Unthinkable Tragedy

She showed up at my door unannounced and asked for a few minutes of my time. I readily agreed and just a few minutes later I was reeling from the story she told.

Within the last two hours her world had begun to spin apart. Suspicions had been confirmed. She was in the midst of an unthinkable tragedy. As I attempted to respond coherently, I found myself saying, “I am so sorry,” time and time again. I simply had no lofty words or healing phrases.

She was back and involved in common matters the next day. Clearly shaken, yet resolved to continue. I marveled at her resilience.

The next morning my phone rang early. “No need to be concerned,” she started and then she told me of another event in her unfolding story. Her unthinkable tragedy had grown — and in a way that made her options bleak.

Despite that, she was back at her place in a few hours. Her load was heavy from the suspicions realized and the drama that continued to pound her existence. Yet she moved forward. I expected her to begin to formulate strategies to address all of this. And I watched closely for the first signs of her breakdown.

Toward the end of the day, she came around to say goodbye. And she made mention of something that would have seemed innocuous on any other Friday. With a clear voice and a brave tone, she told me how she would meet this tragedy head-on. When others, including me, would have counseled her to move away, she turned into the face of the problem and announced she would not retreat.

God blesses us when we see people who, even in times of unthinkable tragedy and the complications that stack up, move back into the full force of the storm simply because the situation demands it and the cause is worthy.

I knew then that this was not an unthinkable tragedy — but the birth of an opportunity.

Only a Fleeting Inconvenience

Over the past several weeks, medical testing has revealed that the symptoms that prompted thoughts of a dreadful inconvenience have an undetermined cause. So I’ve officially downgraded this to only an inconvenience.

I’m thankful for this, of course. I’m just not absolutely sure what I’m thankful for. The phone call from Dr. John came while we were at Sharky’s Burrito. The good doctor talks softly but I think that, after he indicated that a few places shown by the MRI were “not normal,” emphasized the fact that the tests had eliminated those things that would make my plight immediately dreadful.

Frankly, I expected that once I knew that nothing truly sinister was about, my symptoms would disappear — merely stress-induced. Instead, the vertigo returned with a vengeance for a while and now has gotten better. And, in the lesser moments, I have become accustomed to the slight feeling of movement. In moments of whimsy, I imagine myself on board a gently rolling deck.

Since I’ve always enjoyed my time aboard boats, I’m thinking — this isn’t even an inconvenience. It’s just me and my life. And a good life at that.

So, if you see me in the near future, slowly swaying with a smile on my face, just know that I’m sailing and happy.

On Claustrophobia

As I continue my thinking about “a dreadful inconvenience,” I’ve been given additional opportunities to explore such situations.

Last week, Dr. John decided that it would be a good thing for me to experience an MRI on my head. The reasons for that are another part of this whole journey. But suffice it to say that I’ve been dreading that MRI for a week. In fact, I started thinking back about two previous MRIs I had suffered through that were focused on parts of my body below my waist. And I started tying those events to a recent revelation — or apparent revelation. I’m claustrophobic.

The dictionary says that claustrophobia is an “abnormal dread of being in a closed or narrow space.” My everyday guide to the universe says that having an MRI is “being in a closed and narrow space while loud noises occur.” The footnote to that entry indicates that “many people have an abnormal dread of this.”

There you go. Another “dreadful inconvenience” — a subset of a much larger dreadful inconvenience.

Having thought about my upcoming time in the tube, I decided to appeal to Dr. John for help. I called and left a voice mail for Nurse Carol last Tuesday morning. Having faith that some sort of medication would be forthcoming to soothe my fears, I was standing in line about 6 p.m. that night at the pharmacy. My phone rang and Nurse Carol told me that the prescription had been called in.

I think. It was kind of loud in CVS that night. Regardless, the pharmacist had no record of a call. And the next day was July 4. The doctor’s office was closed.

Thus, I found myself in the outpatient waiting room on July 5 armed only with my copy of the orders for the MRI and an abnormal dread of what was to come. Yet, as I sat there, observing the other patients, a great calm washed over me. These other people were really suffering. And they were bravely facing whatever was scheduled for them.

Within the hour, I was lying on my back with my head encased in a cage that the MRI technician referred to as a “football helmet.” I think that she thought the metaphor linking a common object to this contraption would be calming. My initial thought was, “Football players wear helmets because of the overwhelming potential of brain injury.” But, remembering the brave people I had seen just a few moments earlier, I shook it off.

The moment came. I shut my eyes. I could feel the sides of the tube brushing my arms as I was rolled into the belly of the beast. I gritted my teeth and waited for the abnormal dread to become outright panic.

It didn’t happen. There was nothing here to fear. Loud noises. Narrow space. I’m thinking I’m really not claustrophobic. Could it be that if we look beyond our own worries and view the plights of others — and have compassion — that we can be lifted above the pain and fears of our own lives?

A dreadful inconvenience is transformed into simply an inconvenience. And inconvenience merges quietly into the stream of life.

A Dreadful Inconvenience

The phrase just appeared in my personal journal as I pondered some ideas about friendship. I don’t have time to go into it now. Enough to say that I’m thinking about what “a dreadful inconvenience” it might be.