Faith. Trust. Providence. Anxiety.

One of those words is entirely out of place but, right now, it trumps the others in me.

I’m nervous. My heart rate is up and I feel like I am a rubber band that has been twisted tight. My health is good, my life is good, my family is good and I have little to complain about. Why so tightly wound?

Just to be “safe,” my doc ordered an extra blood test last week after the test I had the week before showed that, despite having been vaccinated, I was not immune to Hepatitis A. That was no big deal. I was re-vaccinated and ready to charge into Guatemala to work with 350 kids in Oratorio.

“We better check your Hep B immunity, just in case,” he said. I was vaccinated against Hep B in 2011 so it was just a little extra precaution.

Yeah, you guessed it. The blood test came back showing I am not protected against Hepatitis B either. That’s a bigger deal. He told me to check with my transplant team to see what we should do.

So, as of Thursday, the green light to head to Guatemala turned to yellow. The trip I’ve been planning since November is now uncertain while I wait. Each day with no answer is another twist to the rubber band that is me.

I’ve been promised an answer today from my transplant coordinator. Today, the yellow light will either turn from yellow to green or yellow to red. Go. No go.

My wife reminds me that it’s only by Providence that we are even aware of this gap in the armor protecting my new liver. If not for the fact that proof of my hepatitis A vaccine went missing, I would have charged ahead thinking all was well. The timing of finding the records of my 2006 shots after the Hep A blood test was already
complete is what people who do not know my God would call a “fortunate coincidence.” We know it as God’s providential protection. If that record had been found one day sooner I would not have been tested for Hep A or B antibodies at all.

So, here I sit, waiting for a call from the infectious disease department of Lahey Hospital. My hope is that they will tell me to get a shot this afternoon that will provide me with enough protection in 19 days to board that plane. But, of course, they could well tell me that it will take longer to provide adequate protection and I will have to kiss my wife goodbye and hug all my pals before they pass through TSA security on April 16 without me. Twist. Twist. Twist.

So, here I am, thanking God for misplaced records and his Providential watch-care over me while simultaneously praying that his plan sees fit for me to go. I am trying to prepare myself for a red light but have my foot on the gas for the green.

I’m trying to convince myself that I will be content either way. I am reminding myself that it’s out of my control and there is nothing I can do about any of it. I am trying to prepare myself to face disappointment with trust.

I wish I could tell you that my efforts are working. But, right now, anxiety has the upper hand. Twist, twist, twist…

Waiting for my phone to ring is making the minutes drag.