There are 44 more days until my first appointment at the Mayo Clinic on March 11th: not that I'm counting.
Finding out that I was accepted as a patient on Christmas Eve, and then having the scheduler call the day after Christmas, was just about the best gift I could have ever received. On super bowl Sunday, it will be 2 years I have had mono-ocular double vision and have been begging for help to save my vision since. I have been genuinely terrified, and in my fair share of pain (from headaches) since then.
Fear is an awful thing; it prevents authentic presence in the present tense. Fear pushes thoughts into the future, while the perfect present zooms by. I work every day to keep my thoughts in this moment and honor the many gifts God has wrapped me in: my wonderful husband, my children's good health and successful lives and relationships, all my fabulous friends, family and perfect sister, my two ridiculously attentive and distracting dogs, and a home in the most beautiful place in the world. It is this quiet peace while in His presence when I recognize His protection and provision He promised and provided. So why in the world would I let my thoughts slip into the future?
Because it seems as though thoughts of the future, like anticipation of something good (my trip to Mayo), seems like that would work out just fine and help me endure a tough day. The problem is that it is still not fully appreciating the moments filling this day. And truthfully, I am fearful of the outcome from Mayo. What if they don't discover the correct diagnosis and an effective treatment? What if they do discover the correct diagnosis and treatment, and I don't like it? It may sound ridiculous, but I really just want to go there and get the diagnosis of a common treatable problem that is fully resolved with either an easy surgery or short-term treatment: sounds reasonable to me. I'm praying for that and then I quickly turn my thoughts back to today, because no matter the outcome, I am perfectly happy. I would prefer to feel better and function at a similar level as just two years ago when I trekked through the Grand Tetons, but I have already decided that no matter the outcome, I am good, I will live well, love well, serve Him well. And that is that.
Tomorrow I will spend the day getting medical records from one more doctor and two hospitals. And I will reflect on the gift God gave us with Mark Jenning's marriage to Emily and the birth of their daughter, Katie. His birthday is tomorrow and although he has gone on to our Eternal Home, his beautiful spirit is alive and well in the eyes of our precious Katie. She is a beautiful gift that gives joy every day she walks on this Earth. Thank you Mark, and Happy Birthday.