Yesterday, I met with the Interventional Radiologist. Now there is a speciality you don't hear about every day. Thanks to the internet, I was able to learn that it's a medical sub-speciality of radiology which utilizes minimally-invasive image guided procedures to diagnose and treat diseases in nearly every organ of the body. Minimally-invasive were two very key, non-threatening words.
The surgeon was young. He reminded me a lot of my first orthopedic oncologist. Very patient, very kind, very ernest and positive. He spent over an hour with me, going over my MRI results, talking about bone cement, options I have, along with the risks. Pointing out thoracic bones, while words I never heard of and couldn't remember two seconds later into the conservation were rolling off his tongue without a stutter.
He applied pressure down my spine, surprised by the lack of pain in response. He gave me strength tests, surprised by the strength I had. I took great pleasure at his perplexity about the lack of pain that I displayed and by the force by which I was able to command as he pressed down on my extremities.
Dad kept asking the doctor why it was that I didn't have the pain the doctor would have expected. He couldn't explain it. In the end, the surgeon recommended that based on my pain level (virtually none) and my strength, that we hold off doing anything. The risks, he felt, would be greater than the rewards. I agreed.
It wasn't until later when we were on the freeway that I shared with Dad why I was stronger and in less pain than expected. It's God. He is healing my body. He is at work. There are miracles happening. In my weakness, He has become strong. My only regret? That I didn't share this in front of the surgeon. I should have given God the glory at that point in time. I won't make that mistake again.
I am filled with gratitude for God's strength and healing powers.