Last Wednesday (4/19) reminded me of an old song from years ago, Mama Said There’d be Days Like This! It was such a difficult day that I considered not telling you about it. However, if I only tell you about the victorious days and not the weepy ones, I’m not really being honest. So here goes.

On April 19 I had an appointment with my personal care physician for an approval for surgery visit—well, it was actually a CRNP visit because my PCP was promoted within the company and no longer sees patients, and it wasn’t even my CRNP because her schedule was too full.

As I waited in the new CRNP’s office, my mind ran in circles. What if this CRNP with whom I had no relationship didn’t approve me for surgery? What then?  You get the picture. This was an important appointment. I was nervous.

It was a long process, but things went relatively well, and I left feeling that perhaps I had “passed.”

At 2:00 I had an appointment with the Orthopedic PA I’d seen in March for a problem with my knee. I didn’t go into details in my blog, Nathan, about the full extent of my visit with him.

Even though his boss, Dr. G, had told me a year earlier that he didn’t think I’d ever need a knee replacement because my cartilage was so good, this young PA had announced at my March visit that if the cortisone shot didn’t help, we could try gel shots or a total knee replacement! I wasn’t impressed with the nonchalant mention of a total knee replacement!

PA B had asked to see me again in five or six weeks to find out if the cortisone shot had worked (it hadn’t, or not much). So a little before 2:00, I got into the car to drive across town to that appointment. I wasn’t looking forward to it.

For some reason, there was a continuous line of traffic backed up through both lights I needed to go through. When I reached the second light where I would turn left, it was green but the car at the head of the line facing me was still waiting. I decided they were being nice enough to let me make my turn since traffic was still backed up. I started to pull out into the intersection just as the car across from me began to pull forward. They stopped and I stopped. I thought the woman in the passenger’s seat was gesturing for me to go ahead, so I began to pull out again—just as they started to pull forward!

Now I could see that both the passenger and the driver had angry looks on their faces and were shouting at me—words that thankfully I couldn’t hear with all windows closed—and the woman was gesturing wildly! I stopped, smiled at them and allowed them to proceed. What a day!

I went into the clinic and eventually, was called into the inner office. PA B entered and asked how my knee was doing. When I told him it wasn’t doing well, he asked what I wanted to do. I said I wanted to get a gel shot.

PA B said, “Well, we can do gel shots, but you know that it will only be a stop gap measure, and you’re going to have to have a total knee replacement anyway.”

I reminded him again of what Dr. G had said a year ago, but he was unimpressed, continuing on in the push for me to agree to a total knee replacement. I knew he had no idea of the other surgery I am facing, and I was so close to tears that I couldn’t tell him without crying.

Finally I choked out the words, “Well, there’s another surgery I’m facing that takes precedence over this.”

As though he thought he needed to make clear his point of how important the knee surgery was, he said, “Let me show you the x-rays.”

He did, and actually ended up admitting that the right knee looked pretty good and so did the left side of the left knee. Maybe I’d only need a partial knee replacement, he said. Then he sat back in his chair and asked, “What other surgery are you facing if I may ask?”

When I told him, his expression changed and he said, “Oh that is a lot!” He made no more mention of knee surgery, but went on to explain that I couldn’t get a gel shot today. They had to be ordered, and they weren’t given in one injection like cortisone but would be given in a number of doses. They’d let me know when they arrived. The chances of me getting an injection before my surgery May 9 seemed minimal. The lump rose in my throat again as I left the room.

Still battling tears, I went home to tell Donn. Once again, I couldn’t talk without crying. I hadn’t shed many tears since my diagnosis in January, but this seemed like the last straw. I was weepy off and on the rest of the day.

As it wore on, I decided that after my session with my trainer at Buhl Club the next day, I would go to Buhl Park to have my quiet time, journal and listen to music.

Also, Donn and I decided that on the way to my session, I’d try to make an appointment to get the gel shot before my surgery because if I waited to make the appointment until the injections arrived, I probably wouldn’t be able to get in before my surgery.

When I stopped at the clinic the next morning to attempt to make an appointment, I was told absolutely not. An appointment could not be made until the gel shots had physically arrived at the Clinic. Perhaps there was a good reason, but if there was, I wasn’t told the reason. The lump rose in my throat and tears burned behind my eyes. Once again it seemed like the last straw. I turned and walked away.

Last Thursday was a beautiful sunny day, and my knee was feeling pretty good. After my session, I drove to Buhl Park and carried my things to a lovely spot near the water. I began reading Gary L. Thomas’s book Seeking the Face of God for perhaps the third or fourth time (maybe more) over the past twenty years as I listened to Chris Tomlin’s new album Always, headphones in place.

My situation didn’t change but my soul soaked up the beauty of nature, the rich spiritual food I was ingesting, and the glorious music permeating my heart. My weepiness retreated as God prepared a table before me in the presence of my enemies and restored my soul. As only He is able, He gave me strength to continue the challenging journey I’m on.

Father, Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, is the theme of my soul for these difficult days. And these words too from my childhood, Strength for today is mine all the way, and all that I need for tomorrow. My Lord knows the way through the wilderness. All I have to do is follow. Amen.