Sunday, March 27, 2011

Rich Love

Today is our 7 year wedding anniversary. When restaurant.com did not show any promising dinner solutions, we headed for the pre fixe menu at our very own Sycamore. For us, Sycamore feels as if you are in the city, with a top chef and city atmosphere, without the drive in and parking fees. Mike and I had an exceptional time together reminiscing over our last 7 years, the milestones and great moments. The hard ones that clearly "grew" us closer together, small trials that we thought were huge, and somehow we both had a black hole in both of our minds between years 2-5, which was definitely his residency.

So I was in a baking mood this afternoon, and threw together two of our favorite cookies, peanut butter cup and double chocolate chip. Nothing quite goes by without an analogy in my mind, so as I was pouring the cocoa powder into the mix master bowl, a seemingly turbulent environment, the cookie dough developed into a richer, creamier, deeper color. The pale sweetness of sugar, butter, and eggs visibly transformed into a divine richness. Of course, stop and scrape the sides briefly, but getting back to the turbulent stirring, they were the moments when richness was really created. I'm not sure how my foremothers (generations ago) did it, with all that stirring. God must have revealed greatness to them in their baking, because they had so much time to think. My mixmaster accomplished cookie bliss in about 5 minutes, but looking into that bowl while mixing: yes, turbulence.

And isn't it in these moments where you really find out who someone is, or how deep or rich something has grown? Totally.

I was so un-consumed with my previous problems of anxiety, which I practically made a sport of leading up to my last appointment with my neurologist, so when this time we got to go meet the surgeon, somehow I was released from anxiety. I was excited. I guess I shouldn't say somehow, but I was not consumed with my previous frame of mind, and it allowed me to focus on such greater happenings. I don't think I would have noticed how well I was led by Mike, how orderly I needed my paperwork, or how succinctly I needed to tell these pros at Penn my story.

We started the morning with a breakfast at 7am at the diner where we signed the papers to buy our house, which was the last time we were there, 6 years ago. A sweet southern belle took our order and served us kindly while we both thoroughly enjoyed our time together. The half hour ride in was reminiscent of Mike's commuting into residency, and he quickly realized how much he did not miss that commute. And there it was . . . Penn in all of it's greatness, a brand new center for advanced medicine, with stunning architecture and life-size portraits of founders and physicians. Timelines of history and modern sculptures strategically placed around the clearly yuppy-natural food coffee stand and cafe, and elevators of glass revealing the surrounding campus of greatness in medicine. Stellar system and registration, everything clearly marked. Then the wait.

Had I been completely consumed with anxiety, this would have been miserable. We arrived at 8:45 and we met with the doctor at about 11:15. However, we couldn't help but feel they were researching my case, going over my CT scan results, discussing prognosis, etc. Mike was consistently encouraging and re-assuring. . . And then true greatness came in the door with a medical student. Confident, calm, quiet, discerning, reviewing, listening, and then spoke so succinctly you would assume that all the information for my visit was packaged neatly and handed to me verbally, in a cute little box that had taken years to prepare. He would occasionally pause and turn to the medical student and explain exactly what he meant if a particularly large concept blew by. We were able to schedule a thymectomy for mid April, and let's just say that within 20 minutes, the surgeon earned a whole lot of my trust and Mike's.

So, it would only be dreamy and naive to say that a smooth path would have been better these past few months than a rough one. Actually, the most growth that has happened in our 7 years of marriage was through areas of turbulence. I would not trade one cookies-worth of turbulence to go back to that pale butter-sugar mixture, seemingly bliss at the time. Mike is a true treasure and our marriage is a good and perfect gift from God. Although we are not perfect, His work in us is, and I would say, most definitely, bring on the cocoa and turbulence for many more years with my love.

Happy Anniversary Sweets!

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Alas, Anxious for Naught

Once again, my silly worry didn't matter. Anxiety did not bear fruit. Energy used on churning thoughts of "what ifs" and "whys" was not fruitful.

The appointment yesterday went very well, which I am very grateful for.
I have had several specific encouragements this week, which I am very grateful for. (Thank you, if you were one of them!)

One friend said, "just sit and know that you are in His hands."

What a perfect picture of stillness and resting in an anxiety free space. I really held dear to those churning thoughts of worry this week. It's not like when you are in the middle of a worry wheel, you just realize it and jump out. Like a hamster in a wheel, in a cage. It's as if you are holding on to the wheel, and saying, "No, leave me alone in my worry wheel, I'm comfortable here, go your own path. I think I'm gaining control." Yeah, well, the cage hasn't moved but you were moving. Your scene has not changed, but you think you are heading somewhere. The prognosis has not been changed one iota, but all that precious energy, gone and sold, and I really thought I was on to something with all that thinking.

There it is. My worry wasted on nothing. I'm really glad though, because it means we had a good report. Next time, and maybe if I go back and read from November, I will learn not to worry. Could it possibly stop my need for surgery, cure my disease, add a day or moment to my life? Well maybe if I . . . Ok. I'll stop there. :)

My neurologist is great, once again I will say it. Calm and wise, thorough and a listener, interested and answers all of my questions. He is pleased with my progress, I will be increasing the amount of steroid to take, and will pursue surgery within the next few months. I already called the surgeon and have a consultation for the end of March.

Even more so, the obvious providence of how the Lord is orchestrating this is refreshing. It turns out that the Surgeon we were recommended to worked with Mike during his residency, and his son is in a similar field to Mike, and they know each other. The surgeon that my neurologist wanted to originally use had just moved to Texas, so of course I was ready to camp out in the south for this one. Well, the surgeon I am actually going to trained the guy that moved to Texas, and is only about 4 miles away. City miles of course, but a lot closer than Texas. If only I had enough faith to not need these circumstantial moments of confirmation. There I go with "if only" again.

Apparently David had a nice little juxtaposition of worry and faith going on. If you are tracking along with us in Psalms, here's an excerpt from Psalm 43.

5 Why, my soul, are you downcast?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

What Not to Do

Let's get a little tally of "what not to do" inspired by one of our favorite movies, "How to Loose a Guy in 10 Days."

If you have an upcoming procedure, such as my thymectomy, I would not recommend goggling "myasthenia gravis thymectomy blog." Well, go ahead and google it. But if you come across an entry such entitled "My Thymectomy, to Hell and Back," you will probably get more anxious than you were to begin with. Of course, a title like that draws you in, so you probably will continue reading, and even if you do, try not to think about it past the few minutes it took you to read the entry. If a week happens to go by and you are still fretting about the aforementioned blog entry, feel free to let it go.

Try not to put such a heavy weight on the things you don't understand. I can't possibly understand the first thing about making an incision in my neck and scooping down to pull out the thymus gland.

Try not to read medical journals on the subject. There is a reason these doctors need 15+ years of training, and a little information is usually worse than a lot of information.

Refrain from stressed-out work mode. You know, where you are so task driven to drive out whatever you are worrying about that you forget to eat? Not good. Especially if you actually have MG, where stress and overexertion make the condition worse.

Turn your attention away from yourself and your woes. Thoughts will quickly avalanche into silly downhill spirals of how much help you aren't getting and discouragement that you can't do it on your own anyway. When the truth of the matter is that hundreds of people are praying for you, and if you really needed help or encouragement, they would call or be there in a heartbeat.

Try not to loose your cell phone at a time like this.

+

Pray for my appointment with my neurologist, this upcoming Friday. We will probably have a better idea of a time frame for the surgery and the contact information for the surgeon. It will probably be done at U Penn.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

I Read a Book

We have a book called "The Care Bears and the Terrible Twos" that I grew up with. It happens to be one of Naomi's favorite books, and I vividly remember reading it to her in the beginning of November 2010. I intentionally skipped words and pages, because although reading 2 complete stories is part of her bedtime routine, my voice was starting to shake and my tongue was slurring words together when I read out loud. Throughout November, I intentionally skipped pages and read less and less, until it came to around Thanksgiving, where I knew I would scare her if I read any books for her bedtime. I remember her helplessly turning to me, saying, "Mommy, why's your voice sounding like that for?"

The past few months have progressed into her learning that I wasn't the one to read her books. Daddy took over her bedtime routines, and read her all her books, and the very seldom nights where I would need to read to her, she would look at the pictures, and I would ask her questions. We would laugh about funny things that happened in the books she already had memorized, and called it a night. It was even more sad when I tried to sing to her. We have a routine . . . 2 books, 2 songs, prayers then bed.

Well, let's not get all Grumpy bear on the situation, because yesterday, I did not skip one word in that Care Bear book. I read right through from Melinda getting syrup in her hair to her enjoying her party with her twin brother and sister after imagining running away to the circus and grandmas. It was a true milestone for me. I'm so grateful.

We're continuing right through reading a Psalm a day, and they hold lots of refreshment. There are some great triumphs in the Psalms. Surely He will do these things for you, in whatever trials you are facing, even if it is not a quantitative victory like reading a book. :)

You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness,
that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent.
O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever!
Psalm 30: 11-12