Fatty

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Gentle Reader,

How’s that for a title? Did it hook you in?

Friday’s trip to the doctor turned into quite the adventure. He ran almost an hour late. (This was due to a woman who came in with chest pains, which turned out to be a panic attack. Total sympathy for that on my part). I had to give samples of some bodily things that you just never really want to give samples of. Then I was told that I couldn’t eat until after a CT scan, scheduled for 3:00 p.m. that afternoon.

A barium drink. Yum. A shot of radiation. Glowing intestines.

Then two more hours of waiting, at which point I would’ve eaten tofu. And I shudder at the idea of tofu.

I did strain my abdominal muscles at work, but the CT scan showed no hernia. So no surgery. But it did show some spots on my liver: cavernous hemangiomas (benign masses made up of tangles of blood vessels) and nodular regenerative hyperplasia (a rare defect resulting from medication use). The possibility of any of this leading to cancer is extremely low, but, nevertheless, the workman’s compensation doctor I had been seeing told me to go my regular doctor ASAP and get an ultrasound scheduled. This is something I will have to have monitored for the rest of my life.

Today I had that appointment. He was less concerned with the aforementioned issues and more concerned about the fact that I have a fatty liver. I was unaware of that. My liver is currently storing more fat than is considered normal. This could be happening for a variety of reasons, ranging from a virus to high cholesterol. So, along with the ultrasound, I get to have fasting blood work done first thing tomorrow morning.

We discussed whether or not I need to stop taking the medication I’ve been on for anxiety and depression, along with whether or not I need to stop taking birth control (I’ve been using it primarily as an estrogen supplement). The answer to both was “yes,” although the need to stop the birth control is more pressing than the antidepressant, at least until the blood work is done and my enzyme levels can be assessed.

This problem forces me to make some lifestyle decisions. Exercise has always been a four-letter-word to me, but walking is going to have to become part of my daily routine, both for liver health and for dealing with anxiety. No more fast food, unless it’s something like a salad or a sandwich made with fresh ingredients. (Sigh. Goodbye, my dear Arby’s). I don’t have to worry about alcohol or red meat, as neither is part of my diet, but I do need to consume more fruits and vegetables.

You know. All that stuff they tell us to do all the time.

Why am I sharing this with you?

Certainly not to freak you out. I’m not freaking out. Not a bit. And that’s why I share. When I was first presented with this information, I knew immediately that I had a choice. I could get upset or I could decide that I was going to trust God to see me through, whatever that looked like. There wasn’t a middle ground on this one. If I went down the “what if” road and followed all the rabbit trails, I’d be a wreck. If I decided to trust, I’d be okay.

I decided to trust. I decided to operate out of what I knew to be true: God has a great plan for my life and He works out all things for His glory and my good. And I’ve been more than okay. I’ve been downright positive, which is entirely of the Spirit, because I’m a glass-completely-empty girl when left to my own devices.

You can choose. You get to decide. Whatever you are going through today, whatever hardship you face, you can put your trust in God. I’m not at all saying that you should stuff your emotions or live in some fantasy land where you deny everything. I’m just saying that shock doesn’t have to shake. Whatever bumps that come your way don’t have to turn into major earthquakes. You can turn your eyes to God. You can say, “I am putting myself one hundred percent in Your hands.”

That choice? It leads to peace. It leads to hope.