Oh what a day, and some perspective

Colossians 4:2

Devote yourselves to prayer, being watchful and thankful.

Picture found here.



If at all possible, I would assume to not have another day like today.  Nothing overly traumatic, but man am I wiped out!  Due to the scan to check on my gallbladder today, I could not eat or drink anything upon waking.  This isn't normal.  It really isn't, and I believe it's some form of punishment by the medical community.  Typically, the first thing I do in the mornings is have a glass of water and within 30-45 minutes, I eat breakfast.  It's a healthy habit (if you don't do that, you should, your body and metabolism will thank you).  That was not in the cards for my day so I stayed up later than normal last night, and woke up later than usual this morning.  I rose, showered, brushed my teeth (and really wanted to have just one tiny sip of water), and then got our child up and ready for school. 

The plan worked, there wasn't much down time in the morning, so I was off to the hospital after dropping off the kiddo.  I did very little, if any, waiting (I'll wait a few seconds for the shock of that statement to wear off).  Into the room I went, and into my veins went some kind of radioactive substance.  I asked if I would acquire an ability similar to that of one of the X-Men, or glow in the dark.  Well, let's just say old nuclear science dude did not have quite the same sense of humor and only said, "If you do, it is not from anything we are doing here today."  Well, ok, Dr. kill-joy. 

Let me say, there is nothing like a machine closing in on you while you are laying on a narrow table to set in a wee bit of panic.  Luckily, this scan involved an open MRI or wailing and thrashing may have commenced.  And, why is it that every part of my face started itching as soon as the scan began?  What in the world?  Bad timing for the random itch on my head, eye, nose, neck, etc.  Yet, so ironically funny.  After 30 min, I was given a milkshake to drink to help them see how the gallbladder functioned.  A real milkshake, something I do not typically have.  Yep, I am pretty sure there will be a gallbladder removal in my future based on feeling like I was being stabbed in the side.  Sweet.

An hour and a half later, the scanning was complete, and I was freed.  As I bolted up, the poor man about freaked out.  I guess not everyone, after laying there, rises that quickly, or stands up to head for the door with such swift motion.  I assured him I was fine, and set out on my merry way, to find lunch and a very large glass of water.  Oh yes, one bit of information he shared with me, since I will be radioactive for the next 12 hours, I cannot cuddle with or hug my child until tomorrow morning.  And, she just walked in crying because Daddy told her Mommy couldn't cuddle with her for bedtime tonight.  Insert knife into heart.

But friends, my day's adventures didn't end there.  I arrived home, fed and hydrated, to a message on our phone informing me my debit card had been compromised and the account was blocked due to suspicious charges.  Sweet, fraud.  All charges are overseas too.  Seriously, get your own money to spend, don't spend the money I work hard for!  Huge kudos to my bank for being on top of things, blocking the account, stopping quite a few charges, and calling me so quickly. 

It has been a nonstop adventure filled day, but there was a moment God tucked in the midst of it that gave me new eyes and a new attitude to the whole situation.  I sat in the admitting office, awaiting my turn, and noticed a mother and her young daughter.  The young girl looked to be about 7 years old, was dolled out in a fantastic pink outfit with a tutu type skirt, and a smile that was magnificent.  Her giggle was infectious and sher silliness a welcome distraction.  And I noticed her hair, or lack thereof as it was cut closely to her head.  I can only assume her hairdo is a result of chemo and/or radiation.  Yet, she was so full of life.  I had been sitting there, thirsty and annoyed at the two hours of my day that were being interrupted, and saw her.  I quickly thought, "I could be here for my child.  I could be here to go up for the same treatment she is getting.  I could be here for so many other reasons, and I should be thankful."  Perspective.  I am thankful for that moment, a small moment God allowed me to see the blessings in my life, a moment to change my own attitude into one of thankfulness.