To put it mildly, the last 2 weeks haven’t gone as I planned.

I went in to my doctor on the Wednesday after Easter for some numbness and tingling that I was experiencing in my left leg, arm, and face. I was concerned enough to go to the doctor, but mostly just thought I should get the big stuff ruled out.

My doctor freaked out when I described my symptoms, and sent me immediately to the ER. She (and the ER docs) presented me with some grim possibilities…MS, tumors, stroke. While I had to consciously choose to trust God, I wasn’t beset with worry yet. In fact, I joked with my husband that I was the least worried of anyone!

I was admitted to the hospital for further testing and, one by one, our worst fears were ruled out. However, with no diagnosis, I had to face the test that I dreaded the most–a lumbar puncture. I developed a complication from this test which put me in intense pain and in need of significant care (I needed to be fed, etc.) until I had a corrective procedure, which involved sticking yet another needle in my back. This all kept me in the hospital for over a week.

Near the end of my hospital stay I was told that there was a diagnosis: syringomyelia. The neurologist said, “it’s serious,” and that I needed to be evaluated by the best neurosurgeons in our area (which, praise God, are some of the best in the world!). Between the language barrier, the number of letters in syringomyelia and the loopy drugs I was on, I still wasn’t too worried.

Fast-forward to my discharge instructions and a clearer explanation of the condition, and I was definitely worried. There is a pocket of spinal fluid within my spinal cord that is irreversably damaging the nerves. Every time I do something strenuous, it worsens. I was sent home with strict instructions not to do any housework and not to lift anything including my children–who are both under 3!

We are learning more about the condition, and the questions continue to grow. What will this do to the plans we’ve made for our family? We don’t know yet.

BUT, I am so comforted to remember that whatever we learn from these neurosurgeons, and whatever “plan B” that we have to implement, it isn’t–and never has been–God’s plan B. He has ordained this as part of my life, and part of His good plan for me.

And even if this means that I can’t care for my children, or I’m a burden to my family, or I can never have another baby…God is good. He cares, and He is in control.

Now, please remind me of all this when I start freaking out again tomorrow!

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