Like a lot of families, mine used to go away every January. This particular summer (the summer of 1997), we’d gone to camping as usual. What was unusual was that I came home sick.
Because it was a stomach ache and nausea, we’d assumed that I had swallowed some bad water or gotten food poisoning. By the next day, the pain had become worse than any other pain I’ve ever experienced.
It was so bad that even if you’d offered me a million dollars or stuck a bomb under me, I wouldn’t have moved. It was just that painful. I was begging God for relief or for death because things couldn’t keep going the way they were going. The other symptoms had also become worse. The next logical step was to go to the doctor.
The doctor gave me the usual exams but couldn’t find anything. The only solution he could offer was something that God and I both knew it couldn’t be. With that option dismissed, I was told to just rest and come back in a couple of days if I was still in this state.
A couple of days later, I was still in pain and so I went to visit the doctors again. This time I had a different doctor. Like the previous one, he also insisted that it must be something I couldn’t possibly have. He also could not do anything for me.
After several more doctors visits (which on a time line equated to a week and a half), I was finally referred to the hospital. The time in the waiting room was four hours. By the time I came to see the doctor, I felt much better. The pain was almost gone (except when I would move), so the doctor concluded that I’d had an infection and gave me some tablets.
I went home, rested, took the tablets and after another week, I went back to work. For the next few days, I struggled through work. I was still barely eating and was always cold. My walk had slowed to a shuffle and I was in pain when I moved but it was bearable.
That all changed when I became so cold that no matter what I did, I couldn’t get warm. I was wearing gel soled shoes that day and I got so close to a hot heater that I melted them. I still wasn’t warm. I’d also begun to lose my grip on reality. I began to wonder whether the people around me were real or whether I was asleep and I was making them up.
With that, Mum rushed me to the doctor who promptly sent me to the hospital. The hospital still didn’t know what it was. They offered the same solution as everyone else. In the end they decided to do an ultrasound. They found two masses.
They scheduled surgery for the next morning, thinking it wasn’t particularly urgent seeing as my extremely high temperature had gone down somewhat.
Once in surgery, they discovered the real problem. I had an ovarian cyst. That in itself is not remarkable but that had led to appendicitis. Again this is not remarkable and easily fixed. However in my case it hadn’t stopped there. My appendix had ruptured three weeks ago causing peritonis and septicemia. I was in surgery for a long four hours. Got a little bored and decided to stop breathing in the middle to mix things up :P.
For those of you not medically orientated, what it means is this…
My appendix had broken three weeks prior to my surgery. When your appendix ruptures, infection sets in and you have anywhere from 1-72 hours to live. Basically I lived 2 weeks and 4 days more than I should have. Doctors put that down to the fact that my appendix was in a funny place and well insulated. I put that down to a miraculous God who provided for my needs before I even knew them. As Jeremiah 29:11 says –
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.
The miracles didn’t stop there. The morphine I was on had horrible side effects. I had conversations with the devil and saw evil beings. It got to the point where I refused the medication. God enabled me to bare the pain without having to resort back to taking morphine.
After my surgery, I was stapled back together. Eventually the day came to have those removed. Without trying to be too gross, they hadn’t done the job properly. This meant numerous doctors visits but the doctors always commented that it was healing faster than most patients they’d ever seen. The only reason this could have been was God. The doctors certainly couldn’t explain it.
Throughout this whole ordeal, people had been praying for me. I’d been praying. God was working. God has fulfilled His promise to me a hundredth fold. I would not be on this earth without God. I owe Him with everything I am. God does not disappoint. He always has our best interests at heart. His plans do prosper us and do not harm us and this experience has taught me that.
