In the journey of surgery there are layers of emotions sometimes described by one word. Anticipation is one of “those” words. It began earlier this year with weird pains that shot down my legs and made my right leg go numb and generally wonder what the heck was going on – in a grimacing painful sort of way. I had doctors appointments as the process moved along. Each of those brought this sense of anticipating, “Will they know what to do?I would go to a physical therapist and wonder if this would help – the solution to all things wrong with us would be our core (which is not like our soul but perhaps similar in the mind of a physical therapist). All this led to the MRI which would strike terror in my core since I once had one of those where they put my head in a cage and shoved me into this banging loud magnetic machine after I had consumed a brat and a beer. Don’t ever do that.
The MRI results came on a DVD that I could actually pick up days later. I had found an “Open” MRI which would supposedly make me less claustrophobic. They let me choose my music, which was “Eagles” – not “The” Eagles (a little known fact about the band which does not have “The” in its name) but I digress… and they sang as they shoved my body into a less confining tube, “I’ve got a peaceful easy feeling…” – so far from the truth. I anticipated that the MRI on the DVD would give me some new initials to work with. I put it into a PC at work after I picked up the media (it did not work on a Mac) and looked for something as though I were a radiologist. They were amazing pictures but the radiologist writing about them was what stirred more anticipation. Bi-lateral synovial cysts were there. You can look that up, I’m not going to go into it all.
So now the anticipation renewed and I read, and I watched videos, and explored surgeons in the U.S. who worked on such things. Always anticipating that someone might have an answer. It was that sense of anticipation laced with hope that was the best feeling. Could something be done – some repair – some solution.
“These cysts are rare.” I am told. “Is there someone who works on these often?” I wonder.
The anticipation builds but there are more layers to come. Again faith, love, and encouragement embody the medicine that keeps me attentive to dealing with this pain rather than just laying down to die – it hurt that much from time to time. God came to me in people, visions, and voices that turned anticipation into more of an adventure when I was in my right mind. God does not wander in the loft hills of heaven. God walks in the dark and dimly lit valleys of our consciousness. God waits there for us in order to guide and to love us. God sits beside us when we struggle in the pain which is too much to bear and gives us a word or a touch and says, “This isn’t home. This isn’t what it’s like. You’ll see.”
There are things we have to go through that teach us this isn’t home. This has been one of them. So I also anticipate a healing of a different kind beyond the verities of this life. An advent we anticipate but do not yet know.
“Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death…” Hebrews 2:14