Lessons from Illness
One of the things no one ever tells you before you become a missionary--or maybe no one told me because it's just me who has gone through it, I don't know--is how your physical body is affected. Before I moved to another country, I wasn't a sickly person. Throughout my childhood I had a predisposition to respiratory illnesses, but that mostly was due to seasonal allergies and was mostly cleared up by the time I was in high school. I rarely missed school due to illness. In my four years at college, I was only ever sick twice--once was during a break and the other was right after I'd started student teaching, and my immune system was introduced to a high school full of germy teenagers. Throughout college, every time I felt any sort of sickness coming on, I'd drink a bunch of orange juice and go to bed super early and wake up fine the next morning. Being as busy as I was with classes, homework, and working various on-campus jobs, sickness just wasn't something I had time for. So, instead of pushing myself onward when in danger of getting sick, I'd stop and give my body a break. I ate pretty well and walked a lot, and during my last two years of college, I was running pretty consistently as well.
Before moving to another country, I had heard stories of hero missionaries like Heidi and Rolland Baker becoming incredibly ill with crazy things like mutant staph infections, dementia, and multiple sclerosis. Their stories all seemed like stories of God's miraculous healing and dealing with spiritual warfare. So, in that respect, maybe I was slightly prepared, but those stories don't quite capture the realities of the physical agony endured.
I've lived in Honduras for six and a half years. In that time, sickness has become a fairly present character in my life story--much more so than it had ever been in my past. I'm at the tail-end of my twenties, and my immune system has taken such a hit in the last decade. Within my first year here I dealt with some bouts of bronchitis. Moving from a country area to a city with smog and air pollution where neighbors burn their trash on a regular basis was a big change that took some getting used to. One of my adopted mamas said, "Being a single person is great until you get really sick and have no one to care for you," and boy, was she right! Over my years of singleness and really lacking in community, I would get so sick, have no energy to cook for myself, and end up even sicker because of being dehydrated. During those times, Raúl was almost always the one person consistently looking out for me. During my childhood, I was very spoiled in being cared for when I was sick. My mom is a nurse, so any time we were sick, we'd be set up either in my parents' bed or on the couch with movies playing, a constantly full mug of soup and glass of Sprite or Gatorade was by our side, and even a little bell for any additional need. Needless to say, having to drag myself out of bed to try to drum up something to cook for myself to eat (when I had no appetite anyway), was rough. And the loneliness was killer. My need for community has always been strongly confirmed when I've been seriously sick. Loneliness often leads to depression, depression makes you lose the will to care for yourself, and you get sicker. It's a vicious cycle.
In my second year, I didn't know it at the time, but I contracted the H. pylori bacteria likely after drinking some questionable water while visiting a rural area. Sometimes, you bravely do things in the name of compassion and being a good guest. Sometimes, those things work out, and other times they serve as lessons for better preparation in the future. I was miserable for eight months. I lost weight and was sick every single day. I visited the doctor various times and had tests done for that specific bacteria, and every time, the test came back negative. I was given various medications, and nothing worked. I still had to do life, and people were depending on me. So, I powered through--my body and I developed a rhythm. I'd get up in the morning in time to be super sick for a couple of hours, then I'd go about my day and return home to be sick for a bit more. It didn't matter what I ate or didn't eat. And, occasionally, my body would have a meltdown in public. I'd feel like I was going to pass out, and no matter where I was, I'd have to sit down or lay down until I drank some water or had a little something to eat. In the last few months before being treated, I couldn't sleep at night because of constant acid re-flux. It was scary, to be honest, because I had no idea what was going on inside of me. Because the bacteria tests were coming back negative, I was starting to worry that it was something serious. Thankfully, at the time, I was still on my parents' insurance, and when I went back to the States for a visit, I got checked out. It turned out that I had that bacteria--the same bacteria that supposedly the tests had come back negative--throughout my entire digestive system. After a few months of medication, I was back to normal and so relieved.
Last year, as many of you already know, I was hospitalized for five days with Epstein-Barr or mononucleosis though at the time even my doctors thought I'd had dengue fever. After I didn't have dengue fever and no other tests were showing anything, my doctor had suspected lupus. Joyfully, it turned out to be a nasty case of mono that my doctor decided to write about in a medical journal.
I give you the chronicle of the major illnesses I've gone through because as I write this, I am once again coming off of a respiratory virus after a few days of recuperating at home. And, I've been thinking about the role that illness has played in my life since I moved here and what I've learned. Some of these are comically cultural, and some of these are just good life lessons in general.
Cultural Observations:
1) If you go to the doctor here, as a female, the first assumption they will make is that you're pregnant. When you insist that that is literally impossible, they will not believe you. I've had this issue on at least two separate occasions with two totally different sets of symptoms.
2) Patient-doctor confidentiality here seems to be a luxury for the masses or maybe just not a big concern; there are doctors and institutions where that is not the case, but those places seem to usually be frequented by the wealthy.
3) In the US, especially growing up as the daughter and granddaughter of nurses, I was trained to always be informed about your own illness, treatment options, medications, etc. Within such an independent, individualistic society, most of us aren't keen on taking things at face value. We want to know why and how things work and will gladly take to Google to feel like we have a better handle on our own diagnosis. That is widely not the case here at least within the populations I've dealt with. Most of the mindset I've encountered is that the doctor always knows best, you take whatever pills he or she gives you (even when you don't know what they are), and you have no idea what your illness actually is because no one bothers to take the time to explain anything to you and no one has the confidence to ask. People who do ask for an explanation are sometimes treated with extreme condescension.
4) Abuse from male doctors to female patients is likely to be crazy prevalent. Because doctors typically aren't questioned, and lawsuits are practically unheard of in terms of malpractice here, they seem to be pretty untouchable. I know of at least one person who was sexually assaulted by her doctor while her husband was in the other room, and I, myself, had my own experience of what was not assault but could be described as sexual inappropriateness. I regret not better standing up for myself, but given the situation and my level of physical weakness due to illness, I didn't know what to do in the moment. Lesson learned. Now, if possible, I seek out female doctors, and my husband has learned to be pushy about not ever leaving me alone with a male doctor.
5) Just as it is in the States, there are great doctors here, and there are also horrible doctors here. One of my biggest worries in moving to Honduras was getting seriously ill here. After being hospitalized last year, I feel a bit more confidence in some aspects of the medical system. My doctors at Hospimed (private hospital) were amazing. They were highly trained, so professional, and incredibly patient and compassionate about explaining and answering all questions. But, finding good doctors can be like finding good mechanics. And a lot of it has less to do with how well they know the material as much as their character as people, their honesty, and their morals.
6) You don't need a prescription for most medications here. But this blessing seems somewhat lost on the general public because most people aren't educated enough to know what to take when. I would probably be one of those general public if it wasn't for being able to call up my mom, my Grandmom, or my cousin to ask about what medications I should take for a basically simple sickness. As a result of the lack of education, oftentimes, people go to the doctor unnecessarily. I avoid going to the doctor as much as possible because here that often means that an entire day is shot in waiting in line at the clinic, at the pharmacy, at the laboratory, etc.
7) Nurse friends are the best! We have a neighborhood nurse friend who has treated Raúl in her home, who has given me IVs in the comfort of my own bed, and who is just such a caring, helpful person. We love Juanita.
8) The quality of treatment here is not always determined by the price you're being charged or whether it's a public or private institution. I have received good treatment from local health centers and el Cliper (a clinic that's an extension of Hospital Escuela, a public hospital that is also the cheapest) that cost me 25 to 50 cents. I have also seen terribly inadequate treatment from Hospital Escuela. Josuan can walk because of Hospital Escuela, but they also caused him to need two additional surgeries because the rod placed in his leg migrated up his back. It's really a miracle it didn't puncture any of his organs. I've had great treatment from some private clinics, but in private clinics and hospitals, I've also not had H. pylori detected for eight months after three separate visits, had nurses mess up my IV dosages, and ignore some scary allergic reactions. The conclusion I have come to is this--God is sovereign. And, the wisest thing that we can do is follow the guidance of the Holy Spirit and put more trust in our loving Father rather than the imperfect humans who may think they're running the show.
9) Hondurans have home remedies for everything. Some of those remedies actually make some scientific sense to me, and I've learned from them. Others actually have origin roots in witchcraft. Others I have no idea where they come from or why they are so widely valued. At any rate, there are a lot of things that North Americans consider as normal remedies that for Hondurans is crazy. The fun of cultural differences.
10) What is comforting to one sick person from one culture isn't always comforting to someone else from another culture. The comfort foods are different and how visits are handled is different. In order to be truly loving, sometimes you have to learn someone else's cultural preferences.
Life Lessons:
1) Sometimes, I have gotten sick because I am sinning in not taking care of my God-given temple. In the past, I have often fancied myself the "I can do it all" kind of woman. I have ignored my body in the name of getting more stuff done. It's so not worth it, and I pay for it in the long run. Either way, I end up grounded at some point, so it's better to rest when physically nudged to initially instead of being down for the count longer later on.
2) It can be very humbling to be sick. I kind of hate the reputation I've developed over the last year of constantly being sick or seeming fragile. I've liked having a persona that depicts strength, independence, and a strong work ethic. But, I think God allows our persona to be sculpted through sickness sometimes. My husband has been an absolute champ in taking care of me, and in many ways, the times that I have been sick have strengthened our relationship. But, it's still a struggle for me sometimes to seem lazy to others when I know in my heart (and in my body) that I need to stop and be obedient to rest.
3) It can be frustrating to be sick when you know that it's not due to a lack of self-care. This particular time that I've been sick, I was eating in a healthy way, I was exercising regularly, and I was getting adequate sleep. But, I am learning to steer into the skid. Rather than being angered by the inconvenience of events I have to miss or people I have to let down, I am learning to recognize the opportunity to slow down and hear God's voice, knowing that whatever the reason for the slowness, there's always an open invitation to receive more presence, more direction, and more preparation for the things that God has in the future.
4) Sickness can be a sign of a spiritual attack. The other night, I told Raúl that I think it's important to take the time to ask God why we're sick. I don't think by any means that God wants us to be sick or that He is the Author of sickness. That goes against His nature. But, He knows all things, and He can teach us in all things. I have recognized in various seasons of my life that there are times when illness is an attack from the enemy. In the past, I have quickly gotten very sick with respiratory illnesses overnight and have been awakened by oppressive nightmares. When the enemy has tipped his hand in that regard, I have also worshiped God as my way to healing. We do have authority over illnesses because of the blood of the Lamb. At times, our weapon of warfare against illness is taking authority and rebuking the enemy. Other times, our weapon of warfare is actually rest or repentance for not honoring our God-inhabited temple.
5) I have developed greater compassion for others through my own illnesses. I think it can be part of partaking in Jesus' suffering when we allow ourselves to exit self-pity to feel what others go through.
Stress can be a major factor that contributes to a susceptibility to catching germs and having a lowered immune system. A couple years ago, I read a Velvet Ashes post about missionaries and stress. You can read that post here: https://velvetashes.com/how-stressed-are-you/ That post refers to the Holmes-Rahe Stress Inventory and how life events generate stress and what your stress level can say about your health. When I did that inventory in 2015, my stress level was easily over the maximum category. And, even now, even though my life feels so much more manageable than it did in 2015, my stress level according to the Holmes-Rahe stress inventory is still over the maximum. And the bottom line is that life in another country and culture is inevitably stressful! There are so many things out of your control and added issues such as immigration and visa problems, language learning, cultural clashes, and those are just a few. So what does that mean for missionaries? It means that we need to be very conscious of God's leading and our own limits. We also need God's supernatural rest and to learn to inhabit in His presence in the midst of so many stressful things. His sovereignty can be such a comfort that can lead us to joy. But, it also means that we so need prayer from our brothers and sisters! You can make such a difference in praying regularly for your missionaries and their health. You can follow God's leading in sending them care packages, prophetic words or words of knowledge, encouraging notes, and even additional funding or blessings specifically for their own self-care or for the care of their family members. I have seen missionary friends be blessed by a little money for buying some new curtains or being sent on a retreat or to a conference with all their expenses paid for. I have been blessed by a nice haircut from someone who came as part of a short-term team or when family members blessed Raúl and I with the money to have a honeymoon--a luxury we never would have been able to afford. And, undoubtedly, Raúl and I were so overwhelmed and relieved by the generosity and prayers when I was hospitalized last year. Little things remind us that even as we help others that we are also loved humans. And provision in times of crisis remind us of God's faithfulness and our extending community through the Body of Christ.
As a missionary and even just as a child of God, I have felt the conviction in the last year that I really need to be responsible in taking care of my temple, in respecting the covenant that I have with the people who make it possible for me to be here--that even as they pray for me, that I will also be faithful in my eating habits, my health choices, and my need for rest.
What have you learned from illness?
Before moving to another country, I had heard stories of hero missionaries like Heidi and Rolland Baker becoming incredibly ill with crazy things like mutant staph infections, dementia, and multiple sclerosis. Their stories all seemed like stories of God's miraculous healing and dealing with spiritual warfare. So, in that respect, maybe I was slightly prepared, but those stories don't quite capture the realities of the physical agony endured.
I've lived in Honduras for six and a half years. In that time, sickness has become a fairly present character in my life story--much more so than it had ever been in my past. I'm at the tail-end of my twenties, and my immune system has taken such a hit in the last decade. Within my first year here I dealt with some bouts of bronchitis. Moving from a country area to a city with smog and air pollution where neighbors burn their trash on a regular basis was a big change that took some getting used to. One of my adopted mamas said, "Being a single person is great until you get really sick and have no one to care for you," and boy, was she right! Over my years of singleness and really lacking in community, I would get so sick, have no energy to cook for myself, and end up even sicker because of being dehydrated. During those times, Raúl was almost always the one person consistently looking out for me. During my childhood, I was very spoiled in being cared for when I was sick. My mom is a nurse, so any time we were sick, we'd be set up either in my parents' bed or on the couch with movies playing, a constantly full mug of soup and glass of Sprite or Gatorade was by our side, and even a little bell for any additional need. Needless to say, having to drag myself out of bed to try to drum up something to cook for myself to eat (when I had no appetite anyway), was rough. And the loneliness was killer. My need for community has always been strongly confirmed when I've been seriously sick. Loneliness often leads to depression, depression makes you lose the will to care for yourself, and you get sicker. It's a vicious cycle.
In my second year, I didn't know it at the time, but I contracted the H. pylori bacteria likely after drinking some questionable water while visiting a rural area. Sometimes, you bravely do things in the name of compassion and being a good guest. Sometimes, those things work out, and other times they serve as lessons for better preparation in the future. I was miserable for eight months. I lost weight and was sick every single day. I visited the doctor various times and had tests done for that specific bacteria, and every time, the test came back negative. I was given various medications, and nothing worked. I still had to do life, and people were depending on me. So, I powered through--my body and I developed a rhythm. I'd get up in the morning in time to be super sick for a couple of hours, then I'd go about my day and return home to be sick for a bit more. It didn't matter what I ate or didn't eat. And, occasionally, my body would have a meltdown in public. I'd feel like I was going to pass out, and no matter where I was, I'd have to sit down or lay down until I drank some water or had a little something to eat. In the last few months before being treated, I couldn't sleep at night because of constant acid re-flux. It was scary, to be honest, because I had no idea what was going on inside of me. Because the bacteria tests were coming back negative, I was starting to worry that it was something serious. Thankfully, at the time, I was still on my parents' insurance, and when I went back to the States for a visit, I got checked out. It turned out that I had that bacteria--the same bacteria that supposedly the tests had come back negative--throughout my entire digestive system. After a few months of medication, I was back to normal and so relieved.
Last year, as many of you already know, I was hospitalized for five days with Epstein-Barr or mononucleosis though at the time even my doctors thought I'd had dengue fever. After I didn't have dengue fever and no other tests were showing anything, my doctor had suspected lupus. Joyfully, it turned out to be a nasty case of mono that my doctor decided to write about in a medical journal.
I give you the chronicle of the major illnesses I've gone through because as I write this, I am once again coming off of a respiratory virus after a few days of recuperating at home. And, I've been thinking about the role that illness has played in my life since I moved here and what I've learned. Some of these are comically cultural, and some of these are just good life lessons in general.
Cultural Observations:
1) If you go to the doctor here, as a female, the first assumption they will make is that you're pregnant. When you insist that that is literally impossible, they will not believe you. I've had this issue on at least two separate occasions with two totally different sets of symptoms.
2) Patient-doctor confidentiality here seems to be a luxury for the masses or maybe just not a big concern; there are doctors and institutions where that is not the case, but those places seem to usually be frequented by the wealthy.
3) In the US, especially growing up as the daughter and granddaughter of nurses, I was trained to always be informed about your own illness, treatment options, medications, etc. Within such an independent, individualistic society, most of us aren't keen on taking things at face value. We want to know why and how things work and will gladly take to Google to feel like we have a better handle on our own diagnosis. That is widely not the case here at least within the populations I've dealt with. Most of the mindset I've encountered is that the doctor always knows best, you take whatever pills he or she gives you (even when you don't know what they are), and you have no idea what your illness actually is because no one bothers to take the time to explain anything to you and no one has the confidence to ask. People who do ask for an explanation are sometimes treated with extreme condescension.
4) Abuse from male doctors to female patients is likely to be crazy prevalent. Because doctors typically aren't questioned, and lawsuits are practically unheard of in terms of malpractice here, they seem to be pretty untouchable. I know of at least one person who was sexually assaulted by her doctor while her husband was in the other room, and I, myself, had my own experience of what was not assault but could be described as sexual inappropriateness. I regret not better standing up for myself, but given the situation and my level of physical weakness due to illness, I didn't know what to do in the moment. Lesson learned. Now, if possible, I seek out female doctors, and my husband has learned to be pushy about not ever leaving me alone with a male doctor.
5) Just as it is in the States, there are great doctors here, and there are also horrible doctors here. One of my biggest worries in moving to Honduras was getting seriously ill here. After being hospitalized last year, I feel a bit more confidence in some aspects of the medical system. My doctors at Hospimed (private hospital) were amazing. They were highly trained, so professional, and incredibly patient and compassionate about explaining and answering all questions. But, finding good doctors can be like finding good mechanics. And a lot of it has less to do with how well they know the material as much as their character as people, their honesty, and their morals.
6) You don't need a prescription for most medications here. But this blessing seems somewhat lost on the general public because most people aren't educated enough to know what to take when. I would probably be one of those general public if it wasn't for being able to call up my mom, my Grandmom, or my cousin to ask about what medications I should take for a basically simple sickness. As a result of the lack of education, oftentimes, people go to the doctor unnecessarily. I avoid going to the doctor as much as possible because here that often means that an entire day is shot in waiting in line at the clinic, at the pharmacy, at the laboratory, etc.
7) Nurse friends are the best! We have a neighborhood nurse friend who has treated Raúl in her home, who has given me IVs in the comfort of my own bed, and who is just such a caring, helpful person. We love Juanita.
8) The quality of treatment here is not always determined by the price you're being charged or whether it's a public or private institution. I have received good treatment from local health centers and el Cliper (a clinic that's an extension of Hospital Escuela, a public hospital that is also the cheapest) that cost me 25 to 50 cents. I have also seen terribly inadequate treatment from Hospital Escuela. Josuan can walk because of Hospital Escuela, but they also caused him to need two additional surgeries because the rod placed in his leg migrated up his back. It's really a miracle it didn't puncture any of his organs. I've had great treatment from some private clinics, but in private clinics and hospitals, I've also not had H. pylori detected for eight months after three separate visits, had nurses mess up my IV dosages, and ignore some scary allergic reactions. The conclusion I have come to is this--God is sovereign. And, the wisest thing that we can do is follow the guidance of the Holy Spirit and put more trust in our loving Father rather than the imperfect humans who may think they're running the show.
9) Hondurans have home remedies for everything. Some of those remedies actually make some scientific sense to me, and I've learned from them. Others actually have origin roots in witchcraft. Others I have no idea where they come from or why they are so widely valued. At any rate, there are a lot of things that North Americans consider as normal remedies that for Hondurans is crazy. The fun of cultural differences.
10) What is comforting to one sick person from one culture isn't always comforting to someone else from another culture. The comfort foods are different and how visits are handled is different. In order to be truly loving, sometimes you have to learn someone else's cultural preferences.
Life Lessons:
1) Sometimes, I have gotten sick because I am sinning in not taking care of my God-given temple. In the past, I have often fancied myself the "I can do it all" kind of woman. I have ignored my body in the name of getting more stuff done. It's so not worth it, and I pay for it in the long run. Either way, I end up grounded at some point, so it's better to rest when physically nudged to initially instead of being down for the count longer later on.
2) It can be very humbling to be sick. I kind of hate the reputation I've developed over the last year of constantly being sick or seeming fragile. I've liked having a persona that depicts strength, independence, and a strong work ethic. But, I think God allows our persona to be sculpted through sickness sometimes. My husband has been an absolute champ in taking care of me, and in many ways, the times that I have been sick have strengthened our relationship. But, it's still a struggle for me sometimes to seem lazy to others when I know in my heart (and in my body) that I need to stop and be obedient to rest.
3) It can be frustrating to be sick when you know that it's not due to a lack of self-care. This particular time that I've been sick, I was eating in a healthy way, I was exercising regularly, and I was getting adequate sleep. But, I am learning to steer into the skid. Rather than being angered by the inconvenience of events I have to miss or people I have to let down, I am learning to recognize the opportunity to slow down and hear God's voice, knowing that whatever the reason for the slowness, there's always an open invitation to receive more presence, more direction, and more preparation for the things that God has in the future.
4) Sickness can be a sign of a spiritual attack. The other night, I told Raúl that I think it's important to take the time to ask God why we're sick. I don't think by any means that God wants us to be sick or that He is the Author of sickness. That goes against His nature. But, He knows all things, and He can teach us in all things. I have recognized in various seasons of my life that there are times when illness is an attack from the enemy. In the past, I have quickly gotten very sick with respiratory illnesses overnight and have been awakened by oppressive nightmares. When the enemy has tipped his hand in that regard, I have also worshiped God as my way to healing. We do have authority over illnesses because of the blood of the Lamb. At times, our weapon of warfare against illness is taking authority and rebuking the enemy. Other times, our weapon of warfare is actually rest or repentance for not honoring our God-inhabited temple.
5) I have developed greater compassion for others through my own illnesses. I think it can be part of partaking in Jesus' suffering when we allow ourselves to exit self-pity to feel what others go through.
Stress can be a major factor that contributes to a susceptibility to catching germs and having a lowered immune system. A couple years ago, I read a Velvet Ashes post about missionaries and stress. You can read that post here: https://velvetashes.com/how-stressed-are-you/ That post refers to the Holmes-Rahe Stress Inventory and how life events generate stress and what your stress level can say about your health. When I did that inventory in 2015, my stress level was easily over the maximum category. And, even now, even though my life feels so much more manageable than it did in 2015, my stress level according to the Holmes-Rahe stress inventory is still over the maximum. And the bottom line is that life in another country and culture is inevitably stressful! There are so many things out of your control and added issues such as immigration and visa problems, language learning, cultural clashes, and those are just a few. So what does that mean for missionaries? It means that we need to be very conscious of God's leading and our own limits. We also need God's supernatural rest and to learn to inhabit in His presence in the midst of so many stressful things. His sovereignty can be such a comfort that can lead us to joy. But, it also means that we so need prayer from our brothers and sisters! You can make such a difference in praying regularly for your missionaries and their health. You can follow God's leading in sending them care packages, prophetic words or words of knowledge, encouraging notes, and even additional funding or blessings specifically for their own self-care or for the care of their family members. I have seen missionary friends be blessed by a little money for buying some new curtains or being sent on a retreat or to a conference with all their expenses paid for. I have been blessed by a nice haircut from someone who came as part of a short-term team or when family members blessed Raúl and I with the money to have a honeymoon--a luxury we never would have been able to afford. And, undoubtedly, Raúl and I were so overwhelmed and relieved by the generosity and prayers when I was hospitalized last year. Little things remind us that even as we help others that we are also loved humans. And provision in times of crisis remind us of God's faithfulness and our extending community through the Body of Christ.
As a missionary and even just as a child of God, I have felt the conviction in the last year that I really need to be responsible in taking care of my temple, in respecting the covenant that I have with the people who make it possible for me to be here--that even as they pray for me, that I will also be faithful in my eating habits, my health choices, and my need for rest.
What have you learned from illness?
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