I’m waiting—waiting for test results that won’t be available until tomorrow.
I sought refuge in a favorite Starbucks, only to learn a watermain break forced it to close. I tried my sister’s house, but her husband has a cough. So, I drove ten minutes more and now sit in a local coffee dive with a strawberry kale smoothie, watching fellow patrons.
A layman to my right is hunched over his computer, designing a website for his church. I overheard him talking on the phone. A young girl across the way speaks with a voice that carries above the rest. Several students stare at text books with ear buds muffling the chatter.
While I look like them with my lap top open and outer suburban façade, not one of them knows I laid on a table this morning as a technician sent shockwaves into my neck and face right before a doctor dug a small needle into my forehead for almost an hour. A slight bruise and swelling above my left eye indicates something went awry. But most would blame a random accident—not a single-fiber EMG.
In the past five years, I’ve undergone at least four other EMG’s and none have indicated muscle weakness. Since I walk on wobbly, unreliable legs, good reports stir confusion. I don’t want something to be wrong. But something is wrong. Like many others in the mito world, a muscle biopsy once indicated mitochondrial dysfunction, but some doctors question that data.
So, we wait. I wait. And daily fight for sanity.
In the book One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are, Ann Voskamp wrote, “Being in a hurry. Getting to the next thing without fully entering the thing in front of me. I cannot think of a single advantage I’ve ever gained from being in a hurry. But a thousand broken and missed things, tens of thousands, lie in the wake of all the rushing…. Through all that haste I thought I was making up time. It turns out I was throwing it away.”
My mom can attest that I’ve spent a lot of my life anticipating the next phase. But then I waited for my children to be born. And then as my first husband took his last breath. And then again for a new husband to complete our family. And now… I wait over and over for medical tests to make things clear.
But I don’t want to throw any more time away. I don’t want to bite my nails as anxiety builds. I don’t want one medical test to define me. I want to sip this smoothie, indulge in a chai tea gluten free muffin, swallow a few Advil, watch an NCIS rerun, and live my day in peace.
Tomorrow will come. And I don’t want to miss today.
About the Author: Susan Schreer Davis lives with her husband, their cat named, Eggs, and the challenging effects ofmitochondrial disease. Learn more about Susan, her latest book and many songs at: www.susanschreerdavis.com