Pain is such a relative sensation, a subjective mountain to climb, and something we all face at some time in our lives. The last 10 months of my life has taken me to my own limits physically and emotionally. Learning how to endure is a constant process for me. And it's hard not to feel frustrated and drained.

Well, today I discovered . . . today's the day I'm out of reserves. 

I'm on day eight of an unexpected hospital stay, here at St. V's on 86th Street in Indy. Gary and I are jokingly calling it the "crappiest vacation we've never planned. Zero stars- do not recommend." I went in last Thursday for a routine hysterectomy as part of my cancer treatment, and there were complications that led to scans all day Friday and emergency surgery on Saturday to repair an injured bladder and ureter. To say we were stunned that this happened is an understatement. I went into my surgery Thursday completely confident I'd be home and resting that evening. But that was not to be my story . . . 

The days following my surgeries have been filled with severe pain in my abdomen. On Tuesday morning, I had such a heavy battle with pain, I likened it to a constant birthing contraction with no rest. The pain went on for more than an hour, while Gary and the on call nurses tried to figure out how to calm me. Drugs did not touch it. I could only wait it out. All I could mouth to Gary through my tears was that I didn't know what to do. And he said, "pray." 

I do pray, I do reach out, I do all of the "things" you're supposed to do when you're a believer faced with a health crisis. And yet all this week, especially Tuesday morning . . . I felt so abandoned. 

I carry so much guilt just typing those words into my computer! What a horrible admission- that I would feel like God's left me to suffer. But I know we all have those times in our life when we're left asking "Why?" and we're greeted with silence.   Then I remember Jeremiah 29:11...

Wednesday morning, like most mornings here, was a flurry of activity in the room. Nurses, techs, residents, surgeons and interns all come in to check vitals and take notes, push on my tummy and check my stitches. At the end of my final nurse's visit, a tiny smiling woman in a pretty maroon dress stood inside my doorway. She had happy watery eyes and a beautiful smile. When she finally got close enough to my hospital bed, I saw her nametag read, "Chaplain." 

She told me that she saw my name on the room list today, and felt led to see me first. She knew I had something to tell her. My eyes filled up with tears, and the words came tumbling out, about the pain, about my prognosis, and about my abandonment. I told her I felt like all I could do was try to survive. 

She said my life should never be about just surviving- it should be about fighting. Not giving up and just holding the status quo, but digging in and finding strength. She reminded me that Jesus wept when He was sad, too. He also felt abandoned on the cross, and it's okay to have that very human, desperate feeling. Then she held my hands tight and prayed with us. 

I have zero doubt in my mind that she was sent to us. Even when I felt like He wasn't listening, and He had left the room, He had not! This pain has a purpose, and it's my fight. I have so much more to learn in this life. 

Just a few moments ago as I type this, we got the news that I get to go home today. I will have to take home an abdominal JP drain and a catheter, but will be able to get them removed in office within the next few weeks. Honestly, the glory of being able to shower and sleep in my own house outweighs a few extra added appendages.

Please know that I know you are praying for me! And please know that you are appreciated. 

Philippians 4:6-7  "Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus ."