Time flies when you’re celebrating the life you have. The moments fleet before your eyes, and before you know it, a year has passed, then two, three, and so forth before you stop to take a breath and give thanks. I cannot let this happen. As I prepare to head to a conference of administrators and student governors for Circle K International, I am filled with tears of joyful celebration and have to give pause to reflect on this year that has so swiftly escaped me. It was this week only one year ago that I was given some disturbing news of indefinite life expectancy; “Get your affairs in order, because there are about to be some really big changes in your ability to function. At this rate, it could be a matter of months to a year before this takes your body and quite honestly, your life.” Sobering news- especially to a woman who has been fairly particular about how she treats her body. I eat healthy, exercise, and have never indulged in any dangerous substances, so why me?
The doctors spent three months running tests to tell me this news. There was only a vague diagnosis of possibly “Rapidly Progressing MS” or “Advanced ALS.” Whatever it was, it hurt, it was embarrassing, and I was scared. The day I received the news, I went home and went straight to my room. My nephew and son came home shortly after, and after seeing the doctor’s paperwork on the kitchen counter, my Adam made his was to my room, sat on my bed, placed his hand on my leg, and said, “What did the doctor say?’
I began sobbing. I was not ready to tell my kids. I was not ready to tell my nephew, and more devastating to my heart and mind, I was sooooooo not ready to tell my parents who only one year prior had said good-bye to their oldest daughter- my sister. For the first time in probably my entire life, I spoke the words, “It’s not fair” through my sobs. I continued, “I won’t be able to see the rest of you get married, or even hold me grandkids. And even if this slows, and I get to see grand babies, I won’t be able to hold them without dropping them.”
In true Adam tenderhearted form he wiped a tear from his eye and said, “Mom- don’t you know that you would make the best rocker grandma on earth? Now get up and fix your face, we are going to go get a cheeseburger and fries and listen o some music.” He called two of my best friends, gathered Noah (my nephew), and we went to eat. We sat, I shook and pieced my food like a bird feeding her young fighting and choking back tears. Then in the middle of the silent enjoyment of the music and avoidance of the elephant in the room, Adam reached over, took my hand, and said, “Damn it woman! Do you not know how much we all love you?” What followed was a teary explosion and a little bit of laughter from everyone at the table and the man on stage singing.
The weekend of the conference fell a few days later. I knew I had to prepare my volunteer colleagues for what they were witnessing as well as prepare them for my stepping down as an administrator. I waited and tried to hide the shaking and the pain, but the weight loss and shaking was very obvious to my dear friends; they cornered me in our room and asked for an explanation. We talked and embraced. I followed by telling my “volunteer bosses” on the last day of the conference to prepare them for my replacement. I wasn’t ready for their tears either. I wasn’t ready to be forced to step away from CKI or the many wonderful people with whom I worked.
In the months to come, I couldn’t bring myself to talk to my family about the reality before me. I researched homeopathic methods to slow the progress to no avail. I made up stories about how much stronger I was becoming, when in fact I was taking pain medication, muscle relaxers, indulging in Pilates, and lifting weights. Nothing helped. Nothing eased the pain, Nothing took away the tremors which had progressed so much that I often was paralyzed from normal activity. I scared students, I dropped things, and I felt like I would never be free from this demon. Where is an exorcist when needed??? They save all the cool stuff for the movies. Then one day a friends asked me to go see an herbalist. I truly thought she was crazy, but after thinking further and talking to a few very spiritual women, I thought “Honestly Mary Elizabeth, what could it hurt at this point?”
A few days passed, and Teah and I made our way to his little shop in Rosebud, AR. We were the last to arrive that morning and waited for about two hours. I cannot write every detail of what happened that morning sitting in that little vitamin shop, but I can say very clearly, that I felt a warmth and comfort that I have only experienced a few other times in my life. After the long wait, I took my seat across from him, and he looked into my face; then he looked away. He began to draw my torso on a 5*7 card. He added a leg to the right side, then six dots. He explained, “You are healthy in heart, and brain, and blood, but your blood is being blocked by three benign cysts in your right breast and three blood clots located from your right arm down to your right leg.” He went on the explain how these appeared or were jarred into being, my family history, and what he suggested I do to remedy this. He then reached over and took my hand and told me something that I had never told anyone in my life, before he got up to gather the supplements he wanted me to try. Teah and I both sat still and dumbfounded.
Three weeks into taking the supplements, the tremors seemed to be less intense and less frequent. I stopped taking any pain medicines and muscle relaxants. Another three weeks, and the tremors were noticeably different still. I felt stronger and healthier. I could stand without shaking and run without pain. I was elated at the progressive healing my body was experiencing.
This week marks one year since my initial confrontation with my own immortality, eight months since visiting Barry Joneshill, and six months since my last tremor and bout of pain. This week, I will walk into the same GATC group and smile, because I am still here. I wake up each day thankful for my life and all of the blessings in it. I wake to thoughts of how very glad I am that I listened to that voice of discernment and traveled to Rosebud, AR. More importantly, I wake each day.
maryliza 