Presenting: The Very Pushed Back Ramble
I was very pleased to get the news on March 22 that I officially had a donor for my knee, and that surgery was scheduled for the next Tuesday March 27. Ok, so I was a total newbie at the surgery thing, but I thought it was really cool how they sent my prescriptions to me in the mail so they could be filled before the day of surgery. Surgery day came, and I was awake by 4:45. We were on the road heading to the surgery center by 5:30 and were there by 6. Then, the fun began. Not. I hate IV’s and needles and anything that has the potential to leave me black and blue, but oh, the joys. I was first given the medical world’s latest in surgery fashion to change into: a stunning gown of white with a breathtaking blue pattern of some sort, along with that, I had the privilege of a marvelous hat, a style that I had never worn before; the icing on the cake was the tan non-slip socks they gave. J Once I was all decked out in my surgery finery, I glided over to my “bed”. Once there, I endured such atrocities. They began with trying to give me an IV, the most dreaded part (*insert horrified shiver). The nurse, bless her heart, that tried to put in my IV, tried TWICE, which was three times too many. And the worst thing is, you don’t just get stuck once each time they try, no, you get stuck twice, because as most of you know, they have to “numb” said area. Ha. Numb my foot. So, I’m officially stuck four times now, and my nurse, once again bless her heart, decides that it’s time for the anesthesiologist to come and try to get the IV in. So, out traipses a wonderful lady who got the IV the first time she tried; I was as pleased someone can be getting stuck SIX times for ONE IV. Of course, I knew that this was not the end of the joys to come; yet a pleasant surprise did show up in the course of my demise. I soon began to feel very euphoric and light, fabulous feeling, I say; and then, the man doing my anesthesia came and proceeded to give my leg a shot to numb my thigh. Not the most pleasant experience; but I will say this, whatever they had in my IV, made me not care so much, that once again, I was being poked with a very sharp needle. In my state of euphoria, whoever was taking care of my at the time, wheeled me into the OR, where they gave me oxygen and told me that they were giving me meds to knock me out. They said it would sting, but all I remember before groggily waking up in recovery is the oxygen mask. In recovery, they asked me questions, which I have no idea anymore what were. From there, I was moved to a chair and given apple juice and animal crackers and Percocet. Lovely stuff that. My parents came to fetch me, and I was wheeled out to our vehicle. After hitting almost every bump on the way home (bless my dad’s heart, he did do a good job), I promptly collapsed into bed. The last many days have simply run together into endless days of sitting around and working on my therapy. I’ve struggled a bit on the therapy thing, but I’m starting to do more. Tomorrow I have therapy with Jill at 3:30, which should be fun.
My mom has been such a trooper through all this; no lie, she’s pretty much an angel. There have been many times already that I’m sure that she’s wanted to bop me a good one or simple walk away crying, but no, she keeps on going, loving me anyway. Her schedule’s crazy right now, but she’s doing a wonderful job!
So enough of the surgery bit, onto other things. Lately, I’ve been thinking about lots of random things. But the one thing that has most definitely stuck out the most is why God allows certain people to come into our lives when they only seem to use you like a punching bag. Then, I got to thinking, well, He is trying to show me something there, right? Could it be in how I react to that type of person, that they see God? Could it be in simply being a friend, no matter how painful, that they will see God? Could all this be to simply glorify God? Yes. It’s been rough going through things I never imagined that God would have me go through and have I fallen, yes. But, there’s this unexplainable thing that I don’t understand but just KNOW. God simply cares for me; He adores me; He wants to know ME; He knows everything that is going on in my life and cries with me; He loves me. I don’t understand, why He does this, because I can be so rotten and get so distracted, but all I know is that He does, and that is so good enough for me. So because of that, simply knowing that, I want my heart to be open to the punches other people throw. We can’t see all their pain; we don’t know all their hurts, their cries for help, their longings. It may hurt me, but I have to think how many times I’ve done that to God. Thinking that, and knowing God’s love me and learning to live in that love, gives me hope that He will be right there with me taking the punches thrown.
Long post, I know, but it’s what I had.