The Produce Man

Yesterday I had the endoscopic ultrasound (E.U.S.) A couple of hours beforehand, I had an additional CT Scan that was to be during it, but I ruined one part of the three parts because my body chose to have a panic attack while in the machine.

I am so frustrated an myself I could hit myself. It's like my body has decided to sabotage my chances of getting better or something. I had a bad reaction to the contrast injection, my arm started to feel as if it was being amputated . . . I started to scream . . . I pulled myself out of the machine . . . I started to puke on the floor . . . two nurses tried to hold me from falling off the bed . . . I started to tremble . . . hyperventilate . . . then cry. I knew I ruined the test. They tried to call a physician to see it they could repeat the test, but no dice. You can only do it once every 24 hours. Nice timing Jenn.

So they wrapped me in a blanket and sent me to another waiting room where I fell asleep against a wall.

When I went into the EUS I swallowed my pride and told her I was having anxiety attacks and I have recently have not been able to control myself. I talked to the guy doing the scan, Dr. Gan, and he seemed perplexed by my case and frankly unsure what he was looking for.

But wait there is more . . .

They under-sedated me and I regained consciousness four times during the procedure. Why couldn't my body just accept the stupid drugs! Noooo, I have to burn them off like some freak of nature woman.

But wait there is more . . .

Dr. Gan said he wasn't sure that he got what he needed, so he recommending . . . wait for it . . . yep, you guessed it: another endoscope! Why? I donno, maybe they need to pay off the machine or something. Who knows? Not me.

So do I sound frustrated? I'm sure I do, because I am. All they are trying to do is figure out how my pancreas works. They cannot attempt to fix it until they figure that out. Why is this so difficult? And DON'T say it's because I'm special, pleeeeease!

In all of this, I'm trying to see God's purpose in this process. I'm still reading the book, "6 Dangerous Questions," and today I read about a man who spent his whole life as a produce manager, wondering what he could possibly do for the kingdom of God while sorting bananas and grapefruits. He eventually ended up in an African country in 1994 as an expert on shipping produce. One evening traveling on a boat with Mabutu he shared his testimony with him. Partly because of the influence of that conversation, Mabutu began changing the political temperature and led his people to the end of the partied.

I'm sure this man had crappy days, too. However, God was still able to use him in a powerful way. So, lets just say, I'm sorting fruit today and most of it is moldy. That doesn't mean that it will be that way tomorrow; I will remember that and have hope . . .