Generally I try to be a pretty positive person. But really I have to say this is getting a bit ridiculous. I am starting to wonder if I am doing something wrong. I mean everything feels like a project, every situation an issue.
Its no small wonder people sometimes tire of talking to me. I tire of telling tales over and over again. Really, I am not a big fan of drama at all.
And yet, as the precious weeks of summer tick by, and one obstacle after another seems to end up in our path – today I did feel like squeezing some of our lemons in a few people’s eyes.
My constant awareness that it could be worse; my attentiveness to the struggles of others is what keeps me grounded, but it may be even more exhausting. The prayers for young babies, and new mothers, the prayers for families who have lost young loved ones to tragedy, the prayers for the young children who are ill, the prayers for my grandmas – all three of them dealing with their own health issues… and the list goes on. I DO know it’s not just us. But sometimes when it seems to be one lemon after another, I get tired of ducking.
I know the saying about lemons, and an old cliche is good now and again…
But sometimes it just doesn’t cut it.
Sometimes lemons are, well – just sour.
My girl has been complaining of her wrist and hand since June 4th. I remember the date very specifically. And it has been a long 7 weeks. The last few weeks of school she could barely write. We tried braces, no brace, resting, ice, heat. Nothing. The pain gets worse. Then the MRI says normal and I want to spit. (Lemon juice in someone’s eye!) Now we wait while the MRI gets reviewed again, and its time to have a surgeon look at what appear to be soft tissue tumors (at least 2 of them) forming on her hand. One has been there since – forever. The other appears to have grown in size in the last 72 hours. I am not surprised they didn’t show up on the MRI.
This is the same child who took 7 sonograms to have her gall bladder diagnosed with “milk of calcium” and after three “negative” sonograms for the obvious mass growing out of her back years ago – the surgeon decided to trust his instincts and ended up removing a sizable lipoma.
This kid breaks all the rules.
And that’s before we even get to the ramifications of the diagnosis of Raynaud’s Syndrome and its implications made off the MRI. ( I guess that means it was … almost normal?)
So tomorrow I will call an orthopedist to check on insurance issues and to see if they will take a look at this kid. (This one comes HIGHLY reccomended! :-))She certainly can’t start 5th grade unable to write, and this can’t go on forever. So, another doctor it is.
It should be easier to get to the doctor after Enterprise picks me up at 10 tomorrow and sets me up with a rental as my relatively NEW car spends one too many days at the “car doctor” who seem unable to fix the problem either.
This is how long I waited on hold – before I hung up the phone and drove there myself…
All this as we clean out the attic to prepare for the new roof to be installed in a couple of weeks, and we wait for the people to call us back about the class action lawsuit that somehow explains the water damage and dry rot in our bay window.
So if I stay stuck on the lemons I may lose perspective, and God knows I need that to get by. Instead of wishing troubles away I pray for the stamina to continue to endure, and endure. Wouldn’t trade my life for anyone’s. But, God give me strength to find the rainbows – even in the lemons.
And as I organize my paperwork – constantly – tonight I write a check to support “Alex’s Lemonade Stand.” And I pray for all the parents faced with cancer in their children. It strikes fear in my core, so I do whatever little I can- knowing all too well we can all be tossed into places we would never venture to on purpose.
And as I reflect on today, I guess it was a success. We did get into our much underused pool for some mother/daughter time.
And when all is said and done, and I have had a few glasses of cider, and I can sit down and regain my perspective – I have a pretty cool kid. This Cowden’s Syndrome thing – it really sucks. But its such a part of us now, that I can’t imagine giving it up. We are not defined by it, but it is a part of who we have become.
So in the interim, for those of us who by bilateral mastectomy have gone from a size C to an A cup – maybe this is a more appropriate way to view those lemons.
Couldn’t hurt. Might help.
Keep laughing. Keep swimming. It’s all we’ve got.