How Am I Doing, You Ask?

Greetings, Loved Ones.

This post might be hard to read for some of you- those who are squeamish, and those who are particularly in touch with their empathetic side.

I have found that there is a certain degree to which you can ignore life. I don't know where to start this article to be honest- I suppose I will start with telling you that, right now, life is hard. Let me just squelch the skepticism right now- I understand that I am in a first world hospital with good care and enough food and loving people sending me flowers and visiting me daily. I understand that my life, by all worldly standards, is pretty darn good. I have a wonderful family and a bright future in front of me. This being established- right now, in this moment, life is hard for me.

As most of you already know, my surgery has been routinely pushed back every day since last Thursday. There have been three full days where I have been made to fast from all food and water all through until the evening before they have finally come in and told me that my surgery is, again, postponed. It is Monday night here, and tomorrow is Tuesday, my 11th day in the hospital, in this bed, in this corner of a room with three other sick women in it. I am CLINGING to the Lord here. Each day I read the Bible and each day I pray and each day I spend time with my Savior. I contact my parents frequently to let them know how I am doing, and each day I tell them that "It's hard, but I have the joy of the Lord, and He is keeping me strong". Now, He IS keeping me strong, but today His method of doing so changed from what I was familiar with-- the usual "fill my cup" strength was gone and replaced by something else. When it says in Ps. 34 that "the Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit"- that's become me. The strength I have now is no longer the "divinely granted but also some of my own sanity and resilience" strength. The strength I have now is purely and only my Shepherd's, Who is close to me, surrounding me, and guarding me from what is hurting me. I am thoroughly crushed in spirit. I have been sprinting to keep up with what's been happening to me in this place but today I reached an end to my psychological endurance.

This morning, a doctor came in who was fresh out of med school and perhaps over confident in her abilities of cannulating (sticking the IV thing into your veins). I asked her if she was skilled, as I knew that, after fasting for almost three days, my veins would be quite dry. She waved me and my question aside. She proceeded to puncture my skin three times in two different arms before hitting the vein- when she hit it, it turned out that she had nothing on the back of the cannula. As you can imagine, blood came pouring from a very thick vein out the needle, pooled on my arm for about two seconds, and continued to pour out onto the bed, floor, and my belongings nearby. This was at 10:00 am; and was only the start to my day. I was told around 12:00 pm; by an extremely excited nurse that I was finally going to theater (surgical theater)- overcome with joy and excitement that my time here was finally coming to an end, I called my parents and told them. Then, as I was being prepped for surgery two minutes later, my nurse received a call that I would have to wait two hours for the "equipment to be made ready." So, I waited. Three hours later, I called a nurse in to see what was going on. She said she'd find out for me. I asked this of four more nurses before one finally came back at 4:45ish and told me that I was no longer going to theater today and that I could begin again to eat and drink. Until 10:00 pm, of course, when they would begin fasting me again for tomorrow.

Let me take a moment to say: disappointment has a certain potency to it that invokes both anger and self pity- a dangerous combination to nurture. I contacted my parents and friends and told them the news of the postponement. I attempted to stay focused on the fact that the Lord does have a plan and my day and week and month had gone like this for a reason. Basically, I stuffed my emotions. Stuffed them all. I refused to let myself feel self pity or sadness at all because in my mind, that's not the Lords will, and thus, why should I feel it?

During a phone call with my mother the other night, she told me that hurt needs to be felt. She pointed out that "sadness endures for the night, but joy comes in the morning" and thus, to feel absolute joy, you often must also feel genuine sorrow at some point before hand. I understood that logic with my mind, but my heart rejected it on the terms of "Well, I don't need that. I don't need any of that. I have Jesus. So there. I'm set. I'm perfect."

I just took a shower in the little bathroom attached to my hospital room here. Because of my leg, I had to be seated the whole time. Because I was seated, my leg was not elevated- this means it was throbbing and in serious pain. Because of my massacred cannula from this morning which was still inserted in my inner elbow, my left arm was unable to bend at all. After a short while, I realised I was not doing well in my heart. I was sitting there, trying to wash my hair and face and hold the shower head with my only working arm, feeling like my foot was about to pop like a balloon from all the blood that had flown into it, and suddenly I realized I was about to burst into tears. The realization shocked me, as outward expressions of emotion aren't my favorite- what do tears do anyway? I stuffed it down again and as I was trying to unlock the wheel-locks on my shower chair, I foolishly hit my head on the shelf on the wall in front of me. I looked at the shelf and thought of my mom saying "Sweety, you're going to have to hurt, and you're going to have to let yourself feel it." I didn't burst into tears- but suddenly I realized that I wasn't joyful anymore about being stuck in this hospital. I was in a good deal of physical pain and that pain was only amplified by the constant, cyclical routine of the doctors not communicating and postponing my procedure. I've been woken up every two to three hours for blood pressure and temperature checks every night for ten nights. I have lost count of the amount of blood thinning and pain killing injections I have been given. Every time I shower I have to wrap a trash bag around my cast and tape it to my leg, and every time I have to rip the tape off of my leg, and after 11 nights of doing that, it hurts. My upper legs, inner arms, and lower stomach are a mangled mess of blood spots and bruises from all that's been done to them. I freeze nightly because they don't have warm blankets here and they turn the aircon up way too strong, plus, on the doctors orders, I have to keep ice on my foot every night. I can't eat hardly ever, either because food is being withheld from me or the painkillers make me nauseous. I can feel the Lord with me, His heart aching for/with mine, but I still somehow feel alone most of the time.

Life is hard right now. I admit to my weakness. I admit that I am not doing as well as I was early on in my stay here. I admit that I am not sure how much more of this I can handle. I am screaming to the Lord to help me, and He is, but not in the way of deliverance. Deliverance is not the only way the Lord comes to aid. Sometimes, I find, He comes and sits with you and He says "Well, you're going to have to endure this through till the end. But I'll be with you. So take heart. Joy comes in the morning."

I love the Lord and I am willing to endure anything for the sake of Him and His plan for me. I used to say I would endure it with a joyful heart, but right now, my hurt needs to be felt by me. All this being said, I still ask that you would not pray that it would get easier- I do trust the Lord to take me through this on His own no matter how hard it gets. Like I said in my last post- pray that I get the message the Lord is sending me!

So, this is how I am doing, truly. I think of 2nd Corinthians (12, is it?) where it say that "I will boast all the more gladly of my weakness for when I am weak, then I am strong." I think of Matthew 5 when it says "Blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted." Sorrow is a part of the Gospel, friends. Hurt must to be felt. The Lord is our Comforter- how can He comfort if His children neglect to feel hurt under the claim that they are always happy with the joy of the Lord? Thank you for your prayers, dear ones. They are much needed. Bless you all!

Random fact of the post:

My friend visited me on Friday and was able to wheel me outside for half an hour or so- we were on a balcony and the sun couldn't get to me but I could feel the breeze and I could hear the birds and in that moment, I was so blessed. Those are the moments I cling to here. It's not all bad. I've had some great memories here already. Even my vein spilling blood to make puddles on the floor will be a good story one day.

Be blessed, Anna