Piano Recitals and Lupus

In a little over a month, I will be giving my first piano recital in three years. The last time I gave a recital was months before I was diagnosed with lupus. At the time, I had just earned my Master's in piano performance. The path to that achievement felt like a huge mountain climb, made even steeper by carpal tunnel syndrome and tendonitis in both my hands and wrists. I had no idea that I had a bigger mountain waiting for me right around the corner.

Days before my last "pre-lupus" recital, I wrote in my journal:

Sunday, July 8, 2012

     My shoulder keeps slipping out of place and the joints in my hand are swelling. I was planning on taking a break from the pain medications this summer, but instead I'm taking more pain pills than I've ever taken in my whole life just to function. I have some important performances coming up this month. It will take a miracle for my hands to endure the physical requirements of my pieces and make it through from start to finish. At any moment my hands could stop...I go into every performance with a strong awareness that it could be my last and it will happen only because God will make it happen.

After the recital, my health continued to grow worse:

Sunday, July 22, 2012
     My hands are still painfully swollen. I have pain in my feet, knees, shoulders, and neck....even with all the Mobic, Tylenol, anti-inflammatory cream, and Tiger Balm. It's been going on for about a month now. I'm starting to get worried. Could this be something serious? What is happening to me? Will my body ever have rest from all of these medical problems? I'm only thirty, but I feel like my body is falling apart and shutting down. Even though I know God is taking care of me, I'm still afraid.

I often hear people say, "God will never give you more than you can handle." When it comes to hard stuff in life, I think that's a load of crap. In the months that followed these journal entries, God definitely allowed me to go through way beyond what I could handle. Every morning, every night, I cried to God for mercy. I can't handle the pain! I have absolutely no strength left! I can't go through this one more day! I wasn't being dramatic. I was in too much pain to move. Playing the piano wasn't possible. I had lost over twenty pounds in less than two months. At least a third of my hair had fallen out. And without a diagnosis, there was nothing the doctors could do to help me. I had nothing in me left to keep going. And I was completely dependent on God to sustain me.

So a little over three years later, I'm doing a piano recital. (At this point, I'm tearing up as I type.) So yeah, I think this is pretty awesome. Even if I end up making a lot of mistakes and the performance doesn't sound anything like how I practiced - I really hope that's not the case and that it's amazing - I'm just so happy to be able to play and perform again. To be honest, I'm so glad God let me go through more than I could handle a few years ago. If He hadn't - if He would have let me have easy - I don't think I would experience the profound joy that I have when I play. I'm sure I still would have had joy, but not quite so profound. Music wouldn't be quite so precious and this performance wouldn't be so special. That's the beauty of hard things: They make the good things so much better. Oh, how I love how God shapes life's adventures!

To read more about my piano recital adventure, click here and here.

TBT: Two Years Ago

Two years ago today, I woke up unable to move. My husband had to lift me out of bed and help me with every step of my morning routine. I was completely helpless and in agonizing pain. As the day progressed, I would get more and more exhausted from the effort and pain of every movement. This was not the first of such days. This had been going on for about two months. And every day that passed, I was more exhausted than the last. I had lost 20 pounds in less than two months and a third of my hair had fallen out. I had seen three doctors at this point. None of them could figure out what was wrong with me. I thought I was dying. I found little reason to believe otherwise.

Two years ago today, I was dreading the doctor's appointment I would have the next day. I was tired of the endless doctor's appointments. I was tired of the tests that yielded no answers. I was tired of waiting. I was tired of being tired. My doctor would ask me, "On a pain scale from one to ten, ten being the highest, how bad is your pain?" I would say, "It's at a nine," being too afraid to admit I was at a ten.

Two years ago today, I didn't know that at my doctor's appointment the next day, I would hear worry in my doctor's voice for the first time. I didn't know that my doctor would send me to yet another doctor who would do a biopsy on the skin on my scalp...the biopsy that would give me the answer I had been crying out to God for. And after these doctor visits, I would write in my journal:

Still no relief from the pain...I am exhausted. I saw two doctors today. They are close to having a diagnosis. Right now I'm waiting for test results. The second doctor took a sample from my scalp and left me with stitches. The first doctor told me I have arthritis in my feet. He narrowed down the possibilities...I don't like some of the words the doctors are saying. But I'm too tired to be stubborn. God is bigger than any diagnosis.

Two years ago today, I didn't know that my days of wondering would soon be over and my life would dramatically change. I didn't know that the following week, I would experience the most overwhelming feeling of relief as one of the doctors would call me to tell me I have lupus. Yes, when I got off the phone, I cried and thanked God for providing a diagnosis. The waiting and not knowing was finally over. I could finally move forward.