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He Will Renew My Strength

“But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint.”  Isaiah 40:31

 

I waited. I hoped. I prayed. I tried to be patient. I was afraid I was too weak. Sometimes I wondered if I would ever be able to do it again. It’s been 3 months since I have felt secure enough to run alone. I missed the calm of my solo runs. I longed to soar like an eagle on a windy day.

It’s been 3 months since I felt that weird feeling in my stomach that I recognized as trouble on the horizon. I looked at my image in the rearview mirror and saw the twitching in my face and neck. I felt it moving down my shoulder into my arm. I felt the numbness in my face and lips and I knew what was coming. I got off the road immediately and turned the car off, pulled the keys out of the ignition and put them in the seat beside me and let nature take its course for the next little while. I’ve learned to handle life’s emergencies and not freak out. Hey, I don’t mind sitting on the furniture display in a store and waiting for my husband to come and get me either. Move along people, there is nothing to see here, and by the way, don’t buy this furniture because it is not comfortable, in case you wondered.

After the seizure several months ago there were 3 more over the next month. We added an additional medication and after playing around with the dosing, I think things are better under control, but it comes with new side effects. This time I’m not the devil’s twin sister, at least I don’t think I am (no comments from the peanut gallery please), but it does make me very dizzy, very very dizzy. I’m not afraid of working out at the gym because I’m in a class setting and the instructor knows about my health condition. I run with a group and they all know about my health issues, so I am safe when I run with them. But, I haven’t been ready to run on my own. I have always carried a cell phone if I am alone, but these new meds are different and this dizziness is different and I have to be sensible.

This morning I felt good. I felt strong. The hills didn’t seem quite so steep and the mileage didn’t seem quite so long. When we got to the 8 mile mark it was time to turn left and head back in. My two runner chicks were ready to head in, but my legs weren’t, and my head wasn’t. I guess my face showed it. Sharon, who first introduced me to running in 2004, saw it in my eyes because she looked right at me and said “You are not done are you?” I looked to my right, and the only place to run is uphill, and I knew I would be running solo for the first time in 3 months if I decided to do it. Hmm…. “Yeah, you two head in and I’m turning right and running up this hill and adding on a mile.”

As I turned and began running alone I only heard my breath, my footsteps, the swishing of my arms and legs. This was so different. Even though we may separate some as we run, I can always hear others nearby, but when we go in opposite directions there is complete silence. I was alone. For the first time in 3 months I was on a solo run. I was over 8 miles into my run, solo for the first time and feeling stronger than ever, heading up the dreaded Knox Hill, because I wanted to, because I could, and loving every minute of it. WHAT?! Who said that? Did I say that?

OK. Wait for it. Wait for it. This is the moment when I remind myself that I’m supposed to buckle my seatbelt, put on a helmet and HOLDFAST for a wild ride.  “But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint.”  Isaiah 40:31

On this beautiful windy February morning, God reminded me that I have put my hope in Him and He has renewed my strength. He gave me wings to soar like an eagle and I ran, and I ran, and I ran, and I was not weary, and I was not dizzy, and I did not faint.

I am blessed, because He has blessed me. It is that simple. He has blessed me.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, February 2012

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Fear. What is it good for?

A curious thing…fear. It keeps us from walking into a busy street because we know the danger of being hit. This is a no brainer. Fear the busy road. Plenty of times fear saves us from danger and harm. For example, it’s generally in my best interest NOT to shop at Target.  Driving on Sam Furr Rd in Huntersville is hazardous to your heart, health and vehicle.  I fear Target and Sam Furr Rd, so I stay away from both, thus it keeps me from danger. You get the idea.

Fear could have kept me from walking into Weight Watchers in 2004. It didn’t. Fear could have kept me from running my first half marathon in 2004. It didn’t. Fear could have kept me from walking away from my job in 2007. It didn’t. Next to marriage and having children, those three decisions have changed the course of my personal life more drastically than any other decision I have ever made. 

The familiar walls of my home keep me comfortable. The recognizable faces of my family and friends keep me in my safe place. Texts and emails make communication much easier for me. Then sometimes I think, it’s been so long now…my inner routine…, what do I fear about the outside world?

What fear is holding me, or you, back from reaching a greater potential than we might have already realized? Am I afraid of something that isn’t even worthy of fear? How many times have you finished something you feared and thought to yourself that it wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it would be? Oh, just in case you were wondering, marathons are as bad as you feared they would be, but they are worth every step, just so you know.

I’ve conquered some fears in the past, and I’ve got my fair share to conquer in the future and beyond. What lies beneath the surface? I wonder, would it bring me good or harm and why do I fear it so much? I certainly don’t have all the answers. Just thinking about fear. What is it good for?

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, January 2012

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Pressing On Through Frustration

I try really hard not to complain about my epilepsy, my brain injury and the complicated side effects of the five medications that I take everyday, but it is frustrating. It’s frustrating when I could depend on myself in the past and I can’t anymore. There is just so much that is different.

Last week I completely freaked out in my weight class when the instructor asked me to count how many people were there. I have trouble counting groups of anything because I can’t figure out how to group things in an order so that I will know what has been counted and what has not been counted. Short of asking everyone to stand up and then sit down after I point to them I was literally at a loss for what to do. I just tried to count the mats on the floor and then I added a few for good measure. I walked out of class wondering how I had turned into someone who is afraid to silently count people who aren’t even looking or talking to me. Bizarre.

I miss the human connection that I used to have. Sometimes it can be so hard. Conversations can be so strained and down right exhausting. My mind is slow and my speech is even slower. When I try to speak, the words don’t sound right coming out of my mouth so I repeat them. They still don’t sound right. So I slow my speech to pay attention to everything I’m saying, but they still sound wrong, so I repeat them again, and then I sound ridiculous.  Then I’m embarrassed and I quit trying. Sometimes I don’t understand what people are talking about so I can’t even enter the conversation. Years ago I could have.  Now I just stand silent.

It feels like forever since I’ve felt like myself. I’m not sure I know who that is anymore. When I make mistakes is it because I’m just getting a little older and trying to multi task too much or is it because of my brain injury and the side effects of the epilepsy medicine? Can I drop just one medicine that causes the worst side effects or is the risk of seizure too great? A seizure could be fatal. The risk is too great. I have to press on through the frustration.

I’m still learning. I’m still growing. I’m still trying to embrace my new me, my new world and my new normal. I’m trying really hard to like it. Some days are easier than others. Today was not an easy day.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, December 2011

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The Power of the Purple Ribbon

November is not just about the turkey. November is also National Epilepsy Awareness Month. It’s a little known fact and one that my family decided would become better known this year. This was a conscious decision that I made, and not one that I took lightly.

The most difficult part of sharing this blog is letting people connect the diagnosis to me. My blog lets people know I have the disorder. Sometimes that can be a tough pill to swallow, literally. When you pin on a purple ribbon the whole point is to raise awareness and hope that people will ask what it represents. It’s one thing to wear a purple ribbon and tell people you are wearing it because you know someone with epilepsy. It’s another can of hot tamales to tell a complete stranger that I’m wearing a purple ribbon because I have epilepsy. Get ready for some awkward moments, stares and comments. People have preconceived ideas about epilepsy and whether the information they have is true or false, and I had to be mentally prepared. I learned a long time ago (from our dear Kathleen) that awkward moments are more about the other person than me, and in the end, the cause is worth a few weird minutes of my day. After all, everyone has issues, I’m just bold enough to tell people what mine are.

Epilepsy Awareness at our house started with one spool of purple ribbon and one box of pins. Johnny came home and saw me with a glue gun (which is the absolute extent of my crafting skills) and asked what I was planning to do. I told him I planned to make a few lapel ribbons for us all to wear in November and maybe a few extras to give away. I made 10 ribbons that night.  I never could have dreamed what I would see unfold over the next 30 days!

One spool of purple ribbon and one box of pins is where Epilepsy Awareness in our house started. Here’s what it became…

my husband wearing a purple ribbon every single day, even if he never left the house.

my children wearing purple ribbons on their shirts, jackets and backpacks everyday and carrying extras everyday to share.

my 13 year old proclaiming Epilepsy Awareness Day at his middle school, speaking to his entire school, educating them and asking them all to wear purple to support the cause. All of his teachers, most of his classmates (some even in purple socks), many in his grade and dozens of others in the school supporting the cause by wearing purple and wearing the 200+ ribbons he shared.

my 8 year old following his brother’s lead, speaking to his entire elementary school about epilepsy and asking them to wear purple on the day he chose as Epilepsy Awareness Day. His classmates, decked out in purple (leggings and headbands included), students, faculty and staff wearing purple or one of the 100+ ribbons he shared, all because a little boy told them he was doing something for his mom.

posts on Facebook from friends saying that all the kids at the bus stop were wearing purple.

posts on Facebook from friends letting me know they were wearing purple.

my Mom wearing the same purple shirt day after day after day (I do so love my Mom).

my Mom’s co-workers sporting their purple duds.

my mother in law wearing her purple ribbon at Thanksgiving dinner.

my sister in law wearing purple on the day my son chose as Epilepsy Awareness Day at his school.

my friend wearing her ribbon at the school where she teaches and hearing how she is sharing about epilepsy with her students.

seeing one of my purple ribbons pinned neatly on a friend’s sweater when I met her for lunch.

a picture on Facebook of a friend wearing her purple ribbon and sharing the meaning behind it.

sitting down in church and seeing a friend wearing the ribbon we gave her the week before.

a relative who recognized symptoms I described in my blog, sought medical attention, and was finally correctly diagnosed with seizures.

a friend reaching out to me after experiencing break through seizures for the first time in years.

a phone call from an advocate in Tennessee who read my story and was looking for people willing to speak out.

an email from a lady in Nebraska who developed epilepsy from a brain injury and has never been able to explain how she feels to her family. They now read my blog and understand her emotions in a way she hasn’t been able to express.

one epilepsy fact or thought on my Facebook wall each day to educate and inform others.

our 4′ Christmas tree in the playroom decorated with the leftover purple ribbons.

A dozen spools of purple ribbon and 5 boxes of pins later, Epilepsy Awareness took on a life of its own in 30 days.

Where this goes from here and what my role in it will be, is anyone’s guess. The staggering truth is that Epilepsy affects nearly 3 million Americans and is still one of the least understood major chronic medical conditions. Unfortunately many patients have cases too severe to speak for themselves. They can’t speak up but they desperately need people willing to speak out. I’m among the fortunate, I’m able to speak up and I’m loud enough to speak out. Hang on folks, please remain seated with your seatbelt buckled and enjoy your ride. Something tells me this train is about to leave the station.

There’s power in that purple ribbon!

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, December 2011

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Trash to Treasure and Raising Awareness

November is Epilepsy Awareness Month. My family and I are wearing purple ribbons everyday to raise awareness. We invite our friends to share awareness by wearing ribbons and telling others why you are putting on purple this month!  Awareness begins with sharing and I’m sharing my own story of Epilepsy.

My memories until 2005 are pretty clear. After that, the memories fade for a few years, and then pick back up somewhere in 2008. I still fight back the tears and anger when I think about the years of my children’s lives where I was physically present, but mentally absent. I was robbed of fully participating in some of the best years of their childhood. My career ended when I thought it was just beginning. A Mild Traumatic Brain Injury in 2005 led to Epilepsy and my world was rocked. I wasn’t shattered beyond repair, but I was thrown into a world I did not know existed and was transplanted into a body and a mind that I did not recognize. Each day is a lesson in both patience and perseverance with myself. I’m trying to embrace the changes that life has brought me, accept the reality of my brain injury and learn to live with Epilepsy.

It was a simple errand. I needed to price trashcans for an upcoming event where I worked. I went to a local store. I remember walking in the store and turning left past the cash registers and then hanging a right between clothing and cards. Then I remember looking into bright lights, feeling plastic and air on my face, hearing strange voices rattling off medical jargon and a lot of loud beeps. I saw scissors cutting the left sleeve of my coat and sweater. I tried to move my arm away from the scissors but my arm was stuck. I tried to raise my head and look around but my head wouldn’t move. I remember the fear I felt when I realized I was in an ambulance and strapped to a gurney. We will never know exactly what happened that day. Someone found me on the trashcan aisle. There were no witnesses to tell us why I ended up on the ground with a gash bleeding on the side of my head.

I spent the next two months being chauffeured to every specialist imaginable but there seemed to be no explanation for my accident. My blood tests were good, X Rays were good, MRIs were good, MRAs were good, EEGs were good, EKGs were good and tilt table tests were good. With no obvious illness or condition, the doctors released me to drive and resume my life. As weeks passed and I attempted to go about my normal routines I quickly realized that nothing was normal. I couldn’t remember my address, my phone number or my birthday. I couldn’t remember where my children were and I couldn’t remember where I was supposed to be. I couldn’t even recall the names of my own family members. Doctors assured me that all their tests showed I was fine and they expected a full recovery. I knew I was not fine.

Six months later I was staring into bright lights again. This time I was on the floor of a children’s store in the mall. My head felt like hammers were hitting it, my shoulder ached and my tongue felt like someone had stabbed it with a butcher’s knife. A woman’s face was above me and she told me help was coming and that I would be okay. She said my husband was on his way. I remember screaming for my 2 year old son. She pointed to the back of the store where customers had occupied him with toys. When I asked what happened, she said I had a seizure and she had witnessed everything.

My Neurologist confirmed that I had Post Traumatic Epilepsy. I spent another six months in the passenger seat being chauffeured around town, dependent upon friends and family to help maintain some sense of normal for my children. After several trials of medications we finally found one with manageable side effects. I went through months of speech and cognitive therapy to learn new coping strategies for my deficiencies.

My life changed forever in 2005. I fought hard to regain what was lost but I had to face the reality of the long-term injuries I sustained. I left my career in 2007 to focus on my own physical and mental health and on my family. I’ve been on a journey of self discovery while learning to cope differently in a world that expects me to be the same. The shell of my body remains the same but my inner workings have been overhauled. I’m working to fight my constant fears of another seizure. I’m learning to accept the rest of my life on medication and hoping that the side effects won’t rob anymore of my time. I’m trying to make Epilepsy understood and accepted among people and a world that does not understand and does not accept it. I’m also learning that when I’m brave enough to share my story there are people who want to understand and who want to raise awareness.

I have a brain injury and I have Epilepsy, but they do not have me. I wake up each day and make a conscious decision to embrace change, accept a brain injury, live with epilepsy and thrive in my own skin. My journey began with a trashcan and I’m determined to turn it into treasure.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, November 2011