On Wednesday night, I was getting sick about every hour or two which made for a sleepless night that I tried to fill with prayers instead of worry and conjecture. I felt pretty nasty by 8 a.m. when the test [to measure the volume of my stomach] rolled around. I met with the doctor a couple hours later—the consultation was brief—he’d already read notes from the referring doctor and test results. With little aplomb he stated my stomach emptied at a normal rate but the volume test, that hadn’t been available when I was at Mayo two years prior, was abnormal. There were medications I could take and I’d start feeling better (in a month or so). There was no confetti, no swell of dramatic music, and no ta-dah.

I was shell-shocked…a bit dumb-founded…thrilled that a test was abnormal, and, as the tears began to form, asked how lack of stomach expansion could explain the myriad of other symptoms that occurred concurrently. As the doctor plunked the Kleenex box in front of me he said, “We can’t always know how or why things occur, but sometimes we know what will make them better.  With eating, there are numerous hormones that are released.”  For the record, I only had half a tear that I wiped away with my index finger, and now, instead of my medical record saying I’m ‘pleasant’, it also says I’m ‘lachrymose’…and I didn’t even use one Kleenex!! I wonder how I would have been described had he seen one of my full-fledged crying fits.

Twenty years and that was it—no follow-up needed. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the finality, but I remind myself that I don’t need to understand*– bold prayers were answered.

Tea towel on my nightstand for several years. Photo: a gift from my parents on my golden birthday –it was given to them when my mom was pregnant with me.