The story continues. . .

                                 (read:  part 1 and part 2 )

November 2008 – from my journal. . .

     This was a scary day for me.  I never dreamed of having to go to a Nephrologist.  In fact, up until a few weeks ago, I didn’t even know what one was.  Who wants to have to see a kidney specialist?  Certainly not me.

Because Skip is such a good husband, he insisted on going with me to the appointment.  I wonder if he was afraid I would back out?  We crossed the parking lot together, holding hands and trying to swallow the lumps in our throats.  We somehow knew the appointment that lay ahead of us would change our lives forever. 

As I fought back tears, I whispered to Skip, “I never wanted to come to a place like this.  I don’t  belong here”.  He squeezed my hand and assured me that we would get through this together and with God’s help.  His words didn’t really bring me comfort at the time because isn’t that what loving husbands are supposed to say at a time like that?  But what else was there to say?

As I reached for the entrance door and took a deep breath I was suddenly aware that God was speaking to me.   You know, in that still, small voice that whispers to you just when you need it.  “This is your new mission field.  Count how many people are waiting for you in your new mission.”   It was unmistakable.  Those were His words to me.  And sure enough, as I stepped through the door, there were 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.  staff members standing at the entrance to the office.  There were no other patients – just me, my husband, and my new mission field.   

I smiled at them as they greeted me.  “Hello, mission field” I thought to myself. ”    I wondered just who the changed person was that was living inside my body.  I hadn’t met her before.  She was suddenly a bit bolder, a bit braver, and ready for what was to come.

The appointment was difficult.   I love my new doctor.  His staff is great.  He explained the track Polycystic disease usually takes and assured us that he would carefully monitor my health.  He also explained that the 5 year estimate until I needed a transplant was not correct.  He felt that I would need a transplant in 1-2 years.  That information crushed my spirit.   He tried to reassure me that this was not a “death” sentence but simply a change in my life that I could overcome.  He didn’t realize I had lost my sister to this disease when she was 35.   My brave, bold, and ready self was wavering already!

We checked out at the desk and made our way out to the car.   It was a beautiful Autumn day; sunny with a slight breeze.  “Really, God?  My mission field?  Why me?  Why my family?”, I asked.   The answer came back to me almost as soon as the words were thought about in my mind. . . “Why not?”.  Why should I be spared from illness?  Why should I think my life would be a bed of roses?  Don’t I always learn more from God when the going gets rough?   

Tonight has been rough as we had to call friends and family to tell them the news.  Many of our friends didn’t even know about my initial diagnosis.  After all, we thought we had several years before it’s symptoms would be evident.  I have been sitting in bed, writing and praying.  I realized that my God made me and knows how I operate.  He knows that when I’m upset about something I like to have a job to do.  When I’m angry, I clean house.  When I’m fretting, I weed the garden.  Well, now I’m fearful of my health, my life, and my family.  So, He gave me a job to do – to share my faith with everyone I come in contact with during this process.   I’m sure I’ll be meeting a lot of doctors, nurses, lab technicians, and staff with every appointment.  I must remember that I am blessed.  I am very blessed.  I have a job to do and God will be glorified.

To be continued. . .