June 21, 2014

Yesterday the home health care nurse, Nancy Elkin, came to my home to show me how to do the injections which will slow the progression of the disease. When we spoke on the phone, I was resistant. I had heard that I would be sick for a day a week and I don't want to invite more disability. She heard my hesitation and came the next day so as not to give me time to think.

We practiced and practiced. As my anxiety increased so did my giggling. When it was time for me to plunge the syringe into my leg I burst into tears. That seems so wrong. She told me to breathe and kept perfect eye contact. I did it and it was nothing. No pain, no feeling at all really, and over quickly. The first week is 1/4 dose, increasing each of the next three weeks until we are up to the full dose which maintains for the rest of my life.

Before pushing the syringe into my leg I realized that this is a turning point in my life. Never again will I be at the "pre-injection" phase. This is an idiosyncratic construct but it signals my acceptance of "my condition." I can't will it away or ignore it and expect an easy resolution. Injecting medicine is serious.

Truthfully, I'm very grateful that help exists and is available. I just didn't want to be someone who needed it. But, as Nancy said, in our 60s, we all have something. I am encouraged that my illness is known and treatable. I will use all the support that the medical profession offers but I take my healing as my responsibility. I commit to nurturing my healing consciousness. I am aware that Spirit knows my needs. I also know that Spirit offers me direction and support every day. I need to listen carefully to discern the specifics. And I need to receive and not to think. Thinking obliterates Spirit's message.


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