EXPECTATIONS

Two numbers I never thought I'd have in my 'contacts' list on my cell phone are those of a neurologist and an oncologist. Now I've got them both, one right after another.

Tomorrow, bright and early, we are headed to Spokane with Tyler. He has had a pain in his leg for some time now, and after several x-rays, an MRI, and blood tests, doctors (three of them) cannot say with certainty that his pain is due to a stress fracture. So, we have been refrerred to an orthopedic oncologist who will guide us through another foreign land of terminology and testing. The important thing to remember here is we haven't yet been told to worry--- so we are tyring not to. It's hard, though, because the knot in my stomach and the dull pain behind my right eye are reminders that something serious really could be wrong. My head has to keep reminding my heart that the doctor said it could still be a stress fracture, an infection, or something benign.

I have no idea what to expect. Actually, to some extent, I do. We've been down this "specialist road" several times before, so I've got a general idea... The waiting room of the office will be nice- clean, tidy and well lit. A kind receptionist will check us in and hand me a clipboard filled with forms to complete. I'll sit down and try to remember the dosage of Ty's thyroid medication, his social security number, how old he was when he got his last vaccination, if anyone in his family has a history of seizures, migraines, or thyroid trouble. And so on. There willl likely be one of those water jugs in the corner-- you know the kind, it will say "Culligan" in scripty writing and have a nice little cup holder on the side of it. Ty will help himself to some water, not because he's thirsty but because he likes to see (and hear) the giant air bubble that is belched to the top of the jug when water is dispensed. Beside the fairly comfortable, vinyl-covered chairs, plenty of magazines will be scattered on nice wooden side tables. However, there won't be a single magazine capable of distracting any of us long enough to forget why we're there. When Tyler's name is called, he'll be measured and weighed. We'll then be led back to a tiny little room with smaller, more uncomfortable chairs, no magazines, and no courtesy water. -Only a computer monitor in "sleep mode" that will likely display "PROVIDENCE MEDICAL CENTER," and on the wall will be pictures of the inside of a knee or arm or ankle-- or perhaps the entire body. The posters will be courtesy of a drug company and bear that company's name in the lower right-hand corner. We'll obey the signs asking us to turn off our cell phones. Thirty minutes will seem like sixty, then in comes the man of the hour, the one we have all been waiting for, the doctor. Following the anticipated examination and what will seem like one hundered questions, I have no idea what comes next. This is where my experience stops.

So tonight, while the boys are sleeping soundly, Dennis is tossing and turning-trying to get some sleep since he'll be leaving for work at 4:30 tomorrow morning so he can go with us to the appointment. I find myself sitting in my dark living room, the only light coming from my laptop screen and the sound of the washing machine and dishwasher competing in the background. The clock on the wall is ticking away the minutes that are slowly turning into hours. It's weird because I don't feel tired. I don't feel scared, or anxious, or nervous... just "here." Is this peace? I'm not sure.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will take my son, my first baby, to an orthopedic oncologist. When I shower, dress, and drive to Spokane, I will pray constantly. I will pray like I did for Kacy when he was seizing, and like I did for Brett when he was crying in pain with his abdominal migraines. I will pray for the doctor, for Tyler, for Dennis, for my mom, for our families, for our children. I will pray for strength, health, healing, wisdom, guidance, and understanding. Experience has taught me that I can't do this alone, so I won't even try. I don't know why these trials keep finding us, but all I can do is trust in the lord and lean not on my own understanding. And one more thing, if you find yourself reading this on Tuesday morning, throw a prayer Tyler's way if you wouldn't mind. He's such a great kid-- too young for troubles like these.