Monthly Archives: May 2012

Wait-and-See

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Between my sister’s family and mine, we’ve racked up 25 trips to local emergency rooms. Admittedly, most were a result of raising 14 adventurous children, but we adults have to take credit for some of them. Yesterday it was my turn.

One week ago a searing pain took over my left side so powerfully I couldn’t move to reach my phone or get enough breath to yell for Birgitta in the next room. It raged for nearly an hour before subsiding but eventually went away completely.

Later that day I told Louisa and Birgitta about it but asked them to keep it quiet. Although they honored my request, they pressured me to tell my sister Mary, our family nurse. I knew if I did, she’d insist I take immediate medical action, so I decided instead to just wait-and-see.

As the week progressed, other curious symptoms popped up: two sharp pains in the upper back, occasional dizziness, achy feelings in my chest, extra fatigue. Were these warnings about an approaching heart event? I didn’t want to risk damage by waiting, but didn’t want to over-react either. So I did what I always do when I don’t know what to do.

I asked God, then decided to just wait-and-see.

A short while later, I was catching up on emails and among them was a friend’s description of an adult daughter’s new heart problem. She also shared about her husband’s unexpected heart procedure at age 70. All I could think was, “Lord, you’ve answered my prayer, and now I know what to do.”

I told Mary.

Although I wasn’t in severe pain, within 90 minutes I was packed and driving from Michigan to Chicago where the two of us walked into the E.R. at Rush Medical Center. Approaching the check-in desk I casually said, “I’m having mild chest pain and…”

In seconds I was tucked into a wheelchair and whisked toward multiple blood tests, a chest x-ray, a rolling EKG, an IV line, and hospital admittance. I didn’t even have time to notify my children. My medical adventure culminated in this morning’s treadmill stress test, monitored by a doctor, a nurse, and a tech.

The upshot of the whole episode? I’m 100% heart-healthy with less than a 1% chance of ever having a heart attack.

So what was that all about? Maybe it was to prompt gratitude for the days I’m not in an ER. It could have been to get educated about heart-health, which we did. Maybe it was to newly appreciate my sister’s love and concern. Possibly it was a dress rehearsal for what’s coming, or a test of whether or not I really trust God when trouble hits. I guess I’ll just wait-and-see.

The whole thing leaves me with several questions, but I may never get the answers. Though ER docs suggested I follow-up with my regular internist this week, I think I’ll just…

wait-and-see.

“Keep watch over me and keep me out of trouble; don’t let me down when I run to you.” (Psalm 25:20, The Message)

The Benefits of Nostalgia

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My dad was born in 1899 and grew up in a Chicago that had dirt roads and wooden sidewalks. The women wore floor-length dresses, and ordinary folk didn’t own cars, telephones, or electric anything. Most people never traveled farther than the blocks of their own ethnic neighborhoods, and national election results were announced with fireworks.

My sister, brother, and I heard fascinating tales about Dad’s growing up years and hoped to preserve them for generations to come. Video cameras weren’t available in the early ’80’s, but we did have cassette players, so we decided to record his remembrances as we followed him to each of his childhood homes and neighborhoods, taking pictures along the way to accompany the tape. No one was more thrilled about this than him.

Years after Dad died, we did something similar with Mom, and today Mary and I talked about our own children, wondering if they’d be interested in preserving our histories as we had with our parents. This morning we decided to make a preliminary tour of the pertinent sights from our younger days, planning how we might organize the information. At each house from our pasts, we knocked on the door and walked around the property. No one was home.

Our last stop was Nate’s and my first house, beautifully maintained since we’d last lived there 37 years ago. The owner, working at home, answered our knock and, after hearing why we were interested, enthusiastically invited us in.

Although the house had been reconfigured in several minor ways, it was much the same. In the upstairs bathroom I recognized the tiny floor tiles and old toilet and tub. “High quality,” the man said. “No need to replace them.” I looked at the tub and remembered the early morning in 1973 when I sat on the edge of it trying to decide if I was in labor or not, and several hours later, we became parents.

As we walked through each room, old memories flooded my mind and Mary’s, too. The man seemed interested and asked us endless questions about the house. We left promising to send photos from the 1970’s and the original house listing.

Why is it so much fun to rehash the old days? Maybe it’s a validation of the path we’ve walked. Maybe it’s a longing to go back, to be young again. Or maybe it’s gratitude that we don’t have to.

As Mary and I talked between stops, we shared remembrances, some sweet, some bittersweet, and decided the best approach was to count the blessings rather than the sorrows. Part of that was identifying where God had interjected his influence and changed the course of events.

We talked of how he’d directed Dad’s and Mom’s lives, how he continued by guiding ours, and how he’s lovingly touching our children the same way. “And if you forget everything else,” God said, “remember that.”

“Remember the former things, those of long ago; I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me.” (Isaiah 46:9)

Come and eat!

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Poor Jack. I love him dearly and we spend lots of time together, but his needs aren’t always first on my list. Other more pressing concerns, human concerns, often push him back in the order, and I still feel badly about what happened yesterday.

This morning, after our first walk, I went to Jack’s supply of Kibbles ‘n Bits to retrieve his breakfast. During the last few years we’d been over-feeding him by a third, so he’s been on a food austerity program for several weeks. At feeding time I use the plastic container the vet gave us to measure out his meal portions exactly.

The best way to remember what he’s eaten and what he hasn’t (since we give him half in the morning and half at night), is to line up containers for several days, fill them, and serve him from that line-up. But this morning when I went to grab a full container to give him his first half, the second half was still there. I’d forgotten to feed him last night.

That’s an egregious error, because I absolutely never forget to feed myself. Hunger pangs are my go-ahead for a fill-up, and I love it when I can eat some more. But of course Jack does, too. When I feed him, he always hunkers down immediately and polishes it right off. He appreciates each bite of his Kibbles ‘n Bits and would willingly eat 3 or 4 times the vet’s suggested amount, given the chance.

Scripture has a lot to say about good eating, that man doesn’t live by bread alone but also needs the words of God. That’s interesting, considering that the majority of people have no interest in feeding on the Bible. I suppose the result is spiritual malnourishment, though they may not know it.

Hunger is a remarkable thing. The stomach growls for food when empty, making more and more noise until we respond with a meal. But if deprived of food completely, eventually it quits asking. Hunger pangs disappear about 3 days after the last food, and the body goes into starvation mode. “Remain quiet. Don’t waste an ounce of energy.”

If we choose not to “eat” Scripture, even when we feel it pulling us like a hunger pang, eventually that prompting stops. We don’t crave the Word anymore and don’t even miss it.

God never stops inviting us to the table, though: “Just taste it!” he says. “You’ll see. It’s good!” (Psalm 34:8) And he means good for more than just building bodies in the way that dog food sustains Jack. The best advantage of spiritual food is that it builds our relationship with the Lord. And unlike store-bought groceries, his nourishment is free.

In reality, though, it’s priceless.

Jesus said, “People do not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.” (Matthew 4:4)