“First, let me just say that your echocardiogram from Friday looked perfect.”

 

And, breathe out…

 

I arrived at the Pulmonary Clinic at Stanford early. By the time I drove around the parking structure twice (anxiety elevated), I still had about 20 minutes before my appointment. I couldn’t help but look around. Every person in the room was elderly, obese or on supplemental oxygen.

 

Awesome. Super encouraging.

 

I wondered why they were in the same clinic I was. Or more aptly, why I was in the same clinic they were. “I am healthy and fit. I do NOT belong here. Or do I?”

 

Finally, I was called back to a room. The young doctor walked in and sat down. He started to talk and then stopped. Then he told me the words that put an end to 3 ½ weeks of “what if.”

 

As I mentioned in my November 27th post (We Were Meant to Be Courageous) I had had a “baseline” echocardiogram done for my autoimmune disease on November 4th at the request of my Rheumatologist. She wanted to use it for comparison “down the line.” Yah, I was OK with “down the line” but NOT OK when they called two weeks later to say “The doctor has received your results and it appears you have mild pulmonary hypertension.” Let me spare you the Google search to say pulmonary hypertension is really not a great diagnosis and everything you read indicates there is no cure and the “prognosis is poor.”

 

Well, that’s super.

 

I have been an athlete my whole life and a runner for more than three decades. I compete in Obstacle Course Races for “fun” and I do intense cardio workouts 5-7 times per week. My lungs and heart not working properly were not really an option.

 

“Nope. Not gonna have it. I am NOT going there.”

 

And then I was back last Friday at Stanford for a second echocardiogram with a “bubble study” to take a closer look at my heart.  The tech completed the first part of the ultrasound and then he had to call a nurse in to set up an IV for the bubble study. We waited in that room together for about 15 minutes before the nurse arrived. He typed away on the computer. I laid on that exam table with my eyes closed. I thought to myself “this is a heck of a way to get some quiet downtime.”

 

And then I prayed. God and I had a pretty good little dialogue that day in that room. I reminded him that I really kind of needed my heart and lungs to be OK. That I love exercise and I love coaching and inspiring others on their own journeys to health. Oh, and I’ve got a family to raise and a husband to spend a lifetime with.

 

“Um, God, supplemental oxygen is really not an accessory I’m ready for at 46 years old.” I may have had a few more related comments.

 

And then I began to pray fervently. I recalled the words of our pastor. For the last two weeks he had been sharing that Christmas is a season of miracles. Jesus coming into our world as a baby, to become our Savior, was the ultimate miracle. But God is still at work today and Pastor Derek prophesied that we would see miracles in this season. He reminded us to be open. Be hopeful. Be expectant.

 

As I laid there I prayed to see a miracle be done. That this test would reveal my heart and lungs to be functioning perfectly. That these results would be different from that test a month ago. That His glory would be revealed in a changed result.

 

When I got done telling God all I wanted to say, I quieted my spirit and I listened. The song “I Trust in Jesus” began rolling over and over in my head. I didn’t know all the lyrics and could not even tell you when I last heard that song, but there it was. I had total peace in that moment, even though I was still waiting for an IV and additional testing.

 

When the second part of the test was finished, the tech left the room while I got dressed. I glanced at the computer where he had been working. I noticed my name at the top and thought I’d take a sneak peek. I didn’t really know what I was reading except row after row ended in “Normal.” Normal? Normal is GOOD!

 

I texted my husband and told him I was “Normal.” He reminded me that “Normal is subjective. And we can talk about that later.” I’d never been so happy to be normal! I wasn’t sure if I read that screen right or if the tech was even finished but I did have an incredible sense of peace all weekend.

 

Returning to the clinic on Tuesday to have my consultation with the Pulmonary Specialist, I was at ease. When he told me immediately that my echocardiogram from Friday looked perfect, I breathed out, and then sent up a great big thank you to God. He had heard my prayers and He reminded me that in this season where we celebrate the greatest miracle in history, He is still doing miracles today.

 

Friend, do not give up hope for your miracle. Be open. Be hopeful. Be expectant.