“What did you just give me?”
“A margarita, ready to get this done?”
“Yeah! let’s go have surgery!”
That’s the last thing I remember. I was talking to anesthesiologist. She was putting me under.
I didn’t celebrate turning 23. I didn’t want anything for christmas. All I wanted was to not be sick anymore. In the last few months my life has changed in such dramatic ways. For those of you who have followed my story you know I’ve gone from not taking care of this disease that was wrecking my body, to volunteering myself over for surgery. I have revamped my life and made my health and my body my biggest priority.
There was so much hanging on May 3rd. People that love me were paying for me to be relieved. I had fought a long hard battle that involved insane spiritual warfare, and well as fighting my ever deteriorating body to keep going, if only until I could have surgery. So many emotions went into the few hours prior to surgery.
I wake up. There are nurses all around me. My appendix is out? This all happened so fast I just went into surgery at 7am. Oh not they didn’t find it?! My mind was racing, I was still coming out of surgery. I kept begging them for my mom! I wanted to know if I had this disease. I needed her to come tell me what the surgeon said. I could only hear her voice. She told me I did such a good job. That she loved me. That I was all done. But mom do I have endo. The next thing she said burned into my brain and was the relief of many months of struggle: Yes you had it everywhere!
I have laid in bed healing for the last week. I will probably be doing the same for the next few weeks. For those of you who haven’t heard, the surgery was extremely successful. As I recover my emotions are all over the place.
I started with a reverence and humility for the blessing that I had just received. I was the center of a thunderstorm that produced a miracle. I know very few people who can say that. I am so blessed. SO blessed. Blessed more than I can imagine.
Then there is the pain. It’s not gone yet. I can barely walk. I’m always drugged up. I’m grumpy. I’ve lost my independence. I can’t drive. Almost every activity has to be done for me. There’s the pain inside that I will never truly be free of this disease that haunts me.
Then there is joy. There is love. There is hope.
There is JOY that this leg of my journey has come to an end. That I am soon going to be out of pain. That we raised enough money. That I am where the Lord has me.
There is LOVE from everyone around me. From my mom who fed me ice chips for 10 hours and held me as I fainted in the bathroom after walking the first time. Love from my cousin who put up with me all week although he barely knew me. Love from all the people in my life who have stepped up to care for my body and soul. Love from strangers who don’t even know what they’ve meant to me.
There’s HOPE that I woke up on the other side. Hope that it is finished.
But this is the cry of the broken: “Lord restore me!”
My cry hasn’t changed. I still have redemption ahead of me. I still have recovery. I’m still broken. I will always be broken. May I never be ‘fixed’ until I have fully fixed my eyes on Jesus. May I always need my redemption to pull me to the cross.
There is never an end to this road. I will sing praise!