Seeking Revelation
I saw a PA in my doctor’s office a few weeks ago about pain in my arm. He said it’s “texter’s elbow” (once more commonly known as “tennis elbow”) and prescribed me a whole bunch of meds and exercises and a band to wear on my arm, and he gave me his absolute assurance that this would go away. “It always does,” he said. Many of my friends have had the same malady and shared their own doctor’s advice – different exercises and massages and medicinal cocktails. "This made mine go away." "This took care of my pain immediately."
But I was back at the doctor’s office last week because my
arm was still hurting. This time, I saw a different PA . . . and he had a
different story. Some of those exercises may help; some of them make it worse.
If the band seems to be doing some good, okay; if not, stop wearing it. And
actually, this pain may come and go for months; don’t expect it to go away
completely for good.
Sigh.
I also saw a different doctor last week at Dr. Drake’s Sleep
Solutions here in town. Regular readers have heard of my long history of sleep
issues. Because I hate my CPAP and I’m not sure it’s doing much good, my PCP
and I decided to give something different a shot: a Mandibular Advancement
Device. Basically, it’s a mouthguard that gradually moves my jaw forward to
open up the airway, serving the same purpose as the CPAP.
Mm-hmm. I’ve tried that one, I told her. Everything she suggested
to me, I’ve tried. The more we talked, the more wide-eyed she was about the
extent of my issues here. Well, she said, we’ll just take care of the oxidation
and make sure your airway is open. You’ll have to work with your PCP then about
the rest . . . you probably need counseling . . . for anxiety or OCD . . .
something like that . . .
Big Sigh.
A friend of mine has been having significant medical issues
for a few months now. There was a growth that turned out not to be cancer,
hallelujah . . . there were kidney stones that are going to be taken care of .
. . and yet, she has been dizzy and nauseous and completely exhausted, unable
to really function much at all. For weeks. And nobody seems to have an answer for that. Again, it's been weeks and weeks . . .
BIG SIGH.
Please don’t accuse me of being “anti-science” here. I am
quite pro-science. Get your measles vaccinations, people.
Nevertheless, I am frustrated at times at the arrogance of
the scientific community. I mean, so many out there would ridicule a person for expressing uncertainty about what scientists tell us about the beginnings of the universe and the
evolution of life. But people, I am sitting right here in front of you.
You can look at my body, do experiments, examine past research . . . yet, you
still can’t tell me what will make my arm stop hurting? You still can’t tell me
why my brain won’t go to sleep at night? You still can't make up your minds whether eggs are good for me or not?
But I’m supposed to trust you unquestioningly about what
supposedly happened millions of years ago with no living witnesses? Really?
My Eastertide passage this week is Luke 24, when Jesus met
the disciples on the road to Emmaus. And once again, I’m struck by the fact
that Jesus was right in front of these two, and they didn’t recognize him. Not
until “their eyes were opened”. The English teacher here is going to point out
that that clause is in passive voice. They didn’t open their own eyes; God opened
their eyes so they could see what was unclear to them before.
I don’t know that I have any profound spiritual instruction
to give from my Resurrection Station scripture this week. Just the fact that the only
reason we know anything – about the beginning of time, about the resurrection
of Jesus, about the pain in my forearm, about the nutritional value of a chicken egg – about anything at all – is because God
chooses to make it known to us.
We should be appropriately humbled by that fact – and, as he
told us to do, seek him first.
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