Thursday, September 12, 2013

Raw Honest Truth

Image Via: Elli.com
 
It's becoming harder and harder to write these progression posts. It's been 3 weeks since the last clinic date. Each clinic appointment leaves its mark on us. Some cut really deep and some patch up the wounds from the months before. They are never predictable and always filled with a reel of memories that flash consistently through our minds...a slide show of pre and post diagnosis pictures.

I am a planner. I like to be prepared for difficult circumstances and I don't like to be caught off guard. So, in my attempt to keep the family all informed and moving in the same direction- meetings become imperative before clinic days. This time around... it didn't happen. No one wanted to talk about the obvious. For the first time in months I couldn't even wrap my brain around another clinic day. As the hours of that day passed by and the appointment crept up on us- we gathered everything from the house in silence and walked to the car. The Diaphragm Pacer System was placed on the floor, the IPad and Brookstone writing tablet set aside, bags of materials neatly in its place and seat-belts buckled. I began to drive and looked across to mom. Sitting in silence the air was thick and the burden was heavy.

And then, the words came spoken in a generic, robotic female voice- "I don't want to do this today. I don't want to hear what they will say". Truth. Raw honest truth.

Some days you can put on a full set of armor, stand strong and charge towards the battle ahead. And, some days you can barely pick up your sword and lay instead on the battleground in defeat. This day was full of defeat.

Our fears were confirmed as we sat in that sterile white room. After such a high- and experiencing an incredible miracle 3 months prior, we were hit with the gravest of news- a deep cut across our souls as we learned that mom's breathing has taken an incredible plunge. Her tests revealed that she has dropped from 60%-20%.

The drive home was the opposite of the drive in to the appointment. There were tears and frustrated words. There were first time confessions of just how hard things really have been lately. More deep moments of raw.honest.truth about the struggle mom has been enduring the last few months. Fears confirmed through spoken confessions of a new reality. And, an intense picture show of life before, life now and life to come in the future.

In the midst of the struggle and pain and defeat we still hold strong to promises made. We are exhausted, we are sad and we are human. But, never once is that mistaken for thoughts of being forgotten or spirits of bitterness. We serve a mighty God with a mighty plan for our lives- even in the midst of ALS. I am so thankful that even in the hardest of times, in the darkest moments we don't have to fear. And, in the midst of everything we are still seeing incredible miracles.

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