Last Week

Last week was eventful. On Monday, our trailer was moved out to the property.

Brandon finished his outdoor work on Saturday evening. In addition to his full-time job and taking care of me, he has been working extremely hard out there. He has done a ton of prep work for everyone, so my parents are paying him in land. I think that's a pretty sweet deal, and he does, too!

Before we are ready to move, we (and by we, I mean Brandon) must paint one hideously bright yellow room a tamer shade, put in a ceramic flat surface stove (I'm spoiled, what can I say?), put in a deeper sink (once again . . . . spoiled), install a pantry, rip out the carpet, lay laminate flooring, move our outdoor building from our current property to our future one, order another building which we will use for storage, and order a parking overhang. When the paperwork for the building permit goes through next week, we will have electricity. Eventually, we will have grass and a gravel drive. I have a lot of packing to do, so we may or may not be moving Labor Day weekend. Nonetheless, that weekend remains our target date.

Early last week, Micah had a couple of bad anxiety attacks. The poor guy has suffered a lot of upheaval over the last several months. I'm certain the two are related, which is concerning considering the fact that he is about to experience a move. We are praying for guidance, sensitivity and wisdom. We are also trying to do what we know to do. He has laid eyes on his home-to-be four times this week. The first time he saw it, I told him that we would be living there soon and that we would not be living in the home we live in now. He was incredulous. "We're gonna live in that box?" he asked. Brandon and I chuckled all the way home.

On Saturday evening, I took my mother-in-law and the kids to see the place, and observe the work Brandon had done. It had rained most of the day, so I decided to dress Micah in his rain boots. As I bent down, working Micah's feet into the boots, he reached over, patted my head and said in the high-pitched tone adults commonly use with animals and babies, "You're a good momma." Sweet, hilarious boy.
We met Grandma and Pops at the property this evening. We stomped around, explored and enjoyed the peace of the place. I am looking forward to calling it home.

On Tuesday, Brandon and I celebrated our 8th anniversary. I was relieved to reach this milestone. I don't know if it's the seventh year or year seven, but statistics show that the "Seven Year Itch" can be difficult, if not deadly, for marriage. Last year was difficult enough, but our marriage has been the sweetest and richest it has ever been. Most of that has to do with Brandon. Over the past year, I have witnessed him grow tremendously in his faith. Along with his growth in the Lord, he has grown in love for me. Without a hint of irony, I can tell you that this man loves me as he is called to love me. He loves me as every woman wants to be loved. He loves me fully, wholly and sacrificially. He loves me like Christ loves the Church, and that is a love from which I never want to part. I am deeply thankful to be his wife.

On Thursday, I had my endoscopy. I was nervous the night before the procedure. I prayed that the Lord would give me peace in the morning, and He was faithful to answer! Normally, I would have been a ball of nerves, but I was as placid as could be. When I was called to the procedure room, alone and without my Superman, I remained calm. As gloves were snapped on, oxygen tubes shoved into my nostrils and the impending threat of a large needle drew near, my heart beat steadily and I was able to control my breathing. I prayed and remembered Philippians 4:6-7. The needle was no big deal! Is God cool, or what?

 What was kind of a big deal is that I found out that I would not be able to have the nice "twilight" anesthesia that allows one to wake up quickly and dance out the door if so desired. The "twilight" stuff is soy and egg based, and therefore dangerous for me. I was tempted to tell them not to put me under, but the nurse told me that it is a difficult procedure to do while the patient is conscious. I hold to the fact that if I survived an induced 18 hour, practically natural childbirth, I could handle being conscious for a simple procedure. That option wasn't presented to me. They asked if I could take Fentanyl. Fentanyl was suspect because it was a part of the epidural cocktail (which failed me in the 11th hour) that caused me to have an allergic reaction. Finally, they decided upon Demerol. I had never had Demerol, so I didn't know to be less than thrilled.

The doctor walked in and said hello. I didn't understand why a simple greeting would make me feel warm and fuzzy until I realized that the warm fuzzies weren't natural. Valium. They could have amputated my arm, and I would have laughed. I heard his voice again. He was saying something about the number fifty--probably the measurement for the Demerol. The next thing I knew, I was in the car on the way home. I have no recollection whatsoever of leaving the Endoscopy Center.

Brandon tells me that I would wake, tell him that I had been given Demerol, pass out again, and repeat the cycle. He tells me I did this six times. Eventually, I was coherent enough to retain the findings from the procedure. The doctor had found a polyp and a bit of mild gastritis. Both were biopsied. He also found that my acid reflux was non-corrosive, which is great news for a singer. He did not find anything to explain my pain.

After sleeping off the drug for the entire afternoon, Brandon and I discussed the findings. We speculate that the pain I'm experiencing could be nerve pain. This explanation fits with my symptoms. My nerves are firing painful, false alarms throughout my body all the time. It makes sense that the stabbing pain I feel between my shoulder blades as I eat could be a nerve going haywire. It's always fun to pay out $900 to find that your body is crazier than you could believe, but at least we know.

There remains much to be said of last week, but the hour is late and I am emotionally spent. I have to get up early to get the kids and myself ready and out the door for my physical therapy appointment in Bossier. For now, know that God continues to work and prove Himself faithful and powerful all the time. Know that your prayers on Thursday were answered. Know that new blessings are coming. Know that God still provides. And know that my family continues to value your prayers.