God’s Camouflage
God is always camouflaging His divinity in the mundane things of the world. – Chad Bird
Last Monday, Jenny and I traveled to Rochester, Minnesota. We were there to get a second opinion from the Mayo Clinic, one of the top Amyloidosis Hospitals in the nation. This trip was made possible through the generous gifts of many. Thank you!
Funny, but taking this trip made me think of another journey, the one taken to the Emerald City in that classic movie many of us grew up watching once a year so long ago. I know, the association is sentimental to the point of being maudlin, but I loved that movie. That journey was full of uncertainty, hopeful expectations, fear, disappointment, and renewed hope.
The Mayo Clinic deserves its reputation as the best hospital in the nation. The city’s functions seem to revolve around it and support its mission:
To inspire hope and contribute to health and well-being by providing the best care to every patient through integrated clinical practice, education and research.
Peace, calmness, and order surrounded the hospital. Their chief value, the needs of the patient come first, expressed the intent of the founders, Dr. Mayo and the Sisters of Saint Francis. This value characterized our every interaction with the hospital, doctors, and staff.
Clothed in the expertise of the doctors, nursing staff, supporting staff, and volunteers, God was present.
He was present through the driver of the shuttle bus that picked us up daily to take us to and from the hospital.
He was present through the pianist playing hymns and Christian songs on the grand piano in the lobby.
He was present through the staff member helping all of us navigate the elevator system leading up and down the 21 floors of the main building.
He was present through the intake nurse who patiently logged into my digital record the 15 or so daily supplements and meds I take.
He was present through the phlebotomist who drew my blood quickly and gently while complementing me on what good veins I had. (Not flattery. I’ve been told this by a half a dozen different phlebotomists :).)
He was present through my primary doctor at Mayo who listened to our concerns, affirmed my desire to include complementary approaches, laid out a plan of action for me, and responded to after-appointment questions I had by email, even on Sunday.
We returned home last Saturday night and met with an oncologist Monday to get my treatment plan going.
I continue to struggle with denial and acceptance of my diagnosis. When I’m feeling good, I’m in denial. I find myself asking, can this really be happening? I know it is, but my experience in the moment is telling me otherwise. When I’m feeling bad and my energy level is low, I’m in an acceptance mode. I know that something really is wrong, and there’s no use denying it. But then, I start to feel better. I flip back and forth.
Today, Thursday, though is a reality check. I’m starting chemo therapy with a view toward qualifying for a stem cell transplant once (and if) my heart becomes strong enough. While I wish there was an alternative approach that was less harsh, I haven’t seen it, beyond anecdotal stories, and some less than convincing research. I’m open to taking risks, and choosing this path is a risk given the side effects and the possibility that my body won’t respond. I don’t consider myself a gambler and to do otherwise would be for me, a roll of the dice.
Thanks for your continued prayers. They mean so much to me and my family.
There’ll be an update describing how this goes for me next week on a Go Fund Me Page a good friend of my mine has set up for me.
In Christ,
Curt
