A Miracle from God

No one tells you this, but it turns out being supernaturally healed is pretty overwhelming. I suppose I might have expected that, but given that I wasn't expecting healing, I hadn't exactly done my research.

Here's what I know about what happened.

Thursday and Friday, my husband and I celebrated our vaccinated status as well as his retirement from the military by taking an overnight trip out of town. It was lovely, although impeded by my difficulty walking or using my hands. I walked short distances, slowly, using my leg braces and a crutch. I couldn't use chopsticks at dinner due to my impaired fine motor control so I had to request a fork. I woke up once overnight to use the restroom and had to use the wall for balance and be careful that my legs didn't buckle underneath me.

Saturday we visited some dear (vaccinated) friends at their house for dinner. It was about a two hour drive from our home. Dinner was lovely, though impeded by my difficulty walking or using my hands. I limped around, slowly and for short distances only, with a crutch, after taking my leg braces off. My husband had to cut my meat for me. I had trouble keeping a grip on my wineglass. 

We drove home uneventfully.

As we were getting the house tidied up for the night before bed, I remarked to my husband that my legs felt a bit funny. I walked on them for a couple of steps, then - with astonishment - walked across the kitchen with just my braces, no crutch. My husband and I were both floored by this, but it was also midnight, and the idea that I might have a change in my function was too much to handle. We decided not to discuss it and went immediately to bed. As I lay there, my pillow soft under my cheek, I thought to myself, I wonder what is going-

I woke up the next morning in the middle of my sentence, in full mental flow but only gradually becoming aware that time had passed - on, why my legs would feel so different all of a sudden, I wonder if something has really changed. I noticed I was awake, and realized I must have slept. My husband was already up, the bed cool next to me.

I sat up.

Pushed off the covers.

Stood.

And strode across the room.

Strode. Strode, as in, walked quickly, using both legs equally. Strode. Across the room. By myself - no braces, no crutch, no cruising the furniture like a toddler. Just me and my two legs, walking as though walking were something we accomplished every day.

There's a blank spot in my memory after that.

My husband tells me I yelled for him, then walked like a normal walking person into the living room. I believe him, but I don't remember that. The next thing I remember is becoming hysterical as I tried to eat a piece of toast. I think a person is allowed some hysteria when they suddenly, and in defiance of everything known about their disease process, wake up one morning and find they have literally regained the ability to walk. 

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The week since has been very interesting indeed, and by, "very interesting" I mean, "totally overwhelming and astonishing." I woke up the day after my miraculous recovery feeling sore everywhere, even the muscles in my hands and feet - which, considering I don't really have muscles there anymore (they atrophy and disappear after a point), leaves me simply marveling. And I've continued to improve by a huge margin each day. My arms and legs have gotten stronger. My shortness of breath and daily fatigue have utterly vanished. Here is a nonexhaustive list of the things I've done this week that I haven't been able to do for anywhere from six months to several years: yell, type quickly, jump, walk without braces (walk without braces!), do squats, hold a mug with one hand, use a knife at dinner, work a zipper with one hand, wiggle my toes. Oh, and dance. There has been much dancing.

I think God did this, and not through natural mechanisms. There is no known natural mechanism for this. I think the God of the Bible did... something... and directly caused healing in my body, for reasons that are His alone and for purposes I don't yet understand. I don't understand any of this, actually. But I know that God is powerful and good, that Jesus loves me (and you!), and that He deserves trust and worship. And that I can walk.

I do think it's important to say that my function still isn't normal. I still have some weakness and cramping in my right wrist and both feet, and some numbness remains. I have no idea if I'll continue to improve like I have been or if this is as far as it will go.

But that means at worst, God has put me back where I was three full years ago, almost before I knew I had anything wrong at all.

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I think some fairly specific, technical background information is extremely important here, and I think it's necessary to put it in this post so anyone reading this has everything in one place.

The most important thing to address is that I was not misdiagnosed, nor was my diagnosis ever in question. When I was diagnosed with Charcot-Marie-Tooth disease, I received a clinical diagnosis from a general neurologist first, followed by a nerve conduction study and EMG which was performed and interpreted by a neuromuscular neurologist. I also had genetic testing. All stages of my evaluation were confirmatory for CMT 1a. What this means is that two neurologists, one of whom specializes in neuromuscular diseases like mine, found that I had a diagnosis of CMT, and that this was further confirmed and subtyped as 1a via a genetic test. The nerve conduction study/ EMG also ruled out several alternate possible diagnoses, most notably Guillain-Barre and CIDP (not that my presentation was convincing for either of these for a number of reasons). My acetylcholinesterase antibodies were negative, which makes myasthenia gravis very unlikely. And I had an MRI of my brain and cervical spine which was normal; that along with the EMG ruled out multiple sclerosis. Again, clinically my symptoms were entirely consistent with CMT from the very beginning, and very inconsistent with anything else. 

The takeaway from all of this is that there is essentially no diagnostic uncertainty about what I have. I have CMT 1a. And this really matters, because we know CMT 1a does not suddenly improve. With persistent exercise, there can be modest, hard-earned improvement; otherwise it worsens slowly over time with periods of more rapid progression. This had been my experience up until the past week.

I also think it helps to get a good idea of just how much improvement I'm talking about here. This is not just a few good days. As of a week ago, I could only walk about half normal walking speed, and I required leg braces and a crutch to do so. Weakness and patchy numbness had progressed from my feet up into my thighs and, on my right side, my hip, causing muscle cramps and burning as well as instability. My toes, feet, and ankles were mostly paralyzed. My forearms and wrists were too weak to open a bottle of medication, pull a zipper, or write more than a couple of words. I was fatigued, a horrible exhausted sensation, all the time. And I was recently diagnosed with mild to moderate neuromuscular respiratory weakness after having formal pulmonary function testing done. I'm currently in the process of applying for a power wheelchair due to the severity of my condition.

I'm trying to decide how to tell them I don't need that anymore, considering I haven't needed any assistive devices since this healing began.

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If I told you that you should be grateful - thankful to God - for your ability to breathe, or your ability to  walk, and it were something you had always been able to do, I think you would intellectually be able to understand what I was saying. Walking, breathing, using your hands; they're all great things. But you wouldn't feel the gratitude, feel it at a deep emotional level. 

I really feel that gratitude now. 

Every time I can type something at normal speed without pain, or fold a towel, or write. Every time I walk across a room without any assistive devices. Every time I stretch without all my muscles locking up in protest. Every time I raise my voice without feeling short of breath. Every time this week that I have been able to do one of a hundred tiny things that I used to take for granted as an able-bodied person but that have eluded me more and more over the past five years, I have felt a rush of humble thankfulness so powerful it borders on panic. It is truly experiencing the fear of the Lord.

And yet... I can't help but remember something I heard Joni Eareckson Tada say several years ago: there are better things than walking. That is true. It was true when I could walk before, and it was true when I had almost lost my walking, and now that I can walk again it is still true. And listen, I don't know where this is going. It's not like there's a user manual for miracles. Is this temporary? Is it permanent? Will my condition improve from here, worsen, what? And don't even get me started on the potential implications; I can barely think about those at this point. I just know that although this gift is powerfully good, Jesus is better. And I will still count Him as better than any physical function even if I lose my ability to walk again, even if He takes it away tomorrow or next week. 

But while it's here, I plan to enjoy it to its fullest.