This week has been a rough week. Last Friday, my daughter filled a toilet with blood and since then my heart has been heavy with worry. A week later, I sat in the emergency room watching the doctors take her blood again after several bouts of bleeding and dizziness possibly associated with blood loss. She sat still without complaining. She smiled and chatted with the nurse as they prepared to draw her blood. She watched intently, curious about the instruments they were using and asking questions about what everything was for. She did not even jump when they inserted the needle and her curiosity never let her turn away.
She was so brave. And my thoughts drifted to other children I have read about. Children who were so brave through illnesses and eventually confronting death.
I was relieved they found no signs of anemia and she was released. We came home to the mess we had left the house in and I couldn’t focus myself to do much of anything with it. The logical part of me, the part telling me that such worry is silly, that the most likely diagnosis is nothing to be too concerned about and that I can’t do anything about it anyway, had little say in my scattered thoughts. I keep hearing my daughter’s thin, uncertain voice the day I told her she would be seeing a specialist in Omaha,
Mommy, what if I have cancer?
It isn’t a word I’ve said to her. It isn’t a possibility I’ve entertained in our conversations. And I so much want to hold her and tell her she has nothing to worry about. Even with everything else ruled out, cancer is unlikely. Something would have likely shown up in the other tests. It isn’t likely. But statistics aren’t as comforting as knowing for sure.
Lars Walker reflects on that day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, that day of waiting, and his thoughts speak directly to my heart at this present time.
It doesn’t have a name (or not a well-known one, anyway) because it’s a kind of a nothing. The bad thing happened yesterday. The good thing hasn’t happened yet. It’s the day of disappointment, of shock, of depression. The day when the scattered disciples hole up and try to figure out the safest way out of the province. The day when everything has fallen apart, and you don’t know what’s coming next.
The day when all you’ve got to go on is a promise. And that promise that doesn’t look very promising, in the wake of what happened yesterday. Brandywine Books
As he points out in his post, that really is where we are all at. Easter isn’t finished yet. We see as through a glass dimly. We have a vague sense of what is to come, but we really are living on a promise and faith in its fulfillment. We can no sooner change what is coming than the setting of the sun, but, through excessive worry, I try.
And it was through watching the sunset Saturday evening that my son, with his awkward sense of humor, gave me the little bit of peace I needed to wait. Not entirely without maternal fretting, but without the rising tension that has gripped my thoughts since our trip to the ER.
Mommy, it looks like the sky is on fire…
I smiled and hugged him as he sat down beside me on the railroad tie.
Imagine if the fire department saw it and tried to put it out! That would be silly; you can’t put out God’s creation.
I laughed at the mental image of the fire department fixing their hoses on the sunset and realized how much I try to do the same thing in my mental attempts at discerning the unknowable. I stand with my fire hose ready, forgetting that this is not where the real battle lies. I am standing between Good Friday and Easter, not clearly understanding how everything will turn out. And all I can do is wait.
Thanks, Palm Tree Pundit, for the link to Lars’ post.
(And barring the unforseeable, I shall resume normal posting Tuesday, although I will undoubtedly be online in the meantime.)
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Many prayers for your daughter, Dana. And you.
The uncertainty must be so hard. I know you put *much* into your faith, Dana, and I am sure you have much comfort in today of all days, with the hope, love and care that was given to us in an Easter Gift.
My college student son is also a phleblotomist. I can remember almost 2 decades ago when his 2 year old sister was in the hospital for a week with a lame knee, for reasons we never did discover. I can remember all of the pokes and I can still remember the faces of those pokers. Dillon doesn’t hear that story anymore from me in reminder, as I’ve realized that he is so careful with the littlest ones and the oldest ones because he understands their vulnerabilities. My hope is that you have many Dillons in your daughter’s care and knowing some of his co-workers, I can only imagine that you do.
Good thoughts and prayers for your daughter and your family. Happy Easter.
Praying that they do figure it out–the waiting and not knowing are the hardest part.
Have a blessed Resurrection Sunday!
Prayers for your daughter and all of you through all the waiting and uncertainty — my His peace fill your hearts and minds.
And a blessed Resurrection Day to your family from ours. Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Happy Easter, Dana. I will be praying for a simple, undangerous diagnosis - and for peace while you wait.
Dana…having been through a similarly difficult time a year ago with our then 3-week old, my heart absolutely goes out to your and your daughter. We will be praying for you in this time.
Praying for peace of mind and an unremarkable/underwhelming diagnosis.
A blessed Easter to you and yours,
~Sarah
Oh i do hope everything is ok. So difficult when its our children.
Love the image of the fire department fixing their hoses on the sunset!
Oh, Dana.
Here are my prayers for you:
1. Good health for your daughter.
2. Peace for you.
Being a mother myself, and having been down similar roads, I realize that #1 is much more likely than #2. Hang in there.
My prayers, heart and lots of positive thoughts are with you and your daughter, Dana.
Hugs,
Mary
I’m praying for your daughter and you, your whole family — as you go through this difficult time, that God will put His loving arms around all of you, to comfort and strengthen you, and give you peace as only He can do.
Blessings,
DJ
As the scriptures tell us, “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” May this be a comfort to you and your daughter.
Hi Dana,
In times of despair we have only hope to rest our burdened heart on our Lord’s feet and take succour. My heart goes all out for your daughter and you; but make sure she’ll come unscathed and you much more better a human being: with each trouble we get stronger and firmer in our faith. May the joy of Easter fill your home and guide all of us in the times ahead! - Solomon
Best wishes and prayers for you and your daughter.
Sending prayers and good thoughts.
Best wishes to your daughter and your family, Dana.
Heavenly Father, watch with us over your child N., and grant
that she may be restored to that perfect health which it is
yours alone to give; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
I know that you and your daughter must be frightened. I’ll certainly keep you in my prayers.
When Marissa’s chiropractor found a tumor in Marissa’s pelvis and I was waiting to see a “real” doctor, the scripture that came to mean the most to me was, “And Asa in the thirty and ninth year of his reign was diseased in his feet, until his disease was exceeding great: yet in his disease he sought not to the LORD, but to the physicians.” ~ 2 Chronicles 16:12
I realized how much I was like Asa. I am glad you are finding a peace that passes understanding while you are in your waiting place ~ seek ye first!
Dana, thanks for sharing this; you have many prayers being sent your way. I just echo the rest of these wonderful commenters - praying for peace and health and healing. God bless your family.
Praying for peace and a good report!
Thank you everyone! At least one thing was accomplished from Friday’s trip to the ER: we no longer have to wait two weeks for an appointment. She’ll be seen by the specialist on Wednesday.
I’m glad you’ll be seen soon. I hope that everything turns out well.
Praying that all will be well, and thankful that you’re a believer. How do people cope with these kinds of things when they don’t know God? I’m glad you do. Don’t forget, God loves our children even more than we do.
Be sure to let us know what you find out. I’m still praying.
I will…but tomorrow, I think we are just talking to the specialist. I don’t think he is actually doing anything that hasn’t already been done.
Guess I’ll put this here for the moment, but all we learned at the specialist is that they want to do more testing.
So she had an X-ray, more blood drawn and we get to do another stool sample. After all that is done, they will do a colonoscopy if nothing has been turned up.