Read below for a guest post from Kathy McClelland.
I was anxious. Deeply anxious. Jittery anxious. Anxious in a way that made the back of my legs tingle and my stomach churn with fear. I had zero appetite.
There’s no doubt this particular week was stressful because of extra appointments, hard conversations, end-of-school activities, and an unexpected illness. However, my level of anxiety wasn’t matching up. I was jumpy, uncoordinated, and distracted. It must have been a spiritual battle in part because I saw nothing externally that was cluing me into what was wrong.
It all came to a head in a waiting room later that day. I thought I was prepared for a doctor’s appointment, but another sudden flood of anxiety overcame me once I got there. I realized more clearly the context of the battle.
The weekend before I met a mom of a child with special needs who is much further down the road than I. She told me that I needed to love my enemies. What enemies? I thought. The people I know who are in my life are for my good and my child’s good. Or so I thought.
That afternoon my little boy, who has a rare genetic deletion syndrome, had an appointment with a specialist who isn’t my favorite. On the way to the appointment I picked up his big brother from school and his teacher told me I was dressed nice. She asked, “What’s the occasion?” I told her we were headed to a doctor’s appointment and I needed to dress the part. Because I feel like sometimes this particular doctor doesn’t take me seriously, never mind this is the speciality that I have spent tireless hours researching.
This is the office that we have to wait the longest at, the receptionist who is the most unaccommodating, the doctor who tends to minimize my questions and who sits arms crossed throughout our entire conversation.
Love your enemies.
I showed up to the appointment one hour early. Another indicator that my emotions were riding high. I truly thought the receptionist told me 2:15 pm on the reminder call. My appointment wasn’t until 3:15 pm. I opted to go back out of the office, down three flights of stairs, load the kids back in the car, and take them over to the children’s museum across the street for a quick hour. It was a dose of hurry-up-and-have-fun kids.
Love your enemies.
My big kid had already been through a day at preschool. That day he’d had an end-of-the year party, a water day, in which he wore his swimsuit to school and had to change in the back of the van. Now he was at the museum for a quick visit and was trying hard to hold it together. He was running out of patience. I was running out of snacks.
When we took our seats in the doctor’s waiting room, back at 3:17 pm (so I was two minutes late), a movie was playing in which a football player landed on his head and endured a terrible trauma. I had a hard time distracting my oldest from the drama. My little five-year-old who’s been through a lot with his brother can sense medical drama like a bee can sense fear. I frantically switched him from the screen in the waiting room to the screen of our iPad. So for the second time, I was irritated. He needed to be watching a much lighter show in a pediatric office waiting room.
Love your enemies.
We got called back for the procedure. My little boy cried through the whole thing. Big brother ate through the last of the snacks. Then we were seated in waiting room number two. At this point I realized I left my tube-fed little boy’s formula in the car. This appointment was going to take much longer than I planned for and he was going to be hungry soon. It seemed that inconvenience after inconvenience was finding its way straight to my lap.
Love your enemies.
I was about to dip into despair over the fact that people are having normal lives out there in the real world. Meanwhile my life is passing me by in the second waiting room. (This is a common feeling I have at doctor visits and hospital stays.)
Thankfully once we were called back to the exam room the doctor came in quickly. I had sent up enough 911 prayers that I let my defenses down. I listened to what the doctor said. I asked all the questions on my list. I even agreed on his plan moving forward, even though I don’t love it.
These appointments are hard for me. The ones where you have to keep coming every several months, but really it’s about waiting and unknowns. Maybe the problem will correct, maybe not. Maybe surgery, maybe not. And it’s hard because with my little guy we don’t have the benefit of his cognitive ability to help us understand what is going on based on how he’s feeling and developing.
“I’m not that concerned,” the doctor said as he patted me on the arm. He was trying to be friendly and assuring but I took it as patronizing so I smiled through my teeth.
Just. Pray. Don’t cringe. Love your enemies.
I started packing up everything that was strewn all over the exam room–reusable stickers plastered on the window, coloring pages on the floor, and multiple electronics on the chairs. Together my big kid and I were putting back all that we unpacked. I was telling him how helpful and patient he was when the doctor interrupted and said, “When you have a medically fragile kid, the siblings end up getting neglected.”
He said it as a statement of fact. He said it in front of my five-year-old who happens to not have special needs, but a very good vocabulary. And even if he doesn’t understand the specific meaning of the word, he can easily intuit it’s intent, toward him.
Neglected?
Love your enemies.
That doctor unknowingly rubbed salt in my wound around my oldest child having a brother with special needs. But regardless he probably should not have used the word “neglected.”
Love your enemies.
Despite my worry that he might understand it, big brother seemed unphased. He even eagerly shook hands with the doctor, which is better than I can say for myself.
I watched as my five-year-old innocently and graciously exited the exam room. Following his lead, my anxiety began to dissipate.
I have six more months until the follow-up appointment. Six more months of practicing loving my enemies. In the meantime, I’ll keep encouraging both my kids–who, yes, both have some extra challenges–but who are anything but neglected.
“But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High.” – Luke 6:35
Kathy McClelland is momma to two precious boys. Her second son was born with a rare genetic syndrome which catapulted her into the world of special needs parent. She blogs at kathymcclelland.com about finding hope and beauty even in the midst of broken dreams.
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