-Exhaustion-
As I snuggle in the toasty blankets, my relaxed body is jerked to life by the harsh sound of my alarm clock. Lying there in my warm bed, and listening to the announcer ramble on about some unrest in the Middle-East and the shaky stock market, I simply want to roll over and go back to sleep. My side is feels like it’s slowly imploding, but I figure that I’m just really hungry, so finally I drag myself out of bed and stumble through the dark basement and upstairs to eat breakfast. I slowly mash my cereal between my molars as I stare at the newspaper comics, but after I dilly-dally as long as I can, I pull out my Algebra book and get to work. Sometimes I hate Algebra, not because I don’t understand it, but because I do. After I do the first problem I get bored, so after my brain starts to shut down, I go upstairs to take a break and go to the bathroom. Once I finish scanning all the magazines up there, I make my way back to my studies. As I wander downstairs, I feel the pain underneath my ribcage again, but now it feels like my insides are trying to get outside, but my skin is getting in the way.
“Mom, my right side hurts.”
“Do you need to go to the bathroom?”
“I just did, but it didn’t help.”
We don’t usually go to the doctor, except for checkups, but several people we know have recently had their appendixes rupture, so my mom is worried. After some deliberation, my mom schedules an appointment for me later in the morning to get checked by a doctor.
-Contemplation-
The sun blares down into the car as my mom drives me to the doctors. My mood is sour but I try to quit wallowing in how disgruntled I feel. In the foggy screen of my brain, I click link after link as my mind wanders. What if I have cancer? I always take for granted that I’ll be healthy, but what if I die? What if I have a life threatening illness and this is one of my last days on earth? As my mind wonders from thought to thought, my throbbing side reminds me of my mortality.
As I sit in the waiting room these thoughts swirls through my head, and I begin to fear that I may really be sick, but in a way, I long for it. In some ways I want the attention and the novelty that comes with being sick. Soon we pull into the parking lot, and I heave myself out into the icy air and then hobble into the stuffy doctor’s office. While my mom checks me in I plop down onto a wooden chair that looks like it was stolen from a dining room table and try to concentrate on the magazine resting in my lap. Finally, because no doctors were available, an intern calls me in and, after an examination, recommends that I get a CAT scan done because he can’t tell one way or the other if there is a serious problem.
-Frustration-
So, I do the same things again: squeeze into the car, squeeze out of the car, check in at the hospital, and wait. The waiting room reminds me of an airport, the TV silently playing the news and the limp, the imitation shrubs only adding to that impression. This is the first time I have ever been in a hospital, that I remember, and it is different than I expected, but not better. I am called up and I actually have to wear one of those embarrassing blue robes, and they feel even worse than then they look. But despite my discomfort, I walk over toward the room where I’ll get scanned and am introduced to the man who will be doing it.
“Hello! I’m Jonathan and I’ll be doing your CAT scan today! How are you?
“Good.”
Even though I’m at the hospital.
“Great!” he says, a gigantic grin stuck on his face like a massive sticker.
He looks a little too enthusiastic, and it seems really phony. I’m starting to get a little nervous and it only makes it worse once we go in the room and he starts gleefully explaining how the scan works. The machine is not very ominous, and I hope it is like those scans you get at the dentist’s office. You simply stand there and they scan you, and then you get to go home. But it was not that easy.
“So first we need to fill your intestines with a fluid that the machine will use as a reference point to scan inside you. If you could lie down there on your side I’ll insert a tube into your rear. He explained in a cheerful, matter-of-fact voice.
OK, I think as I go lie down, that’s not too ba-wait what? He’s going to stick a tube in me and pump me full of fluid?
The thought of my wanting to get sick for the attention flew out of my mind: it was definitely not worth it. But, I can’t do anything else, so I just grimace and bear it. Once my intestines are full of fluid, the tray I am lying on slides into cylindrical opening in the machine, like a smooth piece of paper being slid into a knocked over wastebasket.
“Don’t be nervous,” Jonathan says in a plucky voice, “Just try to stay as still as possible.”
Oh that will help me relax; just tell me not to move. That will keep me really loose. I think as I practically roll my eyes.
I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and stiffen. As I lie there the machine whirrs and beeps around me. Then, it’s over. Or, I thought it was over.
-Devastation-
I get my regular clothes back on and go to the waiting room to wait for my results. After more than half an hour the news came- the results were inconclusive and I would need another scan. To say my heart sank would be a colossal understatement; it felt more like it was skydiving, while wearing a lead suit, into the Grand Canyon. I would have to go through all my anguish again, but I couldn’t do anything else, so I went through the whole process again and then came back out to wait once again. What if I need another scan? I think as collapse down onto the smooth plastic bench. I think I’ll just take my chances with appendicitis.
-Reflection-
After yet one more endless wait to add to the day’s generous supply, a nurse came out with the results-the scan was negative; my appendix was still in one piece. On one hand I was elated that I wasn’t sick, but on the other hand I was disappointed. All that trouble was for nothing.
I then go home, eat dinner quickly, and get ready for bed. After rereading all the magazines in the bathroom, I take my shower, and then pad softly down the carpeted stairs. As I pass my parents in the living room, I catch a snippet of their conversation about the day’s events.
“…but that nevertheless, it’s a lot of money,” My dad says as he sifts through some paperwork.
My mom lies on the couch with our little shitzu-poodle sprawled at her feet and replies. “I know, but Sam Forbes, Mr. Martin, and the Snyder boy…what was his name?
“Tomas?”
“No…what was it? Timmy? Oh, Timothy, that’s it! Sam Forbes, Mr. Martin, and Timothy had their appendixes rupture recently, and I was worried.”
“It still cost us fifteen-hundred bucks, no matter how...”My father continues as I plod downstairs to my cozy bed.
As I crawl into the embrace of my covers I think about all that has happened. Throughout the day, my entire thought process had been about me. I was tired. I felt bad. I wanted the attention. I did not want to die. Even though I probably should have been checked out, I did it all for purely selfish reasons. Laziness, self pity, and fear were my motivators. My mind feels like my side had just this morning; achy and ready to burst. But then I remember that the reason that I had gone through all I had today was because I have a family that cares enough about me to run all over the county trying to keep me safe. As I thought about what people would think if I really was sick, I realized that my friends would have stood by my side and been with me till the end. And as I begin to count my blessings the pain in my soul begins to fade away, and I know that I am in the hand of One who will take care of me better than a team of 700 doctors ever could, even if He choose to use someone like Jonathan to do it.