Resting in Him

A gentle reminder from the doctor.

A short sit in the waiting room of the Betty Ford Breast Care Center

leaning against my concerned husband.

They call my name and I follow ~ 

with a husband's worried kiss on my lips.

Pulling off my shirt.

Tying on the short cotton robe.

Sitting in a cozy room with a stone fireplace

in the company of women sharing the same attire.

Heart beating quickly.

Palms hot.

Soft laughter around me about the AC being turned on too cold.

Name called.

Standing by the TOMO machine.

Leaning forward. Clutching the handle, white-knuckled.

Feeling the squeeze.

I grimace. Clutch. Relax.

Grimace. Clutch. Relax.

Four times.

Then two more for good measure.

The waiting room is now filled with different women in the same attire.

I wait.

Name called once again.

I follow the nurse to a consultation room

where my world crashes to floor like shattered glass.

My heart races.

My hands clasp tightly in instant inward prayer.

My mind numb.

My heart races faster, faster.

I see the doctor's mouth moving.

Words are too fast, too confusing.

Too comforting.

Is he talking about my breast?

I follow the nurse to a room where the "procedure" will be done.

I nod numbly, dumbly.

Hands shaking.

Mind repeating, 

"Not me, Lord. Please not me."

I dress and walk back out to my husband's waiting arms.

Tears close.

I clutch his strong hand now.

I want to nest.

I want to keep silent.

If I open my mouth, I will cry.

This was a dream, wasn't it?

I want to forget.

Five days later...

My shaking hands hold a letter.

My eyes refuse to see what I read there.

My mind unwilling to accept.

"Biopsy needed"

No history in my family.

No surgeries in my own history.

I am petrified.

Fear swallows me whole.

Where is my God?

Didn't he hear my silent pleas and see my hands clutched in prayer?

Anger surfaces.

Spits me out from fear.

Carries me through days of hissing at God.

John 14:27

A Facebook post.

My eyes travel over each word slowly.

Linger.

Understand.

A feeble attempt to embrace.

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. 

I do not give to you as the world gives. 

Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."

Facebook image

I allow calm to touch my heart.

I sink into it.

Tentatively.

Just for a moment.

Gratitude trickles.

Dark thoughts immediately push back.

Calm vanishes.

Fear engulfs.

Fear is my constant companion for two full weeks.
Appetite disappears.
Knots fill my stomach.
I learn to live in denial and mock complacency.


If you say, "The LORD is my refuge," and you make the Most High your dwelling,
no harm will overtake you,
no disaster will come near your tent.
For He will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways;
they will lift you up in their hands so that you will not strike your foot against a stone."
~ Psalm 91: 9-12


Procedure morning brings bigger knots.
Bigger fears.
Heart pounding.
The ride is long and quiet in the early morning light.
"The Lord is my refuge and strength...I shall not fear..." 
I repeat it in my mind.





Recovery Bay #3.
They prep me.
My husband watches with love in his eyes and concern on his face.
The familiar short gown.
The familiar wait.
A warmed blanket is wrapped around my shivering shoulders.
"The Lord is my shepherd...."

The doctor's eyes search mine for a level of fear.
His words are repetitive, like he's said them many times before.
I don't believe him.
I want to bolt from the room.

Instead, I crawl onto the table with the hole in the center.
Laying face down, I wait.
Purple and orange flowers cascade across a large picture on the wall.
I close my eyes and whisper,
"The Lord is my refuge...."
The nurse rubs my back and speaks quietly to me.
My heart pounds.
Can they hear it?

"Hold your breath, please."
X-ray after x-ray are taken to locate the correct area.

My shoulder hurts from the position I'm in.
My arm is going to sleep.
But there is no pain.
A bee sting from the Lidocaine injection
and an uncomfortableness from my awkward position on the table is all.

Forty-five minutes creep by and I climb off the table.
Warm blanket around my aching shoulders.
Surgical tape and gauze pressed to my flesh.

A smile from my love as I return to Recovery Bay #3.
A kiss of relief.
A tender, gentle hug.

Instructions to lay low for two days.
Results in four days.
Another long wait
The familiar gut-wrenching knot returns.

"Thy rod and thy staff...they comfort me...
You are with me..."

Psalms 23: 1-6

The LORD is my Shepherd. I shall not want.  He makes me lie down in green pastures.  He leads me beside still waters.  He restores my soul.  He guides me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.  

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear not evil. For You are with me. Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.  

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.  You anoint my head with oil.  My cup overflows.  Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life. 
And I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.
~ Psalms 23: 1-6

I rest beside the still waters...

~  Blessings ~

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