So, in our top news today, my husband heard this morning that he's has been cleared for his kidney donation to follow through. I'd be lying if I said that this thrills me, when actually, I'm terrified. He's excited beyond words, talking to folks on the phone, receiving emails, moving forward. I'm stuck in a not-so-subtle fear.
The reactions people have when they hear about him offering a kidney to an older gentleman at church are varied. Some are openly thrilled at the craziness of him being a complete match (what are the odds?), while others are sort of shocked. Then you have the wives who come up and show concern for ME. That I appreciate. This is hard.
We don't do medicine at our house. We do alternative treatments and herbal remedies 98% of the time. (That 2% is a bottle of acetaminophen and Excedrin for those sneaky migraines.) For him to be totally immersed in the medical community is strange. It scares me because this hasn't ever been the way we do things. I don't like it. Our 2 youngest children haven't even ever been to the doctor and they're 17 and 20. That's how much the Lord has blessed me with an ability to heal.
But onward we go. Sometimes the reality isn't our choice, but railing against it isn't an option.
And you know what? I even hesitate saying all these words, because I've been made to believe that appearing stoic is the way to go. That it's lazy to show fear or discontent. Who taught me this?
Fear is ok. Doubt, confusion, anger, dread...all ok. But I have to hand all that mess over to God, because if I curry those emotions, they'll eat me up.
On one hand you have my husband who's anxiously awaiting the next phonecall, due next week, with more concrete news. Surgery dates, perhaps. On the other you have me, with a silently churning stomach.
Yes, I look forward to having this over with, but only because it's been a shadow over my life for a year. He's thrilled at giving life to a man we know. I honestly don't care about that part. Am I mean for feeling that way? Some might think so.
I just have a strong need for security, sure things, a safe place. And throwing me into a deliberate situation that threatens all of those things is worrying.
Yes, folks have surgeries everyday. Transplants are successful. This will probably turn out fine, and you might say, all my fretting has been for nothing. Maybe.
Denying my feelings isn't healthy, though. It's alright for me to be uncomfortable. I can express my frustration.
Sometimes I'll read about someone going through trials and hear someone say to them that they're not surprised that the sufferer feels undone. We're expected to take and take and take, being strong and an example to others. Not cave.
My mentally strong husband has the ability to bounce back. Moves on. Gets past things. I envy that, but it's not who I am.
So, I cope. I immerse myself in baking cake, planting flowers, dusting the house. I make a home, because at the end of the day, that's, pretty much, it.
And funny thing. As I sink my teeth into my own life, separate from all the stuff I don't like, I can manage. Might require a mouthful of herbal supplements to prop me up, but as long as I get through it, it's fine.
Today is good. Just today.