Well, here I sit, waiting. I've been a nervous wreck all morning, feeding off his emotions, anxieties, and fears. The biopsy is done. He says it hurt, but that it wasn't anywhere near as bad as last time. They're doing stuff as part of a study, now. They're having a bit of trouble with some bleeding at his IV site, but otherwise, he's resting on Percocet. Thank you all so much for your prayers. I wish I knew what to say.

I hurt.

I hurt for him. I hate to see him this way. I hate the pain. I hate the helplessness. I hate the look in his eyes. We were sitting here while they were doing a biopsy on the woman in the room next to us, and the dr said 'oh what a beautiful biopsy, I would be very surprised if this showed any cirrhosis at all'. He got upset and said 'she didn't say anything like that to me. I know he's worried.

I am worried.

I am terrified. I'm trying to put my faith in the One who already knows the results. I am trying to trust that this is going to be okay. That somehow this is all going to work out. That somehow it will all make sense in the end. That somehow, this is going to be okay. I am clinging to Him right now. I found it so very easy to pray for him while I was waiting. Begging God to ease his pain, to protect him, to give him peace and comfort. I was the only neurotic woman in the waiting room in tears.

But I was fearful. I remember the last time. He was so hurt last time, and I was terrified of walking into the room and seeing him like that again. I am so thankful that all I see in his eyes today are the effects of the Percocet. I'm thankful he can rest. And I'm thankful mostly, just for him