I Have Seen the Future

I'm getting my work week started a day late this week. Sunday afternoon, Amsale and I drove to Rochester where we stayed overnight with my sister, brother-in-law, and nephew in anticipation of Amsale's battery of appointments starting at 7a on Monday.

Right out the shoot, we had tears. She needed a blood draw. And she doesn't have easily accessed veins for such things. They ended up poking (and digging) in both arms. They were wonderfully patient and child-loving people, but it was hard to pin Amsale down while she cried.

But she did well with her echo cardiogram and her EKG. And we were back at Jessie's house by 11am or so, with a word that she's doing very well right now. We don't have to go back for a year.

But the future still looms. In another year, she'll probably need to have her stent enlarged (a Catheter procedure through her neck or groin). Another year or so after that, she's probably looking at her next open heart surgery. We get to enjoy life between visits -- apart from her chest and stomach scars, she looks like a normal, healthy girl. But we know she will outgrow her shunt and will need open heart surgery again. And depending on how that one goes, she made need surgeries every 10-15 years for the rest of her life. Preparing myself and my little girl for that journey is something I've never had to do before.

I think one of the greatest curses one could have would be the ability to see the future. Especially to be able to see things that you cannot change which will come your way no matter what you do. Amsale could eat healthy, exercise regularly, stand on her head, hold her breath, do 1,000,000 cartwheels, or anything else. She will need this surgery. Eventually. And this time, she'll remember every bit of the preparation, recovery, struggle, and pain.

It's like knowing you're going to be in a big car wreck in a couple of years. You will be wearing your seat belt. Your car has airbags and a good safety rating. You know that 95% of the people in such accidents walk away. But for a week or so, they are pretty banged up. It's coming. You can't avoid it. You don't know exactly when. But every day brings you a day closer.

I have little doubt that we'll get through it together. God will help us through. But each time I walk the hallways of the Mayo Clinic and St. Mary's hospital, I remember the bitter steps we took together to get to level of health and well being she enjoys now. And even though I look forward in hope to still greater health and growth and life for her in the more distant future, I dread taking more bitter steps once again.

And that's the news from Browerville.

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