When God says no

It is 6 a.m. I force myself to roll out of bed and finish packing. This afternoon, I have an appointment to see my pulmonologist at the medical facility 400 miles away from my house. I need to quickly throw a few last minute items into my suitcase and then load up the car. As I meander my way to my closet, I take off my pajamas and slip into comfortable travel clothes. As I am about to put my pajamas back on my shelf, I ask God, “Will I be hospitalized today?” (I have been very sick, and despite receiving IV antibiotics through my peripherally inserted central catheter (PICC) line for many weeks, I am still very ill. I am convinced my pulmonologist will admit me to the hospital during today’s appointment. I find no need to take along pajamas since I will be going to the hospital.) Although I am determined I am going to be admitted to the hospital, God gives me a very firm, stern reply. “NO!”

I stop in my tracks. “What!? What do you mean ‘No’? I am sure my pulmonologist will take one look at me and send me straight to the hospital.” Again, the word, “no” echoes in my head. Although no words are said, I am given an impression that I will be sleeping overnight at the hotel. I will need to take my pajamas if I want something to sleep in besides my street clothes. I decide this is God’s will. I place the pajamas into my suitcase. I then pick up my belongings and start packing the car.

Many hours later, my mom and I arrive at my appointment. As always, I am grateful we are able to make it to my appointment on time; I am grateful the car did not break down or have a flat tire; I am grateful we did not have an accident. Very soon, I am called back to the examination room. First up is the pulmonology fellow.

The fellow seems very concerned about my coughing fits and shortness of breath. The look on his face seems to say, “I am sending you straight to the emergency department! You need immediate medical treatment!” The fellow leaves my room and waits for his attending (my doctor) to finish up with another patient. When my doctor enters the hallway, the fellow gives his report. Shortly thereafter, the pulmonology fellow and my doctor enter my room.

My doctor seems rather unconcerned about my current state of health. She goes on and on about how it is going to take many weeks for my infection to clear. I need to be patient. (I can immediately tell she is not going to admit me to the hospital.) My mom is quite upset. She is tired of having me sick and constantly struggling to get through each day. She wants me healed. She wants me healed now! The passion which burns in my mom overwhelms me with love. I can see tears welling up in my mom’s eyes. My pulmonologist insists I just need more time on the antibiotics. If I do not improve in a week, I should then perhaps be hospitalized. My mom fights the pulmonologist. My mom turns and looks at me. I sit patiently, not saying anything. I gaze into my mom’s face and try to convey to her that this is not God’s will. I am not to be hospitalized today. She should stop arguing with the doctor. She should just give up and let God leads us. We should not struggle against God. My mom, seeing that I am not saying anything, decides to stop battling the physician. She allows the doctor to send me home despite being quite ill.

After the appointment, my mom inquires why I did not oppose my physician. Why did I not say anything? I reply, “When I was talking to God this morning, He made it abundantly clear I was not going to be hospitalized today. I needed to take along my pajamas because I was going to be spending the night at the hotel. Being hospitalized today was not God’s will. I was not going to oppose God and force His hand.” In amazement, my mom responds, “What!? You were talking to God!?” In a shocked voice, I reply, “Yes!” and I think, “Don’t you talk to Him?” I realize my mom does not often communicate with God. I, however, speak to Him all the time. I always ask for His guidance and protection. I am constantly trying to discern His will and act accordingly. And I am grateful for my relationship with Him. As hard as it was to allow my doctor to send me home without further medical intervention, I knew if I tried to force my physician to admit me to the hospital, a bad outcome would occur. It was best to just allow God to direct my path...even if that meant I was going home to continue suffering with a raging infection in my lungs.