Last week, I had a surgical procedure done.
The entire experience, from the preparation, to the day, to the actual event and the afterwards have been quite interesting and an eye opener.
Contrary to what most people may think, I don't feel sorry I had to have the surgery. I am actually glad God gave mi the opportunity to go through this, because it gave mi a chance to get a glimpse into the world my best friend has been living in for the past 7+ years.
My best friend was one of two survivors of a plane crash 7 years ago, suffering several 3rd degree burns on her body. Since then, she has been undergoing one surgical procedure after another. Mi and her, being the idiots that we are, laugh and joke each time she has a surgery.
I tell her 'you know the drill, nothing unnecessary please' (meaning, in our words, have a safe and uncomplicated surgery) and she responds, mostly, 'bye fool'.
We laugh, I get a drowsy call from her a few hours latter, we laugh some more and thank God she is ok. She is not herself for a few weeks afterwards, then she is back again and the cycle resumes. Life as we know it.
There has not been any reason for mi to think twice about it, until now.
Before my surgery, I believe my parents had over 10 prayer sessions with mi, and thats just counting with them alone. From the doctor, to the machines, to the healing, there was nothing that was not prayed about. At some point I almost got scared. It seemed rather easy for a surgery to get complicated, just as easily as it was to be uncomplicated. Just how many scenarios could one possible come up with from one surgery?? Not to mention multiple?? I can't imagine how may prayer sessions my best friend and the family have had over these years.
Then on the day of the surgery, all was calm. I am usually calm on the d-day before any event, so that didn't bother mi. What bothered mi however, was when I got to the operating room. After leaving my mum. When I laid down on that operating table, stretched my arms out on either side of mi and stared up at the bright lights. I realized one thing.
I was alone.
Yes there were doctors and nurses, and the anesthetist too. But I didn't know any of those people. The nearest person I knew was two doors down and away from mi.
In that second, I felt as if I was laying on a cross and submitting my life to the will of a bunch of strangers. I didn't think about it then, because I was humming a gospel song and that kept mi calm, but now that it is all over, I wonder just how people without God go through that. Who do you talk to when the doors are shut and there is no loved one around anymore?? Who do you talk to you to calm you down when the needle is in your arm and all that stands between you and death or worse is a drop of extra anesthesia??
Then I woke up.
I admit it was scary to wake up and realize I had been asleep for over four hours, with no recollection of when I slept, what happened in between and how I got to the new room I woke up in. I didn't think about it then, but thinking back now, for those 4 hours, the only person I knew in that room was God. Anything could have happened. A knife could have gone wrong. It was morning but what if one of the doctors didn't get enough sleep and slipped?? So again, how do people without God do it??
I have always said, to many people, that my best friend is the strongest person I know. That she is the only one I know who could go through what she is going through. But I think I found a new form of respect for her. Because I don't know how she goes through this over and over and over and over, with the same stupid smile I'm used to. I couldn't possible endure the tension and anxiety - not just mine, but those around, more so them - or the pain and discomfort that comes afterwards.
But one new thing I learned is that she isn't the strongest person I know. Her mother is. Because for those four hours I was asleep with no thought of the future, my mother had to sit outside waiting, for four hours, for the doctor to come out with a yay or nay. All she did for those four hours was pray and cast her anxiety to her God. Now multiply those four hours by hundreds, and you meet my best friend's mum. Just what manner of strength does a woman need to be able to sit through that over, and over, and over and over, with her child, having only faith to hold on to??
I ask again, how do people without God do it??
But as I said before, I am glad God gave mi the opportunity to have even but a glimpse into her world. The chance to feel even a molecule of a fraction (don't think maths allows that ><) of what she goes through, and for seeing mi through it all successfully. I think its funny when I told her the date for the surgery, she panicked. I laughed because in all these years, she has never panicked. I asked her why she's acting as though surgeries are new to her, and she said 'Mine is a normal thing, but you going through it is different'. Isn't someone who can look at something this major as normal because of the faith she has in her God blessed?? After going through this, I have to ask myself if my faith in God would be strong enough to let mi look at life the way she does?? But God did say He would not give us a cross we cannot bear.
So I am glad and grateful he gave mi the chance to work at least a mile in her shoes.... and survive :)
xoxo
