*Welcome to New York*
One year ago today I was sitting in a New York City hospital awaiting laparoscopic surgery. February 22nd, 2019. It was the next step in my battle with this chronic illness. A step we hoped would help discover what’s wrong with my body and why it’s on constant “attack mode” against me. We prayed things would start to get better.
I had a plan to write a whole series about it, giving you a behind-the-scenes look into the journey leading up to the big day. I was going to share with you:
- the slightly amusing moment (slightly amusing looking back now, that is) when my husband couldn’t get through the Detroit airport security because we hadn’t realized they’d kept his driver’s license when we checked our luggage earlier. Oi vey.
- the somewhat frustrating moment when our Uber driver couldn’t find us at the New York airport because we were on the lower level and he was on the upper, causing him to be much later in picking us up than scheduled (which is sort of a big deal when I’m drugged and worn out from the strain of traveling.)
*Waking up after surgery
- the worrisome moment when the New York doctor’s office told us that the Indiana doctors didn’t do all the pre-surgery testing that is needed and without specific information from those tests the surgery wouldn’t be performed, leading them to scramble to get me into a local doctor that day.
- the scary moment when I was given the bowel prep medicine that came with a flood of memories of the trauma I’d endured each time I’d taken this medicine in the past.
- the terrifying moment when I was once again woken up by one of the worst health attacks of my life, brought on by the aforementioned meds. I don’t have the right words to describe the sheer terror I live in during those moments, fully convinced my body’s going to kill me.
- the absolutely beautiful moment when, above my cries of pain, I hear Dad going to war for me in prayer; when, through eyes that are hazy from hurt, I see love staring back at me in Momma's eyes; when, in the panic and fear, I feel the strength of my husband as he holds me up and keeps me steady. When, in a truly terrifying moment, I recognize that I am incredibly blessed by Love.
I had a plan to write it all out ( and I probably still will.) But as the days turned to weeks and the weeks became months where I saw no actual progress or change, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t have the message I wanted to share - “the surgery helped improve the quality of my life!” To say that would be a lie, Friends, because the truth is, aside from a few new scars on my body, I wouldn’t even know I ever had the surgery to begin with…
*The new marks I'll forever wear...
Being a #chronicwarrior is exhausting. Enduring daily pain. Battling never-ending nausea. Constantly being tired. Eating a ridiculously limited diet. Fighting to not need the meds.
The past two weeks have been especially hard. For some unknown reason, my body has been on a downward spiral, leaving me in tears and, in the toughest moments, wondering what the purpose of me even being here is. And then I came across this verse via Instagram the other day and it just kinda soothed my heart:
“But me, I’m not giving up.
I’m sticking around to
see what God will do.”
Micah 7:7 MSG
Me? I’m not giving up. The medical field may continue to disappoint me, but they’re only human. I’ll continue to put my trust in God and stick around to see what He’s going to do. I can look to the future with hope because I know He is faithful and His love sustains me.
So here I sit in my living room, one year after the day I had surgery. Here I sit, still in pain and fighting in each moment. Here I sit, with sleeping dogs surrounding me and singing birds serenading me. Here I sit, another day in this gift we call Life.
And while I may not have the message of improved health to share, I do in fact have a message: God is good & that will never change.
*Groggy from pain meds, but so in love <3
