Papa, it’s me, Vicki.It is not a good day. I just keep sleeping, and sleeping. Didn’t even hear the garbage trucks (which I delight to hear thru my open window). Dystonia is messing with my face, and FTD is making me stutter, and drag like a fishline on a submerged tree limb. You can’t see what is snagging it, not the trout you were angling for, and you can’t proceed until you either wade over to try to save your magic ‘fly’ or you accept it’s over, and cut the line, add new leader, new fly. And you pray it will become your new ‘old lucky fly’.
No, Papa, what bothers me is really very little. I don’t want to be on the computer, the tv was smote (you’d think the past tense would be smitten, but boy those 2 don’t go together!).
I have a feeling the disease is progressing, removing Annie Oakley from my spirit, Buttermilk tethered, eatin’ oats. My world gets smaller daily.
Just to write to you today took 2 hrs of looking at my turned off computer and the dead TV to muster up a prayer.
So, I ask as I do each day for mercy. I pray for all those afflicted with this disease, for my family, and good friends who, even when we aren’t in contact, I can feel their thoughts and prayers.
“This, too, shall pass.” I know that, what I don’t know is what we are passing into.
Papa, are you listening? It’s me, Vicki, and what is left of her.
Prayin’ for ya kid.
Strange this note could be sad to me, but the fact you can still write with such insight and clarity is uplifting.
You are like those who have journeyed through the pages of our Holy book.
Each agony, each suffering leads to a greater blessing.
You, so special and so deserving are blest in your trials.
Open arms wait to embrase you, feel the love of God upon your face.
I am with you my sister friend from St Therese. I am with you, I feel you pain, I read you hurt, but in the far far distance I see God and He is saying, it is okay, Vicki, it is okay I am with you always. I love you and so does He. Imagine my arms wrapped around you and holding you tight.
Ditto to what Ron wrote, Vicki. This is a sad note, but also encouraging that you can share your thoughts and feelings so clearly with us. You’ve still got a lot going for you.
And no matter what, you’re always Vicki, my very dear friend.
And you know I’m praying for you.
I am also with you in my thoughts and in my prayers. Even when you are feeling alone, know that many are praying for you – in this way sharing in your journey, knowing that God never sleeps, and He is watching over you.
Your little sister loves you and is praying for His strength to enfold you.
My heart goes out to you and my prayers are with you. I pray that you have some better days.
You are a very brave lady! Sharing your thoughts and personal struggles is sure to have a bitter-sweet effect on those who read it, and for those who love those whose lives are affected by an invisible disease. You are in my thoughts and prayers tonight. Your friend Jim C is a friend of mine too. God bless you and continue to give you courage.