My sister told me today her stomach hurt. I suggested eating peanut butter on marshmallows. The BRAT diet came to mind but she doesn’t like bananas or toast. I guess she could eat the RA and I could be a cheerleader. RA RA RA. Shish boom ba.
Um…
There’s not really a quick fix or even great suggestion. I try to recall what’s relieved similar symptoms in the past, but unless she’s “foggy,” my sister will remember way better than me. So I just make stuff up. Say it with confidence and truth it will be. Too bad she knows I’m a terrible liar.
I read a blog today called “My Wife Has Lupus” where the author wrote:
Sometimes she just wants to know that things will get better, or that the pain is temporary. I can certainly tell her that, even though I don’t know if it’s true. I don’t know that it’s not true, so I feel like I’m still being truthful.
How often should this we said about our lives in general, Louie or no? Work can be crazy, relationships confusing, conflicts bubbling and pain and sorrow showing up, unwelcomed.
At these moments when we can name the issue and then ask, “what will happen?” why not say, good will come? I don’t know the future any better than anyone else though I eat Chinese food as much as I can to practice my fortune telling skills with the cookies. I do know, though, that a statement that’s positive, optimistic and containing even an ounce of hope, even if it’s only a partial truth, can be just the relief needed or encouragement to carry on. My last paper for class or issue at work or my sister’s sleep schedule might not turn out as perfection, but at least we can move forward into these situations with a glimmer of the possibility. It’s the spoonful of sugar with all the other medicine that has to go down.
Ready? OK!
2-4-6-8
Tomorrow can turn out great!
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Saturday, February 27, 2010
ear training
Growing up in Wyoming I was exposed to two different languages: English with consonants in proper places (ie Let’s go. and waTer) or English without proper consonants. (ie Lez go. and waddER) Since moving beyond the borders of this mostly solitary state, I’ve encountered other languages and accents. Sometimes a bit of a southern accent came over my mom especially after speaking to her brothers in Texas or counting eight, nine, TIN. Spokane and the Pacific Northwest have a pretty neutral sound. A dropped “OO” sound in TO creating a word that is more like TAH is common and a hard habit to break, but no big deal. So my real “learnin’” came from my time with Africans. Not only did I hear several different languages and dialects of a certain African regions, but also their English rang with a completely new tenor. A little British influence kept me on my toes, trying to train my ears to new sounds for seemingly familiar words.
Training the ear was a must. Sometimes I had to interpret their English to host families who didn’t have their ears in tune yet. It comes with time, but the process was grueling. In the beginning I wasn’t sure if I was being laughed at because I said, “Repeat again.” for the fifth time or because the teasing comments said about me weren’t meant to be heard.
Ear training requires patience and physical growth. I’m sure if I Googled the subject I would discover how many new synapses are created in the process and how many other areas of the brain are utilized to comprehend a new sounding word. Those numbers don’t matter much. Realizing the effort required physically, mentally, and emotionally has to be experienced.
I’m learning to train my ear to a new accent. Louie Language. Subtle differences are noticeable but hard to interpret sometimes. My responses are sometimes wacky too as I try to speak “normally” without falling into this accent. But just like when I make larger Oh sounds when I hang out with my British friends, I sometimes fall into Louie language. “Why not a nap?” “I’m hurting.” “Can we hang out and rest today?”
But more than this stretched analogy is the issue with communication. Are the words and ideas of conversation with my sister or others with lupus always peppered with symptoms or results of lupus? Do I create meanings for words through that filter just because it’s part of the context of life? And are my words always heard that way? How do I train myself to speak plainly about issues, my needs or misunderstandings? As important, how do I hear and internalize concerns, needs or simple news without putting a Louie accent on it?
I’ve read in several books about the importance of communication in relationships that live with lupus. The realities of the illness require a person to say “not today” or “that’s beyond my energy.” At the same time, the hearer has to know what those things mean without taking a personal affront or judgmental or pitying stance. Likewise, the person living with the person living with lupus has to express her emotions and thoughts without guilt. And the hearer needs to realize its not a personal attack or judgmental statement. That kind of training is difficult. I think it’s more than synapses connecting; I think it requires a growth of the heart. Sometimes that’s where messages are interpreted properly anyway, regardless of accent.
A person who’s learned multiple languages and lived in various places might not hear/speak Louie language any better than me. But it’s worth the effort to learn.
Maybe after I get a good grasp, I’ll visit Louisville.
Training the ear was a must. Sometimes I had to interpret their English to host families who didn’t have their ears in tune yet. It comes with time, but the process was grueling. In the beginning I wasn’t sure if I was being laughed at because I said, “Repeat again.” for the fifth time or because the teasing comments said about me weren’t meant to be heard.
Ear training requires patience and physical growth. I’m sure if I Googled the subject I would discover how many new synapses are created in the process and how many other areas of the brain are utilized to comprehend a new sounding word. Those numbers don’t matter much. Realizing the effort required physically, mentally, and emotionally has to be experienced.
I’m learning to train my ear to a new accent. Louie Language. Subtle differences are noticeable but hard to interpret sometimes. My responses are sometimes wacky too as I try to speak “normally” without falling into this accent. But just like when I make larger Oh sounds when I hang out with my British friends, I sometimes fall into Louie language. “Why not a nap?” “I’m hurting.” “Can we hang out and rest today?”
But more than this stretched analogy is the issue with communication. Are the words and ideas of conversation with my sister or others with lupus always peppered with symptoms or results of lupus? Do I create meanings for words through that filter just because it’s part of the context of life? And are my words always heard that way? How do I train myself to speak plainly about issues, my needs or misunderstandings? As important, how do I hear and internalize concerns, needs or simple news without putting a Louie accent on it?
I’ve read in several books about the importance of communication in relationships that live with lupus. The realities of the illness require a person to say “not today” or “that’s beyond my energy.” At the same time, the hearer has to know what those things mean without taking a personal affront or judgmental or pitying stance. Likewise, the person living with the person living with lupus has to express her emotions and thoughts without guilt. And the hearer needs to realize its not a personal attack or judgmental statement. That kind of training is difficult. I think it’s more than synapses connecting; I think it requires a growth of the heart. Sometimes that’s where messages are interpreted properly anyway, regardless of accent.
A person who’s learned multiple languages and lived in various places might not hear/speak Louie language any better than me. But it’s worth the effort to learn.
Maybe after I get a good grasp, I’ll visit Louisville.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Purpose even in Paranormal
I'm a preachin' woman or should I say I had an opportunity to relay a little bit of how God is working in my life recently. I spoke about living everyday on purpose. A simple statement and yet so hard to do. Intentionality is the name of the game but how do we do that? How do we live on purpose when we have so much to do? How do we keep a day of Sabbath when studying has to be done and the empty cupboards need to be filled? How can we show our love and affection as boldly and generously on March 14th as we do February 14th.
The subject of living everyday on purpose has touched my life with my sister. We can't wast time with meaningless things when those moments would otherwise be used preciously sleeping or...sleeping. Both of us have to adjust to everyday in this reality.
One thing I talked about at church today was living in "paranormal" days, "beyond normal" days. Since each day is a new day that's never been lived we have an opportunity to make it special, one to remember, even a Holy Day because it's WHOLE if we devote it to God's purposes. After reflecting on death, diagnosis, and chronic illness I said, "Normal days after paranormal days such as those spent receiving news about shocking circumstances have to be lived in a new way, sometimes a daily struggle to figure out. But one way we make these 'new normal days' have purpose is to live out that reality. Living truthfully makes even those days WHOLE. It's a simple statement but it was probably my favorite line from my message because no matter what our circumstances, we can live truthfully where we are. If I denied my sister the ability to live with Louie, it would not only hurt her physically and mentally, but I would deny her the chance to live honestly as J. If I denied myself feelings of being bummed or joyful from simple delights, I would live a lie.
It's a tricky balance and something that we have to remind ourselves of quite often. Just as I plan my day around when she naps so I don't interrupt her with a phone call and she plans her life around naps, we have to be intentional about infusing the day with purpose, even if it's a simple as an uninterrupted nap and a worthwhile conversation afterward.
The subject of living everyday on purpose has touched my life with my sister. We can't wast time with meaningless things when those moments would otherwise be used preciously sleeping or...sleeping. Both of us have to adjust to everyday in this reality.
One thing I talked about at church today was living in "paranormal" days, "beyond normal" days. Since each day is a new day that's never been lived we have an opportunity to make it special, one to remember, even a Holy Day because it's WHOLE if we devote it to God's purposes. After reflecting on death, diagnosis, and chronic illness I said, "Normal days after paranormal days such as those spent receiving news about shocking circumstances have to be lived in a new way, sometimes a daily struggle to figure out. But one way we make these 'new normal days' have purpose is to live out that reality. Living truthfully makes even those days WHOLE. It's a simple statement but it was probably my favorite line from my message because no matter what our circumstances, we can live truthfully where we are. If I denied my sister the ability to live with Louie, it would not only hurt her physically and mentally, but I would deny her the chance to live honestly as J. If I denied myself feelings of being bummed or joyful from simple delights, I would live a lie.
It's a tricky balance and something that we have to remind ourselves of quite often. Just as I plan my day around when she naps so I don't interrupt her with a phone call and she plans her life around naps, we have to be intentional about infusing the day with purpose, even if it's a simple as an uninterrupted nap and a worthwhile conversation afterward.
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