There are days
when I say to the Lord, “I’m not going to make it through this day.” Yesterday
was one of those days. Gene and I had driven to Vanderbilt Medical Center to
see a doctor who specializes in Guillain-Barr Syndrome (GBS) to get a second
opinion on the current diagnosis and treatment plan.
What I expected:
yes, you have GBS but here are additional treatments that may hasten your
improvement.
What I got: I
don’t think you have GBS. Instead I think your problem is some sort of
neuropathy (of which there are hundreds) and I’d like to do further testing. Thirty five percent of people with problems such as yours never know what caused it in the
first place.
Gene and I both
just sat there staring at the guy! He repeated himself to help us understand
and I said to him, “So now we’re fishing for answers in the ocean instead of
fishing for answers in the lake.” He said yes, that’s correct.
My next question,
presented through tears, was this, “Will we know if he can get better?” The
doctor responded that we would discuss that after they complete their testing
at Vanderbilt. They did more blood-work, scheduled another EMG and off we went.
Even now I don’t
know what to say. Hashtag? #blownaway
And here’s why:
with the diagnosis of GBS we know that the chances of Gene walking again are very
good (with time and therapy). With the diagnosis of neuropathy (and especially
leaving Vandy with no more information than we got), the hope of walking slips
further away (at least in our minds).
So here’s the
question: what if Gene never walks again? What if life in a power chair is what
we have? Even now I find it difficult to breathe at the prospect.
While we waited
for the valet to bring the van around, I noticed a man and woman on a bench
across the way; they were facing one another having a conversation. They
clearly didn’t know each other but at some point the man indicated to her that
he was a combat veteran. She thanked him for his service to our country and
rose to leave and when she did, he turned to face us full on.
That’s when I saw
it. That’s when the tears began to flow freely. The man facing me had no left
ear and the area where his ear once was, was concave. The scar was massive.
I thought to
myself, “How can I sit here in distress over the fact that my husband,
perfectly fine in every other way, may not walk again?” The tears were on behalf of the people I saw at Vanderbilt yesterday…everyone of them in
much worse shape than Gene. And my tears were for my shame. Shame that I am so
selfish and such a baby and so entitled.
Don’t get me
wrong. I think I should grieve and mourn and weep over what I (we) have lost in
Gene’s ability to walk. But grief can only be a stop along on the journey, not
the destination itself.
The destination?
Glorifying God in all things; bringing honor to and hallowing His great name.
Even. In. Bad. Times.
God reminded me
this morning that Gene and I have been praying for some time that God would
allow us to be broken (brokenness is the condition of being completely
subdued and humbled before the Lord, and as a result, completely yielded to and
dependent upon Him).
If that has been our prayer, our earnest request, why would
we for one minute question what He may have sent to accomplish His plans?
Now I don’t want to over-spiritualize here. We are sad about
this thing that has happened but we are not without hope. For one, the doctor
didn’t SAY that Gene wouldn’t walk again, he simply said he won’t know without
further testing. Imagination can be a terrible thing.
This particular phase of life is not easy. As a matter of
fact, it is far harder than I imagined it could be. Thank God I have had people
come alongside me with great physical support and more importantly, faithful
prayer support. And I’m (we’re) going to need lots more!
As for those days (like yesterday) when I tell God I’m not
going to make it? I lay my head on my pillow at night, close my eyes and say,
“I made it God. By your all-sufficient grace, I made it.” And that’s what will
carry me (us) through. Moment by moment, pressing hard into Him who loves me
(us) more than I (we) can comprehend and has a plan that He is faithfully working
out in my (our) life.
It seems like every day I have a new theme song and
yesterday “How He Loves Me” by The David Crowder Band became that song. Here’s the YouTube link:
I nearly had to pull
off the road when it came on! I’m a great multi-tasker so I just drove and
cried and sang and cried some more! Just read a couple of these lines and you
may see why it caught my heart:
“He is jealous for
me,
Loves like a
hurricane, I am a tree
Bending beneath the
wind of His wind and mercy.
When all of a sudden
I am unaware of these
afflictions eclipsed by glory,
And I realize just
how beautiful you are
And how great your
affections are for me.”
So no matter what, I know He loves me. I know that even in
this “inconvenience” He is extending mercies that I don’t even see. And what I
want? I want these afflictions to be eclipsed by His unsurpassing glory so that
I can begin to see just how beautiful He is.
More about Jesus. Less about me.
Thanks for reading.
