THE PROMISE | Ellie Braun-Haley |
I was diagnosed at the emergency of a local hospital, and told I was contagious. "Here's a prescription. Fill it immediately and see your doctor tomorrow." The next day my doctor's first statement was: "Oh this is very dangerous. I'll get you in to see an ophthalmologist right away." Apparently with Shingles so close to the eyes there is a danger of losing eyesight in one or both eyes. When I told my doctor I knew nothing about Shingles he responded with "doctors don't know much about it." It was kind of like: "You're on your own, lady!" Shingles is adult Chicken Pox. The Shingles rash can appear on the body in a variety of locations and if not discovered and treated early (within 72 hours) It can be problematic for years. One doctor I spoke with has been treating two patients for two and seven years, respectively. They live on pain-killers. Fortunately a couple of weeks after being diagnosed, in a blessing, God promised my health would be restored over a period of time. I had complete faith this would happen. I researched the virus wanting to do all I could do to assist my body in healing, yet there were times the entire day was spent motionless on the bed. Basically I waited for the time I would be healed. Because my eyes had become so sensitive to light of all kinds I found I needed to keep them closed 16 hours of every day. So for three months I was unable to look at a television screen, a computer monitor, or even the pages of a book. I spent those weeks in a dark environment, even wearing a baseball cap, the brim to protect my eyes from overhead light as we ate. My husband would call me "Tex" and I appreciated his many attempts to buoy my spirits with his goofy sense of humor. While traveling anywhere my eyes had to be covered, protected from the sun during daylight hours and as protection from oncoming cars in the night. I began feeling like a prisoner! My energy level was as low as my spirits. Though I could speak, singing was impossible. If I tried singing my voice would crack. I sounded a bit like someone with laryngitis blended with the breathlessness of a sprinter. Music and singing have played a role in my life for as long as I can remember. It mattered a lot to me; being able to sing and though my body was recovering, for some reason my singing voice showed no signs of returning. Week by week I waited hoping for the miracle of complete recovery, knowing it would happen but not knowing when! There were times I felt full of loss and sad. For some of us, singing is as important as breathing! I have not figured out if singing manufactures joy, or if it is an expression of the joy that is already there. Perhaps it is some of each. I do know when I lost my singing voice it was as though something integral and dynamic was gone. Nuts first I had to live like a bat in a cave and sleep more than any teenager ever did, then I discover my singing voice is gone! I wanted to have my voice back so much and though I did not lose my faith, still, I wondered how long into the future I would wait. More than nine months after that promise of a healing, there I was still waiting. My birthday rolled around and it fell on a Sunday. I sat in church that day checking on which hymns would be sung. I looked at the words of one particular hymn and ached to sing it. It was a song I loved. Suddenly I felt a whisper of warmth in my chest. "Could that be God giving me a positive sign?" I held my breath, hoping the feeling I was experiencing truly was a sign this day would be monumental. I felt I needed to try singing. So, taking a good breath, I opened my mouth to sing and the words came out boldly and strong. The sound was pure and I melted inside with delight. Tears coursed down my cheeks; tears of joy and thanksgiving! This lovely sound coming out of my mouth was God's gift to me. He had blessed me with a voice and once again he was allowing me to share it with others. God had kept his promise. I felt as though his thumbprint was on me. My gratitude flowed out and the sounds I made produced more joy in me.
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