It was all I could pray, and just a whispered prayer at that.
My life and my soul were in the middle of a storm. Tears obscured my vision as I tried to navigate the raging waters that circled my heart. I wanted God to take the helm, to navigate the path, to take me safely to harbor. I wanted him to part the waters so I could walk through. I wanted to be safe on dry ground again, yet right now I was facing swells that threatened to capsize my life.
I looked in her eyes, really not needing to ask the question, but wanting to give her a chance to voice what was on her heart, “How are you, really?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to, but I might understand better than you might think.”
I looked up and met his kindly eyes. I had been avoiding them as I sat down, not sure what I would find.
“How are you?”
“Where shall we start?”
“How about the changes since last time.”
“Well, how is it that he lost weight with all the chemotherapy and the same amount of weight he lost, I gained.”
“Somehow I didn’t think that’d get by you, but the scales don’t exactly lie do they?”
He didn’t say anything. I think he knew that was a sensitive subject for me.
Excited cannot begin to express how we felt as we entered the doctor’s office that day. It’s always special for a momma to feel her baby move inside her pregnant belly, but it’s a different kind of special for the expecting couple to see their little growing “peanut” on the sonogram screen. We followed the nurse into the exam room, traded my street clothes for the disposable paper gown she offered, and waited for my doctor to enter. When he did, he was all smiles as usual. I liked him. His positive attitude always put me at ease, and made it feel less like a doctor’s visit and more like catching up with a friend.
Both professionally in my private practice as a neuropsychologist, but also personally, if I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it 100 times: “I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything.” People come to me when they are broken and hurting, in need of help, in need of answers. They aren’t sure if their child has attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, a learning disability, or autism.
“We’re in the fire.” That’s how I described our current life situation when I ran into a couple of friends recently who asked how me and my family were. “This may go down as our most challenging year ever,” I explained. “That’s saying a lot given all you two have endured in your 30 years together!” one of them replied. [more]