For weeks I have been dreading going to the doctor. Now as someone who is chronically ill, this may make no sense. None. It didn’t to me until it happened to me.
I couldn’t understand why people wouldn’t want to know what was wrong so they could “fix it” but what happens when you realize the fixing isn’t coming.
I forgot. I forgot how I used to fight. How I used to see God above all thing and as the creator of all things. If you see Him at the top, dotors don’t seem all knowing any longer. While I trust, and pray, that God would place me into a set of capable health care providers, where he wants me, I never believed they had the final word. If God can make the entire universe in six days He can heal me if that is in his will.
I forgot that maybe this isn’t God taking away another piece of my health, like so many times before, but maybe He is protecting me in more ways then I am aware of. Maybe the endless test results and normal numbers really do mean that I am healthy in that aspect. I failed to see that God wants me to be healthy just as much as he has a place for me to be sick. It doesn’t have to be one or the other.
As the case with many sick kids I was mandated to see a psychologist. The idea was to asses my mental state and help my adolescent mind deal with the idea of a lifetime of illness.
My psychologists never understood my mentality. I am not textbook and I don’t make sense. When they would ask what my goals were I would always answer to run a marathon. That was always followed by a conversation about having to readjust to my expectations for my life. They had no concept that from the beginning of time God has had my expectations in mind. He knows what I am capable of and where He wants me. I still believe that one day I will run a marathon, if not in this life then when I meet my maker.
As I walk into that appointment tomorrow it has felt like I have run a marathon to get there.