"What a gorgeous morning!!! Not sure if it is suppose to be as hot as the last couple of days, but I do love waking up to a sunny day! Makes all the night worries seem like nothing. :0)" {Facebook status from the morning of May 26, 2010}
"Still waiting...I know this sounds weird, but after this past year, it's good to know that I'm not crazy. This is actually a relief for me. Since April 2009, I have not been myself. Shoot...my mom thought I was bi-polar. Don't know the outcome, but I'm NOT crazy!! THAT is a relief!!" {Facebook status from early afternoon of May 26, 2010}
I was NOT a patient woman. I had a hard time waiting. If something didn't go as fast as I thought it should then I got very cranky. If traffic was slow, I was cranky. If my children didn't work as fast as I thought they should, I was cranky. If someone didn't speak a sentence in the length of time that I thought they should, I would try and finish it for them. If God didn't work as fast as I thought he should, then I would try and do what I needed to speed it up. It was very frustrating when we were trying to have children. You would have thought that I would have learned my lesson during all those months of fertility issues and then pregnancy problems, but nope! I was one woman who thought life should move at my pace and in my time. I was a Type A all the way.
One verse that really stung my heart every time I read it or heard it was Psalms 46:10 "Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted among the earth." I wasn't for sure what it meant to "be still". I was a fidgety creature. I was told over and over to "just relax". I would retort "I AM relaxed." Even when I watched TV or a movie I was always doing something...reading a magazine, counted cross-stitch, folding laundry or just fidgeting. I sang in the car. I had a hard time just sitting still and doing nothing. Even when I was suppose to be on complete bed-rest with my last two pregnancies I still accomplished things like completing scrapbooks and various other tasks that I probably should not have done.
The day that I awaited the results of my MRI was no different. I stayed busy. However, the toll of it was wearing on me and I ended up sleeping for part of the day. This is what frustrated me the most. I think naps are frustrating. I know they are part of the body's way of telling you that you need to rest, and your body to either fix something or to heal. I find them frustrating. As part of my "Type A" personality, I start each day with a list of tasks that I want to perform or accomplish by the end of the day. I call them "goals." It sounds more professional and not the stay-at-home mommy-ish feeling that I was starting to feel like. Yet, a nap could and would derail my goals faster than a jack rabbit running away from a coyote. That frustrates me.
One of my "goals" that day was the never ending task of cleaning off my dining room table. It seems to gather everything my family has to offer. If it doesn't have a place at the end of the day we say 'Go put it on the table.' Sooner or later, I will clean off the table. Have trouble finding something...it's probably on the table. Yes, I am ashamed...it's a rare family meal that we have where we all sit around the table because of this habit we have formed but it is our life. It was about 45 minutes before I had to go pick up the kids from school when the call came in from the doctor's office. It was the nurse. To this day, I'll never understand why I got this phone call and not a request to come into the office, but it happened this way.
"The verdict is in. I have a mass on my brain. It is so big that when the Dr called the neurosurgeon they originally scheduled me to come in on June 11, but after hearing the size I go in tomorrow. My appt is at 1:30. Please pray. I'm scared and relieved at the same time." {Facebook status May 26, 2010}
The nurse told me that according to the MRI that I had a brain tumor. Once again, I felt my world shift under my feet. I wanted to just melt into my hardwood floor. I was so numb that I just took it all in. The neurosurgeon wanted to see me tomorrow. It was that serious. It was that BIG. It was located between my brain and pituitary gland. I thanked her for letting me know. She wanted me to go by the hospital and pick up my MRI scan for the Neurosurgeon, and I told her I would. Most of this with little to no crying. What a wonderful patient I was she kept saying. Most patients would have been a mess by now over the phone. No problem. Right? WRONG!
I got off the phone and my first call was to my mom. Who doesn't call their mom after receive good news like that? I couldn't even get much out when I started sobbing and sobbing and sobbing. I finally calmed down enough to tell her what was going on. It was toward the end of the school day for her and there wasn't much she could do, so she said "Call your dad. I'm going to take a half day off tomorrow to go with you." I called my dad next. I told him what was going on. I had to pull myself together so that I could go pick my children up from school. Because THAT is what a good mother does. She pulls herself together. She dries her tears. She gets in the car. She apologizes for running a bit late "I got a last minute phone call" and she does what she has to do to carry on. Then, she makes time to pray. The problem was I had that all backwards. I should have prayed first and then picked up my kids and then called my mom. God knew from the moment I had that MRI what was going on. "BE STILL" The problem is I hadn't learned yet what it meant to "be still" and just listen to Him. He knew what was going to happen and I didn't.
Oh that night I was angry. I had a hard time sleeping. I cried. Was my visit from Jesus just a manifestation of this huge tumor? So did I just imagine the peace and love? Did I imagine the smile and warmth? Why God Why? Do you think this is funny? Do you not want me in heaven and need me to suffer on here on earth? Is this tumor some cosmic joke that I could have died from the gall bladder but now I needed to suffer more before I really died from maybe a huge tumor for what? To make me a martyr? I wrestled all night long with God. I did sleep some and finally came to some peace with Him but I just had no understanding. Why me? What purpose did this all serve? Above all else, I wanted my visit with Jesus to have been the real deal and not just a figment of my tumor. I was angry but I needed that breath of peace and love to hold onto as my lifeline because dawn was a long way off. It was nothing but darkness and pain. I desperately needed a lifeline.
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