I had struggled in the past to relate to the desperate Psalms of David, those ones he cried out to the Lord from his wilderness of pain. I had always related more to the conquering tone he wrote, declaring God’s majesty, might and protection of the afflicted. And then I found myself lost in the time-warp of the ICU. No real understanding of time of day. Wrestling to focus long enough to read even a single verse. The medicine, the exhaustion, all the tubes and the physical weight of the Bible so hard to lift high enough to see. It all fought and pulled against me. But I kept raising my small Bible up and trying again. I needed it’s words. I did not even know what to pray for myself. I will just pray back the Word to my Father. He hears my heart. And there I found revival.
The Lord is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. Those who know Your name will trust in You, for You, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek You. (Psalm 9:9-10)
It started out with some unusual pain on December 7th that was diagnosed by a local clinic in Maxixe, Mozambique and I began a week of bed-rest. Originally we thought it was appendix related due to its sharp and centralized nature, but an ultrasound machine at a local clinic verified (some would put that word, verified, in quotes if they had witnessed the scanning process) that my appendix was fine. So bed-rest happened and I appeared to get a little better as we waited.
After a week and symptoms not really changing enough to give us peace, we felt it most wise to get a second opinion and preferably this time not in a developing country. The IMB agreed and thanks to Lottie Moon giving, our family of six set off for South Africa. It was an uncomfortable, to say the least, 13 hour drive (thanks to holiday border traffic) to the South African border. Needless to say, I was grateful when it was all over and we were settled in our air bed and breakfast in Nelspruit, South Africa.
The following day we had an appointment, bringing our four girls with us naturally since there was no other choice. We made a God-inspired decision to leave them in the waiting room with a bag of books that we brought. To this day I thank my God for that decision He laid on our hearts.
Sing praises to the Lord, enthroned in Zion; proclaim among the nations what He has done. For He who avenges blood remembers; He does not ignore the cry of the afflicted. (Psalm 9:11-12)
Once in the examining room, things went poorly and I was discovered to have a large mass of ?tissue?, bigger than an organ it was hiding behind. The doctor was in shock that I was still alive. And thus is the first time we realized God had literally sustained my life by the hour from December 7th to that appointment. I was quickly admitted to the hospital right then and there, and blood test results thankfully showed that while I had internal bleeding it was not significant at the time.
The following morning I went into emergency surgery. I remember nothing after the anesthesia count-down, thankfully. But I woke up in horrific pain and had to wait for what felt like an eternity before pain medication worked again.
The following day I got to see my family again, I was eating, even up walking and had my usual color back. I had a wound vacuum to finish cleaning out everything and then I was discharged from the hospital on Sunday mid-morning. With a “see ya in 6 weeks or so depending on when you can get back from Mozambique,” we returned to our bed and breakfast. And that night, quite late, I began vomiting.
A few calls to IMB medical had us headed to Johannasburg, a 4 hour drive, as I continued to go downhill. It all happened really fast, everything except the long, agonizing drive, filled with being sick and what felt like time moving backward. I could keep nothing down, no medication, no water, nothing. But I was trying so hard not to scare my precious girls. And it was beyond obvious that we needed help. Help with our girls, support from the IMB, nurses who knew more about this than us – help.
Keep me safe, O God, for in You I take refuge. I said to the Lord, “You are my Lord; apart from You I have no good thing.” (Psalm 16:1-2)
Christmas day I said goodbye to my kids as I lay half-conscious in our room here at the IMB campus in Johannasburg. Dear friends of ours picked up the girls so Matt could bring me to the ER. I was in so much pain, my stomach so distended, I could barely walk and I nearly broke down thinking about riding in a car again. I argued for Matt to just leave me alone in the bed. I’m so thankful he insisted. I could not think clearly beyond the pain.
A wheelchair brought me into the ER and I was quickly ushered back to a an ER room for vitals. I vaguely remember the hours we spent in the ER before being admitted. Morphine barely took the edge off of my pain. I endure great pain by “going to another place” staring off. I vaguely remember Matt explaining everything to various medical people. I also stopped vomiting in the ER, which I thought was a miracle until Matt informed me later that they had given me medicine for that very thing. I was so out of it. And then I was transported to a room.
That’s when I met a new face that I had no idea, but would be my surgeon and main care doctor for the rest of my hospital stay. They told me to drink some iodine fluid to get a CT scan of my abdomen. I couldn’t get more than 8 ounces in. That was a fourth of what they wanted. I just couldn’t do it. We learned why later. I remember just laying there in the table praying it was enough to get the scan.
Thankfully they got enough info on the CT scan and then they decided to put in an NG tube to relieve some stomach pressure and prep for the next day’s surgery. An NG tube goes in through your nose, down the back of your throat and into your stomach to “pump” things out through the tube. Oh my poor doctor and husband then witnessed why I could not stomach much of that iodine fluid. Out came “days” of, sorry to say it, bile that had built pressure and never been able to pass from my stomach. It was the first time Matt saw evidence that NOTHING was going through and said he knew right then that I was really, really sick. Days later I apologized for losing what looked like “two days worth” of stomach contents on the doctor. (I mean I still barely knew her name, what bad manners of me. đ) She smirked and said “hey, it comes with the job!” Humor got us through the hard days easier.
He reached down from on high and took hold of me; He drew me out of deep waters. (Psalm 18:16)
After assembling a surgery team and three doctors, semi-exploratory and corrective surgery occurred early the next morning on December 26th. Afterward it was reported that the previous doctor in Nelspruit had made a mistake, failing to tie off a bleeding source, resulting in a large amount of internal bleeding that had coagulated itself, attaching onto and obstructing my bowel. Therefore, upon opening me up, the surgeons saw this more clearly, had to make a big T incision, correcting and fixing lacerations, internal bleeding, a hematoma, etc. I also got the nifty classification of being septic. Sepsis is a life-threatening condition in which the body is fighting a severe infection that has spread via the bloodstream. One doctor said it was critical that they intervened and she was amazed I was still alive. And once again we were reminded that God literally sustained my life hour by hour, guiding us to the help we needed.
I learned all this two days later when I woke up in the ICU. I remember nothing of surgery recovery, moving to the ICU, seeing Matt or others that visited after surgery, or even any of the ICU staff for the first, really, two days. My body was exhausted. I guess two emergency surgeries in five days will do that to you. My only two memories from the first few days of the ICU were waking up for literally less than a minute to Matt crying on my forehead before I immediately fell back asleep. And then I woke up for less than a minute one other time to Matt reading me God’s Word – which I vaguely recognized as a passage in the psalms before falling back asleep.
Later I was told that my infection was quite intense and it took two days of strong antibiotics (goodbye, good gut bacteria đ) for it to be responsive.
You, O Lord, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light. (Psalm 18:28)
Thus continued six more days in the ICU, a total of 8 days (or 7.75 if you’re a math major), trying to wake up my stomach and my bowels from shock and trying to teach them to process food again. That came with some trial and error (from my perspective, but I’m sure not from the doctor’s – ha!) and much pain, sadly. Various medicines, procedures and lots of tubes were needed.
One night the NG tube was removed and everything backed up again to result in a VERY awful long night of clutching a side table and not being able to lay flat or really move from pain. The next morning a 42 year experienced administrative nurse walked the ICU hallway and stopped dead in her tracks at my little ICU fishtank (What? Everyone always looked at me through the glass đ). She took one look at me and said, “Absolutely not! This woman is in pain, we have to do something right now.” She NG tubed me so quickly and efficiently with what felt like a smaller tube size (maybe I was used to it by now) and I was able to talk and swallow without pain for the first time in days.
My doctor came for her regular visit a few hours later and appeared angry with the night nursing staff that she was not contacted the night prior when I was in pain. I, at that point, was fading in and out of consciousness because I was so exhausted from the night before, but I remember just thanking God that someone was fighting for me when I could not fight for myself.
But You, O Lord, be not far off; O my Strength, come quickly to help me. (Psalm 22:19)
To You, O Lord, I lift up my soul; in You I trust, O my God… Show me Your ways, O Lord, teach me Your paths; guide me in Your truth and teach me, for You are God my Savior, and my hope is in You all day long. Remember, O Lord, Your great mercy and love, for they are from of old. (Psalm 25:1, 2, and 4-6)
Slowly and inconsistently my body began to come out of shock. It was frustrating and hard and unpredictable. And all this time I could not see my girls and Matt could only visit for one hour segments a couple times per day. (Which was really challenging because we just do hard things better together, with his hand holding mine.)
I had no concept of time. There were no clocks. And I could only barely see out of a distant window when another ICU “room’s” curtains were not drawn to tell what time of day it was. (Man how I missed the sea breeze and that warm African sun!) There were no plugs to charge a phone so I got a few hours mid-day in which Matt would bring me my charged phone and I could listen to worship music and keep in contact with a few people before he would return at the next visiting hour and bring my phone home to recharge.
Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am faint; O Lord, heal me, for my bones are in agony. My soul is in anguish. How long, O Lord, how long? Turn, O Lord, and deliver me; save me because of your unfailing love. (Psalm 6:2-4)
I love You, O Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. (Psalm 18:1-2)
I learned the game of the ICU, how to tell vague periods of time by nursing staffs, shift changes, lunch breaks, visiting hours, and physical therapist visits. I got so good at it that I could almost predict visits from various medical personnel, Matt and those wonderful colleagues that came to see me, the doctor (who always seemed to visit on a 12 hour stretch at what I presumed was the start and close of her shifts – oh man or at least I hope so because I saw her well past dinner sometimes. The ICU is close to “the theatre” – where surgeries are done so I presumed her shift was ending), and even knowing extended lunch breaks some nursing staff took. I had to know all this info because I was reliant on these times to be able to be unhooked from all the machines and tubes to move in my room, finally grab the pencil I had dropped three hours before, get another round of blessed chapstick, go to the bathroom once the catheter was out, or reach that out-of-reach nurse call button that did not stretch to the physical therapy chair I was required to sit in for 4-6 hours daily.
Please hear me clearly, I am in NO WAY complaining or frustrated with my hospital care. But I do want to be honest in sharing that hospital care in Africa is not like the care in the United States. Compassion is not a consistent nursing trait, sadly. And compassion varies from doctor to doctor. God OVERWHELMINGLY blessed me with two extremely compassionate doctors and one administrative nurse that fought for me and went against what felt like the assumed reality that pain has to be a part of medical care here in southern Africa. I don’t know if it’s a part of the harsh realities of access (like in Mozambique) here in South Africa or just a cultural difference, but comfort appears to be variably valued in hospitals on this side of the world. It is NOT non-existent, but it really does depend on the compassion level of the individual doctor or nurse. And that was a culture I had to get used to.
I had to learn who to ask for what kind of care. And learn who to ask kindly to not provide some care (judging gentle hands) and hope they respected my wishes. But having said all that, please hear me CLEARLY – I am BEYOND THANKFUL to be alive and I accredit that to the many God brought alongside of me in the hospital who went out of their way to help this stranger.
But You are a shield around me, O Lord; You bestow glory on me and lift up my head. To the Lord I cry aloud and He answers me from His holy hill. I lie down and sleep. I wake again because the Lord sustains me. (Pslam 3:3-5)
I will lie down and sleep in peace, for You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety. (Psalm 4:8)
I was growing in strength now. I could hold the Bible up and focus on more verses without having to reread the same one over and over again countless times before it sunk in. I had even figured out how to hold a pencil around my IV cords. And I was building strength in how long I could hold my hand in a writing position before the IV needle pain became unbearable and I had to take a break.
My handwriting was laughable. I imagined my pupils, Rachael and Abi, giggling at this handwriting teacher’s chicken-scratch. But I needed the Word. How it breathed calm into the hurts. How it brought peace to the feelings I couldn’t find words for. How it breathed life into my weary soul.
One thing I ask of the Lord, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to seek Him in His temple. For in the day of trouble He will keep me safe in His dwelling; He will hide me in the shelter of His tabernacle and set me high upon a rock. (Psalm 27:4-5)
The New Year came and passed. My physical therapist and I joked that last year ended pretty rocky in the ICU, so this year let’s aim for higher aspirations. đ I told her my resolution was to get out of the ICU. She smiled and said, “There you go! Now that’s a tangible goal!”
I was strong enough and independent enough (my doctor’s goals for a swamped post-holiday hospital) to move out of the ICU to the regular ward on Wednesday, January 2nd. I didn’t realize how strong I had gotten until I moved to the ward. In the ICU you’re so isolated and people come and go so quickly that you never really see much of a healing process. But in the ward is where people heal and then get discharge to go home. My doctor chose for my healing to be in the ICU since she wanted things extremely sterile due to my infection. (And later I learned that should something have gone poorly, I would have been close to the theatre for a further adventure that I’m thankful did not take place.)
The doctor was extremely serious about cleanliness; what tubes were permitted which medications and nourishment and I often joked with the friendlier nursing staff and the doctor, herself, that the nurses would be in trouble if they didn’t follow the rules. The doctor would get them. đ She wanted to run no risk and she wanted me as independent as possible before going to the ward. I am thankful for the wisdom in that doctor decision. She has a God-given kind heart and I told her of my gratitude many times. I didn’t want to miss an opportunity of expressed gratitude.
You are my hiding place; You will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance. (Psalm 32:7)
And sure enough, I did really well in the ward. I surprised some of the nursing staff at how little I needed after coming out of a week in the ICU. I even washed my hair by myself in the sink for the first time in over a week (I could have farmed grease from my hair, people!). The nurses were indeed swamped and stretched thin in the ward, but my independence didn’t seem to bring much added stress to their routine. I had the window seat so I spent a good deal of time just watching the beautiful sky, thanking God for another day.
I finished my antibiotic the day I moved to the ward and was only left on pain medicine through my IV. I cannot even begin to tell you how freeing it was as each tube and cord came off. Down to an IV only was incredible after a week of what felt like being tied down to endless machines. I thanked God for the freedom of that IV pole’s movement. No more did I need to push a nurse button to go to the bathroom! I could just go. Alone!!!
But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear Him, on those whose hope is in His unfailing love, to deliver them from death and keep them from famine. We wait in hope for the Lord; He is our help and our shield. In Him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in His holy name. May Your unfailing love rest upon us, O Lord, even as we put our hope in You. (Psalm 33:18-22)
My sweet doctor learned that Rachael’s birthday was on Saturday, January 5th. She had come in when the girls were visiting and took the time to get to know the family some. She waited for shy Eden to come out of her shell and finally talk to her. She was not rushed for time. That is something I have admired about her. She made time for the important stuff like connecting. The doctor brought up Rachael’s birthday and chatted with Rachael about Rachael’s hopeful plans for that day. And the doctor later confided that she made it a focus to discharge me in time for Rachael’s 10th birthday, provided that I continued to do well. She was leaving for a weekend training a city away on Friday, January 4th, and she wanted to see me go home. She made it very clear that she was in no way pushing me out of the hospital if I felt that I needed to stay. But I think she saw the determination in my eyes.
She told me she wrote up discharge papers, signed them and left them with the nurse on Thursday night when she came in to see me. She gave me her personal cell number and told me to call her in the morning so we could talk before she’d call in the discharge authorization.
Friday, January 4th, I called at 7am. She chuckled when I told her I didn’t know if she was an early riser by choice or by trade. (I had been up since 4a tea was served – Ha!) I could hear her smile when she said she was as early riser by choice. She was in no hurry to get off the phone. She made time, despite having meetings and, you know, a personal life. đI thanked her for fighting for me when I had no voice. She spoke kind words that were lost in a bit of long distance static, sadly, but I received the heart of it and we talked about next steps. She told me to enjoy Rachael’s birthday and that she would see me Tuesday for my follow-up appointment. She also told me to call her any time if I had a concern or a question and she would be sure to get back to me, even if she had to take a minute to step out of a meeting.
I sought the Lord and He answered me; He delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to Him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame. This poor man called and the Lord heard him; He saved him out of all his troubles. The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him, and He delivers them. Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him. Fear the Lord, you His saints, for those who fear Him lack nothing. The lions may grow weak and hungry, but those who seek the Lord lack no good things… The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous and His ears are attentive to their cry… The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; He delivers them from all their troubles. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. A righteous man may have troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all; He protects his bones, not one of them will be broken. Evil will slay the wicked; the foes of the righteous will be condemned. The Lord redeems His servants; no one will be condemned who takes refuge in Him. (Psalm 34:4-10, 15, 17-22)
We took a picture as a family after just stepping through the hospital doors into the parking lot. Freedom. Step by step. I was out. In the glorious fresh air. In the sunshine again. A whole world I had missed so much that all the words I could muster slipped in a silent, thankful tear down my cheek.
Eden and Rachael held my hands and walked at my toddler pace. Gently. Carefully. With beaming smiles. I was back – even if only a slower version. I sent the picture of all six of us outside of the hospital to the Doctor. She replied, “beautiful picture. So happy to see you leaving!!”
Recovery is still slow, a balance of medicines and side affects, and a rollercoaster of emotions as we process it all. We’re taking it one day at a time and not sure when we will be cleared to go back to Mozambique. I take comfort in the fact that the same doctor who took such compassionate care of me in the hospital has continued to stay in contact with me via phone as questions have come up. She is also familiar with some Mozambique roads and knows of the challenge of good medical care in our part of the country.
We are in no rush to leave an instant before it is best, but I take comfort in the fact that the doctor has opened herself to be availble to me even once we return to Mozambique. And while we still wait and heal, I continue to add Psalms to my notebook, now on page 17 of handwritten Psalms that the Lord has spoken to my heart through all of this.
O Lord my God, I called to You for help and You healed me. O Lord, You brought me up from the grave; You spared me from going down into the pit. Sing to the Lord, You saints of His; praise His Holy Name. For His anger lasts only a moment, but His favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning… to You, O Lord, I called; to the Lord I cried for mercy:.. “Hear, O Lord, and be merciful to me; O Lord be my help.” You turned my wailing into dancing; You removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing to You and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give You thanks forever. (Psalm 30: 2-5, 8, 10-12)
Thank you, thank you, thank you(!) to all those who prayed alongside of us, kept checking in and have walked this long and hard journey with us. We are OVERWHELMED by your love and support.
God sustained my life – twice – in a way that left some doctors marveling that I was still alive. I don’t deserve to be alive. But He chose to give life. And I am forever humbled and grateful. I deserve nothing. But still He chooses to give me everything. I will never stop being in wonder and awe of His gifts. Why? Why me?
But I do know that to much that is given, much is required (Luke 12:48). My life is not my own. I am humbled, once again, to offer my life to the very Lord who has and continues to sustain it day by day.
