I was sitting in the pre-op room at the hospital today with Taylor as we waited for his MRI with sedation. That's not an accurate term as it turns out; it should be called an MRI, done in an operating room, with a full "knock-out". For an MRI!!! Whew.
I really sat there wondering about my life and how come it was that I couldn't just be at Macy's trying on wide-width shoes. Is that asking too much?
BUT! It's done. And the CD has been over-nighted to the neurosurgeon in Chicago.
So, we are one step closer to knowing something.....anything.
I am ice-picking my way up a slippery slope.
The foot holds are not clearly marked.
I'm not sure where to grip to keep from falling.
While Taylor was "under"and being intubated (now THAT will hold a mother's heart hostage), I looked over at his little bag of "what he came in here with". Little gray sweat pants, boy-size socks, a small man's white t-shirt...and that darn ubiquitous neck brace.Uh-oh---there came the tears.
How do I care for this man/child?
When will we figure this out?
I had my 7 minutes of falling apart---and then I saw some women who should have been on
"What Not to Wear". I stopped crying and gave into being judgmental. It was such a relief.
I sat in that waiting room, doing mini-make-overs for them in my mind.
I wonder if they were silently praying for this weeping woman holding the neck brace.
Isn't life just so layered and complex?
Please pray for foot-holds and hand-holds that are within reach--even if it's a stretch.
