Today is one of those days where I had to put one foot in front of the other and just go. Cruz had his testing for Muscular Dystrophy this afternoon. I have dreaded this day. Until now, it has just been speculation. Unknown. There is both hope and denial in the unknown and now we are one step closer to the known. I have gotten kind of comfortable in the unknown, living with hope and denial; they are like twin sisters in the family of chronic disease. In about three weeks when the unknown becomes known, one of these sisters will have to move out.
I scheduled his test for after school. I picked him up and as we exited the building, Cruz shouted, “Ready, set, GO!!!” and charged ahead. I watched my little guy marching forward ahead of me and I thought, “No, buddy. No I am not ready. I am not ready to subject you to this. I am not ready for that phone call with the results. I am not ready to accept this possible fate for you.”
As we drove to Children’s Hospital, a place I have been to hundreds of times in the past twenty years, I got off course. I missed a turn and when I doubled back I found that the entrance ramp to the highway was closed so I had to completely re-direct my focus. In this state of chaotic ambivalence, I knew I needed to let go of control and let God take over the wheel. While the route to get to our destination took about ten minutes longer than planned, I needed that time to get “ready” and be “set” to go.
In my mind, I decided to let go of all that is unknown and focus on what I do know. I know that Luke and Cruz are two of my blessings. I know that Ryan and I are remarkably lucky that God has chosen us to be their earthly parents. I know that they have been created in God’s image and that anything knit together by the Creator of the Universe is nothing short of perfect. They are God’s masterpieces and any blemishes seen on earth are perfected through the lens of eternity.
When I reached the hospital, thanks to my detour, I was ready…
Last night’s rain left the streets and sidewalk scattered with large puddles. In all of his childhood innocence, Cruz took me by the hand and again yelled, “Ready, set, GO!” as he splashed through them on the way to the entrance. We passed by the protesting nurses and got a hug from one of them who knew us. Cruz entered the lab, sitting on his own, and put his arm up for the draw. Unable to find a good vein, he switched his arm and watched as they stuck him. No tears. The technicians were amazed. “You are the bravest three year old I have ever seen,” said one of them. For my son who has low muscle tone and very little muscle strength, I am reminded that strength is so much more than mere muscle. He really is brave and he has the strength to move mountains. I will follow behind him as he shouts his mantra to the universe: “Ready, set, go!!!”