Eleven years ago this summer, I had come home to St. Louis for a visit with family. We were living in St. Simons Island at the time, with two very young babes, and I couldn’t wait to worship with folks from my home church. I remember this particular Sunday as if the events that unfolded happened yesterday. I stood to sing a hymn, and my right ear started ringing louder than the music was playing.
It was only slightly awkward when we sat down and I began telling my husband….about ten clicks above a whisper…that I couldn’t hear anything out of my right ear. He told me several times, “Shh!” but I was in panic mode. Panic mode for me is probably slightly more obnoxious than the average panicked person. Just probably.
I began shaking my hands and making odd sounds to see if I could hear myself – a lot of “hmmms” and “whaaaaaaas” and “ahhhhhhs” (and a few “shhhhhh’s” from my husband), all whilst in the middle of church. I often wonder why no one ever turned around. Could it really be that they just looked at each other and thought, “Yes, Katie’s back.”
Mercy. That might be true.
Regardless of what other people thought was going on, I was literally panicking. The ringing got so bad that I became nauseous, so my husband rushed me to the ER.
I had only been to the ER one other time in my life. About three months after Chris and I were married, he tried to help me clean wax out of my ear and irritated the ear drum. I can still remember that pain.
I’m pretty sure Chris can still remember that pain too.
But this was different. And not just because I couldn’t directly blame my husband for it, but because instead of being painful, I felt tremendous pressure in my ear, which was accompanied by nausea, and the worst part was that I couldn’t hear. I began feeling dizzy in what seemed to be a tornado of confusion. There was chaos in the quiet, and I was desperate for peace in the noise. It probably didn’t help matters that my necessary sounds continued the whole drive to the hospital: Hmmmm, ahhhhh, whaaaa….can you hear that? Can you hear me, Chris? Can I hear me? Hmmm….
Panic.
And the ER Doc gave me Advil.
When we returned to St. Simons, the symptoms subsided for a while, but my hearing never returned. I can’t begin to explain the sense of disorder this created. Focus on anything else becomes nearly impossible, and the turmoil was unreal as I became aware of the fact that I could only hear conversations from one side. I felt off balance most of the time, and (this was the only good part of the chaos), I could hear nothing when I slept on my good ear. Thus, when children woke, only one of us woke.
And it wasn’t me.
At one point, I came to grip with the fact that I just may have to deal with hearing loss in one ear. I was generally ok accepting this reality until the “episodes” started again: severe ringing, pressure, nausea, and dizziness.
As these episodes became more frequent, my panic in the midst of the chaos grew. I decided to get a second opinion, looking for something different than “take Advil,” so I visited an ENT in the area to get his take on what was going on.
He suggested….Advil.
For the love of Advil.
I was so discouraged, and for several weeks I lived quietly in the midst of internal disorder and choas. I hid it pretty well until one particular Sunday when I stood in the back of the sanctuary greeting folks after the service. A dear, elderly man asked me a question and noticed immediately that I turned my head and asked him to repeat his question. This may have been typical of his peers, but for someone in her twenties, it was an abnormal response, so he inquired. And my tears began unexpectedly flowing – all the chaos physically falling down my cheeks.
I had no idea this man was a doctor; the next day Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville, FL. called and said that they would like to see me for an ENT appointment later that week. They did multiple tests during my appointment that lasted an entire day, and it didn’t take long to get the results:
I needed Advil.
Kidding, kidding.
I was diagnosed with Meniere’s disease, a disease of the inner ear that causes vertigo, hearing loss, pressure in the ear, and is often accompanied by severe nausea. Because it’s so rare for a younger person to have the disease, the other doctors simply assumed I had an inner ear infection, figuring Advil would help the symptoms subside. I sat in the doctor’s office receiving the details about the disease, but I remember very little of what he said until I finally asked: “What can I do to make it stop?”
Nothing.
Nothing. Advil? Could he at least prescribe me Advil?!? He said that he had seen symptoms subside in folks with Meniere’s disease when they cut their salt intake. His suggestion, as a young woman in her twenties, was to decrease my sodium intake to 200 mg a day.
200 milligrams A DAY, PEOPLE.
Let me give you some perspective, because when this was initially explained to me, I had none. One saltine cracker has 102 mg of sodium.
I enjoy good food. A lot. I always have. My closest friend knows there is no need for take home boxes when we go out to dinner; instead, she just passes over what she can’t eat and knows I will happily dispose of the leftovers. But there’s usually a lot of salt in good food, so the prospect of 200 mg a day in order to not live with this disease, the idea of introducing things like “Mrs. Dash” to my family in order to not feel pressure, dizziness, and nausea was certainly doable, but it was somewhat devastating.
I remember breaking down at one point trying to cook a dinner with under 200 mg of sodium. I threw Mrs. Dash against the wall (sorry, Mrs. Dash lovers). I was angry that my life felt so out of my control. I was angry at the prospect of living this way for the rest of my life, and I was angry at the reality that a no sodium diet might not even heal the disease.
That night I had a phone conversation with my mom, and she could clearly sense my frustration. She told me she’d pray for me and asked if there was anything she could do. I told her it’d be great if she could make it OK for me to eat Chinese food again.
Two days later mom called to let me know she had bought a ticket for me to come home and visit with a specialist who dealt specifically with Meniere’s.
Moms. They can be pretty great.
I found myself going through similar testing a few days later and discovered that I had lost over 60% of my hearing. While it’s true there is no official cure, this Doctor suggested a more aggressive treatment because of my young age. Thus began a three year regime of medication resulting in no more episodes, complete recovery of my hearing, and lots and lots of Chinese food. I listened in a way that I had never done before, and strangely enough, there was a sense of peace in the noise.
I have so much gratitude for doctors who the Lord has gifted with knowledge, wisdom, and even creative solutions. I haven’t had an issue in ten years, and I have been utterly grateful over the years for this healing…. until we had our third child. And then I missed not being able to hear. Only for a second. Or two.
My husband preached a few weeks ago on Daniel 2 and focused on the chaos that surrounded the wise men, including Daniel and his companions. Nebudchenezzar had insisted on finding someone who could not only interpret his dream but tell him what his dream was. And if he couldn’t find anyone who was able, he was going to kill them all. The wise men, including Daniel, would die if they couldn’t tell the King what his dream had been.
Talk about chaos.
But what’s amazing is what Daniel does upon receiving this news: he asks his friends to pray and then pleads with the Lord that He might show mercy and reveal the dream to them.
Why is this amazing? Because how many times do we, in the midst of the chaos, first go to Jesus and plead on our behalf, on our loved ones behalf, on our countries behalf? How many times in the last couple of weeks, with the harried politics and devastating violence, have we called a friend and simply ask them to pray that God would have mercy on our country and on our world.
This is not usually my first response, unfortunately. While reflecting on my own time of personal chaos, battling Meniere’s, I don’t remember ever (ever!) getting on my knees and pleading with the Lord for wisdom and healing. What I do remember is reading many articles about ear infections, complaining to my friends about the amount of Advil I was taking, looking extensively for recipes that were actually good but didn’t have sodium, and welcoming in any and all sympathy. But I don’t remember a time of concerted prayer, pleading with the Lord and asking him for healing and clarity.
When my sister was diagnosed with breast cancer at age 30, the first thing I did was to call a friend to tell her the terrible news, and I sobbed over the phone expressing my sadness verbally and emotionally. And when my mom was diagnosed with a brain disease, I called my sisters, processing the news with them alone. I remember these conversations very specifically, and I don’t regret finding solace in loved ones. I do, however, feel deep conviction over how seldom in my life I have gone first…first… to the one who reigns supreme over all of these situations. There is only one who can provide peace and healing, and there is only one who is unfazed and untouched by the chaos. But I go everywhere else first.
The question was posed by my husband during the sermon: “Where do we go in the chaotic moments? Man, self, or God?”
Of course, there is a time and place for all three. Daniel went to his friends, but not to complain, gossip, or talk about the latest hardship in order to gain quick sympathy, but instead he simply asked them to pray. And then he went and pleaded with the Lord.
Jesus, have mercy on us for not pleading with you first.
When I think about the world my kids are growing up in, the word “chaos” comes to mind – despicable injustice, terrorism everywhere, and violence beyond understanding. My youngest has had trouble sleeping because she fears ISIS. Lord, have mercy!
But the tornado of disorder and confusion blows in on a personal level as well. Like the disease I came face to face with, chaos can live inside, turning our lives upside down. It looks like illness, or even the fear of a debilitating disease; it looks like exhaustion from the change of welcoming in a new baby; it looks like confusion when a job is not what was expected; it looks like frustration when a child does not comply and we feel like we’re failing as parents.
It looks like chaos.
Where do we go in these moments? Because of our brokenness, it’s so easy to go first to an article, social media, or whatever outlet we can find to indulge our convictions and calm our fears.
Go to Jesus.
And why wouldn’t we if this is the God we serve:
Blessed be the name of God forever and forever, to whom belong wisdom and might. He changes times and seasons; he removes kings and sets up kings. He gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to those who have understanding; he reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what is in the darkness and the light dwells with him.
Daniel 2:20-23
When chaos begins churning around us, may we be found unmoved on our knees…listening in a way we have never done before to the one who is all wisdom and might. It’s there we can find peace in the midst of the noise.
