The Closet Floor
"I set out to rule the world
With only a paper shield and a wooden sword.
No mountain dare stand in my way,
Even the oceans tremble in my wake.
The tide is brave, but always retreats.
Even the sand, it cowers under my feet.
My kingdom towers above it all,
While I sleep safe and sound in my cardboard walls."
—Sleeping at Last, "East"
Most days are met with pain. I live a life that many can sympathize with but few can empathize with. I wake up to a heaviness that haunts my every step, and I have a hard time letting go of the bed. It was almost nine years ago that I woke up one morning and began my routine before my commute into the city. But I never made it to work that day. Instead, I collapsed in my closet and laid on the floor for half an hour. I had no idea what was wrong, and I was completely unable to collect my thoughts enough to comprehend the situation. Finally, I was able to pull myself back to bed and rest. My wife woke a bit later, realizing I was still in bed, and asked why I wasn't going to work. “Too sick” was all I could say.
Fast forward about a month on the couch and at least six doctors. I finally had a diagnosis. Fibromyalgia!? What? Isn't that the older people’s disease? The one where everybody says, "I have an aunt or grandma or mother with that. Notice that they are all female, too. Yeah, I was the thirty-year-old male with Fibromyalgia (literally two weeks after my birthday).
When you are thirty years old, this is the last thing you want to hear. It does not make sense, and everything you thought you knew about the world seems to vanish. You start over.
Eight years later, I never felt settled in my diagnosis. I sought out anything that would help me understand it better, and I focused my efforts in the holistic view of medicine. I recently went down a path that was not expected. I hurt everywhere and was so bone tired that I could barely hold my head up. I always felt like I had the flu, and my body felt like it was dying from the inside out. But I never thought that Fibro was what I had.
Over the past year, I stumbled across a few posts that sounded eerily familiar. But they were not talking about Fibro. It was a different illness altogether: Lyme disease. I have been tested for Lyme disease many times over my lifetime (having grown up in the country and been bitten by ticks several times). Every time, the test came back negative. I learned that there are special labs in the U.S. that specifically test this illness and use much stricter standards. The problem is that insurance will not pay for these labs, and it is expensive. We made the decision to bite the bullet and have the test done, and I got my results back: I have chronic late-stage Lyme Disease. It is an illness centered around great controversy—from testing to funding to insurance denying any treatments. Most people who get Lyme go completely broke just trying to pay for treatments. Most doctors do not acknowledge its existence either because of lack of knowledge or because they are scared to lose their license if they treat it. It's all very fascinating and sad.
Needless to say, I have a long, uphill battle ahead of me. It takes about two years to feel relief from this, and most live the rest of their lives battling remnant complications. My current treatment is a six-month intense herbal and anti-microbial regiment combined with pulsing antibiotics to destroy the illness.
So here I am, starting over again. I have been on a journey of pain, of health, of joyous wonder. I have lived a life full of experience and excitement. I met the love of my life and learned how to be whole. I watched as both of my sons took their first breaths. I witnessed the miracle of God inflating my children’s lungs with the gift of life outside the womb. I have climbed mountains to see the heavens open before me. I have traveled to new lands just to be immersed in the culture. I have built schools in Mexico and studied in the heart of London.
Through all of this, I have held steadfast to one truth: the joy of the Lord is my strength (Nehemiah 8:10). I will not lose hope, and I will not lose focus. I will run and not walk through the finish line and find my prize waiting.
I set out to rule the world, but my paper shield and wooden sword have been proven to be inadequate. My false sense of power was destroyed by an insect bite, and my faith was tested by the might of microscopic bacteria. I now know that I cannot do this alone. I trust in the Lord, and I fight my battles with prayer. I seek truth and long for understanding. I focus on the next five feet without losing sight of the finish line. No matter how alone I feel, I know that my God, my wife, and my friends and family have me. I lean on those who lift me up, and I walk with those who can fight with me.
The closet floor is where my journey began, but is not where my life will end.
