It’s a good day. Why? I’m still alive and kicking, that’s why.
About a week ago now, I had major surgery. I knew it was coming, and I was mostly prepared for it. I’ll back up.
So last August, I had some severe abdominal pain that I wasn’t sure was appendicitis, gall bladder, ovarian cyst, or what. I had signs that it could be any of the above and it was the devil. Within a couple of weeks, though, I had some nice images of a lovely uterine nodule that was embedded in the too-thick lining of my too-big uterus as well as signs of pretty angry cysts in both ovaries. I was able to get into a specialist here in town (who I instantly adored) after a second round of ultrasounds showed the same thing, only better and worse in different ways. By round three, that pesky nodule had grown and looked cranky.
She recommended we take the uterus since I’ve been blessed with my three girls and we’ve been done having babies for a while. We made the plans, I dealt with the frequent pain from those cysts and nodule cycling through, well, my cycle, and protesting their frustrations loud and proud. Life goes on. I prepared best I could at home, getting the house spic and span like any neurotic recovering perfectionist would, making meals for the freezer that could be cooked later, teaching the kids how to do laundry and other things. The night before I made sure everyone understood the depth of my love. And that if the worst happened, they better remember never to bury me or have an open casket of any kind, ever, because I will come back and angry haunt them. Nuh uh, no way. They already knew that, of course, because I’ve made my opinion known on that lots of times. I’m kind of morbid like that.
And then, I spent most of the night before praying and reminding the Lord that while I love Him and look forward to being in glory, eternity can wait another 50 years, thank you very much. If that’s His will, of course. But seriously, Lord. Not til I’m 90 something, okay? A thousand years is but a day to Him and all that. These are the thoughts of a crazy lady trying not to let anxiety rule before the scariest surgery of her life. I’d put off processing my emotions really until that night like any good procrastinator does. (Side note, that’s what procrastination usually is–perfectionism delayed because we don’t want to face failure or fear or flaws.)
Anyway, my incredibly wonderful hubby and I go into the hospital while normal, sane people are still asleep and get checked in and prepped. My mom gets there and we’re joking around until I get one little dose of meds in the IV and wake up hours later sore and woozy. Weirdest experience ever, waking up somewhere else knowing your body’s been sliced and yanked and sewn up without your awareness. Surgery takes a whole lot of faith for a control freak.
So now it’s been almost a week. I’ve been mostly resting while trying not to command the troops too forcefully. They’re all amazing, by the way. Friends showing up with dinner, family helping care for and cart around the kids, and my immediate gang pitching in often and wonderfully.
It’s still not all smooth sailing, though. Bouncing back is hard work.
It’s hard to rest when you’re used to doing and doing. It’s hard to let others help you and shut your mouth because they’re not doing it your way, even when you realize expecting that is so rude and makes you sound like a controlling monster. It’s hard when your heart is grateful but your mind is frustrated that you only have the energy for a few minutes’ walk to the bathroom and to get water before you have to rest again. It’s hard when you know that everyone already has so much on their plates that you don’t want to add more, which is why you do everything you do in the first place. It’s hard when you can’t alleviate those burdens and need to be on the receiving end. It’s hard to express that you’re thankful for what everyone is doing but you’re a jumbled mess.
It’s hard when your body is just realizing that all of its normal hormone-balancing parts are gone and the job is left to one little lone ovary to figure herself out. It’s hard when the emotions start processing whether you want them to or not, and suddenly you’re crying buckets one minute and wanting to hit something the next, trying not to get hurt over stupid things, still needing to intervene when the kids are bickering, and yet wanting to crawl into a hole and sleep for days ALL IN THE SAME HOUR. It’s hard when every day feels different, physically and emotionally.
The good news is, it’s temporary. I’m still here and taking more steps forward than back. I’m learning new things everyday about myself, about my strengths and weaknesses. Realizing changes I need to make within myself to better serve my family like I’m supposed to be. Why is it we so easily become stuck in our ruts and routines and don’t realize the things we’ve let slide until there’s a major upheaval?
So I’m grateful I needed this procedure. Sure, there’s a lot of hard stuff to face and deal with afterward. Physically, emotionally, even spiritually. But it’s going to be so much better in the long run. There’s a lot to look forward to physically once I’ve healed, but it’s the emotional and spiritual journey that this has kickstarted I’m most looking forward to. I’m not yet all that I want to be, and God let me wake up afterward so that I can get there. He’s given me time and the desire to make things better and become who He’s made me to be. He’s reignited my eternal spark of hope that’s getting ready to burst into flame once more for Him, for His will in me, in my life, and in my family. For that, I’d go through all of the hard stuff a thousand times, and worse. Because like Romans 5:3-5 says:
“Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.”
It’s spring, and I’m alive. There is hope, for those who take the seasons of upheaval and persevere to learn something. I don’t want to miss my chance. So while there’s not a lot I can do right now as I recover physically, there’s a lot I can do inside (or rather, a lot Jesus can do in me). I’m not going to waste this season.
Come on, Jesus!
