Curiouser and curiouser

How inevitable that tomorrow turns so quickly into today. And today began with my cardinals singing me awake. I opened the blinds to a gray and overcast day with a spring chill to the air. Drew obviously remembered what today is because I only had to call him twice! My drive to work was pleasant - I listened to my favorite pianist, and remarked once again at his delicate phrasing, his powerful command, his absolute control - all made to appear so effortless you are only aware of the beauty of the music, and every time you hear it, you become aware of something new.

Work flew by, and soon I was on my way to see the doctor, fully expecting to get the game plan, dates in places, know what to do when. I put on some worship CDs and sang at the top of my lungs all the way there. The truckers I was passing must have thought I was crazy, but I sang myself happy. First the paperwork, then meet the intern, then a thousand questions. External exam, meet the doctor, more questions, another external exam, then the internal one.

"Hum." Probing and poking. He shook his head. "You're going to hate me, but I need to do that again." More probing and poking. I think he made up a few places to poke. "That's odd. We're going to take another look at the scans. We'll be back."

I should have known it would not be straightforward. It never seems to be with me. They return, puzzled. "Have you had a hysterectomy?"

"No."

"Well, that's curious. Are you sure?"

"I think I would remember something like that."

"I'm having a hard time making sense of things. I'm going to ask you to do a few more tests. Sit tight and we'll see if we can get you in today."

They do. I go from waiting room to waiting room. I feel like a science experiment. I am most distraught by the internal ultrasound. It hurt. I grit my teeth, and finally I can't take it anymore and I say "Ow - ow!" The technician is engaged in a focused conversation with the guy who will read the test. Their heads are bent over the screen, they are pointing to stuff. "Yeah - take that one."

"Hey! Stop!" I plead. The technician looks up surprised. "Does that hurt? It shouldn't."

"Yes!" I say, tears streaming down my cheek. "It is excrutiating."

"Huh." They consult and agree to continue externally. Great. Now I will be gooey everywhere! At last I am finished. I can go. No worries about rush hour traffic, now long since subsided. I am weary. I see the little chapel with the beautiful stained glass doors. I go in and sit. I should call Drew and let him know that I am leaving now, that he shouldn't worry. But I don't. I just sit. I do not think. I do not move. Slowly, the hecticness of the day quits washing over me. I can see the quiet gray blue of the walls and chairs. I take in the altar with its beautiful flowers. I lean over to smell their gentle fragrance. There are several small pads of paper and pencils on the altar, and a basket filled with what I assume are prayer requests. Why not? I fill out a little piece of paper with my prayer to God, fold it, and add it to the hundreds already there. I wonder what agonies others are dealing with. I resist the urge to read any. Instead I pray for the others who have opened their hearts to God. I kneel by the open Bible and read Psalm 103:

1 Bless the LORD, O my soul;
And all that is within me, bless His holy name!
2 Bless the LORD, O my soul,
And forget not all His benefits:
3 Who forgives all your iniquities,
Who heals all your diseases,
4 Who redeems your life from destruction,
Who crowns you with lovingkindness and tender mercies,
5 Who satisfies your mouth with good things,
So that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

Yes. I am renewed. My strength is returning. I can drive home. No game plan. More details to see to tomorrow. Call them on Thursday. They hope to have some news by then. Huh. Not the way I thought the day should go. But then, I am in God's hands. He will show me the right way. I will be OK. I go home to lay on the couch and nurse my wounds.

Tomorrow. . .