So, after my break down in the car and with my husband, we just lingered a while. I told him I didn't want to go to Chapel Hill. I had enough for the day and wanted to just deal with it tomorrow. Andrew asked a bunch of questions about my dr's visit and about why we had to go to Chapel Hill. I couldn't fully answer his questions because, I myself, was still confused. Andrew called my dr. to get a reason why we needed to go to CH. As soon as he got off the phone, he said we were going.
When we got to the Chapel Hill ER, we entered and I gave them my whole spiel. They put me straight into an ER room and read my labs and ultrasound results, which I had brought with me. Then the kicker came. "Mrs. Laparra, I know you don't want to do this again, but we are going have to do everything over, here, because it is protocol. I can't even let you see the OB on-call unless we go through all the steps."
If I'm honest, I wanted to punch someone in the face. The thought of going through one more test, especially a repeat one, just made me furious. What was the point? Why did I just waste my whole morning doing that at my dr's office if I was going to have to do it here? Not to mention, the repeat money we were spending, that we don't have, to do tests that I didn't need. This seriously infuriated me.
On Monday, at the end of the day, this is what I had been through: two urine samples, three blood draws, four pelvic exams, four ultrasounds, an admission to the hospital, three hours in a dr's office, two hours in the car, and five hours in the ER...and still no clear answers.
I'm not typically a complainer. In fact, stuff like this usually makes me more grateful than anything, but I gave in to my flesh and just let loose. I was feeling like the old lady in the Bible whose been hemmorhaging for 12 years and has seen every doctor and still remains unhealed and suffering.
But here it is: she had hope. If she could just touch the fringes of Christ's robe, she'd be healed. She just knew it. Where was my hope? Was I looking for His fringes? Was I hoping in Him?
I was reminded of a song I have had on repeat for the last three weeks. One of my favorite lines in it is "I will stand my ground where hope can be found." That phrase fuels my soul. My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness. I will stand my ground there, where hope can be found. I'm staying. I will stand with Him, for He alone is my hope in this broken world. He alone shines light in a world where sometimes babies die right when they're born, where tests often times don't lead to answers, but only more tests, where families are broken, where children are abandoned by parents, where racial tensions are so high people can't even leave their houses, where darkness seems to be everywhere, looking to consume anyone in it's path. But God.
God is light. And in Him, I will put my hope and stand my ground.
I've been in the hospital from Monday and I leave today or tomorrow. I leave with antibiotics and hopes of healing, but this isn't over. Unless God chooses to miraculously heal me, I will most likely be back. It's the critic in me to say that, but if you saw my ultrasound scans I'm sure you'd feel the same way. I just don't know if antibiotics will be enough. The dr. says the worst case scenario would be surgery to remove both my right ovary and fallopian tube. But for now, we wait. Just like I've been waiting these six weeks. I wait more. But at least, I can wait in confidence that I am loved and cared for by my Jesus who gave His life for me, that I might have life in Him.
I will stand my ground where hope can be found.
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