Tag Archives: surgery

The God who Restores You

Waking up from surgery comes slowly. At first you hear voices chit-chatting, but it seems like conversations you hear when waking from a nap on the beach. It’s just background noise, not strong enough to rouse you from your sleep. Then some jarring word catches you as your being rolled into recovery, a word like “partial gastrectomy,” in my case, and you think “Oh. I’m hearing voices. My surgery must be over. My surgery is over! What did they do to me? I think I better wake up.”

Waking up was quite alarming to be honest, but surgery was successful, and an answer to many prayers. The following three days were hard, as I was in that zone where doing something like sitting up to take a sip of water is exhausting, not just because of pain, but also because of nausea and dizziness every time I moved, or did something like- you know, look at an object. So those days were a blur. We had only intended for my husband stay the night with me the first night, but he stayed for three, and deserves a medal for keeping company with a person who couldn’t speak more than two sentences at a time for three days, in a tiny corner room with no window.

But, day four came. It had its challenges, but the worst had passed, and to my satisfaction they moved me to a room with a window. My husband could go home to see our kids, and my head was finally clear enough to look at my bible. I decided to turn to the last chapter of Job, and it was one of those moments where you think maybe your bible will start glowing or something, because every word is impacting your heart in the best possible way. Continue reading

Whatever God Ordains Is Right

It’s Thursday evening, and I head in for surgery to remove a tumor from my stomach before the sun rises on Monday morning, so I’m counting down the final days, and feeling somewhat relieved. Relieved not to have this blurry mountain looming in the foreground anymore.

People ask if I am nervous for surgery, and I say that I am not really, but am more nervous about the after effects. Maybe I am too much of a literalist, but I can’t be too nervous about whatever happens while I’m knocked out; It is the waking up that is scarier to me. I had wished for a clearer picture of how my surgery would go, but I won’t really know the extent of it until it’s over. Maybe I will have a small scar, or maybe a huge scar, maybe my stomach is intact, or maybe the bottom of it is missing, and it’s been rewired back together. Maybe I’ll feel better eventually, or maybe worse. I just don’t know. I know there will be more tests, and more appointments, and potentially follow up treatments, but all that comes with another measure of haze.

It strikes me again, that this is true for everyone, but adversity tends to make you consider it. Ecclesiastes 7:14 “In the day of prosperity be joyful, and in the day of adversity consider: God has made the one as well as the other, so that man may not find out anything that will be after him.”

I need to find contentment with not knowing the future, but trust that God knows. Not only does He know it, but He has planned it. He knows better than me what is good and right for me. His plans are higher than my plans, which He has so often halted.

As a great hymn says:

“Whatever my God ordains is right
Though now this cup in drinking
Bitter it seems to my faint heart
I take it all unshrinking
My God is true, each morn anew
Sweet comfort yet shall fill my heart
And pain and sorrow shall depart.”

Whatever God ordains is right. That truth could be a hard pill to swallow, especially if not grounded in a right understanding of the fall, God, heaven- everything. In fact, that statement could be understood harmfully without a well-rounded knowledge of the sovereignty and goodness of God. This is why Theology matters for life, for everyone- male, female, pastor, flock; Whoever lives, needs to know truth about God in order to live as He intends us too. Continue reading

Confidence in the Face of Fear

I’m going to be straight up with you- it’s been rough lately. I’ve had this weird cough that comes out at night for weeks, and a muscle spasm in my back for a week straight which isn’t loving the cough, and among all this I’m trying to process and go through the rigors of figuring out what is going on with this tumor I’ve been diagnosed with.

But the regular daily routines continue, and I’m keeping up with them as best I can. Laundry. Dishes. Groceries. Diapers. Children to chase and keep occupied. I am incredibly blessed to have a husband who works from home full time and has prepared 90% of all lunches and dinners for the past- how many years? I don’t know, but he’s a gem, that is for sure.

Almost strangely, by the grace of God I’m sure, I have been ok for the most part. I’m taking one day, one task at a time, and trying to enjoy what I can in this life, as much as I can. Mostly these days, I’m enjoying watching my tiny person start to explore her world, and interact with it. I mean- there was that moment today when I took my eyes off her for 30 seconds and she got into the garbage can, started eating a banana peel, and I kind of lost it, but overall, she is just this tiny little package of contagious joy.

I just love my kids. They make my head spin sometimes and I am crazy tired at the end of the day, but there is nothing I would rather be doing.

I recently shared an article “Worrying About Your Future,” and by the grace of God I have actually stomped my foot down on occasion and said “No. That’s it. Not going there,” put the worries about my future behind me and carried on with my day. I like that groove. It’s working for me. I don’t like to think about things I have no control over. For example, when I had a scheduled C-section last year, I prepared by not reading a single article about C-sections. If there were potential complications, I preferred to remain in the dark, because what could I do about them anyway? But when they brought me into that bright and surprisingly busy room, it suddenly hit me: I have no idea what is happening here. What on earth was I thinking?

I met with the surgeon this week who might be doing my surgery, or might not be. This surgery seems to be more complicated than I would have hoped, and it sounds like she will be involving more people in the matter. There were many more maybes in this appointment than I would like. So many potential things that “might” result, or treatments that they “might” try, or methods that they “might” use to “maybe have to” reconstruct my stomach. Just so many maybes. And I’m supposed to do my research on these maybes, I suppose, so that I’m not surprised by them. Continue reading

Still Learning Through Suffering (A Life & Health Update)

God has moved in my life in mysterious ways, to teach me lessons I would not have learned by any other means. I have a wandering heart; I have an idolatrous heart. “Prone to wander, Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love, here’s my heart, oh take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above,” is a song that I can sing and mean.

After Liza was born (you can read about that treacherous pregnancy here), I was done with suffering. I needed a chance to breathe, settle, heal, and adapt to life again with a newborn. The trials were behind me, and it was onward and upward, or so I thought. We had sleepless nights (of course) and nursing difficulties (again), but those things were expected, and I was just content to finally have my girl in my arms. That first month was hard, recovering not only from a C-section, but from the horrific pelvic separation I get during pregnancy. I remember having NO idea how I was going to care of this baby, but my resourceful husband tied a sturdy basket to my walker with soft blankets inside, and that is how I got her around our house the first month. It was difficult, but it was happy, so happy.

I don’t think Liza was more than a month old when my church split. Blogger Land isn’t the place to divulge all that, but let it suffice to say it was sudden, unexpected, and drastic. It was upheaval that I certainly wasn’t looking for at the time, and it shook me.

I was tired then, really tired, but who isn’t tired with a newborn who has her days and nights mixed up? But then one night, when Liza was 2 months old, I fainted and my husband couldn’t wake me up. He called 911 and I woke up by the time they arrived, but fainted again when I got to the hospital. My hemoglobin had crashed dangerously low, and I needed a blood transfusion.

I continued to be tired, and honestly, I have been tired ever since, and have especially struggled to raise my iron levels.

Somewhere in the mix of this, I realized Liza was not meeting her milestones. At three months old she still couldn’t raise her head off my chest at all, and wasn’t able to turn her head to look to the side well either. I didn’t handle that realization well at first. Why couldn’t I move past these long years of difficulty? Why would God put me through all these difficulties, and then place me in a situation where I worried daily for the baby I had waited so long for? I felt like all my happy moments were being tainted by the foreboding that hovered in the back of my mind, and I was driving myself crazy over it.

But you know what? God taught me about surrendering while I waited for that little peach to lift her head. He worked in my heart to accept whatever His hand had in store, and not to worry or be afraid. He took that worry from me, and when she was four months she finally lifted her head. And guess what? At 15 months old, she has started walking. She is doing great, and I have had extra joy at all of her milestones.

I turned 30 last September, and wrote about some of the lessons I learned in my twenties here. What I didn’t say, is that I really hoped, and even believed, that somehow the dawn of my thirties could mean the start of easier happiness. I don’t know if that expression makes any sense to you, but it does to me. Maybe my health issues could stay behind me. Maybe I could succeed in some of my goals. Travel somewhere. Further my education. Publish a book. Run around freely with my kids. Hike mountains with my husband.

Man I hate when the things I hope for in this life turn to disappointment. But I’m still just 30 right? There’s a lot of space between here and 40. Hoping can be such a difficult and painful endeavor.

Well, I think we have found the reason for my ceaseless exhaustion. I had a scope done through my throat and into my stomach before Christmas, which showed blood in the stomach and a large tumor which can be seen pressing into my stomach, changing the shape- kind of like how a fist pressing into a balloon would appear on the inside. The doctor said it has likely been developing for years, and it will need to come out. Continue reading