I hadn’t been to a doctor in decades. Oh, I had gone to urgent care as needed when faced with an ear ache or…well, I can’t remember. But, suffice to say, I just didn’t see doctors.
Until a friend encouraged me about 5 years ago, and encouraged me and encouraged me and encouraged me, to see one. And see one I finally did. In Illinois; not in Wisconsin, the state in which I live. Not because of any nefarious reasons, but because I was only willing to see a person that I knew. Because I was terrified. In fact, when they took my heart rate and blood pressure, I had to explain that I was there under duress.
In my early adulthood when I would get the flu, I was convinced that I would never get better. That this was the beginning of the end. When I turned 40 I was terrified that my life as I knew it would soon be over. That sickness would suddenly rule and define my world.
All this and more came from a childhood of sickness. Not mine. My dad’s (may his memory be a blessing). My memories of my childhood are filled with my dad being sick. From ulcers to headaches to electroshock therapy. That last one being a horrifying word to hear let alone imagine. There were times, as a young kid, that I was instructed by my mom to call the doctor. I remember standing in their bedroom being given directions on who to call and what to say. It was awful.
And this “trauma” has stayed with me now into my 70s. How I wish it wasn’t so. But when I have to go to the doctor, like I did this past week due to bronchitis type coughing, I return to my childhood. I don’t think straight, minimize my symptoms, spend my time apologizing, and do everything I can to make the visit as pleasant as possible for the nurse and the doctor. I’m desperate for help yet I can’t get out of there fast enough. And then when I leave there, I do my best to convince myself and those around me that “I’m fine.” Even when I’m not.
It’s exhausting. To be so dysfunctional.
Today I’ve been thinking about how I can get better at this. When you pray for patience or faith, God gives you circumstances to practice it. So if I want to get better and more functional when I’m sick, that means that I have to be sick more oft…No. That’s just not going to work.
Every day I thank God that I take no medications. I’m a 71 year old miracle and I don’t take that for granted. But…the day is going to come when my body, some part of it, will break down. And I know I can’t step into that with this highly dysfunctional behavior. So where does that leave me?
All I know is that this is not how God wants me to live when I’m sick. He’s all about the healing, Yes, the healing of my body, but more importantly the healing of my mind. There is no trauma too old to heal.
Timothy tells me that God has not given me a spirit of fear - this fear that came from childhood. But, instead, He wants me to have a spirit of power, love and a sound mind. So, in preparation for things to come, I think God is inviting me - UGH - to return to those days. And face them. Head on. Stay in those memories. Invite God into them. And then allow Him to heal them. So I’m marking a date on my calendar to do just that. For one day. It, most likely, won’t be enough, but it will be a start. A start that I’ve never had the courage before to do. But it seems to be time. Time to remember. Time to heal. Time to function.
March 10, 2025 - Monday... Dear Sharon... We love you. It is that simple. May you remember that thought when you are scheduled for your regular doctor(s) visits, including: your regular GP, plus your eye doctor, and the other medical treatments for women. Any one of us would come with you should that help. And all of us would be devastated if you were suddenly not here - or impeded from being "Our Sharon" - if a treatment that could have been obtained to avoid or mitigate, wasn't. (Please hear the collective "You bet!" from all of us as we read this thought.) Blessings always from all of us... Your Fans!