This last March 14th, my husband Steve and I were sitting at M. D. Anderson. I was waiting with my little teal surgery socks on and hospital gown doing leg exercises in the surgery prep room. Figured I wouldn’t get a chance to vigorously use my body for a few days after the scalp tumor removal, so I wanted to make good use of the time. Steve and I talked shop- the nuts and bolts of life’s schedules, trying to cover all of our bases before I “went under.” We even disputed over a few things, reconciled, then thanked God for all of the support people we had.
Pastor Jane came in and prayed with us. We prayed for a successful surgery, that Jane’s runaway dog be found. I felt a pang of fear, but mostly confidence as the nurse came in and helped me onto the gurney to go to surgery. I barely had a chance to wave goodbye to Steve as I thought I might not see him again. Was this how I was going to leave, with a curt wave from on the other side of the gurney’s back? Confidence seeped back in as I nodded off to the sleep of the living dead.
I had already been through three other general anesthesia surgeries, so I knew what to expect. The cancer seems to spread to a novel spot every year or so since being diagnosed in April 2000. I’d had my left breast removed, a neck vertebrae replaced with a synthetic one and 60% of my liver cut out. Each time there was pain and eventual recovery. With repetition and predictability comes a degree of
comfort.
There had been so many people praying for us this time that I had started to think that I might not even be in much pain when I woke up! Wrong. I was partially numb from the morphine, so when I “came to” I sensed a general discomfort at first. There was something not right with my body. Internal aches and my head felt like I was lying on metal ropes wrapped in bed sheets. I just couldn’t arrange myself to get comfortable. My first thought was, “Hey, God, I thought you were going to deliver me?” I mean, God doesn’t want to see his little lambs suffer, right? Apparently, a little suffering doesn’t put God off.
Hospital beds and I don’t get along. I’m a busy person, and sitting down numbs my butt. Plus, I’m ornery and impatient on top of this. Picture a badger on a time schedule and in pain. That’s what you’d face if you were my roommate (poor Steve). I wondered how were those prayers working that petitioned God to deliver me from this, to help me to heal quickly and be with me.
My short-vision and self-centeredness sometimes keep me from waiting to see the outcome, and push me to seek my own comfort and agenda NOW. But God’s not in a hurry. He can afford
to wait (yeah, I could too if I moved in the realm of eternity!).
The day of the surgery was miserable. As I progressed through the more aware stages of pain, my focus on God evaporated like mist. Faith in a vague shrouded goodness that surrounded us kept me from despair (this was an answer to prayer in hindsight). I can’t imagine what hell might be like, but post-surgery comes close in my mind. The only thing worse would be that it could happen to your kids, something of which I’ve always been grateful for- that it was me and not them.
Actually, pain in
general is pretty demoralizing. I never could rise up and shout, “Wahoo!” when I was stitched up, but maybe there’s someone out there who can. The nurses cautioned me that I had to keep the catheter in, assuring me that I couldn’t pee by myself yet. One came in and insisted I had to wear the rubberized booties to walk around in or I might fall down. I tartly replied, “I’m not a wizened little old lady” (hear the badger?). I never did wear those things.
Every step of the recovery, I was one step ahead of them- walking around, eating solids, getting off pain medication. Seems like I just wasn’t being a model patient. I’m sure they talked bad about me at the nurse’s station but I didn’t care. All of this quickened recovery was an answer to countless prayers.
God didn’t say I wouldn’t be in pain or be in the dumps. He said He’d be there with me when I went through that stuff. And, as a teacher, I know the lessons I learn through jumping through the hoops of pain make me a stronger person, more able to empathize with others, and draw me closer to my sweet Deliverer. It provides others with opportunities to serve. It blesses the blessed and the blessers.
I wonder if God is like those nurses out there behind the scenes, preparing things for his patients. He arranges things for us to grow with, then sort of sits back and watches what happens. I wonder if He finds it easier to deal with the good patients who follow the rules or just grins like a knowing parent when one of his little sheep keeps busting down the fold and bleating all night long keeping Him awake.
I may wonder about lots of God stuff, but I do know one thing: He’s there and He’s amazing. Whether you’re a gentle sheep or an ornery badger like me, He’ll be the loving, understanding, powerful nurse watching over you when you sleep, making sure you’re alright through the suffering. And that is very good.
