I have written briefly to you, exhorting and declaring that this is the true grace of God. Stand firm in it. I Peter 5:12
I sucked in my breath. The surgeon was to stick a long needle into my SI joint nerve and I was not to be twilighted during the procedure. “We need you to react to the needle to see which nerves are irritating your body.”
Right. I know. I had been through this before…twice! Each time the pain escalated to excruciating. Lord, I did not want to go through that again…ever.
All through the previous night I kept laying it at the cross, but the past replayed in my mind like a scene from the Ground Hog Day movie–over and over. “Deep breaths. It will be over in an hour. You can do this. God is with you.”
The next morning, a hospital tech wheeled me–complete with open-in-the-back, no-size-fits-anyone gown, hair net, and bright yellow no-slip socks dangling from my toes — feet first into the operating room. Six or seven masked faces greeted me.
Machine beeps, warm blankets, drapes, then an icy scrub on my rearend. The odor of rubbing alcohol.
Here we go. I tried to loosen my tight muscles.
“You will feel a prick as I inject the anesthetic.”
Yep.
“That will be the worst of it.”
I hope. Lord, make it so.
OMG!! OOOWWWWWW.
I began to sob as the needle pushed in further and the contrast rushed through the nerve. The machine beeps increased rapidly.
“192 over 97, Doctor.”
Hands held my shoulders down. The nurse’s calm voice told me to breathe deep, one, two, three… Another hand held mine and squeezed. “It’s okay. You are doing fine.”
NO, I am not!!
The doctor said to hold still. That he was injecting more local anesthetic. The pain began to wane, the beeping slowed. I sighed.
“Wow, you really have been in pain, haven’t you? I never have seen such a reaction.”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t take any medicine?”
“I can’t. I am allergic to steroids, Lyrica, and most pain meds. Tylenol is my go-to if absolutely intolerable.”
“And you have been this way for how long?”
Had I not gone over all this? Had I not told my story to five other doctors so far? had he not read my chart? I sucked in another lung full of air. “Eleven months. This time. Before that two and a half years until I finally had the fusion surgery that has now failed and left broken hardware in my pelvis bone.”
Several masked faces in the room let out a gasp. The hand holding mine squeezed it again and another patted my arm.
The surgeon bent down and laid his hand on my shoulder. “I think we have enough info to go on now. I am so sorry you had to go through this. Let’s get you out of here and more comfortable. Ice pack, please nurse.”
I turned to see caring eyes and a crinkled brow above the surgical mask. He gets it! Finally. A doctor understands.
Sure, he was only the doctor assigned to do the diagnostic, not my treating physician, but perhaps now this surgeon would relay this event to that doctor and at long last, after months of being shuffled from one doc to the next and undergoing injections and imaging, he might develop a plan to treat me.
For the first time in almost a year, I felt listened to, validated. A doctor finally talked to me not about me as he stared at X-rays, MRIs, CT scans, and digital records. The first doctor in months who had actually physically touched me. (COVID has really changed medicine I guess.)
As they wheeled me back to post-op, I felt those Holy Spirit bumps tingle my arms. The reality whacked me in the forehead.
Had I been twighlighted as I wanted, this doctor would never have known my true condition. God had acted. God had been there and shown once again He cared. The Creator of the Universe arrived into time, my time, to interact. And all I had done was try to stave back panic. I felt humbled and convicted. Why do I not trust more? Where is the peace that passes all understanding? I am so sorry, LORD. I let fear trump faith … again.
Oftentimes, God acts in ways we do not expect. Answers may have to come out of pain and discomfort, or through unfavorable circumstances. A friend recently posted on Facebook …
Yeah, I get that… boy, do I ever. Maybe that day doesn’t classify as a miracle, but then perhaps it does. All I know is the DIvine interceded into the mundane. Eternity penetrated the temporal. Love came down and proved once again, “God’s got this.”
When circumstances seem too hard, look up – seek God. He is there, He cares, and He has a reason and a plan. He’s got this.
Easy to say. May I now find it easier to act on that promise and not react in my own weakness from here on in.
MAY YOU, who just read my witness, DO SO AS WELL.
Cast all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. 1Peter 5:17