Fear, Pain, and God

I spent a restless night, tossed turned, surfed the net, watched random TV, slept a few minutes, took a bath, paced, considered cleaning out my closet, and finally just got dressed for the day. I was scheduled for out patient surgery this morning at the same hospital where I gave birth to my beautiful babies, the same hospital where I almost lost my life. Sleep would not come.

Why?? I asked myself several times, did I ever agree to do this. The only answer I could come up with was a desire for relief from endometriosis pain, and a need to push myself past the bad memories and prove that I could survive.

I prayed all week, and all night as well. I felt God telling me to just trust in Him; so through perhaps the most anxiety I have ever felt I began to trust. I was trusting when I took a Valium at 6 this morning, I was trusting as I paced the driveway in panic, as I broke into the ugly cry at the hospital entrance, and as I pulled on the ever fashionable hospital gown. Perhaps from an outsiders perspective "trust" isn't the emotion or action they were witnessing, I dunno just saying. My uncle was there (mike the farmer for those who know) who offered to dose me with some substance that would drop a 2,000 pound bull in 20 seconds. I seriously contemplated it, but was too stressed to figure out the math involved in dosing it.

The time came for the dreaded IV, and I just knew I was going to pass out. I can feel it coming like a freight train, but I closed my eyes and held Millie's hand. Small talk helped, then the left vein blew. Great news for a girl on the edge. Mel came around for the second attempt, which is a big deal for him as well. He held my hand, talked about some random something and we finally found success. Bullet dodged, I stayed conscious the whole time.

Things moved fast from there, Dr. was ready to start, another childhood friend was the OR nurse which was super nice. I was wheeled into "holding" and given the mother of all feel good drugs Versed. Man that stuff is good, only problem was I didn't get to stay in "holding" long enough to feel the joy. On over to the OR, the beloved white milky meds, and next thing you know I was done. Sounds simple right? I awoke in recovery with blurred vision and a basket full of pain which was eventually dulled my two shots of Demerol. This is the point where I'm just happy to have woken up. Seriously that was my one and only goal, to wake up. Sad huh?

All in all I was successful. I never did pass out, which in and of itself is a phenomenal task. The surgery was a great success and all the designated tasks were completed.

The point of my story is that God was there, all the time. I wasn't brave, not necessarily strong, and certainly not able but He was all of those things for me. When I couldn't breathe form fear, He provided a much needed breath of air. My Ipod was my friend along the way, and the song below has been a source of inspiration to me the last few weeks. Lord knows I needed it.

From "Glory Revealed" What We Proclaim

We have this treasure in jars of clay to show that the power comes from God

We are afflicted in every way, but we're not crushed

We're perplexed but not driven to despair

persecuted but not forsaken

struck down but not destroyed.

What we proclaim is not ourselves. Oh, we proclaim the Holy name of Jesus.