Looking Back

Originally Posted July 6, 2008

We spent the early morning hours of our July Fourth in the ER, after I took a little trip in the ambulance in the middle of the night. Something about waking up feeling like my skin was on fire, yet having chills; a severe headache on ONE side of my head; and a few hallucinations regarding someone choking me and screaming about not being able to find "the baby" (we have no children in the house). It wasn't a long hospital visit. They determined that I either wasn't getting enough oxygen to my brain in my sleep due to my sleep apnea (I had apparently ripped off my CPAP mask during the night at some point), or it was some weird side effect of my Xyrem. On the way home, my husband remarked that we had gotten off to a "great" start for our holiday weekend (sarcasm strongly implied here). But, after I caught up on some sleep, I actually started thinking how blessed I really am.

My last July 4 holiday marked the first time I was able to get out of the house and be among people following a surgery I had in early June 2007. The reason that memory made me feel blessed is because that surgery was the end of a four-year bout with constant, severe pain in my left side. I can remember the first time I felt the pain...the pain that was my constant companion and worst enemy every moment of every day. Having had a large growth removed from my left ovary at age 16, I immediately suspected something of the GYN nature was the cause, and my doctor concurred. In September, 2003, I had my first of three surgeries to treat endometriosis. The longest I ever felt relief after surgery was a couple months; then the pain would return stronger than ever. I had been told mine was a comparatively minor case of endometriosis and I "shouldn't be feeling this much pain." I would be given strong pain medications that I took all day long until by body became dependent on them. Once that happened, my doctor would suddenly stop prescribing them and refer me to a "pain clinic."

There were late-night ER visits when the pain would come, and I literally couldn't even catch my breath. My husband would find me on the floor, curled into the fetal position, crying and rocking back and forth. We'd call the doctor, and they'd tell us to go the ER. They would inject me with narcotics and poke and prod around; then they'd write me a prescription for 10 pain pills and refer me back to my physician. I was treated like a criminal, a junkie, and a liar. I even had a white-haired ER doctor tell me that I'd become "a slave to my female organs," and that, after all, back in the day women would "have a baby in the morning and be out pulling a plough in the afternoon." I wanted to scream, but I was in too much pain to point out that since he didn't have any of those female organs, he wasn't qualified to speak on how much pain I should or should not be feeling. I did have one well-meaning ER doc pump me so full of narcotics that I ended up being admitted to the hospital for a week for pancreatitis induced by those same drugs.

If it had been "just" the terrible pain, it would have been one thing, but there was also the difficulty urinating and the constant diarrhea. I was sent to a urologist and a gastroenterologist who both said nothing was wrong in those departments. Then there were the side effects from those horrible Lupron injections. I would have the most intense hot flashes at the most inopportune moments, and people would say, "you're too young to have hot flashes!" And the nurse that gave the monthly injection even asked, "Why are you taking these shots? Don't you want to have children?" (In my mind, I would reply sarcastically, "Yes, of course, I really do hate children.") It was amazing how ignorant even people in the medical profession can be. I would take jobs and quit because I couldn't function at work while on the pain drugs. I went back to school to finish my degree, and had to drop classes or not finish the semester. There were times when I would not even be able to walk because each step would cause excrutiating pain. I actually got to the point where I was considering just swallowing a whole bottle of pain pills to make it all go away.

Finally, in 2007, after my GYN fired me as a patient "because he did not feel we were making any progress in my treatment." (translation: he thought I was a drug addict), I found Dr. Michael Fox. After a thorough examination he said, "I'm going to tell you something that will surprise you. You have endometriosis, but that is not what is causing this severe pain in your side." I sure was surprised! After 2 previous surgeries, Lupron injections, and all the pain and grief I had gone through for 4 years, I had the WRONG DIAGNOSIS? Yep. My pain was actually caused by a pelvic hernia. And, after being examined by the hernia surgeon, we found I actually had TWO pelvic hernias, one on each side. I was angry. I lost four years to the pain and the pain drugs because I was misdiagnosed!

But I had the surgery, and after a painful recovery, the pain was gone. I mean it was really and truly gone...for good. I remember going to a July 4th festival at my church about a month after my surgery. I could walk around, sit in any position, and there was no pain. I have been off narcotics and other pain relievers for a year now. And even though I am going through some other physical challenges now, and my 4th didn't start out so well this year, I really have come a long way. I am blessed. And that's not all! God has given me so many gifts that I would never have had if it had not been for this experience. God gave me a very special friendship with a neighbor who showed me His love during my recovery by taking care of me. My heart was open and prepared to receive the greatest lesson of my life so far when I participated in a Bible study called "Walking by Faith" by Linda Rothschild. And I met a new friend who had been misdiagnosed with Interstitial Cystitis and was suffering with the same pain I had suffered with, and I was able to refer her to Dr. Fox for the same surgery I had! My experience was able to be an encouragement to her and saved her from suffering many more years of pain.

I am not angry anymore. I am thankful for the opportunity to grow my fragile faith and come to know the One I long to know better than ever before. Do I still struggle with my faith? You better believe it! But read the Hall of Faith, Hebrews 11. Those remembered forever in God's Word for their faith had struggles too. Abraham's faith was so fragile that he thought he needed to help God keep His promise of a son; Jacob fought all night with the Lord because he needed reassurance God would be with him; and of course Joseph had doubts when he was in that pit his brothers threw him in, when he was thrown in prison because he refused to give in to adultery, and when the guy he met in prison forgot to keep his promise to help him get out after Joseph got him out and he got his job back in the palace. These people were not mentioned because their faith was always perfect and strong; they are held up as examples because they chose faith in the midst of their doubts and their fears. That's what I'm trying to do...Believe what I cannot see because I believe in The One who promised to hold me in his arms. He didn't promise I wouldn't have troubles, but He promised to be there and help me through it.

Even though I'm going through a hard time now, I choose to look back and remember how He delivered me before, and I know He'll do it again. And I can't wait to see the blessings that come from this latest trial of my faith. Let's come back next 4th and praise Him for those blessings too!! I'll meet you right here.