Ever have one of those experiences that rock your world and leave you feeling like things couldn't possibly get better? Tuesday night when Dr. P brought me that elusive medicine was one of those times for me.
Today topped it.
Today was my follow up visit with the specialist. She originally wanted to follow up yesterday but no appointments were available so we set it for today.
I expected the doctor to stain and dilate my eyes again, leaving me not fit to drive. It was a little tricky finding a ride for lunchtime in the middle of the work week. I found this wonderful service called Noah Medical Transportation out of Vancouver, WA (check them out at www.noahmedicaltransportation.com if you ever need help getting to non emergency medical appointments). The regular taxi companies wouldn't touch me since I'm contagious, but Noah is set up for just this sort of thing. That being said, there might have been some misconception about what shingles are: They draped the back seat of the cab in protective sheeting like they were prepared for something to come shooting out of me on the ride. That made me smile. The driver could not have been more prompt, courteous or kind.
Despite that, truthfully I was nervous on the drive to the clinic. My eye and face hurt more today than they have during this whole episode. Last night was rougher than the night before, too.
But I was all prayed up about the appointment, and blessed beyond measure to know that so many people were praying for me. The two doctors who saw me today came into the appointment understanding about the delay in getting the medicine started, and the change from the first choice of medication to the alternate drug. Unfortunately there was a miscommunication about dosing the medicine. I've been taking the prescribed dose for the first choice medicine, not the alternative drug I ended up on. I've been taking half as much medicine as I should have been taking.
The doctors seemed a little unnerved about that. They prepped my right eye and took a look. They were shocked at what they saw. Even with half the dose of drugs there is far less damage in my eye than they would have expected to find on the full load of medicine. Is that not a miracle?! I told them it was the answer to lots of prayers.
Thank you all. Praise God.
Ever since Sunday when I awoke with the shingles this line from a hymn we sing at church has been running through my mind, "Oh praise the One who paid my debt and purchased me with righteousness." I've been singing it constantly, sometimes to myself and occasionally aloud. This afternoon waiting for the Noah cab to pick me up and carry me home I was definitely singing out loud. Because it was such a lovely sunshiny day I also mixed in some John Hiatt, but mostly it was praise music I was singing. (Well, even JH's stuff is sung in praise and with thanksgiving to God when I sing it, truly.)
I wish you could have been with me on that sidewalk in the sunshine. I felt like you were, really. It was so joyful. Even though my face is an angry shade of maroon red today. The sores can't hide the joy. Gitz defined joy along these lines: the unwavering conviction that God is in control and has blessed me to be a part of what He is doing not in spite of my circumstances, but because of them. No way to contain joy like that today! While I was singing this guy walked by with what looked like everything he owned in this world strapped to his back. He gave me high fives (both hands) "for being sexy as hell." I think he has some sort of ministry of encouragement going, like Barnabas would have if he lived on the street in downtown PDX. The guy bounded on down the sidewalk and high five'd an elderly gentleman in a crosswalk. Just one hand for the older man, though. Guess whatever he was vibing didn't have that "as hell" quality to it. I went back to singing....
Another day helping "Keep Portland Weird." Another day to praise the One who paid my debt. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Lord!
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