Wish In One Hand…

There are time I still wish I believed. I wish I could go back to my times of faith, call up my parents, and ask them to pray for me. But wishing doesn’t make it so.

Growing up, I was always the first one to ask for a blessing when I wasn’t feeling well or when things were getting me too stressed out. I was the prime example for what a Mormon should do in those situations. Trust the Lord. Pray. Pray some more. Have other people pray for you. And now….

When my husband had a heart attack last year, I had a 57-ish mile drive from my work place to the hospital. While I was still a church member and hadn’t yet started listening to podcasts so I was still in my wishy-washy state of quasi-belief, I couldn’t bring myself to pray. At least, not to god the way I was brought up doing. It was more of a pleading to the universe.

“Please let him be okay.”

A pleading to the air inside my car.

“Don’t let him die.”

Or maybe just to the damn fly that won’t fly out the window but contents himself with smacking his face into the glass.

And when I got there and heard that he was out of the Cath Lab, that the stent had been placed, that they had gotten him in fast enough that his artery hadn’t burst so there wasn’t massive damage to the muscle of the heart, I didn’t thank god for his hand in it. I didn’t thank him for keeping him “safe” through the procedure and guiding the surgeon’s hand or for keeping the traffic out of the way of the EMS crew so that they could get him there in a timely manner. That never crossed my mind.

It would be nice to think that there could be that kind of help, as my husband is once again facing a difficult health problem. He was in the ER again on Thursday. The night before his tongue had been going numb on one side and he was getting a metallic taste in his mouth, then that day the left side of his face was no longer reacting. The diagnosis? A classic case of Bell Palsy.

For those who haven’t heard of it (as I wouldn’t have, if my uncle hadn’t had it some years back) it’s a damage to the facial nerve that causes paralysis of half the face (sometimes both sides, but it’s generally just one). From what we learned, it’s very important to get treatment soon, within the first couple days. And when he got in to the hospital it was within hours of the paralysis setting in.

He was started on an anti-viral (as it can be caused by the same virus as chicken pox and shingles) and a steroid. Within the first 48 hours it can continue to get worse, which was the case with him. And as far as recovery goes, nothing is guaranteed. He could make a full recovery. He may not at all. And it can take 30 days to 6 months for any improvement in the situation.

So I find myself wishing that there was some supernatural solution. Some miracle cure that would ensure that he will regain full control and use of his face, but I know better. That feeling of helplessness for both of us has been difficult, and we’re both scared of what the outcome may be.

But as my husband likes to say, “Wish in one hand and shit in the other, and tell me which one fills up first.”