Honestly I have felt this dragon in me all my life.  Completely unaware of it being my sign, or what I was feeling, and certainly the significance of it being so.

Dragons are symbols of great power, strength, endurance, courage, and incredible wisdom.  So I have to ask… what’s not to like about having that as your sign???  However there’s a flip side to having the dragon and that is that the one that carries it must also learn to tame it.  The dragon has a lot of fire in them.  I have had a lot in me.  I’ve had to really learn how to tame and control her.  The last six plus years was when that journey took serious shape.

The dragon analogy is used a lot in life.  In a lot of ways.  And right now this analogy is applicable.  Right now I’m dealing with it in a manner of facing the difficult.  The dragon.  Having to lean hard into what I believe and know to be absolutely true.  However the truest of tests has been placed at my feet and it’s taking all the strength of the dragon to get through.

Last Wednesday my son Zac, the one in the wheel chair due to being born with Spina Bifida, had a routine appointment to check on his vitals…. kidney’s, bladder, shunt.  These are appointments that we have attended twice a year for 15 years without a bump or snag of any real concern.  Appointments that we’ve endured.  We can wait in the waiting room one, two, three hours, then in the exam rooms for no less than three while doctors and nurses file through at various intervals.  Prior to the appointments we go to x-ray, ultrasound, and whatever else they require at the time…blood work, urine samples…  They are all day affairs that, over the years have become as routine as, well I can’t think of a word picture for this one.  But they’re routine.   Casual.  Boring.  A test to ones endurance at times.   They come, they go, they pass without any outstanding result.  So much so that I don’t go anymore.  I always had.  I was always the one that took him.  But since the divorce his father takes him.  His office is minutes from the hospital.  I’m minutes from the school.  Both separated by lots of traffic and a half hour drive during good traffic.  Someone needs to get my two youngest from school since these days will always take longer than the pick up time from Extended Day.  It makes sense.  It works.

Except this time.  This time was different. Those tests produced news.  News that every parent of a child with SB fears.  The threat  we all hear from when they are born…  I got a call from his father…Zac is in renal kidney failure.  A level 4.  There’s no level 5.  On a scale of 1-100.  100 being perfect, he is at a 25.  One point above the need for dialysis,  so it’s not “if” dialysis, it’s “when”.  And even with it there’s a very strong possibility that he’ll need a kidney transplant.  His potassium is so high that if it goes up at all he will/could die instantly of a heart attack.

I froze.
I asked slow, paced questions.
Tears burned down my cheeks.
I had a hard time processing everything.
“Yes, I’ll  go there when you get home.”  We need to talk with Zac.
We ended the call.
I went to my bedroom.
Closed the door.
Slumped hard against the wall and cried.  My body shook with convulsions as I internalized the sobbing wail.  I crumbled forward as a silent scream tore through me, sparing the boys from the fear of seeing me in this extreme reaction.  Of not understanding… since I was so far into pain and shock.
Finally, my trembling hand dialed the phone.  The well versed number that dials my friend.  My business partner.  My Naturopathic Spiritual Intuitive…John Solomon Sandridge.  The man who saved me from death 6 and a half years ago.
He told me what to give Zac.  He told me to change his diet immediately to all whole fresh food.  He encouraged.  He sought to strengthen me…  “This is difficult, but think and be positive.  Live today.  Today he is alive… He needs you to be strong.  Together.  Don’t sentence him to death…”

I pulled myself together.  His father and I talked with Zac.  He said he’ll do what he needs to to get well.

I have a Naturopath that I know can show us how to allow Zac’s body to heal.  I know from personal experience.  I know from my girlfriend Frances who 19-20 years ago was in level 4 ovarian cancer, there is no level 5, and given 2-3 weeks to live and is alive today with more energy and drive than anyone I know because, and only because of John Solomon Sandridge’s skill with the human body and getting it to heal with herbs, vitamins, food, and treatments.  I know from all the other people I’ve personally witnessed that have come to him half dead and live today.  I also have a strong medical community that is working with us as well doing all they know to do.
This is a great combination.
I have a good deal of peace now that I’m through the shock.
So what’s my dragon?   It’s one thing for me to have been snatched from the jaws of death, and Frances and others, and it’s another to watch your child brushing against it.  This is the stare into the dragons eyes.  This is the truest of tests for me.  To lean into the knowing and have unwavering faith that Zac’s body can and will heal itself.  And all we/he has to do is to follow the directions.  Daily.
Honestly I’m doing very well.  But I won’t tell you that there isn’t this little twinge in my stomach at times.  A ripple that moves through attempting to rob me of my peace.  But overall I’m restful.  Expecting his health to return without dialysis or a transplant–that he might or might not live to see due to how long they take to get if his health didn’t restore itself.  Which it will.

Thus far Zac has responded very well.  He doesn’t want to die.  He doesn’t want a kidney transplant.  So he has taken the supplements.  Every day.  Three times a day.  He’s willingly eating the meals I’m making him as I’ve taken over this area of his life.  He’s eating things that before he wouldn’t touch, like most vegetables and fruits.  He’s paying attention to the do’s and don’ts of his diet and adhering to them.  He’s embracing the truth that he can heal his body.   He’s amazingly strong about it.  He knows I got well.  He knows he can.  He trusts in John Solomon’s ability.  And I’m thankful, once again, for John. Doctor John Solomon Sandridge.

Night, love ya,
Theresa Jane
-who finally was ready and mentally together to talk about this in my blog…more tomorrow