by Louisa Nicole, M.I.C.

Lisa-Anne Elvidge, coordinator of the program
and Sr. Louisa, master formator;
Photos : D. Radcliffe-Branch

RETURNING HOME

September 22, 2004 My emotions are indescribable when I see all those familiar faces welcoming me at the Dorval Airport. Never had I thought of coming back home so soon and in such a poor physical state. The next day, I am hospitalized at the Montreal Neurological Hospital. No longer are the waves rocking me: my canoe has been replaced by a gurney that rolls me from one examination room to another. No prior illness had prepared me for such a trial. Sometimes I recall the Japanese neurologist's statement: With this sickness, you will struggle for the rest of your life. These resounding words move me to tears; I hope he made a mistake… But no, his prediction was right! After a few days of investigation, the verdict is confirmed: Chronic inflammatory demyelinating polyradiculoneuropathy (PIDC). Why such a high-flown name to identify my disease?

THE FLIGHT OF A DOVE

A 52 year old woman shares the hospital room with me; she is beautiful like an angel but aggressive like a demon in holy water. Taken aback by her disease, lateral sclerosis, she has but a few weeks to live— a difficult predicament to accept. Though separated by the curtain stall, I hear the conversations that go on with her family. What a struggle! What despair! One calm evening, I dare invite her to join me in praying the Compline. For her, I adjust the psalms; gradually the peace of God seems to take over her troubled heart. One sunny morning, in early October, when she can hardly move because her muscles do not respond, she says: Talk to me about God. I am deeply touched by her request— I begin gently, with all my heart, all the while praying the Holy Spirit to inspire me and speak through me the words that will give her hope.

I am given one week off away from the hospital. When I come back for a treatment I make sure to go visit my friend. Her whole family is around her bed, her final departure is near. Her husband comes to me and says: What have you done to her? Since the day you have shared the room with her, she gradually changed and has become so serene. Look at her, she is so peaceful, so serene, and smiling! I come closer to my angel and whisper a few words in her ears. I feel we are both shrouded in the eternal mystery. The next day, like a dove freed from his cage, she returns to the Father's house, leaving me a message: Louisa, the Lord still needs you.

THE STRUGGLE

With all the good care I receive at the hospital, I am back on my two fragile feet. However, every week I must return for a treatment and go for physiotherapy to reinforce my muscles. With joy and full of hope I follow the instructions. Throughout the beautiful and colorful autumn season, I take a daily walk; though laborious it gives me energy. Then comes the deception. The treatment which seemed to be effective at first, no longer suits me. Somewhat hanging between the earth and the cold sky of the winter season, my strength diminishes. Springtime seems to hesitate, the sun and its rays are hidden behind the clouds, and my physical condition is now worse than the preceding one—nailed to my bed, incapable of any kind of movement. At this point I think of the blind man in the Gospel of Mark who is led by Jesus outside the village (Mk: 8:22)—this image helps me to "let go" and trust. Two more hospitalizations follow after which there is a long process of rehabilitation. For months I use a walker for support. Confident, I find strength to struggle.

THE BEGINNING OF A NEW MISSION ORIENTATION

On a regular basis, I have treatments at the Neurological Hospital. Here, I meet many young adults who have chronic illnesses. The chairs closely lined up in the room and the length of the treatment favor conversation and often times patients confide their anxieties. The solitude of so many saddens me, their perseverance amazes me. I listen and I pray, feeling powerless before so much suffering.

One day, I lay hand on a flyer: SELFMANAGEMENT WORKSHOPS FOR PEOPLE LIVING WITH CHRONIC PAIN: training sessions are given to those who suffer from a chronic disease and have abilities in animating groups. Overseen by Stanford University, this program is serious; I decide to register.

Spring 2007, my missionary life takes on a new orientation. The ABC of Chronic Pain Self-Management is a workshop given in two and a half hours, once a week, for six weeks. With a partner I facilitate the sessions to groups of ten to twelve participants--people with chronic illnesses acquire techniques to deal with their pain, manage their health and maintain an active and fulfilling life. The classes are highly interactive, the patients are encouraged to talk about how their chronic pain affects their daily life; the mutual support and success stories help build confidence. What a marvelous program! And what courageous people we meet! Though physically limited, they have hearts that know how to listen to the other and be attentive to the signs of life. They teach me so much!

Group participating in a session
Volunteers at a training session
Photos : D. Radcliffe-Branch

DANCING IN THE RAIN

In her French novel, TOUS LES FLEUVES VONT A LA MER, Belva Plain writes: Life does not consist in waiting for the storm to pass, but to know how to dance in the rain.

I owe much gratitude to McGill Health Centre that not only provides good care but gives me the opportunity to use my formation in reaching out to so many people who are in need of help. My illness remains, and that of the others as well. However, I have the certitude that together we are dancing in the rain, reaping the rewards of our efforts, somewhat like collecting beautiful shining diamonds which the sun offers us as it filters through the clouds.