I am the wife of a wildly devoted husband who is my partner, yes, but he is also my caregiver. Chronic illness impacts him, too. Significantly. My story has become his story, which is our story. So you’ll be reading posts authored by him here, too.
post by Tony Kline
I started writing this more than 10 months ago about wanting to punch a doctor. I’ve only ever punched someone once in my life and that time I was in my physical prime, and I did it in an effort to avenge my girlfriend’s honor. This time, my reason would have been the same, but now she’s my wife, and I’m in my 40s. And I think I’ve probably gained enough wisdom to know better than to punch a doctor in his own office.
Some of the urge to punch came from the words he was saying and how he said them, but a lot of it came from having spent countless hours waiting for numerous doctors to walk into a room with a solution to a problem.
Doctors are essentially problem solvers, aren’t they? We go to them with a condition that we can’t fix and they rely on their extensive experience and education and their ability to think critically to provide a solution so that we can resume our normal lives. But what if we go to see them (a bunch of them) and they try new things that don’t work, suggest old things that didn’t work the first time, simply pass you to another doctor, or just shrug because they are out of ideas? And what if we don’t even know what a “normal” life looks like anymore?
In the 25 years that Abbie (and me by proximity) has been searching for answers and a resumption of something resembling normal, there have been a handful of times where I’ve thought we’ve been on the cusp of something that would be a big step toward an improved quality of life, only to end up disappointed and out of ideas again. These are the times that make me feel like punching.
Here’s the funny thing, though: 10 months of hindsight have allowed me to realize that even though that situation was frustrating and the outlook seemed bleak, God snuck in and provided something better. And how often does He do that? Too many to count if we’re looking for it.
How many times has someone thrown a punch and still thought later on that it was a good idea? Our first instinct—my first instinct—should be to go to God. In moments of desperation and frustration for sure, but how about any time, all the time? He’s sovereign and He has a plan for us. How much time and effort could we save by just acknowledging that? Of course we couldn’t see what He had in store for us last August in that exam room, but that’s where trust comes in.
There’s comfort in trust. He didn’t lead us into that situation or any other to leave us there. His Word and our experiences indicate that He is taking us somewhere better than we can imagine, and He will be with us the whole time.
Is everything perfect now? No. Abbie still fights. But infusions twice a week have stabilized things as much as chronic illness can be stabilized. We’re making the most of this life we’ve been given. And she now has a doctor I feel like hugging.
I didn’t see that coming 10 months ago, but I’ll let you guess who did. And He’s right here, not going anywhere.
