Thursday, August 21, 2009, was the date of my surgery. I had settled things enough in my mind to be very clear that this was going to be okay. The Lord would carry me and walk me through the whole experience. We would make it to the other side. Rick and I arrived at the surgery waiting room early. I was amazed to watch as many of our friends and family showed up. My mom and dad from Hot Springs were driven to the hospital by friends from their church. Rick's mom and sister were there, as well as a sweet neighbor and friend. Two dear Christian friends from our small Bible study groups were there, also. I know there were more, but my mind remains fuzzy on a lot of things even two years later. Finally, they called me back so they could prep me. I knew some powerful praying was going on among that group of supporters and was extremely grateful for their caring.
Gratefully, I do not remember anything about the surgery, but I remember waking up in a hospital room and moaning with pain, real serious pain. A morphine pump was set up so that I could medicate myself as needed. That is a whole other story in itself. The morphine made me feel and behave a little strangely. I would wake myself up with my hands tediously arranging invisible items in mid-air. I was not seeing or hearing anything weird. I just had the urge to do this over and over again for some reason. I was embarrassed when I did this one time and realized a friend was sitting with me for a while to give Rick a break. She never laughed at me or said a negative word. She just sat quietly while I slept off and on.
Eventually, I noticed there were people at different times seated along the wall to the right of my bed and in front of me at the foot of the bed. Some of the same folks I had seen earlier and even more. Two dear girlfriends visited me from another church we had previously attended. All of these folks were Spirit-power-filled people whom I dearly love. I remember being told of another Bible study friend from our church who was being treated for cancer at the same time elsewhere in the same hospital. Another elderly lady who belonged to the grandmothers' prayer group of our church was in the room across the hall from me. Her husband dropped in to visit me at some time. I was grateful for them all. The pastor from my parents' church in Hot Springs came to visit me and I was so impressed. I have always loved him and just loved him more for driving so far to check on me and wish me well. One of the hospital chaplains visited. He had known my brother when he worked in pastoral care at the hospital many years before.
Eventually, I learned that a very large incision had been made across my tummy, and I did have a colostomy, which I have to admit now was pretty overwhelming to me. But that was not immediately apparent, since nurses took care of cleaning up everything and I was in and out of sleep. The gynecological oncologist who also performed the surgery, introduced us to a doctor whom he recommended for chemotherapy. It would need to begin within weeks of my release from the hospital. I had no particular concerns or feelings about any of this. I just accepted it. What else was there for me to do?
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