The end of a world

Anyone who has stumbled across a link to this blog during NHBPM, or otherwise recently, may have yet to discover that I actually post on topics other than health! November had a deliberate theme of health related posts, causing me to diverge heavily from my usual jumble of thoughts and ideas and actually run on a trend. So here is a heads-up; this post is going to be heavily spiritual.

This past week has been utterly insane. I don’t even know where to begin with explaining everything that has been going on, but I suppose that I need to begin somewhere, so here it is: Last Thursday, two women from my church came round to pray with me. I have been prayed for a lot over the past year or so, since being ill generally elicits such a response, but in this case I had felt quite strongly I ought to invite one lady in particular to pray for me; she herself has had ME and been healed from it (hurrah!). So, they came, they prayed, they left; nothing really changed.

Friday started out as a fairly good day, the kind where you have enough energy to get dressed after breakfast, and you don’t add a teabag to your cereal. I felt pretty energetic, so, since I had been prayed for, I had this mad idea that I would try walking down the stairs without my crutches. I mean, just a few steps, and holding my crutches, so that if I suddenly needed them or stranded myself I would be okay (let’s not be too mad here). It started a bit tentatively, but by the time I reached the ground floor I was walking normally.

I reached the ground floor, by myself, in one go, and I was walking normally.

I think that it was somewhere during this remarkable journey that I started actually thinking something might have changed.

So, being the sensible and deliberate person I am, did I rest off for another day to avoid crashing from this overdose of activity? No, my crazy self decided to test it. So, I ran up the stairs. Not just one or two steps, but all the way to the top of our building. And then, I sat down and cried. I think that that is a reasonable reaction of someone who has just overnight gone from barely making it a few metres, to running up three flights of stairs in one go.

Still, I was kind of unsure. This could be adrenaline, or a slight recovery that I’d just royally screwed up by overdoing it – and I was frankly in disbelief that I had just done all that. I walked back down the stairs and let my friend in, and didn’t say anything about it, expecting any moment to be crippled by PEM, and suddenly collapse. Certainly I had done more than enough to land me in bed for a week.

But a few hours later, I wasn’t feeling it at all – and I usually would be, at least a bit. So I figured I should go even crazier: I wanted to do something bold that would definitely show if anything had changed or not. Thus, I decided to walk to my husband’s work – which is about a mile and a half from our flat. Now, ordinarily I would not be able to even reach the main door in one go, so a mile and a half seemed extreme enough to work for test conditions. You can’t explain away a mile and a half as ‘adrenaline’ – nor can you walk it if you’re that ill.

I made it out of the flat, and I kept going. After I had managed to leave our street, I rang a friend and cried down the phone insane ramblings about how I was walking and felt naked because I had no crutches with me! It was seriously surreal. I felt like I must be sleeping, and any moment I would wake up. At one point I stopped briefly to stretch my legs, and someone asked me if I was okay – no idea what I responded, but I really hadn’t been this ‘okay’ in over a year.

Yeah, I got to his work. Then I left it another 24 hours to see if I would crash – and nothing. Now it’s been a week, and I’ve still not crashed. To put it shortly – oh wow, I was healed.

It has been a whirlwind week of doing ordinary things. I showered, several times. I went to church. I shopped. I cooked. I saw friends and chatted. I went to the cinema. I phoned people. I read things. I played games. I walked. I caught the bus. I washed my hair. I did the laundry and the dishwasher and cleaned the bath. Every single thing is unbelievably weird, and completely and utterly awesome, and I am so thankful for all of it.

I’m still trying to work out the extent to which I’ve gotten better – I desperately want to be 100% healed but I know that’s not always the case. I have also been scared that it might not last, and scared to say “hey, I was prayed for and then I got better”, and scared in general because my whole life has been turned upside down – again. I don’t know where to start, or what to do. It is a good thing, oh boy is it good, but it is terrifying.

A good friend said this: “God has given you a gift, don’t doubt it, or fear it, or hold it so tightly it crumbles in your hands… It may last a day, a week, a year or a lifetime. Don’t worry, enjoy this gift, trust God. He knows what he is doing.”

So – that’s what I intend to do. Enjoy it, be thankful and trust God. Also, to do what everyone else is saying to me – take it slow! Give myself time to work out how much better I am, and work out what to do with what I now have. Christmas is great timing because it gives me a while to relax and get used to myself. I don’t intend to run from everything I encountered through the past while, or turn my back on everything that’s bad and see this as my escape. I intend to do what’s right – but I do need to work out where to focus my energy. I might be better but I didn’t suddenly become omnipotent. I want, so badly, to make some kind of a difference to everything that is broken, but there is an awful lot of broken stuff, and I don’t quite know where my place is in all that.

The future is scary, but it’s good. In all this time God has never abandoned us, so he will hardly turn his back now he has released me! Maybe it will last, maybe it won’t – I know for sure that almost everything is uncertain. Either way, I will follow him. Maybe I’m fully better, maybe partially – and I didn’t see myself ever saying this – but I have been healed!

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