And Now I See

Dana Marie

Description

And Now I See is the story of great loss that causes eternal gain. In the process of losing her sight, the storyteller learns that life is filled with glorious riches that are invisible to the naked eye. Overcoming the fear of complete blindness catapults her into a life of compassionate adventure that carries her throughout the globe, serving, loving and helping others who may be struggling. Her strength emanates from her faith in God and the Bible. Through a variety of tests, some agonizing, others hilarious, her faith is proven true and right. The question is, "Where will the journey lead next?"

Sujets

• Philosophie et théologie

Informations

• Publié par: Inspiring Voices
• Date de parution: 30 août 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781462412785
• Langue: English

Extrait

AND NOW I SEE
 
BY DANA MARIE
 
 
 
 

 
Copyright © 2019 By Dana Marie.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
 
Inspiring Voices
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.inspiringvoices.com
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Scripture quotations taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version® NIV® Copyright © 1973 1978 1984 2011 by Biblica, Inc. TM.
Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
 
ISBN: 978-1-4624-1277-8 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4624-1278-5 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019910907
 
 
Inspiring Voices rev. date: 8/29/2019
CONTENTS
There is Something in My Eye
I Need a Filling
Reality Check
I Would Never Go to Church
Tin Cans and Bake Sales
Modimo wa Busa
Cow Tongue
Vladimir
Ding
Boasting in God
His Name
Pack Your Bags
Defended Wordlessly
A Visitor
When I Come Back
Save a Few Bucks
Yes
About the Author
THERE IS SOMETHING IN MY EYE

A lthough I am certain that details of my childhood formed the foundation of who I am, I will begin my story at age 15. As a sophomore in high school, I had struggled with Type 1 Diabetes for nine years, taking insulin injections twice a day, visiting doctors periodically, and pricking my fingers to test blood sugars. I carried the mindset that my disease was arbitrarily unfair, feeling that I had suffered quite a bit and endured my fair share of hardship. I didn’t really wallow in sorrow but I did struggle with the reality of managing a disease. Living with this burden of disease became part of life, almost normal, like a comfortable pair of shoes. This comfort, though, was shredded when my younger sister grew gravely ill and had to be rushed to the hospital.
I remember my mom’s phone call, informing me that my sister would remain in the hospital for several days and that she had been diagnosed with the same disease that had plagued me for years. I hung up the phone and wept, knowing that I didn’t want her to deal with the same hurts that I did. I agonized. I prayed. I raised my hands and shook them at the heavens. I pondered the Sunday school lessons about God’s love. These thoughts flooded through my mind and fueled my grief with explosive anger. Yes, the God that my family had been learning about and worshipping could have kept this from my sister. He chose not to and this made me angry.
For days I carried this burden and ranted and raved against the God of heaven, questioning his goodness. This provided no relief and God did not yield to my demands, so I took a different approach. I bargained with him, hoping that He might think my actions noble enough to honor. I announced to him that I would gladly take a double dose of diabetes if he would just heal my sister. Of course, nothing happened as far as my eyes could see, as far as my heart could feel.
In the midst of these wrestling matches between reality and expectations, my normal routines carried on. I still had to go to school and help around the house, read books and take injections. I also began to visit my sister’s pediatrician who specialized in diabetes. The fact that there were now two diabetics in the household just crept into our routines, into our lives, and as a family we persevered. Looming over me, though, was the unsettled question about God’s goodness. My beliefs did not match my reality.
One typical morning I awoke, took a shower and returned to my bedroom to get ready for school. After clothing myself, I approached the mirror to put on eye makeup. I closed the left eye in order to wipe on the eye shadow and discovered that I had something blocking my vision. I rubbed my right eye and tried again finding the same blockage. I wiped again, thinking that a hair or something had fallen into my eye. No difference. I blinked and wiped harder and then ran out the door to my mom.
She immediately called my pediatrician and explained the situation. The response was, “Dana has been getting her blood sugars under tighter control. It is common for the fluids in the eyes to adjust. We will take a look during her next appointment.” This appointment was two weeks away, so for fourteen long days I blinked and wiped and sought to see out of the right eye. Nothing but a shadowy blur appeared each and every time.
Again I began to pray to the God whom I had previously raged against. I begged him to heal my eye and let me have a “normal” childhood. I followed regular routines at school and home but fear of blindness coursed through my teenage body like a torrential flood. I just wanted God to make it all go away. I begged and pleaded with the God of the Bible but received only silence. Waiting tortured me as the fear of the unknown enclosed around me. At long last the day of the doctor appointment arrived.
I entered the doctor’s office with great anticipation. We discussed my blood sugar levels, my eating habits, and my insulin dosages and finally, I reminded her of my vision problem. She approached my eye with a penetrating light bulb and gasped, “You have cataracts!”
Hindsight tells me that that would have been an easily solved complication. However, nurses ushered my mother and me upstairs to optometry. They probed and jabbed and thrust light bulbs everywhere. Doctors’ hands and ominous machinery surrounded and engulfed me. Fear taunted me and terror filled the room with foreboding as the medical staff performed their duties without any explanation.
First, my forehead and chin were thrust against a bar so that the doctor could keep me still and examine the eyes. The light bulbs seemed brighter than the sun itself as doctors held them only centimeters from my eye, peering into the depths of damage that were invisible to the naked eye.
I was escorted to another room where white coats asked me to drink an enormous amount of fluid that would fill my veins with dye, allowing the doctors to see whatever they needed to see. Pencil lead smoked across the charts that multiplied exponentially as doctors scribbled notes like mad scientists. Different workers and nurses scurried in and out of the room, probing here, poking there. And I sat in a state of absolute bewildered shock.
Finally, after answering a zillion questions, such as “Do you have diabetes? What was your last blood sugar reading? How much insulin do you take? Etc, etc, etc.” I met the “real” doctor, Dr. Chen.
He examined my eyes yet again and proceeded to draw squiggly lines on still another form in my chart. He then faced my mom and I with the diagnosis: “The blood vessels in your right eye have hemorrhaged. Blood is blocking your vision. We’re going to wait one month because often the blood will drain on its own and we’ll take it from there.”
That was it. I was given a month for the eye to recover on its own. I had an entire month to wait; to blink my eyes back and forth searching for sight in the right eye, praying that the good God I had learned about in Sunday school class might display his goodness to me. Thirty days of this tedious waiting. I could hardly bare it. I lamented. I raged. I wrestled with God. I shook my fists at the heavens and then I sobbed in repentance. I just did not know how to deal with the loss of my eye.
Finally the day of my eye appointment arrived. I still could not see out of my right eye yet I entered Dr. Chen’s office with great anticipation. Within sixty seconds, though, Dr. Chen announced, “We’ll have to do laser surgery.” I remember my heart standing utterly still as they ushered my mom and me into a room, suffocatingly white, sterile, and lifeless. Mom sat in the corner, chained in grief, praying with prayers that only a loving mom can pray, desperate prayers, agonizing prayers. Meanwhile the nurse placed me in a white, leather-type chair that reclined as necessary for the given procedure. My body and mind tensed with fear and dread.
Dr. Chen entered and informed me that he would have to numb my optic nerve so that he could shoot lasers at each hemorrhage. In order to accomplish this, I would need an injection of numbing solution directly into the optic nerve. Dr. Chen explained, “You’ll feel a small prick and then the numbing solution will begin to work.”
I imagined a dentist office where Novacaine is injected into your gums: “An initial prick,” I thought, “then perhaps an irritating numbness.”
I laid back, took a deep breath and stared directly into an enormous light bulb until a seven-inch needle silhouetted this scene, aiming itself directly into my right eye.
The doctor proceeded to inject this needle straight into the eyeball, just above the eye socket. Indeed, I did feel an initial, piercing prick but this sensation of pain continued until I could not bear it. I heard my own eye fluids swishing around and gasped for air, clenching the seat in sheer agony. The needle thrust to the right and then to the left as apparently the doctor sought to discover the actual optic nerve. It forced its way deeper and moved about as if in search of some great treasure. All the while, I felt no numbing sensation, only unbearable pain.
I do not recall how I survived that i