There’s Never Emergency Meetings in Heaven

I told you. There’s no emergency meetings in heaven.

I glanced at the clock in the hospital’s surgical waiting room. My heart raced faster than the second hand.

My daughter, Megan, needed a cyst removed from the back of her leg. She was only five-years-old at the time.

After a failed attempt in the surgeon’s medical office, we scheduled the procedure at the hospital.

Besides, what were they thinking? Expect a young child to lay on her stomach for medical staff to numb and perform the incision, removal, and stitching all while conscious? Really?

But my husband and I heard her cries and screams echo down the hallway.

So, the doctor advised to move to plan B—under anesthesia at the hospital. “She’s not going to cooperate for us to do it here at our offices.”

Well doc, I could have told you that.

Yet, I wished for another option besides deep sedation, not fond of plan A or B. Still, the cyst grew over the year the pediatrician said to watch it.

The cyst needed to come out. And it needed testing for cancer. I worried and fretted and paced.

You see, I’m a floor pacer, panicking in body and spirit. Especially with my children and family.

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