Tag Archives: pain

Beneath the surface: Maryville resident fights through pain to live joyfully

By Jacki Wood, Nodaway News Leader

“Look beneath the surface; let not the several quality of a thing nor its worth escape thee” – Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 167 AD

Karin Yarnell doesn’t have the energy to play with her kids. Or do house projects. Or be involved with her church or help others or spend time with friends.

All of which was a big part of her life just a few short years ago.

“I used to be extremely active,” the 40-year-old Maryville resident said. “I loved to play sports, work out, hike, swim, bike and run.”

Now, she does none of those things.

To look at her, though, nothing seems wrong.

But beneath the surface, she lives her life in pain.

“I rarely have pain-free days,” she said. “I have learned to fight through pain as much as possible to be able to do what I love. Some days, though, the pain wins, and I go to bed.

“I reserve my best for my family and my ministry. After that, there isn’t much left.”

She and her husband Jason, who is the Baptist Student Union minister, have three children, Meghan, Caleb and Allison. She is a homemaker and also serves as a BSU mentor.

Diagnosed illnesses

Yarnell lives with what have been called invisible illnesses – chronic conditions not visible on the outside.

She was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s in 2005 and Celiac disease in 2008.

With Hashimoto’s, her immune system attacks her thyroid and prevents it from making enough hormones.

Celiac disease is a digestive disorder that damages the small intestine and is triggered by eating foods containing gluten.

She was on thyroid medication for several years but her body started having hyperthyroid reaction to it and she was taken off it.

Then in 2012, she was also diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and Fibromyalgia.

CFS affects many body systems making it difficult to do normal activities. Fibromyalgia includes long-term pain spread throughout the body in the joints, muscles, tendons and other soft tissues and is often linked to fatigue, sleep problems, headaches, depression and anxiety.

“I have been under the care of several doctors and functional practitioners throughout the years who have all provided me with great knowledge and have helped in various ways,” she said. “My treatment right now consists of a very strict diet, rest, managing stress, low exercise and managing symptoms with medication as they arise.”

Daily life

“Fatigue is the single most life-changing symptom I have,” Yarnell said. “I can manage pain. I can manage not feeling well, but the fatigue is relentless. It’s not a fatigue that goes away with sleep. It doesn’t go away with a nap. It’s always with me. It affects me every day.”

In addition to fatigue, she is extremely sensitive to gluten and has severe reactions to even a small amount of cross-contamination. She makes her own meals, doesn’t eat out and takes food with her wherever she goes.

“I try to set people at ease, but I know some feel uncomfortable when I can’t eat what they have prepared,” she said. “I never expect anyone to cater to my needs, but I know they still feel badly about it.”

Another symptom is brain fog which has affected her ability to communicate with others.

“I used to be a confident public speaker, but now I have difficulty stringing together coherent thoughts.”

She also can’t drive for long periods of time as her eyes grow weary and her whole system wants to go to sleep.

KarinYarnell

Dedicated support

“My family is tremendously supportive,” she said. “My husband is phenomenal. He believes me and affirms me when I tell him how I feel even though I look fine on the outside. He prays for me. He encourages me to try new things that might help my symptoms. He adds extra work on himself so I don’t have to do it and he never complains.”

She said her children are incredibly supportive as well.

“They understand I can’t do the things I used to do. They make me laugh. They are understanding and sympathetic.”

Yarnell said her church recently started an encouragement group for women with chronic illness. It is open to the public and meets at 7:30 pm on the first Monday of the month at Laura Street Baptist Church.

“It is a blessing to be around others who understand how you feel,” she said. “I read a lot of blogs and talk to people online that share my symptoms. Sometimes it’s just nice to know you aren’t alone.”

  

Different view

One of the biggest lessons she’s learned is how to depend on God for everything.

“I need God every day,” she said. “He is my Friend, my Comfort, my Savior. I talk to Him a lot about the pain I am feeling. I know He knows and understands. He sees my struggle that is invisible to everyone else and He is there for me. He gives me joy, peace and contentment.”

She is also continuing to learn it’s okay to not do everything that is expected.

“The reality is that I can’t,” she said. “I have to choose to not feel guilty about it.”

Despite living with these illnesses, Yarnell offers encouragement and hope.

“It’s okay and important to grieve,” she said. “Cry over what is lost, but don’t quit.

“Be kind to yourself. You don’t have to do what everyone else does. You are fighting a battle others know nothing about. Don’t compare what you can do with what healthy people do.

“You can still be happy! It might take some extra work, and you might have to cut things out in order to give your best to what you find the most meaningful, but it’s worth it.”

Background information came from the National Institutes of Health at nih.gov.

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Hate is heavy

Blog post:

There are days when I feel like I hate everything and everyone. My family probably feels like that’s every day 🙂

I hate my body. I hate my pain. I hate my bed. I hate my room. I hate the color on the walls. I hate that I live in this town. I hate purple socks. I hate all socks. I hate yogurt and turkey bacon. I hate how I feel after eating Reese’s eggs for breakfast instead of the yogurt and turkey bacon. (Who am I kidding? Reese’s eggs for breakfast rocks. Ha!) I hate stupid commercials on tv. I hate the color red. I hate annoying people. I hate happy people. I hate perfect people. I hate the people that love me. I hate hate hate hate hate…

But the hate makes it all worse. The emotional feelings make me feel physically worse.

And so I have to take a step back and realize what I’m doing. And I have to look for love.

I love the people who love me. I love the fact that I have a bed. I love that I have an iPad, social media, music, tv and the Internet.

I love that I’m not alone. I know there are other people out there who feel the same as I do, which is why I’m writing this blog. I love that we can provide one another hope. I love that I can write.

Hate is heavy, it weighs us down, it’s dark, it is destructive.

My bedroom, where I spend much of my time, is pretty dark. I have these great curtains that keep the light out in the hopes that I can get more sleep. I was lying in bed today when I heard a storm rolling through – I love thunderstorms – so I decided to pull back the curtains and open the blinds. And then I noticed something. The tree in our front yard is in full-on popcorn popping mode – full bloom – and beautiful. I looked around and noticed the neighbor’s bush bursting with red and the first few dandelions poking their heads up from the ground. And then I watched it rain. It was so refreshing. Soon the storm was over, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds and light filled my room.

It surprised me how much I enjoyed it, with how bad I am feeling today, and it reminded me how important light can be to us.

When we’re knee-deep in the mud of whatever it is we’re slogging through in life, it’s sometimes hard to remember that it’s only temporary. It may not be today or tomorrow or in the next 10, 20 or even 50 years. But it will get better. The sun will return and we will enjoy its warmth shining down upon us.

So look for the good. Look for love and look to the light. It will lift us up. I BELIEVE that it will.

Dieter. F. Uchtdorf said: “Healing comes when we move away from the darkness and walk toward the hope of a brighter light.”

Pull back the curtains and see what you can see. It just might surprise you.


Help thou mine unbelief

Blog post:

My husband says it must be what a toothache feels like. You know, when you can’t get in to the dentist yet and you have to wait and the pain totally consumes you. For a day or two. Except this has lasted for 17 years now.

My forearms hurt and sometimes the palms of my hands and even my thumbs and fingers. My triceps hurt and my shoulders. My neck and all the muscles down my spine and my hips. Up and down my legs. Especially the muscles on the outside above my ankles. There are times when I feel like my ribs and spine are crushing me and I can’t breathe.

I sometimes have no strength, not even enough to hold a pen in my hand and write a note. Or stand in the kitchen long enough to cook a simple dinner. And I have tension headaches that can last for days.

And then there’s sometimes this fog. I can’t think straight. I can’t remember things, even little things. Everything is just kind of fuzzy. There are also bouts with depression.

I can’t sleep. I can’t fall asleep because I hurt so much. And I can’t stay asleep once I do. So I’m tired. Exhausted. In pain. And moody.

And consequently, I’m frequently short with my family. And then I pile guilt on top of everything else for being short with them. It’s not their fault. It’s no one’s fault. But that’s hard to remember when you hurt everywhere and you haven’t had an average night of sleep in six days.

So I retreat to my room, close the door and hide in my bed. I miss out on much of life. They go off on these fun adventures. They invite me along, but I know it won’t be fun for anyone if I go. They say it will be okay, but I know the times I’ve gone when I feel like this hasn’t been all that great for them. Or for me.

This is my life. It has been for the last 17 years. Some hours, days, weeks and months are better and some are worse than others. There are times when I feel strong and I feel I can do anything. And there are times when I feel so small and hopeless and alone.

It’s physically exhausting for me to even go out and shoot baskets, one of the things that used to bring me great joy. I try to walk on the treadmill for even half an hour and then I’m done for the rest of the day.

I do push myself, though. I push myself to go into work two days a week. And I’m grateful for laptops and iPads so I can work in bed the rest of the time. I also sometimes push myself to go to my kids’ activities. I’m happy to say I made it to every one of my daughter’s volleyball and basketball games this year. That’s really hard with the drive to games and the bleachers. Oh, the bleachers.

And I try to use laughter as much as possible. I try to find humor in the smallest of things and laugh out loud. Because laughing releases endorphins, the body’s natural feel-good chemicals, and I need every feel-good anything I can get to combat the pain.

And when I have to be in public, I try my very best to hide it all, to fake it, until I can make it back to my bed where people don’t judge me. I’ve gotten pretty good at that, faking it, I mean. But sometimes it’s all just too much to hide.

It’s been really bad the past few months. I’ve seen some pretty dark days. So I’m trying to rise above that. I struggle to know what that means though. I guess I’m trying to accept the life that’s been given to me. I don’t know if, in 17 years, I’ve actually tried to do that. I always thought it would eventually get better. But it’s hasn’t. I think it’s actually gotten worse lately, as bad as it’s ever been.

This is not the life I thought I’d be living. So what is it I’m supposed to be doing? How can I turn this so-called weakness into a strength? I don’t know yet. But I think I’m ready to try and figure it out.

And then a few hours later, I’m ready to throw in the towel again and give up.

“Jesus said unto him, If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth. And straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears, Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief” (Mark 9:23-24).

So, here we go… I believe. Help thou mine unbelief…