Well, Bob this has been quite a day. I moved through my morning with much emotion, allowing myself to feel everything. If I focus on the good that you have brought into my life, then this is it; I enjoy the moment. Bob, because of you I have slowed my life down. I see more. I feel more. Even when it is hard I want to feel.
My day started with my favorite (and most handsome) Starbucks date.
Monday mornings are our time. I buy him Starbucks and he gives me his undivided attention. Some might call this a bribe, but I refer to this as mother-son bonding time with a little incentive. This morning was especially sweet. I asked him if he would pray for me and he did. It was simple. It was him. And then we did one of our favorite things. We laughed. We laugh well together, Jake and I. He loves to show me funny text and he couldn’t wait to share this one with me…
I laughed so hard, that I had to pull the car over because I couldn’t see. You see, dear Bob, all you have done is made laughter more precious. Who knew this is exactly what I needed this morning… a glorious nipple joke.
I dropped my Jake off and headed out to Cedar Sinai. I was directed to a certain parking lot. I pulled in and ran into the front building with a few minutes to spare. As I was asking directions to the imaging center, the gal saw my parking garage ticket in my hand, “Ooooh honey, you do not want to park in there. It will be over $20 by the time you are done.” I dropped my head onto the desk. If I moved my car, I would be late. I hate being late. She directed me to another garage on the other side of the building. As I ran out of the building, I could hear her yelling after me, “You better run faster, sister.”
I jumped in my car and headed out. As I exited the garage I inserted my ticket- $5.00. What! I hadn’t even been scanned yet! I explained to the parking attendant my situation, “I had the wrong garage,” but she wouldn’t budge. And then it happened. Yep. I knew it was a matter of time. I started crying… again. Over a stinkin parking fee. I knew it was lame, but I could’t help it. I tried to make them stop, but they just kept falling out. This is ridiculous, I thought, you just spent twice this amount at Starbucks. Let it go, but it didn’t help. Sometimes, dear sisters, we just don’t make sense- none at all- and that is okay. Sometimes we just have those days.
She got the manager and I cried to him, ” You see, I have this brain tumor named Bob and I am just trying to get to the right parking area so I can have a scan done and now I am late.” Poor guy, he didn’t even know what hit him. “Bob- who’s Bob? Never mind that… It’s okay lady,” he said wide-eyed. He scrambled as fast as he could, “We will get you out of here.” I wiped my snotty nose and tears as I tried to apologize and I zipped through. Definitely not a proud moment for Bob and I.
I couldn’t find the correct parking so I finally landed in the cancer area. Close enough.
I made it. I looked like a wreck, but we did it, Bob. We made it. I gained my composure as I waited for my turn. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. Here we go. They called me back. I followed a young kid in scrubs through a maze of corridors. I just want to move through this well. They led me back to the changing area. It seemed surreal. I began to think back over this past year as I changed into my hospital gown; this was my fourth MRI this year. My fourth.
So how did Bob and I do, well…. we decided to handle it by doing this…
and then this…
As I walked back to the big room I asked the tech if I could get a few picks. I explained that I was logging my adventure- Bob and I. He seemed amused by the whole thing. Apparently I was the first patient who asked if they could take a selfie with the Bob-o-matic 5000 (aka MRI machine). While I couldn’t take the phone near the machine, he was more than happy to snap a few picks.
Another tech joined in on the fun and asked if I wanted a picture with him. He was the tech of the month. I would have said yes, but I was told we were now running behind thanks to all of my shenanigans.
We did a little small talk as he prepped me for the machine. I shared that I used to teach high school long ago and was now in school once again. We chit chatted a little more as he inserted plugs into my ears, followed by a headset that allowed him to speak to me from the other room. He locked my head in nice and tight with a plastic contraption and I was good to go. He informed me that he would be pulling me out in about 40 minutes in order to inject dye into my system for the contrast image. That was it. In I went.
I nodded off for a bit and then next thing I knew, I was on the move. I blinked my eyes, which I always keep shut even when I don’t fall asleep (because it does feel a little eerie in there). The tech was standing by my side. He was saying something but I couldn’t hear him or see him very well because off all the paraphernalia. He leaned over as he was preparing my I.V., and continued talking. “I can’t hear you… the head set,” I mumbled, as I shook my head. He lifted my headset off. ” How are you doing in there?” he asked as he felt for a vein. “Oh, good. I guess.” Silence. “I bet those high school boys thought you were the prettiest teacher.” What… is this a joke. I looked at him sideways through my very attractive plastic halo. “Oh, come on,” he said, “Don’t tell me those high school boys didn’t have a crush on you.You were probably the most beautiful teacher on that campus” I started to chuckle. Of all times. I mean I never, like NEVER EVER, get hit on and now… like right now. Oh Lordy, Lord. What in carnations is going on today! If anyone ever tell you God doesn’t have a sense of humor, then they don’t know my God. I told him I was flattered, and then very gently suggested that maybe we should focus on getting the IV into my arm. He obliged, finished the job and in I went again.
Well Bob, we made it. We did it. We did it well. The emotions were there and so was my Jesus and we did just fine. I had a thought as I was driving home, Bob. I wanted to thank you. Yes, thank you. Oh, I am not thankful that you came into our lives, but I am thankful for what you have taught me. I never would have known that I could walk through something this challenging. I wouldn’t have known that my God was BIG enough to carry me through. In all my tears. In all my mud. I am grateful that I have had a chance to see what my faith looks like when it’s walked out. So thank you, dear friend, thank you for that.