Test Results
I lay on the table hearing the helicopter like roar of the machine circling around my head.
I ask the technician how long it would take.
“No more than 5 minutes,” she is quick to reply as she tells me to scoot up.
The machine does it’s thing and surely, less than 5 minutes later the rumbling dies down, and I peer into the window to see the technician in the observation room attempting to move my eyes without moving my head and to read her expression at the same time. She quickly picks up her phone. She talks to some one. I try to read her lips, but to no avail. She talks, and talks and talks. Time passes by like molasses. How many minutes do I lay there while she is chatting with someone on the phone while looking at the computer screen? I’m not sure. Maybe 4? But it seems like forever.
I’ve had many tests done over the last 5 years. Echocardiograms, MRAs, ultrasounds of my calves, many blood draws, pulmonary function tests, x rays, skin checks, biopsy tests, ultrasound of my breast to check a lump, many, many, many ultrasounds of our 4 babies. Not to mention the tests done on my children once they arrived. In the first few weeks of his life, David had to see a cardiologist, ophthalmologist, audiologist, just to name a few. Never once have I had a technician take this long to come out of a room and tell me we would be on our way.
My mind starts to race.
What if something really is wrong?
Is there bleeding in my brain?
A tumor?
How long do I have left to live?
Am I going to get to go home?
When can I see my babies?
When can I call my husband and hear his reassuring voice?
The thoughts are all over the place- like eggs being scrambled. I try to talk to myself instead of listen to myself. I began quoting scriptures- Psalm 23, Romans 8:28. I pray for peace, wisdom, strength. With tears beginning to collect in my eyes, getting full to the brim, I beg and plead the Lord that He will let me see my boys grow old. I know to live is Christ and die is gain. I know that it will truly be better to be in His presence, but OH how I love my boys. I beg God to let me be their mother on this earth until they grow old.
A few minutes while waiting in a lab can feel like forever.
Time drips by when you are waiting on news that brings life or death.
“For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief.” Ecclesiastes 1:18
As a high school student, I could not wait until the teacher returned the tests (those were before the days when she entered in grades and you could check them on your computer). He or she would walk down the aisle handing our tests back, and the nerd and over achiever that I was, I would be so relieved to see an A (my goal was to make an average of 98 or above in all of my classes- I had some pretty big perfectionist and performance issues that God has freed me from and is still freeing me from). I would see that test, and it would bring emotions of joy, thankfulness, relief, gratitude, pride. The results were in, and I was pleased.
This was true for most of my life.
Until..I found out I had an undiagnosed heart condition when I was 28 years old. And then found out that the baby’s heart in my womb had stopped beating within weeks of each other.
And then more tests and more tests- through out each of my pregnancies testing brought fear- what once was a place of relief for me became a place of anxiety. With Caleb, we had to do many extra tests because I had a fever every day of my first trimester and had been diagnosed with an unidentified virus. The anatomy scan revealed a white mark on his stomach or liver- they thought possibly cystic fibrosis. More tests. My doctor dropped my case when I was 30 weeks old because I refused to get tested for Marfan’s Syndrome. I won’t go into his long birth story here, but there were many medical interventions there as well- and every time they “checked” me I felt like it was a test, another opportunity to fail. With David, I had a hematoma and we had to watch that carefully. With Ethan I had something called low PAPP-A so I had to get NSTs and Growth Scans weekly for the last 8 weeks of my pregnancy. So. MANY. TESTS. I then had to be re-admitted to the hospital after his birth due to post-partum preeclampsia (and stayed there over christmas). To this day, taking my blood pressure brings a little bit of post traumatic stress as I sit trying to calmly imagine myself on a beach somewhere while praying I have a normal reading. To say the least, I’ve had a lot of undesired results in the medical field over the past few years.
What if the tests don’t show what we want?
What if …
What if….
What if….
“He will not be afraid of bad news, his heart is firm, trusting the Lord. ” Psalm 112:7
The lab tech comes out- she says I am free to go, and the doctor should be calling me soon.
I think, “Well I guess it must not be too serious or they wouldn’t let me go”
A few hours later I get the call, “Mrs Hughes. Your CT results are in. No bleeding. You have a concussion and just need to rest your brain as much as possible. Get help with the kids if you can. Try not to think.”
I don’t say much, but “thank you!” and also secretly wonder how in the world I am going to rest my brain with 3 small kids at home.
But mostly, I just thank the Lord.
Medical tests are quite different than academic ones. You can’t exactly “earn” your grade when it comes to needles and machines. You can eat all the kale and spinach in the world and still get cancer.
We are all one small phone call away from our knees. What do you think about life? Death? God? Heaven? Hell? Big huge life questions that we often tend to forget to think about as we are busy, so very busy with our day to day. Then something happens that wakes us up. We go home and hug our family a little tighter.
The truth is we are helpless. I think the enemy and our own pride and self reliance often mask our eyes to this fact. Hearing that a child is sick, or a parent has passed away, or that we lost something we hold so dear, brings us to a place of rawness and realness like nothing else. The mask is removed. The illusion is gone and for just an instant, we get a glimpse of things as they really are. We are just one of billions on this planet we called earth, one of many planets in our solar system, which is really small compared to other things in space. God is outside of all of that. He is infinite. He has no limits. He is not bounded by anything. This God – this Creator is the One to Whom we pray. This all Powerful, Mighty Lord, is also Our Personal Master, Savior and Friend. He is in control. He is Sovereign. He rules over all. He is calling out to you.
I would bet most atheists mutter a prayer on their death bed. There are moments that can shake us to our core.
But does it last?
“How many days do I have left to live?” a thought that naturally comes to us as we are laying on a hospital bed, but one that rarely shows up in the midsts of our screen scrolling, party planning, traffic navigating, dish washing, going, going going mundane-ordinary days.
I don’t know the answer to this question that shows up only in the moments when we remember we aren’t going to live forever. But, I do know that our days are numbered (Psalm 90:12).
And maybe, if we think about the fact that they are indeed finite, it may help us determine how to spend them. The truth is generations come and generations go. Most of us don’t know the name of our great-great grandfather, and that is someone in our own family! How do we make an impact? Reverse engineer our life? Do we want to hear well done good and faithful servant?
Do I want to make much of me or much of Him? As Paul David Tripp says, “There is a constant war for my glory or God’s glory”- may I lay my life down and point upwards to Him. The reality is death is certain. Just because we think we are young or healthy, or fill in the blank, it does not mean that we have years and years left on this earth. When I was a senior in high school, 6 students passed away that went to our school. It was incredibly sobering. I’m sure many of you can think of beautiful people that died unfairly, way way too soon.
What is the point of this life?
If you are unsure, this is an open invitation- if you are reading this and wondering, please reach out to me if you are in need of someone to talk through about life’s hard questions. I am here, and I will listen. I, too, have wrestled and wondered.
While my test results brought me great relief this time, I know many who do not have this same story. I claim to know nothing of true suffering. I can only pray that if my worst fears do come true, God would hold me still, and that He would provide faith for the impossible situations it hurts my heart to imagine. I know it’s easy to say “have faith” when that faith hasn’t been truly tested, and I am in no way belittling those who have endured incredible amounts of suffering. There are some situations that we just do not know how we will respond until we come face to face with them.
But, I do know my ultimate hope cannot be in favorable outcomes. There are always more tests to come.
The final test results are in: we are all terminal. No one escapes death. Death is great equalizer. The national merit scholar and juvenile delinquent. Custodian and doctor.
Our merit cannot save us. There is just one question that really matters: do you know Him?
Photo credit: the lovely and talented Kate Miller
