Heart Journey: Waiting Room

I'm starting to get it, I think. This recovery is nothing like the first one. For one thing, this recovery has involved many more and varied doctors than the first one, and so it's a good thing that we are currently located in a city setting. During my first recovery, I was in a rural setting, where access to specialists and even to my regular cardiologist was not as easy as it is here. Sometimes, the United Methodist appointment system (and certainly God working through it) puts you right here you need to be. This recovery is also going to take longer than the first one, and that's more of a mental adjustment than you might first think.

So, this week I have been in several doctors' offices, continuing to monitor the blood levels (they're not quite right yet, but getting closer) and making sure I am progressing in the way I should be. The facts, as I understand them right now, are these. One, I lost nearly half my blood in the surgery (not to mention all that the "vampires" have taken out of my veins in the intervening days), and a blood transfusion is not a good idea when we (by "we" I mean the doctors) are trying to get the thickness evened out. My cardiologist says it will, of course, replenish, but that will take time; he says I will likely not feel the way I felt before the surgery until the first of the year. After that, he assures me, it's only "up," or "from strength to strength." Two, the low iron I am experiencing is due, in part, to the incredible (but not unusual) blood loss. That will come back as well, and it is finally headed in the right direction, but I am continuing to get iron infusions to help move that along.

Three, I was at more risk than I ever imagined. As my cardiologist read through the report on my surgery, he looked at Cathy and I and said, "You know, this was a very complicated surgery. There are only a few people who could have pulled this off." There are a lot of questions that flow out of that statement, but mostly I have a great sense of gratitude to God for arranging Dr. Fehrenbacher, my surgeon in 1999, to again be available in 2017. He doesn't so many surgeries these days, being semi-retired, but he is "one of the few" who could do what needed to be done. Just because you're not feeling sick doesn't mean you're not really sick.

So, Thursday, we spent most of the morning at two different doctor's offices (in the same building, thankfully). And we spent a lot of time waiting. As we sat in those somewhat-comfortable chairs, waiting for my name to be called, it occurred to me how much of recovery is just waiting. Waiting for the numbers to balance out. Waiting for the next doctor's appointment. Waiting for results to come in from the blood tests they are doing. Waiting. Whether in a literal waiting room or not, recovery—and much of life for that matter—is about waiting, and waiting requires patience.

That's not something we're very good at in our culture today. It's not something I'm personally very good at. I want to be well now, but the cardiologist says I'll probably not feel as good as I did before surgery until the new year. We want what we want now, but we're told that "good things come to those who wait." Buy now, pay later—the motto of the upcoming season. Any time I think about my need for patience, I think of some of the great cathedrals I've been privileged to stand in during my travels overseas. Many of them were built over a long period of time, and they wanted the building itself to bring glory to God, so there was a lot of symbolism built into the very structure. Sometimes, often, the architect never lived to see the completion of the grand edifice. We build things to throw away; in earlier generations, things were built to last, not for utility but for glory.

"Lord, give me patience, but I want it right now" is the prayer of our generation. It's often my prayer. I'm not good at waiting, or sitting in God's waiting room. Perhaps that's why Psalm 27 is one of my favorite Scriptures, as the psalmist goes through several difficulties and comes to this conclusion as the best course of action: "Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord" (27:14). Only when I wait can I receive God's healing. Only when I wait will God have the space and time to truly strengthen my heart. Only when I wait can I become strong in God's Spirit and filled with his strength. Only when I wait can I truly become all God intends for me to be.

So I'm in God's waiting room for now. And I deeply appreciate all those who are praying for me, "sitting with me," and standing in the gap for me. Pray that I will wait well and receive all God has for me in this time.