Inside Bell's Brain

  I had a conversation with someone a good while back in which we were celebrating someone else’s victory. The person we were discussing had recently received what appeared to be answered prayers!    My friend was so proud of and inspired by this person’s journey and how all this person has been through was always used to glorify God. We discussed how this person never lost faith and gave God glory throughout the entire ordeal. I thought a lot about that. About how publicly, this person has done and said all the right things. That’s genuinely admirable and certainly a trait to cultivate. I do not think for one second that this friend meant anything toward me by the statement - that wasn’t the purpose of the comment at all - , but as an introspective person, I was quickly convicted that the same compliment probably wasn’t being said about me somewhere. Instead, I have publicly and transparently struggled throughout my nervous breakdown, and now I am struggling through this new physical

I am exceptionally grateful to have gotten a good report today. I pray I am on the mend to a full and complete recovery, but there are so many things about this experience that I never want to forget. One of those things happened today before I ever got in the doctor’s office.   We arrived at the clinic, and the parking garage was an absolute nightmare. They have a designated drop-off spot for patients, but it was very confusing, so we just proceeded to the first available spot on the next level up. My husband carried all our accoutrements with us, so all I had to transport was myself and my walker (including all my pee bag tubes).   My walker. At 35. This has given me a glimpse into what it is like to need adaptive technologies. It has shown me what our elderly must go through daily, and I don’t ever want to forget that.  My husband tried to slow his long-legged pace and still stay far enough ahead of me to open doors and not let elevators close up before I could inch my way there. Bu

I could sugar coat it. I could “doctor” the images and go on and on about how fabulous my husband is for helping create this little garden nook for me. I could position the lens so you can’t see all the “extra” stuff, but that’s not my reality.  My reality? 52 abdominal staples. A walker (see featured photo). A nephrostomy tube running out of my left kidney through my back. A catheter that hangs from said walker just to give it that extra glamorous touch. A stint that’s supporting my bladder while it fashions a brand new ureter for me out of my existing tissues. Hospital gowns.  My reality? Friends tell me it’s more intensive than their C-sections, and from what I understand it was/is. I could’ve lost my kidney completely. I almost went septic in the hosptial.   My reality? Today is the first day of no pain medicine (not no pain, but no pain meds) and even remotely being able to do anything for myself. I still cannot enjoy the basic pleasures of showering and going to the bathroom, of