This weekend God talked to me. He was there in the amazingly beautiful Easter service at my church, lifting my heart up the Heaven. But that’s not what I’m talking about. This weekend He whispered in my ear. He talked to me. Directly. Before I can tell you what He said, I have to tell you a story.

The past two visits to my rheumy have included something not quite good. He’s told me that my blood work has been off. I’ve had a single liver enzyme registering too high. And I’m not on anything that should be causing it. So in February he told me I needed to see a GI doc to get to the bottom of it. Now, I’ve had arthritis since I was a kid. And I’ve had the occasional bad blood test over the years. And I’ve never really worried. I wasn’t worried this time either. I felt fine. I feel fine. For someone with RA I will even go so far to say I feel great. I’m on minimal meds, I’m exercising every day, I’m sleeping okay. I’m as close to normal as I get. So even though my doc was worried I wasn’t.

Until I saw the new doctor that is.

The new doc, a very nice man, took my not worried self and shoved me off a cliff into a pit of badness. I walked into the appointment certain that nothing major was wrong. I left terrified.

A word of advice to all the doctors out there. I know y’all need to cover all your bases. I know that it is CYA. But if you don’t know what is wrong and your patient is clearly healthy and feeling fine, don’t starting throwing terrifying possible diagnoses at them. That’s just cruel. Simply say that you don’t know what is going on and that you’ll need to runs some tests. It is okay if you don’t know. I’d rather you say that than tell me something might be horribly wrong then smile and walk away.

But that is just what the new doc did.

I’m a worrier. I fight it. I constantly remind myself to put it all in the Lord’s hands. That He is better able to handle things that I will ever be. But it is still my default reaction. So after my appointment that is what I did. I ran the possible diagnoses through my head. I labeled every ache or pain a possible symptom. I got sad and depressed and scared. And then scared some more.

I posted on Facebook that something was going on with my health and asked for prayers. And got an overwhelming show of support. And yet I still worried. I worried and prayed and worried. In 24 hours I was starting a downward slide into a deep depression. I stopped taking my meds (why bother, I’m clearly dying). I stopped eating like I should. By Saturday morning I was ready to check out of life. And so I did. I didn’t get out of bed. I didn’t eat. I didn’t drink. I just laid there watching mindless TV and worrying.

And then, around noon that day, I heard a whisper in my head.

That’s enough of this. 

Those four words whispered into my brain and things shifted. I remembered that before the doc had listed off scary diagnoses I was fine. I remembered that before the visit to him I’d been feeling great. I remembered that even if something bad does happen, the ultimate healer has my back.

I’m still fighting those worries. They are hiding in the background of my brain with their pal depression, waiting for me to falter and fall again so they can consume me. And every time I glance back at them, God whispers again – I said that’s enough.

I don’t know what the tests will show. I’m hoping that it will just be nothing. Given how many years of my life have been spent taking a daily medication that can damage your liver, I’m guessing that I will just have one high enzyme for the rest of my life. I do know though, that no matter what the tests show, I’ll be alright. I can feel the arm of the Lord around my shoulders, giving me support and strength.


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