The past two weeks have been tough at our house. The resident man of steel is laid up with back pain that’s tolerable when lying, sitting, or crawling, but excruciating when he takes more than a few steps. An MRI on Thursday revealed a ruptured disk with possible debris floating around. (That’s this layperson’s version of the medical jargon.) Today we meet with a neurosurgeon at 11:15 to discuss treatment options.
The first week, Hiram went through denial, depression, and anger. The second week, he adjusted to using a wheelchair around the house and adapted his activity to minimize the pain. He did research on the internet, created a list of questions to ask the doctor, and is eager to hear good and/or bad news about treatment.
During Hiram’s week of denial, depression, and anger I counted our blessings, stayed strong, rearranged my work to take him to medical appointments, and stayed on schedule with my writing. During the second week, Camp Dorothy, taking care of Hiram, and meeting writing goals kept me too busy to think.
But on Sunday, when the schedule relaxed, my natural impatience and overactive imagination reared their ugly heads during my morning walk. The hours until Monday’s appointment were ticking by with excruciating slowness. My mind wandered to the worst case spinal surgery scenarios, which led to denial, depression, and anger at at Hiram for pushing himself when he ran this spring.
Most of all, I was angry at myself for being angry at Hiram who’s enduring terrible back pain. And angry because my feelings aren’t much different than they were 30 years ago when our baby was in NICU from May 24 – June 8, 1982. How can I have grown so little in 30 years? Why is my faith still so weak? How can God love someone like me? Then I thought of a verse in yesterday’s prayer guide.
If we are faithless, he will remain faithful, for he cannot deny himself. (2 Timothy 2:13)
The verse helped me focus on who God is instead of what I cannot be. The situation didn’t change. The worst case scenario still loomed. But a little peace entered my heart. I hope it’s enough to last until our appointment later this morning. But if I falter, there’s more peace where the first batch came from.
Would you pray that I can find it?