{image via}
It’s time I tell you a story. The ending isn’t finished yet, but I’ll tell you what I know up to this point. At the end of the post you might think I’m crazy, or a wishful thinker, or an exaggerator. But I don’t think any of those are true {well…not in regard to this any way.}
On August 13th I had an appointment with the neurosurgeon who performed my microdiscectomy. I was out from surgery about seven weeks. To give you a point of reference, I was placed on restricted activity to recover fully for 12 weeks, then would go on to 12 more weeks of physical therapy before being deemed “healed.” So this appointment was more than half way–and I felt terrible.
Seriously, I’ve had some dark times lately, but this was the worst. I was in constant pain. Unrelenting, awful pain. More {much more} than before the surgery, when the disc was out of place. I was simply, miserable. Everyday I’d find my face leaking. I call it that because I wasn’t meaning to cry, or even conscious of it half the time. The misery I was feeling just leaked out in tears, at least once every day. I wasn’t sleeping, the pain made me lose my appetite, I was dependent on pain killers just to function through the day, the whole thing lent itself to very sad spirits.
Naturally, like any 21st century patient, in the days leading up to my much-anticipated doctor’s appointment I turned to Dr. Google for answers. And I found all kinds of things. Scary stats on how many miscrodiscectomy patients have “failed surgery syndrome” and are left in chronic pain for-ev-er. Studies that show that many people re-herniate their disc and are never the same. Testimony pieces from folks who never recovered and their ability to walk was permanently impaired. By the time the appointment rolled around I was terrified. I felt sure that this was my new life, impaired and miserable. But I was also eager to get some answers from a real live person, who had actually touched my spine and knew my case.
I explained my symptoms and pain to the nurse. When the doctor came in he told me he was concerned. Then things got really vague. He didn’t really want to talk about what would happen if things didn’t improve, other than blurry references to more surgery. I pressed him and he did tell me that out of the 500 of these surgeries he does every year, about five fail. Maybe I was one of the five. He wanted to give it six more weeks before taking action. If things weren’t better, we’d get an MRI and discuss what surgical options were available to correct things.
As you might imagine, that was not the answer I wanted. I wanted relief. I wanted to feel better. I didn’t want to wait any more. There was nothing else to do, but go get the new pain meds and cry.
To make everything just a little bit worse, Derek has to work out of a base in South Dakota for a while, while the runway in Minot is repaved. The loneliness added insult to injury. Not only was I miserable, but I was alone. And if Derek wasn’t there, that’s how I preferred to be–no one likes to be a depressed mess in front of friends.
That night when Derek and I talked on the phone I told him everything and cried and cried while wailing that this was how I was going to be forever and ever. I mourned the fact that my life in shambles, since I couldn’t do anything that I loved doing. I also hated myself for being the reason we could no longer do things that we loved doing together: biking, hiking, swimming, boating, anything active–none of that is possible when you are chronically messed up.
Instead of giving in to my pity party–which is what I wanted him to do–Derek told me that we could chose to view this situation another way. We could look at it as an opportunity to grow in an area of our faith that is a little lacking: prayer. Instead of trusting doctors and science, we could earnestly pray, call on prayer partners, and seek God in this trial. We decided to pray that God be glorified through this dark season. If that meant He would show His power through healing–awesome. If that meant He would change my heart and give me the peace and joy to proclaim Him, despite the pain and lifestyle change–awesome.
Friends, I’ve never been witness to a medical miracle–let alone had one take place in me–but that is the only way I can describe what happened next. It took me a couple days to cope and draw the courage to choose to proclaim my God as good no matter what. I prayed that to start me off, God would give me a certain message that things would be okay. That night I ended up at the Sanctus Real concert. They sang this song, which I’d never heard before–but the Holy Spirit spoke to my heart, telling me to put my trouble on Him, that things would be fine. Then, He opened my eyes to His amazing grace {see this post.} Finally, I called some faithful partners who are gifted with a fervent zeal for prayer.
Three days after my appointment I felt a supernatural peace and joy return. I felt better. I was able to stand long enough to take a shower {really, it was that bad.} I could walk. I was sleeping. I stopped taking pain pills. Cold turkey. All together just quit. I didn’t need them. And I haven’t taken another since. It’s been about three weeks since that appointment and I feel that my healing has been put back on track.
I still get tired and have some pain in my legs at times…it mostly feels like cramped muscles in my hamstrings. It’s tolerable and made much better by stretching out. Every day walking becomes more comfortable, every day I feel a little more like myself. Not only is my health being restored, my future is as well. A month ago, as I looked ahead I saw a never ending road of misery, self-hatred and pain. Now I see the possibility of a return to activity, fitness and strength.
I can honestly only describe what has happened as a miracle. There is no explanation for such a sudden shift in my condition, only that something impossible happened. I can tell you that God is a healer, a restorer of peace, the source of joy. My hope is that you will, as I have, see this as a real-world example of the power held in prayer and intercession.
I understand that not every story will end like this, but for whatever reason mine did. I cannot guarantee that healing will always look the way we want it to, but I can tell you that if you earnestly seek to glorify God, He will provide a way for you to do that. Through choosing to glorify Him healing, restoration, peace and joy will return.
xo
Amy
