Rejoice with me...

Rejoice with me.  Seriously, rejoice *with* me.  For I am not used to rejoicing and struggle with gloriously good things, as strange as that might sound.

Trembling and apprehensive, this morning at the surgeon's office I dared to talk about what happened at the endocrinologist office regarding that blasted test and asked for help.  She asked me what I wanted her to do. I honestly did not know, but I ended up blurting out that I needed someone who would listen to me.  Her face lit up, she said that she sends all her gestational diabetes patients to a particular doctor and then had her staff get me an appointment with the actual doctor!  But this is not even as good as it gets.  Joy...is greater than a mere appointment, a mere chance at help.

The appointment was set for the 2nd, since I scheduled the repeat glucose challenge for next Tuesday, after deciding that I did not want to feel bad any more this week...and the test is a hard one physically for me.  However, his nurse called to reschedule because something came up.  To say I was not  disappointed that I now have to wait until the 16th would be a lie, but after being so daring with the AMAZING Dr. Kennedy, I asked the nurse if I could ask her a question.  She said that was okay.  So, I dared to explain how I am symptomatic as my blood sugar drops below 90, instead of starting at 70 as the charts all state is "low" blood sugar.  I told her that I keep hearing that nothing is wrong with me.  That my blood sugar is normal.  I asked, "Am I going to hear that there?"

She was so warm and so kind and so gentle when she EXCLAIMED, "Absolutely not!  If you are symptomatic at 90, then 90 is your low.  We have patients who are symptomatic at 125 because they have become used to being so high!"

I started weeping, though I did manage to hide much of my abject relief from my voice...for a while.  I quickly told her about the rapid, profound weight loss and being diagnosed with insulin resistance and being on acarbose.  She listened and told me that she understood what I was trying to say and that they *wanted* to help me, they *would* help me. I just needed to wait an additional two weeks, for which they were sorry.

More tears.  My entire body was trembling so hard I could not stand.  I wanted to fling my arms around her immediately and become her servant in whatever way she needed.  But joy...s greater even than assurance of help.  MUCH GREATER.

She told me the first appointment would be long, would take approximately two hours, and then *asked* me if that was okay with me.  She said the doctor's first priority with new patients was making sure he understood their conditions, concerns, and histories.  She said he was gentle and a great listener and would take as long as it takes to be sure he has a good grasp of the situation before deciding what tests to do and such.  

I barely held it together long enough to thank her, four times, for her help, for their willingness to help me.  Then she thanked me, told me that I made her day, because she did what she does to help make sure that people like me get the care they need.  I was astounded at her words.

She assured me that my fears and the tears she could tell were falling were no bother to her and were quite understandable.  She only asked that I try and get my records to them *before* the visit so the doctor can review them in preparation for talking with me and to forgive them for needing to reschedule.

God's provision is remarkable.  He covered me with such mercy and grace and gentleness that Luther's metaphor of an eternal overflowing fountain seems a gross understatement.  Knowing how I would fret, He provided me the words I needed to rest until the 16th rather than worry and despair that I still would not get the help I need before my insurance runs out.

Last June, I was humiliated and dismissed by the first surgeon I saw here.  Not wanting to repeat that, I was brave enough to ask about other options.  I was given the name of a doctor, but when I called the practice, I dared explain my situation to the scheduler and asked her which doctor in the practice would be the most patient with my weaknesses and which was the best listener.  She set me up with a different doctor, Dr. Kennedy. I rescheduled three times, out of fear, before following through with the fourth appointment.  Not once were they anything other than kind about rescheduling.

Being her patient has changed my life.  Literally.  She is teaching me about safety and courage and how to reframe something from drowning in the negative to clinging to the positive.  Her entire staff ALWAYS treat me with gentleness and dignity and shower mercy upon me.  I leave that place always feeling encouraged and even empowered...a true modern day miracle.

I was really, really nervous about asking her for help, not even knowing what I thought she could do, but asked out of the despair I still felt over what happened Monday and *knowing* that something is not right with me.  Today, I did not just receive help. I received showers of mercy, more so than I could possibly imagine, from my Good Shepherd.  More than I can even grasp at this moment.  It is as if the Holy Spirit took my groanings not only to Christ, but also to Dr. Kennedy, so that my needs could be made clear and could be met.

I am in awe.
I am humbled.
I am overwhelmed with joy.

God.  Is.  Good.


Lord, I believe.  Help my unbelief!