You will note that my last blog post was titled "Pride Comes 'Fore a Fall"- oh, if I had only known how prophetic that article was!
I am writing this in bed #5 in the Women's Ward of Townsville Hospital. I will now give you a bit of background as to how I got here:
Last Saturday, on the second of May, I was climbing a tree with a wonderful friend of mine when I realized the fastest way to get down from the tree would be to jump off the limb I was sitting on. I knew that it was a rather high jump, but, seeing as I stand a solid 6 feet high, I decided that the 11 foot drop would really only be about 5 feet since my own height canceled out half of the distance. Believe it or not I actually knew my logic was faulty but I consciously decided to ignore that fact in light of the hope that luck would be on my side. Plus, why should I doubt my own physical abilities - even if I did just write a blog post about pride and falls and the dangers of depending on myself and such. What's the point of living life if you don't take a risk now and then anyway?
So, I jumped, and as I was falling, I actually had time to process my "free falling state" and complete the thought of: "yikes, this was a lot higher than I originally thought, and it's going to hurt when I hit the ground." A split second later (or, as the Kiwis say, "nek minnit") I fulfilled that foresight, and I felt my right leg...bend...in a way I had never felt before. Immediately rolling onto my back in the dirt, I looked at my friend still in the tree and said through bursts of laughter "that was such a bad idea!" We looked at each other, both of us laughing, when suddenly I lifted up my leg and saw that my foot hung to the side in a limp, baby-doll-like fashion. On the outside of my right shin, there was a sharp edge sticking outwards with the skin stretched tightly over the new found ridge. I said "I think this is broken" and proceeded to hop on my left foot (which I also bruised very badly) to the nearest park bench where we looked it over and ran some water over it to clean the dirt away.
Heading back to my room at the YWAM base (bringing the phrase "walk of shame" a whole new meaning- or, actually, hop of shame?) I got 4 staff-member-opinions on whether or not they thought it was broken. All four said "Can you move it?" And when I could - they all said "Nah, you'd be in way more pain if it were broken. I think it's just a bad sprain- wait a few days until the swelling goes down and then if you want to get it checked at the docs, someone will drive you." (At this point my entire lower leg had blown up to probably three times its normal size and you could no longer see the sharp point sticking out from underneath my skin - but the sight of your own bones pointing out of you like that is not a thought you dismiss too easily.) Still - we spent a hysterical afternoon trying to navigate me around my room on the third floor with only one foot and a longboard to sit on. At some point I called my loving mother, who promptly and forcefully told me to "Go to the hospital NOW and call me when you get there." I got over my obstinance and made a quick call to a friend- next minute I was in a van with a YWAM staff member to drive and my dear friend Kayla (she came for emotional support) for what we all thought would be a quick trip to the local hospital.
When we got there, Kayla and I had a fantastic adventure trying to find the ER- me in a wheelchair holding crutches and her running behind me, pushing me down the sidewalks trying to find the right building. Once we reached our destination, we checked me in and Kayla wheeled me upstairs for X-Rays whilst our driver went to get a bite to eat, expecting us to be ready to go by the time he finished.
So, after a bit we got the X-rays, and as soon as the doctor got back into my room after looking at the results, this was the dialogue:
ME: "Give it to me straight, is it broken?"
DOCTOR: "Short answer, yes. Long answer... How long will you be in Australia for?"
(At this, Kayla, who was sitting next to me, groaned in sympathy)
ME: "I am scheduled to leave for PNG in 6 days."
DOCTOR: "6 days? Okay...No. You've broken your ankle in three places- you're going to need surgery. You'll be in a full cast for 6 weeks and then you'll move into a moon boot for another 6 and that'll be when you can first start to re acclimate your right leg to pressure."
At this point in the convo, my friend had gone silent, and I was laying on the hospital bench with my hand over my mouth in a state of shock and resigned helplessness. Understanding that there was nothing I could do about foregoing PNG, I said thank you to the doctor, turned to my friend, and said "Wow. Well, that's alright. It is well with my soul. The Lord has a plan. The Lord has a plan." Later in the evening, as the doctor was wrenching, or, as they say, "manipulating" my shattered foot into the correct position for a "back slide plaster" to be wrapped around it, I was smiling at him and making jokes about everything that had happened so far in the day. He noted this by saying "Boy, for the amount of pain I know you must be in right now, you're certainly the cheeriest patient I've ever seen." I looked at him with a grin, managed to get out "It's not me, it's the Lord- it's only the Lord", and then, for the first time that day, I burst into tears. My friend rushed to me and we both started to laugh through our tears. The rest of the night was painful in more ways than one. The tears stopped pretty quick, but were promptly replaced with my teeth chattering with physical pain like I had never experienced before in my life.
I have been through quite the ordeal. From not feeling fresh air for a week to getting told each morning that surgery will be "probably tomorrow", I have only been kept sane by the Lord and those He has placed around me who love and support me. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the flowers, gifts, phone calls and visits- they have been such an unspeakable blessing. It has been especially hard to watch my team leave for PNG as I stay behind in Townsville, but the Lord does indeed have a plan, and it is one to prosper me, not to harm me.
Something really interesting to share with you - during my stay here I have been reading the book "Hinds Feet on High Places" out loud to my best friend Katrina. During my first night at the hospital, Katrina came to visit me and she hopped into my hospital bed with me and we continued our tradition and picked up where we had left off the night before. The chapter we turned to had us bawling (it hasn't stopped going through my mind since). Here's an excerpt - I think you will agree it is from the Lord. Just to give you some background, the Good Shepherd has just told Much Afraid that she will be taking a detour from the path she originally thought He had her on...
"She was still crouching at His feet, sobbing as though her heart would break, but now she looked up through her tears, caught His hand in hers, and said, trembling, "I do love you, you know that I love you. Oh, forgive me, for I cannot help my tears. I will go down with You into the wilderness, right away from the promise, if you really wish it. Even if You cannot tell me why it has to be, I will go with You, for You know I do love You, and You have the right to choose for me anything that You please."
I couldn't have said it better. I cannot help my tears, but the Lord is my One True Love, above travel, above friendship, above physical well being. I will follow Him into the wilderness if He calls me, and it's seeming as though He has.
If you would, pray for my family. I am here in the hospital, and I am in pain, but there is nothing here that will crush me. The Lord is close to the broken-hearted and He SAVES those who are crushed in spirit, hey? I will make it through. Pray for my family, in particular my parents, as they are stuck on the other side of the world as their only daughter goes into her first surgery, under full anesthesia, to get 6-odd bolts and screws and a plate or two put into her leg. They are of course trusting the Lord, but I would rather be in my position than theirs any day. (Love you guys!)
Thank you all for your support. The Lord bless and keep you!
Random Fact of the Post:
They wake me up every other hour each night here at the hospital. Whether it be to take my blood pressure, hook up an IV to my arm, give me painkillers, take my temperature, etc., I never get more than two hours of consecutive sleep. I'm learning patience here- patience, as well as being content in helplessness. I couldn't run away even were I to try. I have to scooter myself around on a chair with wanky wheels just to get myself to the bathroom or to the shower. It's hysterically humbling. Thank you Jesus. Don't pray that it'd be easy for me- pray that I'd learn my lesson this time and not have to go through it again!
Blessings from a happily heartbroken and cheerfully ankle-broken daughter of a kind Lord,
Anna
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