My Christmas Prayer Request: to be made Shiny & Renewed (My Malaria Update)

My Christmas wish this year is for my friends and family to pray for the complete restoration of my health. This fall it was confirmed by the former head of the parasitic division of the CDC that I was, indeed, infected with malaria (vivax) while I was in Uganda in May of 2012. This Sunday I'll take my last pill that should rid my body of any lingering malaria in my system.

I've been hopeful the medication might do the trick, and that I might return to normal me, pre-Africa. However, it has become increasingly clear that the malaria gone untreated triggered chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS) in my body, which can't be cured, only managed by doing less--a lot less. (Here is more on CFS and the brain differences found in those who battle it.)

CFS is yet to be mastered by modern medicine or a special diet (unless you have a gluten allergy, which I don't.) But Jesus' hand of healing CAN set me free... if He so chooses to heal my body. Between now and the end of the year, I ask that you would plead with God, on my behalf, to heal my body.

CFS is a confusing disease to the observer because although it is debilitating at times, I can still do everything. But when I do push myself to do life (i.e. to clean and do several loads of laundry, go for a jog, go grocery shopping, substitute teach a few days a week, shovel snow, drive long distances, etc.) I "pay" the price for my activity in the same exact way you would if you drink too much alcohol. Living with CFS is a lot like living with a never ending hangover, and the more you do, the worse the "hangover."

Another way to look at it is like this: it's like playing football on an injury, except with CFS the season never ends. But on occasion, in wanting to keep my spirit alive, or because life requires, I'll push myself to play the game. Physically, I can't do this every day, but sometimes it's worth it to me to push my body beyond the limitations of this disease. For instance, for my 35th birthday, I went snowboarding with my friend Lisa, then spent the next three days in bed with a debilitating migraine. For me, at that time, the snowboarding was worth it, and so was the crash I experienced following a half day of white water rafting this past summer. Or, in July, I danced some and even caught the bouquet at a wedding. But then I had to disappear and go lay down, and bow out of the late-night festivities.

So yes, I can still do LIFE with CFS, but it just looks a lot different, and with it, I'm not well enough to work a full time job or any job with regular scheduled days and hours. For me, as a single woman, the economic implications of the illness are the scariest part. I'm nearly $6,000 in the hole with medical bills, and tapping into my 403b for survival. (PTL, I'm now on Medicaid.)

If you would, along with healing of my body, please pray for financial favor as I continue to pursue writing. This past year I submitted a few devotionals to possibly be published. One was picked up, but this one I pulled after seeing the changes made to it. But here is the original draft, a piece I wrote prior to knowing I had been infected with the malaria parasite.

Jonah 4: Letting Go

Growing up, in hearing the Sunday school version of Jonah, I learned I better do what God says... otherwise something bad might happen. I could face a storm, be tossed off a ship, and end up in the belly of a smelly fish if I didn't listen to Him.

I learned a formula: walk in obedience to God, and life will be good... or at least relatively so.

I didn't anticipate that in following God I could still face a storm in losing my job, be tossed off a ship in losing my home, and then have my stored possessions swallowed up by a hurricane.

Growing up, I don't recall much discussion of the last chapter of Jonah: the part where Jonah is angry at God because life didn't pan out as he believe God had "promised."

While Jonah got angry at God for extending compassion to his enemies, I've gotten angry at God for feeling like I've received unwarranted calamity.

After two tumultuous years, and no end in sight, and battling health issues to top it all off, I was tired of fighting to get my life back. My natural drive and positivity were run down with each job and health insurance rejection I received.

Then I went Christmas shopping (Dec. 2013), on a day my body was already weak. I leaned against my cart for support, but by the time I got to the back of the store I had to sit. So I rested on the shelving where the shiny new bikes hang out, feeling pathetic in comparison.

After some sitting and unhappy thinking, I garnered up enough strength to grab a few more items and check out. But by the time I got to my car, I was angry--angry at God. And as my fatigue transitioned into a migraine for the umpteenth time, I lingered in the lie that God doesn't care enough about me to intervene.

I started my 45 minute drive to my parents' place--angry at God for not healing my body, fearful of my financial future in not being well enough to work a full time job, and jealous of my married friends for the economic protection and health insurance they received from their husbands. My anger melted into tears, and half-way home, on US-12, I gave God the middle finger.

Immediately I acknowledged that was not the best idea. I supposed I had succumbed to the advice Job's wife had given him--to curse God and die. I wondered if I'd be struck by lightning, or more likely in Michigan, be struck by a herd of deer, waiting in the woods, getting ready to dart out in front of me.

I lowered my hand back onto the steering wheel, crying even harder as I did, and explaining to God, "That's how it feels like you're treating me. It feels like you're giving me the middle finger, that you've turned your back on me."

It was an interaction with God I didn't think I'd ever share--because it was shameful. Giving God the middle finger isn't a very Christ-like or lady-like thing to do.

Several weeks later, plagued with insomnia at 3 AM, I called my friend Amy in Hawaii. She updated me on the chaos she has been facing, and how God got her attention.

"I was at this church gathering and this woman I hardly know tells me she has a verse for me: Ephesians 4:31. 'Get rid of all bitterness, rage, and anger.' At first I was taken aback because I'm not an angry person, and I wasn't upset with anybody. But then it hit me, I was angry at God, and needed to get rid of the bitterness I felt towards Him. I needed to forgive God for not feeling like He protected me, for not meeting my expectations."

The idea of forgiving God seemed a bit blasphemous, but I understood how she felt, and why I might need to do the same. Amy explained, in letting go of her anger towards God, favor and grace are being redefined in her life. In seeking a posture of gratitude, she's determined to praise God regardless of her health and circumstances. In doing so, she is receiving much peace, strength, and hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. "That's where you and I are different," she insisted, "and where God's favor rests upon us. That's the University of Jesus Christ, and you have to go there to get it."

Q: Are you harboring any feelings of bitterness or anger towards God that you need to relinquish?

Pray on these things:

• That you may pursue a posture of gratitude and praise regardless of your circumstances
• That you may choose celebration rather than jealousy when goodness falls upon others
• That you may remember God is with you every step of the journey, and He will never turn his back on you

Again, if you would, please keep me in your prayers this holiday season for complete healing of my body. That I may be made shiny and renewed, like the bicycles you see above. And, if you'd like to extend financial support, help me in promoting my book on facebook, or are willing to host me for a week or two this next year as I seek to set up a slow-paced book tour, please shoot me an e-mail. katrinablank (at) gmail (dot) com.

Thanks all for your prayers and support!

Winter Solstice

And so as one season ends, the next begins.

Today marks first day of winter. (It also marks the Fourth Sunday in Advent.) I told my friends I hoped to have my books shipped out sometime this fall. Well, on Thursday I picked up my first round of the books from the printer.

I Hate Books on Christian Dating by Katrina Blank

By Saturday, the last day of fall, nearly all my pre-orders had been shipped out. Hurrah! Even with my computer crashing in October, I reached my goal to send out my books before winter. That said, I still have a ways to go in reaching my financial goals. My hope is to break even on production and printing costs by the end of winter.

If you haven't yet secured a copy, would you consider joining my print team by contributing a twenty dollar paypal friend gift to katrinablank (at) gmail (dot) com? As a thank you, I'll mail you an autographed, pre-release copy of I Hate Books on Dating, a memoir journey towards a mysterious God.

If you already have a copy, perhaps you refer your facebook friends to my website www.katrinablank.com where they can read the first chapter and join my print team if they're interested.

Thanks again, to everyone, who has been rooting for me in this endeavor!

THIS is Victory

Two and a half years ago I jumped out of an airplane and plummeted two and half miles toward the earth. I jumped with friends, and landed safely on California soil.

A month later, I traveled to Africa. But when my plane landed back in New York, my body wasn't safe. Unknowingly I had been infected with what Bill Gates calls the worst thing on the planet.

Upon my return to the States I felt miserable. I was relieved when I received the call that the Colorado youth trip I had volunteered to help lead had been canceled due to forest fires. My energy levels were low and I didn't trust my body to take on the wilderness with a bunch of high school students.

As days turned to weeks, the vomiting and flu-like symptoms ceased, but the debilitating fatigue and headaches didn't. I blamed it on transitioning out of my job and packing up my NYC apartment.

Certainly, I thought, I'll feel better after spending some time at our family lake house in Michigan. But my zombie-like existence persisted, so when I returned to New York that fall (Sept. 2012), I scheduled an appointment with my doctor, and expressed concern that I may have picked up something in Africa.

And so that began my journey to find answers to what might be plaguing me. After 28 months, I received the news I had tested positive for malaria, plasmodium vivax. I was thrilled that something had been identified. But red tape (and a doctor at U of M) prevented me from properly treating the parasite in me.

Seven doctors later, including three tropical disease specialists, this past week I finally received the prescription I've desperately needed to eradicate this parasite from my body.

THIS is victory.

Celebrating my Malaria Prescription over a Shake Shack Burger

Yesterday I started Part 1 of my treatment. (The Michigan tropical disease specialist was only willing to prescribe Part 2, while the prescription print out & CDC guidelines insist not to take until you've been treated with Part 1.) Although it is yet to be determined if the medication will help with the chronic fatigue that the parasite triggered, I'll keep hoping (I have to!) that someday I'll return to full health.

In the meantime, I'll keep pressing into my book writing dreams and the hope of meeting a man who will stick with me for the long haul.

Afraid to Create

Coming Soon...

Momentum

This past week my blood made it safely to Utah. And I made it safely to Chicago.

After 48 days of fighting for a more sensitive Malaria test, a week ago Tuesday I had my blood drawn to be sent to a special laboratory out west. I celebrated the victory by picking up a few cute pairs of panties from the Gap in the mall. And, in a moment of weakness, I texted my ex-boyfriend.

I also returned a pair of black boots to Payless. The lady behind the counter wanted to know the reason for my return. I explained that I had been dating a guy who was 6'3", but since he and I were no longer an item I felt the heels on the boots made me too tall for dating purposes. The store worker was empathetic to the break up and the tragedy of having to worry about which shoes you can wear when you're already a rather tall woman. (For the record, I'm 5'8".)

Anyway, since I couldn't track my blood's journey like you would a fed ex package, a few days after my panty celebration I called to check on my blood's progress across the nation. Rather than receiving news of a confirmed arrival, I found out the wrong test had been performed and my blood had never even made it out of Ann Arbor.

Since my blood had since been discarded, I had to race back to Ann Arbor to get more blood syphoned out of me before the draw station closed for the weekend. I arrived at 5:59, a minute before close. Finally, this past week, I confirmed my blood had arrived in Utah. Next week I'll find out if  I have active malaria in my system that can be easily treated, or if I have unexplained chronic fatigue syndrome, which lasts an average of 6.7 years.

For now, I'm in Chicago. I drove out this way for Donald Miller's Storyline Conference. Although I was hesitant to attend, I felt like I was supposed to be here. And since this was the only week that I didn't have teaching jobs or doctors' appointments already booked, I said yes to the invitation. I felt the God nudge that I needed to go.

And since I recalled my favorite teacher, Erwin McManus, once say that it's easier for God to work with someone who is in motion, I chose momentum despite my health being rocky.

I'm so glad I did. Aside from the amazing sessions, I had the opportunity to say hello to Don and to meet his wife. He introduced me to her by saying, "This is Katrina Blank, one of my favorite young writers." He requested a copy of my book be mailed to him once it is printed. (If you'd like one too, katrinablank.com has the scoop on how you can order one.)

Also, today I got to meet and chat with the man who inspired the title of my book, Joshua Harris. Josh wrote a book years ago titled I Kissed Dating Goodbye. I apologized to him for poking fun at his book with the title of mine. He didn't seem to mind. So I toyed with asking him to endorse my book, but didn't.

I received a Bob Goff hug, and sat between his wife Maria and author Susan Isaacs during the final session. Before the session started, a woman in the row ahead of us told me there's a guy she'd like to set me up with. Apparently he's rather tall, which got me thinking, maybe I should go back to Payless and repurchase those black boots I just returned.

Muskoka Remix

And so I saw a shooting star.

I wasn't even wearing my glasses or my contacts and I still saw it. I'm near-sighted, which means I'm not supposed to be able to see that far away without assistance. But I did. I saw a flash of light soar through the heavens.

(In works)

Muskoka

As the seasons shifted from summer to fall, I crossed over country lines from the US to Canada to spend a couple of days with a couple of good friends from New York City.

After finding out that my malaria test might be a false positive, I needed a break from thinking about the health mess I am in. I am tired of battling insurance, medical bills, doctors, referrals, and a possible worker's comp claim. I'm exhausted by the red tape involved in my journey to get my health back. I just want a conclusive diagnosis, so I can be properly treated, so I can be well enough to start making a living again, and possibly even start living out my dreams again.

The other day I decided I needed to pause, and "fast" from all of that.  Because all of that was killing my spirit. So I left the country and drove up Muskako Canada...

IN WORKS...


Last night, while I was out on the dock, I saw a shooting star. It reminded me of the shooting start I saw in July when