, into his carryon. “Guess there’ll be plenty of time to rescue Mandy during the flight.”
He stood in the line of shuffling people. Normal people, going on normal flights. How many of them were heroes? How many of them had risked their lives to save someone else?
Caleb wondered if he’d ever get that opportunity. He could see himself now, racing across the field, stumbling and tripping in the darkness. His ankle twisted beneath him, but he didn’t notice. All that filled his vision was the one gleaming eye of the train as it bore down on a woman who struggled in the middle of the track, her foot stuck in the--
*snap*
The airline worker slapped her clipboard down. “I said boarding pass, please!”
Muttering an apology, Caleb produced his paperwork. He filed onto the plane and found his seat. Middle chair. Figured.
“Hey, I’m Mike.” The man beside him offered a hand. “Where you headed?”
“College.” Caleb grimaced. “Not sure yet if that’s exciting or nasty.”
Mike chuckled. “I’m headed to visit my dad. Not exactly nasty, but he’s not the most fun person to be around. He’s not getting any younger, though, so I figure I’m due him a visit.”
“My dad was a hero.” Caleb bit his lip. He hadn’t meant to say that.
“Oh yeah?” Mike looked at him curiously. He motioned to the book the young man had already pulled from his pack. “You’re into heroes, huh?”
Caleb flushed a little. “Yeah, I guess. Always have been. I loved the superhero comics when I was a kid. Now I’m more into the real thing.”
“I know a hero.” Mike’s eyes lit up. “He was unbelievable. During a big storm he’d go right out in the middle of the water to save people. Most of the time he was quieter about it, though. Helping people who were sick... things like that.”
“I’ve thought about becoming a doctor.” Caleb grinned. “Be a kinda-hero, you know?”
“Yeah.” Mike nodded thoughtfully. “This guy I know does lots of stuff like that. But the funny thing was, people didn’t like him. Got pretty mad at him, actually, and threatened to make him stop.”
“That’s stupid. Why?”
“Hard to say.” The older man leaned back, buckling up as the plane started to taxi. “Maybe they felt guilty they weren’t helping people. Maybe they thought this guy was too much like God and threatened their religion.”
Caleb snorted. “Religions make people do stupid things.”
“That they do.” Mike sighed. “One time they were rioting against him. Things were getting pretty out of control. He was right there in the middle of the crowd and then he just disappeared. Showed up a long ways away. No one had a clue how he did it.”
“Wow.”
“They said he raised people from the dead, walked on water, stuff like that.”
“Just rumors, huh? They made him into a comic book man.” Caleb laughed.
“Maybe.” Mike waited as the plane took off, fighting gravity until it finally broke free and lifted up. “Maybe not.”
“What do you mean, maybe not? Hey, you really knew this guy?”
Mike pursed his lips, then continued the story without answering. “He had even more enemies than any comic book man, that’s for sure. One day they killed him. Just like that. Tortured and killed him because they didn’t like him.”
“Woah.” Caleb twisted to look at the man better. “Where was this?”
“Rome.” Mike rummaged under his seat and produced a tiny black book. “Here’s that ‘comic book’, all about his miracles.”
Caleb took it and flipped it over. “‘New Testament.’ The Bible? Man, you had me going there.”
“Yup. That’s ‘cause it’s all real. I know Him.” Mike tapped his chest. “He’s living right here in my heart. Jesus was one hero, that’s for sure. Still is, actually. How many people do you know who rose from the dead?”
Caleb shook his head. “I’ve never heard anything religious told like that before. That’s whacked.”
“Oh, don’t go making this religious. Jesus wasn’t about religion. He was about being a hero. A real life hero, come to save the world. All He wants in return is faith.”
The book was heavy and comfortable in Caleb’s hand. He flipped through it. “Those stories are in here?”
“Those and lots more. Here, I’ll show you why He came to earth.”
For another half an hour the men leaned over the “book of heroes,” talking about Jesus, and new life. After a while, Mike leaned back. “So, you interested in getting to know that hero? Having him be your friend, too?”
Caleb looked down at the red words in the book, words unlike any he’d heard before. “Yeah, yeah, I think I’d like that.”
Mike talked him through a prayer, but it wasn’t like any prayer Caleb had ever heard. It was more like… well, like talking to a friend.
“Here, you can have the New Testament. I’ll even write your name in it, and the date, so you can remember when you met your Hero.” Mike patted his shirt pocket, looking for a pen.
“Here.” The man on the other side of Caleb leaned over, offering a pen.
“Thanks.” Mike posed the pen over the book. “What’s the date? Eleventh, isn’t it?”
“Yup.” The man turned to Caleb. “I couldn’t help but overhearing the conversation. I’m a Christian, too.” He offered a hand. “By the way, I’m Todd Beamer. Welcome to the family.”
__________________
In memory of all the heroes on Flight 93 on September 11th, 2001. Except for Todd Beamer, all the characters and events in this story are completely fiction.
© 2008 Amy Michelle Wiley
.
“Mama…”
“There!” Gabriel sprinted through the trees. He pushed through a thicket and his feet dropped out from under him. For a second he dangled over the edge of a cliff, clutching at thin sapling. His foot found a root and he pulled himself to safety.
From below, a faint whimper drifted on the wind. Gabriel leaned over the drop-off. A glimpse of pink showed, wrapped around a sharp rock.
“Mandy, honey, stay really still for me, okay?” Gabriel pulled a rope from his pack and looped it around a nearby tree. His first step down the hill sent a volley of rocks tumbling beneath him. The wails of the child increased. Finally he reached the child, who dangled secured only by a loop of her skirt that had caught around a boulder. The steep slope below the girl turned sheer, solid rock plunging another fifty feet to the bottom.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
*snap*
Caleb jumped and almost dropped his book. He scowled and looked around the crowed airport.
*snap*
There it was again. He ran his eyes over the row of waiting travelers across the isle from him, noting the teen biting her already reddened lip, the mother grabbing for her runaway toddler, and--aha--a man studying a crossword puzzle and tapping his pen against his forehead. There it came. His fingers wrapped absentmindedly around the pen’s pocket clip and pulled. *snap*
Caleb picked up the book again.
Gabriel struggled to steady himself in the loose dirt and stones as he reached for the girl without dislodging her. Slowly, slowly…
*snap*
The book came down again and Caleb rolled his eyes. How could such a small sound bother him so much in a noisy, crowded terminal? And how was he supposed to get through college if he was so distracted.
“FL…T 93, BOAR…ING GROUP …. NOW.” The voice over the intercom was loud, but surprisingly muffled.
“Ah, that’s my flight.” Caleb stuffed his book, Real Life Stories of Real Life Heroes, into his carryon. “Guess there’ll be plenty of time to rescue Mandy during the flight.”
He stood in the line of shuffling people. Normal people, going on normal flights. How many of them were heroes? How many of them had risked their lives to save someone else?
Caleb wondered if he’d ever get that opportunity. He could see himself now, racing across the field, stumbling and tripping in the darkness. His ankle twisted beneath him, but he didn’t notice. All that filled his vision was the one gleaming eye of the train as it bore down on a woman who struggled in the middle of the track, her foot stuck in the--
*snap*
The airline worker slapped her clipboard down. “I said boarding pass, please!”
Muttering an apology, Caleb produced his paperwork. He filed onto the plane and found his seat. Middle chair. Figured.
“Hey, I’m Mike.” The man beside him offered a hand. “Where you headed?”
“College.” Caleb grimaced. “Not sure yet if that’s exciting or nasty.”
Mike chuckled. “I’m headed to visit my dad. Not exactly nasty, but he’s not the most fun person to be around. He’s not getting any younger, though, so I figure I’m due him a visit.”
“My dad was a hero.” Caleb bit his lip. He hadn’t meant to say that.
“Oh yeah?” Mike looked at him curiously. He motioned to the book the young man had already pulled from his pack. “You’re into heroes, huh?”
Caleb flushed a little. “Yeah, I guess. Always have been. I loved the superhero comics when I was a kid. Now I’m more into the real thing.”
“I know a hero.” Mike’s eyes lit up. “He was unbelievable. During a big storm he’d go right out in the middle of the water to save people. Most of the time he was quieter about it, though. Helping people who were sick... things like that.”
“I’ve thought about becoming a doctor.” Caleb grinned. “Be a kinda-hero, you know?”
“Yeah.” Mike nodded thoughtfully. “This guy I know does lots of stuff like that. But the funny thing was, people didn’t like him. Got pretty mad at him, actually, and threatened to make him stop.”
“That’s stupid. Why?”
“Hard to say.” The older man leaned back, buckling up as the plane started to taxi. “Maybe they felt guilty they weren’t helping people. Maybe they thought this guy was too much like God and threatened their religion.”
Caleb snorted. “Religions make people do stupid things.”
“That they do.” Mike sighed. “One time they were rioting against him. Things were getting pretty out of control. He was right there in the middle of the crowd and then he just disappeared. Showed up a long ways away. No one had a clue how he did it.”
“Wow.”
“They said he raised people from the dead, walked on water, stuff like that.”
“Just rumors, huh? They made him into a comic book man.” Caleb laughed.
“Maybe.” Mike waited as the plane took off, fighting gravity until it finally broke free and lifted up. “Maybe not.”
“What do you mean, maybe not? Hey, you really knew this guy?”
Mike pursed his lips, then continued the story without answering. “He had even more enemies than any comic book man, that’s for sure. One day they killed him. Just like that. Tortured and killed him because they didn’t like him.”
“Woah.” Caleb twisted to look at the man better. “Where was this?”
“Rome.” Mike rummaged under his seat and produced a tiny black book. “Here’s that ‘comic book’, all about his miracles.”
Caleb took it and flipped it over. “‘New Testament.’ The Bible? Man, you had me going there.”
“Yup. That’s ‘cause it’s all real. I know Him.” Mike tapped his chest. “He’s living right here in my heart. Jesus was one hero, that’s for sure. Still is, actually. How many people do you know who rose from the dead?”
Caleb shook his head. “I’ve never heard anything religious told like that before. That’s whacked.”
“Oh, don’t go making this religious. Jesus wasn’t about religion. He was about being a hero. A real life hero, come to save the world. All He wants in return is faith.”
The book was heavy and comfortable in Caleb’s hand. He flipped through it. “Those stories are in here?”
“Those and lots more. Here, I’ll show you why He came to earth.”
For another half an hour the men leaned over the “book of heroes,” talking about Jesus, and new life. After a while, Mike leaned back. “So, you interested in getting to know that hero? Having him be your friend, too?”
Caleb looked down at the red words in the book, words unlike any he’d heard before. “Yeah, yeah, I think I’d like that.”
Mike talked him through a prayer, but it wasn’t like any prayer Caleb had ever heard. It was more like… well, like talking to a friend.
“Here, you can have the New Testament. I’ll even write your name in it, and the date, so you can remember when you met your Hero.” Mike patted his shirt pocket, looking for a pen.
“Here.” The man on the other side of Caleb leaned over, offering a pen.
“Thanks.” Mike posed the pen over the book. “What’s the date? Eleventh, isn’t it?”
“Yup.” The man turned to Caleb. “I couldn’t help but overhearing the conversation. I’m a Christian, too.” He offered a hand. “By the way, I’m Todd Beamer. Welcome to the family.”
__________________
In memory of all the heroes on Flight 93 on September 11th, 2001. Except for Todd Beamer, all the characters and events in this story are completely fiction.
© 2008 Amy Michelle Wiley
.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Summer, come back!
I can’t believe it’s September. In just three short weeks I’ll be back to school--with 19 credits, yikes. There’s no way I’d ever willingly take on that many with my health the way it is, but since I’m in a specialized program I don’t have much of a choice. If nothing else, it’ll sure force me to rely on God fully--no way I can make it on my own!
Near the end of the term we have the big QE (Qualifying Exam). We have four chances over the next two years to pass it and recieve a certificate of completion for the program. Basically the QE is ensuring that we can actually do a qualified job of interpreting. Most training programs in the US do not have a test like that, meaning anyone who can manage through the college classes with at least a low C is sent into the world to do real live interpreting.
I'm glad we have the QE, but it's rather scary. I asked my tutor yesterday if he thought I had a chance at passing it this year and he said yes! :-) He said he thought I could pass the sign to voice part pretty easily and if I can get my signing speed up then I had a chance at the voice to sign part. My brain just doesn't work like it used to (thanks to the fibro) and sometimes I have trouble thinking fast or talking in English at a normal speed, so it's doubly hard in my second language, even when I'm not trying to interpret. So that's something to work on and pray about.
I’ve been brainstorming to think of little things I can do to make it easier for me to get through each school day… things like getting a disabled parking permit so I don’t have to climb a hill and a set of stairs dragging my backpack in the freezing cold (though I’ve had trouble actually getting the permit), and arranging the schedule as much as possible so I don’t have early morning classes (that will help with sleepiness/brain fog and driving less, since traffic is less later in the day). I meet with the disabilities counselor a few days before school starts, and maybe we can think of some more things. Anyone else have ideas?
This summer didn’t quite go how I’d planned. I’d hoped to have the postcard project critiqued and to the final editor by the end of the term--I haven’t touched it all summer. I had some other projects I wanted to work on, also, and though I did keep up with my signing somewhat, I didn’t do nearly as much daily practice as I’d determined I would.
I feel like I spent half the summer in some doctor’s office or another. But at least that was effective and I now have a diagnoses and some treatments that are helping.
Today I got a new mattress for my birthday present from my parents. My old one was some 11 or 12 years old and not very cushy anymore. Last night Dad and I went to the only place in the US where the three major mattress companies have stores literally side by side (Dad says there’s only one place like that because no one else is that stupid, lol). It sure is handy for the shoppers, though.
Of course, there’s not that much that can be told about a mattress by laying on it for 30 seconds, and by the time I’d walked to the next store it was hard to compare them, but I finally just picked one. It’s nothing really fancy (not gonna pay four digit numbers for a mattress!), but has both support and a bit of a cotton topper to make it soft.
My bedroom is in pretty bad shape, so I had to work at it today so Dad could even bring the new mattress in. I’m one of those people who likes things to be neat and tidy, but not quite enough to actually go to the work to make it that way. I’m pretty organized with certain things like organizing the conference and Peculiar People, but I don’t have any energy left over at the end of the day to worry about a bedroom.
I was actually feeling okay most of the day, so I tacked the bedroom for probably too long. Tonight the frequent bending has me sore and stiff. But there is a wide clean swath through my room (I seriously found almost $20 in loose change laying around!) and a new mattress to look forward to! I’m curious to see how it feels to actually sleep on it. Off I go! Good night.
Near the end of the term we have the big QE (Qualifying Exam). We have four chances over the next two years to pass it and recieve a certificate of completion for the program. Basically the QE is ensuring that we can actually do a qualified job of interpreting. Most training programs in the US do not have a test like that, meaning anyone who can manage through the college classes with at least a low C is sent into the world to do real live interpreting.
I'm glad we have the QE, but it's rather scary. I asked my tutor yesterday if he thought I had a chance at passing it this year and he said yes! :-) He said he thought I could pass the sign to voice part pretty easily and if I can get my signing speed up then I had a chance at the voice to sign part. My brain just doesn't work like it used to (thanks to the fibro) and sometimes I have trouble thinking fast or talking in English at a normal speed, so it's doubly hard in my second language, even when I'm not trying to interpret. So that's something to work on and pray about.
I’ve been brainstorming to think of little things I can do to make it easier for me to get through each school day… things like getting a disabled parking permit so I don’t have to climb a hill and a set of stairs dragging my backpack in the freezing cold (though I’ve had trouble actually getting the permit), and arranging the schedule as much as possible so I don’t have early morning classes (that will help with sleepiness/brain fog and driving less, since traffic is less later in the day). I meet with the disabilities counselor a few days before school starts, and maybe we can think of some more things. Anyone else have ideas?
This summer didn’t quite go how I’d planned. I’d hoped to have the postcard project critiqued and to the final editor by the end of the term--I haven’t touched it all summer. I had some other projects I wanted to work on, also, and though I did keep up with my signing somewhat, I didn’t do nearly as much daily practice as I’d determined I would.
I feel like I spent half the summer in some doctor’s office or another. But at least that was effective and I now have a diagnoses and some treatments that are helping.
Today I got a new mattress for my birthday present from my parents. My old one was some 11 or 12 years old and not very cushy anymore. Last night Dad and I went to the only place in the US where the three major mattress companies have stores literally side by side (Dad says there’s only one place like that because no one else is that stupid, lol). It sure is handy for the shoppers, though.
Of course, there’s not that much that can be told about a mattress by laying on it for 30 seconds, and by the time I’d walked to the next store it was hard to compare them, but I finally just picked one. It’s nothing really fancy (not gonna pay four digit numbers for a mattress!), but has both support and a bit of a cotton topper to make it soft.
My bedroom is in pretty bad shape, so I had to work at it today so Dad could even bring the new mattress in. I’m one of those people who likes things to be neat and tidy, but not quite enough to actually go to the work to make it that way. I’m pretty organized with certain things like organizing the conference and Peculiar People, but I don’t have any energy left over at the end of the day to worry about a bedroom.
I was actually feeling okay most of the day, so I tacked the bedroom for probably too long. Tonight the frequent bending has me sore and stiff. But there is a wide clean swath through my room (I seriously found almost $20 in loose change laying around!) and a new mattress to look forward to! I’m curious to see how it feels to actually sleep on it. Off I go! Good night.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
An Award!
My new blogger-friend Lori honored me with the Arte y Pico Award. Lori is a lovely Christian lady who also lives with a chronic illness. Thank you, Lori!I'd like to pass it on to my friend Joanne, who is able to find messages and truths from God in her everyday life, and then passes them on to the rest of us through her blog.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Invisible Illness Awareness Week
This is Invisible Illness week. From Laury’s blog I’ve borrowed excerpts from a list from of Ways to Encourage Chronically Ill Friends by Lisa Copen, and added a couple of my own at the end. But first, I’d like to share a story I wrote a few days after being diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. I’ve been able to share it with a number of people in my pain management class and other places.
My Journey
By Amy Michelle Wiley
The bridge arches against the horizon, the firm wooden slats giving slivered glimpses of the river below. The scent of cedar rises strong and heady in the breeze. He stands on the bank before it, waiting for me. He calls me by name, and we step together, He and I, onto the bridge. Onto the path of My Journey.
We reach the middle, the tallest point. I gasp, jerking to a stop. The joy so nearly bubbling from within me dies, the creeping grasp of dread reaching to my throat.
On the other bank the smooth wood of the bridge abruptly meets a dirt trail, rocky and pitted with crevices. The dark path twists downward, emptying into a valley filled with fog so thick it allows only shifting glances of thorny hedges and jagged boulders.
"But Lord," I turn to look at Him, tears already finding their way down my cheeks, "I do not understand."
"This is your path, my child." His eyes fill with empathy--something stronger yet than that, a knowing, an understanding beyond my own.
"I cannot cross that." Fear and confusion fill me.
"No, you cannot," He agrees. "Only through My strength can you travel that path."
"But," the word escapes me once more. I seem unable to stop it. "Why me? Why this path?"
He reaches out a hand, gentle and yet strong, lifting my chin so slightly. "Because, child, within you is a faith strong enough to make this journey. You will cling to me, and grow stronger because of the trials. I will teach you, and you will learn. In that, I will be glorified. This is your path."
I do cling to Him then, because my legs will not support me. My eyes leave His, drawn once again to the darkness of the trail. "Is that the good that will come of it, then? That I will draw closer to You?"
"Not only that." He kneels, drawing me to His side and pointing into the charcoal smog. "Look."
At first I see nothing, only the choking swirl of haze. Then I see a glimmer of light, far in the distance. It grows clearer until I can see a small house, lit only by a dim candle that seems one flicker from going out.
"You are the one I will use to brighten that light, encourage it and fan it into a flame so brilliant it will glow for miles around." His voice rings with a timbre that fills me with something--almost an excitement. "If you do not follow that path the light will continue to grow dimmer, until it fades to only an ember."
The fog closes once more, and I stand still, taking in the rocks that spike from the ground, the thorns leaning over the path, ready to shred any who pass by. Slowly, I take my gaze from them and turn back to Him, seeking assurance.
He lays an arm around my shoulder and points once more. The fog shifts in another area and this time I gasp in wonder. A meadow of emerald green shimmers in a gentle breeze, mingling with flowers blooming so brightly I can see them from the bridge, almost smell their sweetness. Birds swoop in gentle rhythm, playing among the limbs of the trees that circle the glen. It all flows in a dance of worship, of joy, of peace.
The Creator smiles. "This is a place of rest I have prepared for you along the way."
My heart sings. He cares.
He loves.
He has created for me.
He turns and looks full into my face. Compassion fills His eyes. "The path will be difficult. You will fall. You will hurt. The journey will be long."
He searches my face. I have no words to give Him. I can only grip Him tighter, and wait for Him to continue.
But I will be with you. Every step of the way I will be there. I will raise you when you fall. I will mend your wounds. When your strength fails, I will lift you and carry you." A tear drips down His face, filled with a rainbow of feelings… pain… empathy… strength… love… "All you have to do is reach out your hand and I will hold you up."
At last He holds out His hand, scarred and mangled, strong and beautiful. "It is time."
My hand is small and white as it slips into His. Strength flows from Him as we cross the span of the bridge. I cling to His hand and, together, we step onto the path.
© 2008 Amy Michelle Wiley
From "51 Ways to Encourage Chronically Ill Friends"
By Lisa Copen
“A good friend is a connection to life - a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world.” ~Lois Wyse
~Understand that she lives in a constant state of making decisions for which there is no guarantee that she is making the right choice.
~Put meals in disposable containers and attach a note saying “This doesn’t need to be returned.” ~Wash his car and put a little note inside for him to find later.
~Ask, “What do you wish people understood about your illness?”
~Don’t make her feel guilty about things that she cannot do.
~Instead of saying, “I will pray for you,” say, “I’d like to pray for you right now, if that’s okay.”
~Mop the floors.
~Ask, “Do you have an errand I can run for you before coming over?”
~Ask her to do spontaneous things, like go to a concert in the park, or just for a picnic. She may be more likely to participate since she knows if it’s a good day or a bad day.
~Don’t say, “So, why aren’t you healed yet?” or “I wonder what God is trying to teach you that you just aren’t learning!”
~For a unique gift, provide brightly colored paper plates, napkins, and utensils in a gift bag with a note that says “For when you don’t feel like doing dishes.”
~Be her advocate. If you are at an event and walking/seating is an issue because of her disability, ask her if she’d like you to take care of it. If she says you can, be firm but not rude. ~Don’t embarrass her by making accusations of discrimination or by making a scene.
~Don’t tell her about your brother’s niece’s cousin’s best friend who tried a cure for the same illness and. . . (you know the rest).
~Ask, “What are your top three indulgences?” and then spoil her soon.
~Hold the door open for her. They are heavy!
~Ask your church youth group to come over and clean up the yard during seasonal changes.
~If your friend has a disabled parking placard and you are driving, allow her to tell you where she wants to park. If she’s feeling particularly good that day, she may not want to park in the “blue space.” Don’t be disappointed that you’ll have to walk farther.
~Accept that her chronic illness may not go away. If she’s accepting it, don’t tell her the illness is winning and she’s giving in to it.
~Don’t say, “Let me know if there is anything I can do.” People rarely feel comfortable saying, “Yes, my laundry.” Instead pick something you are willing to do and then ask her permission. Try the coupon in back!
~Don’t ask, “Why can’t the doctors help you?” or insinuate that it must be in her head. There are millions of people who are in pain with illnesses that do not have cures.
~Avoid having gifts be “pity gifts.” Just say, “I saw these flowers and their cheerfulness reminded me of you.”
~Offer to drive when we do things together.
~Ask if you can help carry anything.
Lisa Copen is the founder of National Invisible Chronic Illness Awareness Week and the author of Beyond Casseroles: 505 Ways to Encourage a Chronically Ill Friend, which can be found at bookstores everywhere.
My Journey
By Amy Michelle Wiley
The bridge arches against the horizon, the firm wooden slats giving slivered glimpses of the river below. The scent of cedar rises strong and heady in the breeze. He stands on the bank before it, waiting for me. He calls me by name, and we step together, He and I, onto the bridge. Onto the path of My Journey.
We reach the middle, the tallest point. I gasp, jerking to a stop. The joy so nearly bubbling from within me dies, the creeping grasp of dread reaching to my throat.
On the other bank the smooth wood of the bridge abruptly meets a dirt trail, rocky and pitted with crevices. The dark path twists downward, emptying into a valley filled with fog so thick it allows only shifting glances of thorny hedges and jagged boulders.
"But Lord," I turn to look at Him, tears already finding their way down my cheeks, "I do not understand."
"This is your path, my child." His eyes fill with empathy--something stronger yet than that, a knowing, an understanding beyond my own.
"I cannot cross that." Fear and confusion fill me.
"No, you cannot," He agrees. "Only through My strength can you travel that path."
"But," the word escapes me once more. I seem unable to stop it. "Why me? Why this path?"
He reaches out a hand, gentle and yet strong, lifting my chin so slightly. "Because, child, within you is a faith strong enough to make this journey. You will cling to me, and grow stronger because of the trials. I will teach you, and you will learn. In that, I will be glorified. This is your path."
I do cling to Him then, because my legs will not support me. My eyes leave His, drawn once again to the darkness of the trail. "Is that the good that will come of it, then? That I will draw closer to You?"
"Not only that." He kneels, drawing me to His side and pointing into the charcoal smog. "Look."
At first I see nothing, only the choking swirl of haze. Then I see a glimmer of light, far in the distance. It grows clearer until I can see a small house, lit only by a dim candle that seems one flicker from going out.
"You are the one I will use to brighten that light, encourage it and fan it into a flame so brilliant it will glow for miles around." His voice rings with a timbre that fills me with something--almost an excitement. "If you do not follow that path the light will continue to grow dimmer, until it fades to only an ember."
The fog closes once more, and I stand still, taking in the rocks that spike from the ground, the thorns leaning over the path, ready to shred any who pass by. Slowly, I take my gaze from them and turn back to Him, seeking assurance.
He lays an arm around my shoulder and points once more. The fog shifts in another area and this time I gasp in wonder. A meadow of emerald green shimmers in a gentle breeze, mingling with flowers blooming so brightly I can see them from the bridge, almost smell their sweetness. Birds swoop in gentle rhythm, playing among the limbs of the trees that circle the glen. It all flows in a dance of worship, of joy, of peace.
The Creator smiles. "This is a place of rest I have prepared for you along the way."
My heart sings. He cares.
He loves.
He has created for me.
He turns and looks full into my face. Compassion fills His eyes. "The path will be difficult. You will fall. You will hurt. The journey will be long."
He searches my face. I have no words to give Him. I can only grip Him tighter, and wait for Him to continue.
But I will be with you. Every step of the way I will be there. I will raise you when you fall. I will mend your wounds. When your strength fails, I will lift you and carry you." A tear drips down His face, filled with a rainbow of feelings… pain… empathy… strength… love… "All you have to do is reach out your hand and I will hold you up."
At last He holds out His hand, scarred and mangled, strong and beautiful. "It is time."
My hand is small and white as it slips into His. Strength flows from Him as we cross the span of the bridge. I cling to His hand and, together, we step onto the path.
© 2008 Amy Michelle Wiley
From "51 Ways to Encourage Chronically Ill Friends"
By Lisa Copen
“A good friend is a connection to life - a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world.” ~Lois Wyse
~Put meals in disposable containers and attach a note saying “This doesn’t need to be returned.” ~Wash his car and put a little note inside for him to find later.
~Ask, “What do you wish people understood about your illness?”
~Don’t make her feel guilty about things that she cannot do.
~Instead of saying, “I will pray for you,” say, “I’d like to pray for you right now, if that’s okay.”
~Mop the floors.
~Ask, “Do you have an errand I can run for you before coming over?”
~Ask her to do spontaneous things, like go to a concert in the park, or just for a picnic. She may be more likely to participate since she knows if it’s a good day or a bad day.
~Don’t say, “So, why aren’t you healed yet?” or “I wonder what God is trying to teach you that you just aren’t learning!”
~For a unique gift, provide brightly colored paper plates, napkins, and utensils in a gift bag with a note that says “For when you don’t feel like doing dishes.”
~Be her advocate. If you are at an event and walking/seating is an issue because of her disability, ask her if she’d like you to take care of it. If she says you can, be firm but not rude. ~Don’t embarrass her by making accusations of discrimination or by making a scene.
~Don’t tell her about your brother’s niece’s cousin’s best friend who tried a cure for the same illness and. . . (you know the rest).
~Ask, “What are your top three indulgences?” and then spoil her soon.
~Hold the door open for her. They are heavy!
~Ask your church youth group to come over and clean up the yard during seasonal changes.
~If your friend has a disabled parking placard and you are driving, allow her to tell you where she wants to park. If she’s feeling particularly good that day, she may not want to park in the “blue space.” Don’t be disappointed that you’ll have to walk farther.
~Accept that her chronic illness may not go away. If she’s accepting it, don’t tell her the illness is winning and she’s giving in to it.
~Don’t say, “Let me know if there is anything I can do.” People rarely feel comfortable saying, “Yes, my laundry.” Instead pick something you are willing to do and then ask her permission. Try the coupon in back!
~Don’t ask, “Why can’t the doctors help you?” or insinuate that it must be in her head. There are millions of people who are in pain with illnesses that do not have cures.
~Avoid having gifts be “pity gifts.” Just say, “I saw these flowers and their cheerfulness reminded me of you.”
~Offer to drive when we do things together.
~Ask if you can help carry anything.
Lisa Copen is the founder of National Invisible Chronic Illness Awareness Week and the author of Beyond Casseroles: 505 Ways to Encourage a Chronically Ill Friend, which can be found at bookstores everywhere.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
United Together
Yesterday I attended two weddings. They were each about an hour drive from home and from each other. I was worried I’d be in a ton of pain, but it wasn’t too bad, praise God. Both weddings were beautiful outdoor ceremonies. It rained all week and cleared up just the day before.
The first wedding was a classmate’s. She had a sweet ceremony, set looking out over the Columbia River Gorge. I didn’t know she was religious, but it was a strongly Christian wedding, much to the challenge of the sign language interpreter (a classmate from my first year who recently graduated), LOL. She did a great job, though.
One thing the pastor at that wedding said really stuck with me. He said, “Marriage isn’t about finding the perfect mate--it’s about becoming the perfect mate.” How true that is. In this culture of high-speed marriages that seem to end almost before they start, so many forget that it is a commitment that takes work, but reaps in joy.
The second wedding was a long-time friend. Her mom and my mom were roommates in college and our families are still good friends, though we don’t see them often. It was great to see other long-time friends that were also there, and reconnect a little.
It’s funny, mostly I’m quite content right now being single, or even with the thought that I may never get married. But there’s something about attending weddings that awakens a bit of longing in me. Ah well, God’s timing. I decided I should keep a little notebook with all the things I like from each wedding so that if my day should come I can remember some helpful/cool things to incorporate.
Today we’ve had a lovely quiet day. Tammy, another FWer, flew in last night, so it’s been fun chatting with her. Shari flew back home after church today. :-( It was so much fun to have her here, and it was sweet how well she took care of me, making sure I got rest when I needed it.
This evening Tammy, SisJ, and I met David Ian to see a Christian improv acting team, a farm team (learning team) of Comedy Sportz. It was a lot of fun! We want to play some of the improv acting games at the talent show at the next FaithWriter’s conference.
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The first wedding was a classmate’s. She had a sweet ceremony, set looking out over the Columbia River Gorge. I didn’t know she was religious, but it was a strongly Christian wedding, much to the challenge of the sign language interpreter (a classmate from my first year who recently graduated), LOL. She did a great job, though.
One thing the pastor at that wedding said really stuck with me. He said, “Marriage isn’t about finding the perfect mate--it’s about becoming the perfect mate.” How true that is. In this culture of high-speed marriages that seem to end almost before they start, so many forget that it is a commitment that takes work, but reaps in joy.
The second wedding was a long-time friend. Her mom and my mom were roommates in college and our families are still good friends, though we don’t see them often. It was great to see other long-time friends that were also there, and reconnect a little.
It’s funny, mostly I’m quite content right now being single, or even with the thought that I may never get married. But there’s something about attending weddings that awakens a bit of longing in me. Ah well, God’s timing. I decided I should keep a little notebook with all the things I like from each wedding so that if my day should come I can remember some helpful/cool things to incorporate.
Today we’ve had a lovely quiet day. Tammy, another FWer, flew in last night, so it’s been fun chatting with her. Shari flew back home after church today. :-( It was so much fun to have her here, and it was sweet how well she took care of me, making sure I got rest when I needed it.
This evening Tammy, SisJ, and I met David Ian to see a Christian improv acting team, a farm team (learning team) of Comedy Sportz. It was a lot of fun! We want to play some of the improv acting games at the talent show at the next FaithWriter’s conference.
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Friday, August 22, 2008
Books, signing, and pansies
Today as I was driving down a main road I saw a pansy growing out of the crack between the curb and the sidewalk. It was so bright and unexpected there in a place that normally is empty or holds only weeds, and it got me to thinking. It’s like many of us Christians, placed in a work or school environment, or even difficult health… or any challenge, where we are surrounded by hardness and weeds. We must have the bravery to bloom for our Creator, and give the world a glimpse of Him through our bright faces.
Okay, mini devo over, back to our regularly scheduled broadcast. ;-)
Yesterday Shari and Chrissy went along to my language tutor with me. They chatted to my Deaf tutor, James, and I interpreted for everyone. It was a lot of fun and great practice for me! Mostly I was able to keep up pretty well, but there were a few funny goofs. One time we couldn’t understand one particular word through Chrissy’s accent. Even James was trying to help out by lip-reading, but he guessed the word wrong, too! He found some of the names of Australian towns (like Wagga Wagga) to be amusing and kept asking if that was really the real name, haha. Then of course, there was the time I mixed up a couple of similar signs and said, “it’s naked to talk with your mouth full.”
After tutoring, we headed over to Powel’s City of Books. It’s called that for a reason. Powel’s is one of the largest used and new bookstores in the world. It’s three stories of a full city block--completely filled with books! We meandered through, drooling over cool titles, and feeling inspired just by being in the presence of so many written words. The place oozes with creativity.
I picked up Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling (stories like “How the Leopard Got His Spots”, so that’s all right best beloved, do you see?) and a collection of short stories by James Thurber. Thurber writes the most amusing stories. My favorite, “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty,” is about a rather hen-pecked husband who has the most exciting adventures in his imagination, only to be jerked back to reality at the most exciting points.
Of course, as wonderful as Powel’s was, it’s also in downtown Portland--a town that’s on the maps for being eclectic and, well, weird. Last time I was at Powel’s a scary man followed me around, watching me. So I warned Chrissy and Shari that we needed to stick together--no wandering off alone to check another isle or getting left behind in an exciting browse. Sure enough, some guy seemed to pop up everywhere we went. We figured the three of us could take him on with a few hard-backed books as ammo, no problem. LOL
As we left the store several hours later and headed back to the parking garage, I was concentrating on ducking around a group of men smoking--hurrying past before I had an allergic reaction. Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I saw a man walk straight up to me, acting really strange. It scared me. I jerked back in alarm, only to see that it was my tutor James, laughing at me. Ha.
Today the weather finally cleared so we can see the mountains. We walked down our quarter of a mile driveway so we could see Mt. St. Helens clearly. She’s not as pretty as usual this time of year because she’s short enough that most of the snow was melted, but it’s still nice. Our neighbor’s horses were excited to see us and get some pats, too. Tonight whoever is feeling up to it is going to Portland City Fest. Luis Palau will be speaking and several popular Christian bands will be there. I'm hoping I can sit where I can see the sign language interpreters.
[edit--added after festival] Well, scratch the above sentence. Luis was a pretty good speaker, but there were so many people there it wasn't until after Luis Palau spoke that I even found the Deaf section, and there weren't any chairs. That means I had to stand for three hours. Well, I had brought a blanket, so I did sit for a few minutes, but my back and legs don't hook together right, so I can't sit on the ground very effectively and that's as painful as standing.
I'm really, really wishing I hadn't gone. I'm not sure why I didn't leave... I guess because the band I most wanted to see, Chris Tomlin, was the last event. I can be too stubborn for my own good. I'm already in a lot of pain and typically I don't feel the worst of it until the day after. Tomorrow I have to drive a bunch (another pain trigger) and sit through two weddings. Please pray the pain isn't too bad. [end addition]
Tomorrow another FaithWriter, Tammy, will be flying in to visit us. She was missing out on all the fun and decided spontaneously to come join us. We're so thrilled! She is CRAZY fun.
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Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Happy Birthday to me!
Yesterday was my twenty-sixth birthday. It’s hard to believe a year ago I was just finishing up the FaithWriters’ conference (I was one of the coordinators), and getting ready to fly for a month to Australia to care-take for a another FWer, Chrissy. This year I had another special birthday.
Chrissy and Shari (from Ohio) are here staying with my family for a week, and a few other FaithWriters from the area, Pup, Wren, and David Ian were able to visit. In the afternoon a few of us went to a wildlife preserve nearby that has a driving trail. It was a little rainy, so we didn’t see a lot of things, but it was still fun.
We saw tons of nutria (they are like a small beaver with a rat tail) close up and got to see them playing and eating. Very fun! Someone else there said they saw some albino ones, but they hid from us. We also saw lots of swallows and ducks. And, of course, every five minutes the whole ride someone pointed at me and yelled, “Look, there’s a sparrow!!” *rolls eyes*
In the evening I had the perfect birthday dinner. All of my family was there (including my nieces and brother-in-law), plus a bunch of FaithWriter friends, plus all but one of my closest “other” friends. We had a lovely dinner and then laughed our heads off playing Apples to Apples past midnight. (beware of the sharp bananas! look out for the short cows! but no worries--you’ll be ok if you have a helpful chicken.) the only thing that could have made it better would be if even more of my FW friends could have been there.
Chrissy and Shari (from Ohio) are here staying with my family for a week, and a few other FaithWriters from the area, Pup, Wren, and David Ian were able to visit. In the afternoon a few of us went to a wildlife preserve nearby that has a driving trail. It was a little rainy, so we didn’t see a lot of things, but it was still fun.
We saw tons of nutria (they are like a small beaver with a rat tail) close up and got to see them playing and eating. Very fun! Someone else there said they saw some albino ones, but they hid from us. We also saw lots of swallows and ducks. And, of course, every five minutes the whole ride someone pointed at me and yelled, “Look, there’s a sparrow!!” *rolls eyes*
In the evening I had the perfect birthday dinner. All of my family was there (including my nieces and brother-in-law), plus a bunch of FaithWriter friends, plus all but one of my closest “other” friends. We had a lovely dinner and then laughed our heads off playing Apples to Apples past midnight. (beware of the sharp bananas! look out for the short cows! but no worries--you’ll be ok if you have a helpful chicken.) the only thing that could have made it better would be if even more of my FW friends could have been there.
My sister AJ, Wren, Shari, Pup, Mom, SisJ, Me, David Ian, Chrissy. (my other friends had already left when this pic was taken, except for the one taking the pic--thanks Meg! and my dad was not yet back from a trip to visit his aunt.)
People keep asking me how it feels to be twenty-six. Honestly, I couldn’t say. Because of the Fibro I feel more like 80 more often than not, though it's been a little better lately. After the late birthday night (and all the late nights recently staying up for the Olympics) I was pretty done in on Tuesday. I went to my pain management class in the morning and was about to drop dead by the time I got back.
Everyone is taking good care of me, though. I walked in the front door and everyone turned to look at me. Shari said, “Amy, you look tired! Are you 
ok?” They sent me to go take a nap and waited an extra hour to leave for Multnomah Falls. That was enough to get me more or less okay again, and helped that Shari drove down there.
The falls were lovely. It waited to start raining until we were just leaving.
Today we’re having a rest day. Right now Chrissy, Shari, SisJ, and I are sitting in a fast food restaurant all squeezed around a table using the WiFi, haha. We’re posting pics from their visit so far and trying to find cheap airfare to fly another FWer here this weekend.
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