I started a blog at Blogger because I changed email
addresses and forgot my password at Wordpress. Most of the stuff I've
written over the years is kind of dumb, but some of it might be worth
preserving. I'm copying it over here so that when I forget my login info again,
I can just copy it from this one place.
Some people are quite emotional.
They wear their hearts on their sleeves as they passionately ride
along the ebbs and flows of each passing moment. There is a vibrance
and air of anticipation as I talk with these people, because each
conversation has the thrill potential of a roller coaster (With a broken
axle). I am not one of these people.
Generally speaking, I am fairly calm and reservered (probably even
monotonous) and I roll with the punches of life with a stolid stoicism
that I have somehow aquired through life’s myriad of influences. That
being said, there are times I find myself frustrated by my cool and
collected tendencies. There are days I want to self-destruct, but I
really just don’t know how. Today is one of those days.
As an update: Nathaniel had surgery a few months back to fix his
broken leg. He has congenital pseudoarthrosis, which basically means
some of his bones formed false joints. Because of this, the bones in
one of his legs have weak spots and low blood flow. Because of that,
they’re curving, and one of them broke. Additionally, his condition
complicates the normal “fixability” of a standard fracture. He is two
and a half years old and has a lot of growing yet to do; at this point,
we’re not really sure how well is leg is going to keep up.
This is a relatively rare condition and is usually a symptom of
another disease called neurofibromatosis (I believe) or NF I , which
has potential symptoms that run the gamut from splotchy skin to chronic
pain and blindness (among many other things).
A few months back, Nathaniel’s surgeon performed a bone graft on his
broken leg using a piece from his hip bone. The hope was that the bone
would “take” and would fill in the gap and serve as the bridge between
the fragmented ends in such a way that the bone would heal and
continue to grow. He was going to be confined to a cast for about
three months. This was Plan A.
Six weeks ago, Nathaniel’s pediatrician suspected an infection
beneath the cast, so we had the cast removed just long enough to check
things out and get a quick X-Ray. The x-Ray revealed that the bone was
healing and Plan A seemed to be working.
The surgeon, who originally diagnosed Nathaniel’s condition felt
fairly certain that he did not have NF I, but a second surgeon felt
pretty sure he did, so we had blood work done a few weeks ago.
Yesterday, the results from the bloodwork came back positive, which
means that Nathaniel has NF I. At this point no one knows what
symptoms may crop up, and this news scares me.
This morning, he had his cast removed “for good,” and the X-Ray
revealed that the growth we saw six weeks ago didn’t take like the
doctor had hoped. The bone is not healing, and Plan A did not work.
This news scares me as well.
Meanwhile, Amelia’s therapy is going well, I believe, and she is
making progress towards — hopefully — walking with quad-canes before
too long. Having two crippled children, both with uncertain futures
and a third child – whose skin also seems somewhat splotchy – troubles
me and feels overwhelming at times.
But here I am. At work. In front of my computer doing what it is I
do (whatever that is). Life goes on, and other than writing my
(monthly’ish) blog entry I will probably go about my usual routine as
always: even-keeled and collected. I’m not sure how to bring this up in
everyday converstaion (I’m not even sure what “this” is), and I doubt I
would if I could, so I will continue to function in my little sphere
and I will continue to smile and bob my head to passing colleagues. My
day will continue to be a mostly-honest “fine.”
It may seem as if this stoicism is a form of faith — and in some
ways, I suppose it is — but I’m afraid I’ve somehow crossed the line
between faith and fatalism. I do believe in a sovereign God who
intimately continues to sustain the fabrics of creation — from the
robust purple mountain majesties to the delicate, numbered (and
increasingly fleeting) hairs on my head. I believe that He intends the
fall of each sparrow, and He is well aware of the braces now worn by
both Amelia and Nathaniel.
This leaves me without excuse for doubt and worry (though I continue
to do both), but it also offers no excuse for apathy. It’s a mystery,
to be sure, but we are called to live the days that have been
documented already and boldy follow the steps that were mapped before
the world was made, and we are called to do so with eyes wide with
wonder and worship rather than the stony stare of a stoic.
This
isn’t a new trend. I grew up with Booberry and Frankenberry cereals.
And, when the apocalypse wipes away civilization as we know it, I’m
going to definitely plant some Crunch Berry bushes in the backyard.
Those were all sensible (and tasty) creations, but today, things are
just getting plain silly.
We
like Pop Tarts. Our kids like Pop Tarts. We buy our fair share of Pop
Tarts, and we have tried many of the trendy, exotic flavors. I would
think SpongeBerries probably have a bizarre texture, but as long as they
taste alright (apparently, much like strawberries), then I’m okay with
them in my Pop Tarts. ScoobyBerries, on the other hand, just sound
disgusting, and have no place as part of my less than balanced
breakfast.
