Surgery, Frowny Faces & Pain

Oh, I am not looking forward to tomorrow.  Surgery.  Insert frowny face here.  We have to be at the Clinic at 5am.  Insert another frowny face here.  I’m almost glad it’s scheduled early, though, to get it over with.

Lots of frowny faces in my mind today…  I don’t want to be cut open all over again.  I don’t want to be in ICU, hooked up to half a dozen machines, at some in-between level of consciousness.  I don’t want to be babysat by nurses and residents for a week.  I don’t want to close my eyes and count my staples with my fingers for the first time.  I don’t want a feeding tube.  I don’t want to count the bruises on my arms from all of the IVs.  I really don’t want to miss out on several weeks of life, and I am still aching from the grudge I hold to whoever or whatever caused my transplant surgery and complications.  I don’t want to be medicated to the point where I sob when my mom leaves the room.  I hate wearing hospital gowns.  I don’t like being in major pain without having any more meds to take.  I don’t like not being able to care for myself, be it drying my hair or putting shoes on.  I’m a real person, and this is real stuff that I don’t want to experience again.  In fact, I don’t want anyone to ever experience again.

I think pain happens because we are here.  God – in His all-knowing reasoning – leads us down these paths we don’t want to cross.  Sometimes I think He has to.  We pull back and still He leads.  

Amazing grace, He carries us across the valleys.  We can close our eyes and rest in the palm of His Almighty hand until we get to solid ground.  

Yes, we’ll get there…

Abba, Father.

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