Dear LORD:
Please help me with my health. I am sick and I need to get well. Thank you for putting me in touch with Dr. Sharpe. Guide him in the area of my healing. Let this be the one that works. Amen!
MDDL:
Your MEQ today was my kiss when you left the house, and correcting me about how you did give me one. It made my day that you actually did kiss me. I know it seems silly, as it is such a little thing. But it is very important to me and it means so much to me that you pay attention to this.
The way I feel about my health is stressed out, anxiety ridden, frustrated, depressed, and filled with despair. I have been trying to ignore these feelings, as I usually do, but they keep coming to the surface.
I have made the appointment with Dr. Sharpe pretty much my last hope in resolving this issue. I am very hopeful that it will work this time. Once he prescribes a solution, you may be sure that I will be extremely compliant. The feeling that I had when I was in his office was one of being overwhelmed with grief and longing. I was on the verge of tears as I described my condition, as I was required to get in touch with my feelings as I did so. I realized at that moment that I am dying from this disease. If I do not resolve this issue eventually, it will take me down one way or another. I do not want to go there.
It is frustrating in the extreme that we have invested so much of our precious lives and treasure in search for a solution to this problem. It is only skin after all. It is just supposed to sit there on the outside of your body doing its job. Not making your life miserable and insufferable.
Anyway, as I sat there in Dr. Sharpe's office and I described the litany of symptoms that I have, and the trendline of how they are getting worse and worse all the time, I found myself filled with a feeling which is difficult to describe. It's like everything came together in that moment in time. I understood then more clearly what I am dealing with than I have ever done before. I know the stakes. It was truly a moment of clarity.
The worst of it was describing what happened to my father. I do not know if you remember how bad it was towards the end. His entire body was falling to dust. All of his nails were crumbling into a chaotic mass of something like dried, rotten cardboard. When you touched him, massive clouds of dusty particles would fly everywhere.
If the cancer had not killed him, the psoriasis would have eventually.
I really do not want to do that. I must become healthy again. Much of my life, I have been able to ignore my body. It pretty much just clicked along on its own. I could neglect it, feed it crap, drink alcohol and the like. It took all of that abuse with no problem at all.
No longer. My body has become my enemy. It hunts me, stalking me down. I can run, but I cannot hide. Sooner or later, it is going to track me down and make the kill.
And that is perhaps my strongest feeling about my body and its abuse of me: Anger, betrayal, unfairness. A feeling of righteous indignation. Like what did I do to deserve this? Why me? You get the idea.
If this feeling had a color, it would be the bright, burning red of the bull fighter's cape. It is like the feeling that you get when everything is just too much, combine frustration at your job with your kids, with your car acting up, and boom! You overflow into a massive pool of rage. You find yourself out of control. You lash out at the only target you have handy: Yourself or some inanimate object. Screaming impotent cries of rage against an uncaring sky.
All of which accomplishes precisely nothing. All of which I cannot begin to tell you how tired I am of feeling that.
Somehow, I must make peace with my body. I must end the war within my physical being. I must find a way to make my body my friend again.
I beg you for your help, love and support as I go through this. With all of the challenges that I have faced in my life, this may be the greatest.
Love,
Me
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