Sunday, September 13, 2009

God Will Provide

It was our 24th wedding anniversary. Instead of taking a grand trip to celebrate, my husband took me 400 miles from home to have a surgery I needed. We took out a loan to pay for a skilled specialist. We left our children in the care of family, loaded up our car and took off. We were planning on being home in 10 days, but little did we know that we would not return home for a 5 weeks!

Thankfully my sister, who was away on holiday with her family in Italy, offered us the comfort of her home. It was right near where we needed to be. So we arrived and had a day to spend to ourselves before we started up with doctor appointments. We celebrated with a day spent at the bay. It was an absolute lovely day and we had dinner at the waterfront. I completely enjoyed my time despite the pain I was in.

The next day I saw the doctor. There was a consultation, an exam and tests. The next few days were filled with preparing for surgery. Surgery day finally arrived and it went well. The next day I was allowed to go home to recover. I was doing fairly well at first, but it took a turn. We called the doctor who assured us that I was fine. The next day I did not feel well either and stayed in bed. My pain kept increasing and I felt very ill. We called the doctor, but again he said I was going to be fine. We were able to keep our scheduled after care appointment. I was still not doing well, and to make matters worse, the doctor had an attitude. He brushed me off as a complainer and prescribed a stronger pain killer. My husband took me back to my sister's house and then left to fill my new prescription.

While my husband was away something horrible happened. I had a sharp pain like a hot poker was being jammed up my side. I could feel that I was going to pass out. I managed to get to a phone by dragging myself on the ground. I called my husband on his cell to let him know that I was calling 911. Then I called 911. I do not remember too much after that, only that my husband arrived before the paramedics. That the ambulance attendant was upset that he got stuck taking me to the hospital. And I remember my doctor standing over me letting me know I did the right thing by calling 911.

I came out of surgery with a 50/50 chance of survival. My husband wept at the sight of me on a respirator with two poles worth of medicine being pumped into my body. I was in ICU with my own nurse for a week. Then on the regular floor for 3 weeks. I did not see my children at all during that time. None the less, the Lord provided for my needs in an unfamiliar place. He provided for my children's needs and my husband's. He also sent many people to help us. And he sent people to pray for me. He sent people who spoke direction to me, to let me know that I did not die because I am to take care of my family.

There are people that believe that trials are bad. I do not believe that anymore. Trials in the hands of our Lord are avenues that bring us closer to Him. If left in His hands we will feel the touch of His hand, His strong love and His unfailing care. As I look back on this huge trial in my life I remember His loving care, His closeness and His touch. It has changed me for the better.