Gratituesday~Fear, Faith, Family, & Friends

This post is going to be a little different than my normal, dorky posts. Instead of sharing a recipe or another picture of my granddaughters, I thought I'd share a little of what has been going on for the past couple of days.

Besides this...

And this...

Sorry, I couldn't help myself.☺

As those who have been reading my ramblings for any length of time know, I had strep throat this past summer. It hit hard & fast, leaving me sick enough for a trip to the emergency room. My Mister is an RN in the ER, and was a little surprised to get the page that his wife was in one of the rooms. Because I was so sick, a CT scan was ordered to make sure I didn't have an abscess in my throat. I didn't care one way or another, I just wanted to die. Literally. (I'm a little bit of a baby, just so ya know.) The Dr. came back with some good news~"No abscess!"

Those who know me also know that I am an optimist by nature...with life experience, so when the Dr. says "Good news!", I say, "But...?"

This was no exception. I called it.

The "but" happened to be a growth that was discovered on my thyroid, one that would probably not have been caught if it weren't for the strep throat. That said, it took me 4 WHOLE MONTHS to get up the courage to follow up with an ultrasound.

4 WHOLE MONTHS.

Because I was afraid.

Only a few people knew that I needed an ultrasound because I didn't want to worry anyone. I didn't want to appear weak, and I didn't want it to be anything bad. Not that my procrastination would change the outcome, but it would just prolong me having to deal with it. Make sense? It did to me.

Last week I finally got up the courage to make the appointment. And I told no one except my Mister and a couple of my older girls.

And then I stayed awake for 4 days straight. Well, almost. I looked and felt like death.

And I felt alone.

I also don't remember saying a single prayer during those 4 days. I didn't want to acknowledge that I wasn't in control of this situation. I wanted only to wallow in my misery, expecting the worst, but hoping for something "not terrible".

My faith was non-existent.

While I was getting ready for my appointment, the words, you're not alone kept coming to me. While raising a large family has been the most fulfilling thing I've ever done, it doesn't leave much time for a social life. Because we are an adoptive family, we took on not just the present and future of our children, but also the past. And some of their pasts aren't pretty. For the last 10 years we've been a little too preoccupied to nuture relationships with people who aren't depending on us for their care. And those few relationships that we do have, they understand. Probably because they've seen first-hand what our lives are truly like. Needless to say, in order to keep in touch with family and friends, I depend a lot on email and Facebook. (Rarely do I have a real telephone conversation~there are just too many crisis' that happen when the phone rings!)

Before my appointment, I posted on Facebook that the Dr. had found a growth on my thyroid, and I could really use some extra prayers. And then I headed to town. I didn't expect anyone other than my sisters to comment, and even then I was expecting to get my butt chewed out for telling them on Facebook! Oops.

While the radiologist was performing the ultrasound, I started to panic. I'm not prone to panicking unless company is coming and the floors haven't been vacuumed, but there I was, lying on a flat metal bed, icy cold, barely able to breathe. The radiologist asked me several time if I was okay, to which I replied with a croak and a nod.

Then it happened.

Warmth. Calm. Steady breathing. Peace. For 40 minutes I laid there, in a semi-comatose state, feeling like I was under a warm blanket on my cozy bed.

Then it was over. With my Mister driving, we headed home; he to tinker around with a vacuum cleaner, and me to play with my granddaughters.

Later, when I checked my email, I had an entire page of Facebook notifications. Curious, I opened FB. While I was lying on that hard bed in the hospital's imaging clinic, unable to breathe, there were people praying. Twenty three to be exact. The bible says, "Where 2 or 3 are gathered in my name, there am I." (Matt. 18:20)

And He was.

So today and always, I am grateful for my family and friends who pray me through the hard stuff. Because of their faith, I have mine again. No matter what the test results reveal.

And...I am not alone.

(I'll let you know the result when I get them!)

This post is linked to Gratituesday at Heavenly Homemakers.