The medical model that focuses on what I can’t do as far as symptoms, asks me to decide what I want to do. Three November blogs lay the foundation for this continued story. “Art Therapy Depicts Values Poster;” “Can Do Versus Can’t Do;” and “Medical Leave Ends in Permanent Disability.”

Over the next few weeks I compile some coherent thoughts.

The next time my Stanford doctor asks what I want to do, I have some answers. “I could do some research. Maybe I could teach a class somewhere. Or I could do some more speaking for MOPS. Or write some articles. I’d like to develop curriculum for a new child development college degree. Or . . .” And so my unrealistic list drones on.

But my doctor doesn’t like my list. Week after week, she persists, “But what do you want to do?”

I guess she wants me to be more specific. For example, I’d like to get a job as a ____ and ____. But I can’t.

• First, I keep being reminded that I’m unable to return to work.
• Second, I don’t have the cognitive skills to function very well even in daily living.
• And finally, if I ever was well enough, there are many possibilities. I could be an author, speaker, educator, researcher, or advocate. Actually, any combination of these might work. Why limit my nonsensical dreams?

I continue my weekly jaunt to Stanford during my third year on disability and not working. I’m able to begin some new activities. I help weekly in Parker & Khloe’s preschool classes. I begin bike riding to improve my brain. I enroll in a quilt class & make Parker a quilt. I attend Mount Hermon Christian Writers Conference. And I join the Stanislaus Child Development Local Child Care Planning Council that meets monthly.

One day Rick comes home from work and says, “A Modesto City School’s director called today. They want Youth for Christ to train their staff on the school-to-prison pipeline and restorative justice (RJ). You and Marty will be perfect. Can you meet with them?”

Marty Villa, the Director of Family Concern Counseling and I schedule a meeting with the District representative. After years of floundering, this unanticipated meeting launches a new focus and passion in me.

Image source: commons.wikimedia.org

The 2011-2012 school year on medical leave passes by. Despite extensive hospitalization and classes, I’m unable to return to my job as a college professor at Merced College. I’m now on permanent disability.

All my friends are returning to work in August, except me. I’m devastated. Sad. Angry. Depressed. Alone. And incompetent.

I spend most days roaming around the house aimlessly. I’m unable to function and complete daily living skills. I don’t remember to look at a to-do list. I forget to eat. Just getting ready takes hours. I can’t read a book because I lack comprehension skills. I still pull the weeds. One may think my lawn would be weed-free by now, but what I can do is slower than a snail’s pace.

After six years of symptoms, Stanford Hospital finally diagnoses me in the fall of 2012. I begin a two-year weekly program to learn skills to manage my symptoms so they don’t overtake my life. I do a little writing.

I attend a few Youth for Christ events. I spend time with my grandchildren, Parker & Khloe, who are now four and two. Plus, I’m blessed with my new four-month old granddaughter, Kylie Ann. But mostly I pull weeds. It requires little thought and gets me outside which I enjoy.

I run on empty, trying to focus. What I loved to do is gone. I reach out to God over and over, but He doesn’t seem to answer. What do I do now?

Image source: Merced College [careers.insidehighered.com]

Don’t cry. It will ruin your make-up. You don’t have time to re-do it, I remind myself. It took forever to put make-up on this morning between tears trickling down my sagging face.

At that moment I hear the Lord’s voice in my head. “Where are you driving to?” He asks softly?

To Oakdale, I acknowledge.

“That’s right. Carry on,” He whispers with a nudge.

How did I not realize what path I was on? I know who’s behind this.

My conversation turns to the liar of all lies, Satan. This is your undoing. Go away. I have a Mothers of Preschoolers (MOPS) group waiting for me at The River in Oakdale.

All morning I’d been listening to the wrong station. I was tuned into lies. The downward spiral went something like this. “If God really loved you, you’d still have a real job.”

“If you were working, you’d have more important things to do than talk to moms and yard supervisor staff.”

“No one really cares what you have to say anyways? Exactly how many followers are on your Facebook site?”

“If God made you well, you could have one of those important jobs you dream about.”

How did I get here so fast? I ask. Just last week the Lord used key values I identified six years ago. Those values fit exactly where He has me today. I wrote several journal entries that clearly showed God’s purpose and plan in my life and for His change in my plans. Removing me from the community college professor sandbox to a very small sandbox of my own. The author, speaker, trainer sandbox.

With Satan’s channel turned off, I eagerly drive towards my destination. Actually, I’m driving towards the destination God asked me to do months ago on this very day. I gently remind myself, I did my editing. I’ve prayed for the moms and myself. I sent the handouts over a week ago. I practiced. My make-up is intact. I’m prepared.

I arrive happy and joyful for the opportunity the Lord arranged just for me and each of the MOPS moms attending today. The energy in the room increases my joy.

A number of moms interact with me after my talk, from “I was friends with your daughter,” to more serious parenting challenges. I don’t want to be anywhere else. This is God’s call and God’s plan. I’m thankful.

After I’m done, the MOPS coordinator hands me an envelope and a check for mileage. “We also made this for you last month.” She hands me a 4” by 24” sign that says, “THANKFUL.” I almost cry. I’m overcome with the timeliness of the gift.

The sign is already hung up featuring two turkey hands created by my two oldest grandchildren. “Lord, I am thankful.”

Another year passes. It’s now the 2013-2014 school year. I’ve now been off work for two very long years. I beg daily for God’s direction, but don’t hear from Him. It doesn’t help that my neurologist at Stanford keeps asking me, “What do you want to do?”

“What do you mean, ‘What do I want to do?’ I want to go back to work. But I can’t. I’m on permanent disability.'” I’m angry and tired of her unrealistic question.

One of the biggest challenges in overcoming my major life change is the constant focus on my symptoms. My deficits. What I can’t do. All 35 identified symptoms. Not only do medical experts continually document my deficiencies, I’m expected to document these daily as well.

Every week I maintain charts of symptoms and rate the degree to which they’ve affected me. I also check the skills I’ve applied. The hope is that the number and degree of symptoms will decrease showing that the skills I’m learning are helping me.

And then in the next breath the physician dares to state, “You need to focus on what you can do, not what you can’t do.” I wonder, How am I supposed to focus on what I can do when you require me to focus on what I can’t do? This medical deficit model isn’t working if you want my focus to be on what I can do.

Lord, I know you’re here with me, but your voice is silent. It’s been several years and I still have no direction from You. Lord, I’m still waiting.

Image source: symptom checker icons [thenounproject.com]

“What are your values? What’s most important to you?” asks the art therapist. This is just one of the many classes I attended in June 2011 looking for any glimmer of hope or diagnosis of my brain impairment.

I wonder – does it really matter? I can barely function. What difference will it make if I create my values on a poster? I’m on medical leave from the college.

I remind myself that I’m here to get help. I plan to return to my position as a college child development professor in a year. If there’s a small chance this can help, I’m in.

Typically I enjoy the directed art projects, so I begin to think. Commitment is extremely important to me. This includes my commitment to God, my husband, my daughters & their spouses, my two grandchildren, my career, to teaching, my friends, to volunteering at the food bank, and helping others. Yes, commitment is the overarching principal that covers everything most important to me.

I finish the not-so-artistic project with six key values decorated with a few squiggly lines in colors I like. The 18” x 24” poster features: Trust God, Adventure, Inclusion, Family, Creativity, and Flexible. I hang the poster in my vacant and hollow office. I rarely see it these days, but somehow it seems important enough to keep visible. Some days I need to be reminded of my important values.