Endings and New Beginnings

“Lord, it’s me again.  Please send something—anything!  I desperately need help, but You know that already.  In Jesus name, Amen.”  

My tearful prayer lacked length and eloquence, but made up for it in fervor and sincerity.  God’s immediate answer smacked me right in the face.  His timing is always impeccable.

Unbeknownst to me, a pivotal phone call between a brain and spine specialist and rheumatologist prompted this answer to my pitiful prayer.  The rheumatologist heeded a request from Dr. Brain-and-Spine to squeeze me into his busy schedule, making my appointment two weeks away instead of two and a half months.  I was so thankful, but that had to have been the longest fourteen days of my life.  Though the days crept at a snail’s pace, the moment I had been longing finally arrived.

I wanted to skip into that five story building, but would limp instead.  A quick visit to Dr. Brain-and-Spine’s office was also in order.  I didn’t have an appointment, but did have a thank-you note to deliver. Knowing he would be busy with other patients, I handed a sealed white envelope to his receptionist and asked her to be certain he received it.  She promised she would.  Anyone who overheard the short conversation between us might wonder what he had done for me.  I will certainly never forget.

In this moment, the past five months flashed through my mind.  Leaving his office, I felt a sense of closure.  I paused, my hand still on the door handle, delighting in that joyful emotion for one hot second. A slight smile brushed across my lips knowing the tumultuous situation I endured would soon be ending—or so I thought.

After exiting Dr. Brain-and Spine’s office, I limped to the elevator.  Being the sole passenger, I begrudgingly pushed floor number five with my index knuckle.  I winced as a shocking sensation darted through my hand and up my arm.  I knew that was coming.  It still sends shivers up my spine just thinking about that dreadful pain.

I rehearsed the pronunciation of my new doctor’s unusual name in my head.  Apprehensiveness saying it led me to simply call him Dr. G.

The elevator ride seemed to take forever.  Surprisingly, as each floor rose, my pain level dropped.  What began as a six when I entered on the first floor ended as a two on the fifth floor.  I thought, “Seriously?”  This is the time I usually  experience intense pain, but actually felt pretty good.  Maybe I had an adrenaline rush.

Although well hidden, I was overwhelmed with emotion.  I could hear the angels in heaven warming up their vocal chords to belt out the “Hallelujah Chorus” when I entered Dr. G’s office.  Maybe I’d scare everyone half to death and make a grand entrance singing along with the angels.

Of course, I didn’t notice the large, square, metal, button to the left of the door that read, “Push To Open,” so I turned the handle and pulled to open instead.  It was like a tug of war getting into the office.  Oh my goodness!  Could they have made that door any heavier?  I was hoping my entrance would be dramatic, but not like that!  I grunted and groaned fighting that stupid door.  The angels abruptly stopped singing, the effect like a needle screeching across a vinyl album on an old-fashioned record player. 

Everyone looked at me.  Did I have toilet paper on the bottom of my pretty pink shoes?  Was my blouse inside out?  Was my hair out of place?  Did I have a big booger hanging out of my nose?  Maybe it was merely because I created a big ruckus opening the heaviest door known to mankind!  Sadly, it wouldn’t be any of that!

I realized they were all looking at me because I walked in under my own power.  Looking around, there were people of all ages.  Most of them required a cane, walker, or wheelchair.  Suddenly my pain seemed so insignificant. I questioned if I even had the right to be there.  Certainly, I had not been overplaying my pain.

The previous pain-filled, sleepless night came to mind and assured myself I was indeed, on the right track.  I’m not saying these people didn’t, but I quickly sought care.  I instantly recalled the day my body revealed something was off-kilter five months prior, almost to the day.  Am I supposed to wait until I can’t do anything for myself?  I had confidence all the right choices had been made up to this point.

I signed in and handed the receptionist my completed paperwork.  She gave me an additional form asking questions about my pain level at that moment.  There was a drawing of a human skeleton. They asked me to circle everything that hurt.  I could’ve circled the entire image as a whole, but I didn’t want to be facetious.  I circled the neck, shoulders, elbows, wrists, hands, fingers, back, knees, ankles, feet, and toes.  On a scale of one to ten, they asked what my pain level was at that very moment.  Ten minutes prior, it was a six.  Right now, it was about a two—maybe three.  I suddenly considered whether I was in the wrong place again. 

A door suddenly opened and I heard my name.  She pronounced it flawlessly,  “Marianna Boyce.”  This is it!  Nowhere to hide, and too late to run.  In a matter of moments, the man who could potentially change my life would be introducing himself.  I would be sure to ask the correct pronunciation of his name.

My expectations for this visit were fairly uncertain, yet I was thrilled!  I was sure no diagnosis would be made today, and somehow, that was still okay.   Just being at this point in my journey lifted my spirit.  It was a new beginning—a new chapter.  I thought to myself, I’m good, I’m good!  This was an easy day to carry on, and smile along the way.

“And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to the which also ye are called in one body; and be ye thankful.”  Colossians 3:15 KJV (always)