This wasn't something I could have arranged to do in private, no. I had to go pass out in front of the sweet people who run the nail shop I go to. Yes, I was getting my nails done. Never mind that it wasn't for some dramatic, heroic even reason. Just sitting there, being pampered, I swooned.
Felt it coming on gradually, more like a bit of a sweat at first, and then kind of woozy, hard to concentrate on the small talk. And the last thing I remember was saying, "I think I should tell you that I'm not feeling so good."
When I came to moments later, my sweaty head was being cradled and my damp neck and shoulders were being rubbed, and an excited voice was on the phone calling an ambulance. With considerable effort I pulled myself out of the fog, lifted my head and asked if I could talk to the dispatcher directly.
No need for the ambulance, I politely informed her. I was fine now. Just going to get my nails finished and then go home and rest a bit. But the ambulance was already there, and the nice lady on the phone suggested ever so carefully that maybe I should just let them check me over.
Looking back now, that's when I should have even more politely said no. But I didn't. And the paramedics, also very soothing and reassuring, convinced me to just let them hook me up to the heart monitor and take some vitals, just to see what was going on. And after that, they ever so soothingly and reassuringly somehow convinced me - who was feeling completely fine by then, have I mentioned this? - to actually get on the stretcher and let them take me to the hospital.
After that, there was no turning back. Long story short I spent the remainder of the day in emergency, feeling completely fine, hooked up to monitors and being poked for blood. I even peed in a cup. And all this time I was FEELING PERFECTLY FINE!
Everything came back normal. Normal. See? I'm fine. But protocol, both medical and legal, now required that the Ministry of Transport be given notice and - take a breath because this is about to get ugly - I now can't drive until I am medically clear to do so!
Whaaaaaaaaat?!!!!!!!
Outside I remained calm. After all, I was fine. But inside the little freak who sits at the console in my brain was pushing all the buttons, sounding all the alarms, cranking down on all the levers, yanking all the chains. Now people, now we have an emergency!
No driving? You've got to be kidding me! You don't know my life! I drive to places at 5 a.m. I do this by myself because no one else ever wants to go with me where I'm going at 5 a.m. My routines, my job, my life is dependent on driving. I love my van.
This isn't going to be okay.
Especially since I'm perfectly fine, if I haven't mentioned that!
The nurse practitioner was kind, professional and quite insistent. We don't know why you passed out. Until we know that everything's clear, that this was a one time benign incident, it's not responsible to drive. It's not safe.
Yeah, I know. I'm not driving. I get that. And I won't. But. Really?
So it's been an interesting week already. Especially since I am determined that this won't involve Ken. He's got enough driving to do as it is with a lot of other people. I'm supposed to be the one supporting that aspect of his ministry by running errands and such. And at the very least, taking care of my own transportation. So, no. Not Ken.
There's a plan. Of course there's a plan. And I have it all charted out with dates and where I need to get to and who's available in a minimally-inconvenienced way. I'm not swimming until this is cleared up. I've cancelled and rearranged appointments. I'm hitching rides and taking taxis when absolutely necessary.
But I don't like it.
Except.
That van I love? That license I have? That independence that I cherish so much. It's not actually mine. Oh yeah.
A long time ago, a really long time ago, I started that totally sold out to God thing. It's a thing that doesn't happen all at once from the beginning. It's more of a thing that happens daily, experience by experience, opportunity by opportunity. That thing when you just sit there with your hands open and upward and tell Jesus "Here. This is all of me. I'm Yours."
So the van, the license, the independence, I don't own it. I remember this, and it stops the little freak in my head cold. Because for some reason I can't fathom, (and a reason that seems utterly unnecessary to me by the way, because I'm fine!) right now, for at least the next six weeks, God has called those things in and asked me to do without.
And I guess, if I really mean it when I pray those prayers and sing those songs, of surrender and humility and release, then actually, I need to be fine with that.
So my life tip is, don't faint in public. It just gets really complicated.
And, if you don't mean it, don't tell God He can have all of you. And if you do mean it, then be fine with whatever happens.
And really, I know this, this is not so many other things it could be, that God sometimes does ask His children to do. This no-driving assignment, so much less than the cancer-assignment, or the loss-of-spouse assignment, or any number of assignments that are out there.
So, actually, truly....I'm fine.
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