I wasn't sure what to expect coming out of surgery. Would I have the worst headache of my life? Would I vomit from the anesthesia or would my eyes turn myriad shades of purple and my face swell to abnormal proportions? Those thoughts frequently went through my mind before the surgery, but they disappeared the moment I awoke. Somehow, as uncomfortable as I felt post-surgery, I saw the pain and discomfort as a good thing...I was alive.
As the anesthesia and other medicines wore off, I understood my hospital room's surroundings a little better. I managed to find a mirror and look upon my reflection. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my roommate lying next to me. She was an older woman; her head was bald and marred with bloody bandages by the recent surgical procedure she'd had done. She appeared to be in a lot of pain, but her family visited her often, which seemed to take the edge off of things. Each time I looked in the mirror, I could see her and was reminded things could be worse. I began to feel sad for her as I brushed my long, thick blonde hair. Glancing into the neuro-surgery ward, I saw people with ailments similar to my roommates. One young girl I distinctly remember must have only been about 16 years old. She had some massive contraption on her head, which resembled Medusa's hair. It was a very sophisticated device that balanced atop her head as she moved slowly down the hall arm in arm with the nurses.
As standard procedure, I was constantly asked a series of questions to ensure my mind was still working correctly and I wasn't showing signs of brain damage. Every time the doctors made their rounds, they asked me the same questions: Who are you? Where are you? Why are you here? What day is it? Where were you born? It was a subtle reminder about the magnitude of the operation I had recently had. I was only in the hospital for two days. I was released from the hospital a day early because my recovery was going better than expected. The morning I left UCLA, I received a new roommate. She was a lovely young woman about the same age as me. She mentioned that life was completely normal until a couple of days earlier...she had survived a brain aneurysm. It caused the entire half of her face to swell up. She mentioned she had hoped to go home early, too, but the doctor had just come in and broke the news that her recovery was not going as expected; she had to stay longer.
A couple of weeks after I returned home to Texas, I overheard some disc jockeys on the radio laughing as they tried to coerce each other into some fearful task that they didn't want to do. One man said to the other, "It's not like I'm asking you to get a brain tumor removed!" When I heard this, I stopped and thought about that comment. I just had a brain tumor removed...what was so hard about that? I realized that most people would never experience such a thing. The flippant remark summarized the description of what most people would think is a terrifying thing. Getting a hole drilled in your skull is not your average operation. So far, I have remained healthy and had a complete recovery. I sometimes wonder what my attitude would be if I had come out of surgery blind or had some severe complication arise due to the operation. Would I still see it as no big deal like I do now? Before the surgery, I made up my mind to be content whatever the outcome would be, but it's easy to stick to those words when all is back to normal. I am mindful that I could be administering myself hormone shots daily or I could have brain damage, but I don't have any of this. God tremendously used Dr. Kelly and graciously answered my prayers precisely how I hoped he would.
I have one thing impressed deep within my mind after all this...I live in a world where disease is certain and death is inevitable. These things affect me and they affect the ones I love - this is a reality of life. When I first picked up the book by Phillip Yancey, Where's God When It Hurts, and began to read it I wondered what hope is there in suffering? Where's God in all of this? All of us suffer in one way or another; we suffer from broken hearts and depression, the loss of a loved one, divorce, lifelong illnesses, cancer, and the list goes on. Each and every one of us is affected by death, disease and suffering...there's no denying our lives are full of it.
I believe there can be hope and happiness even in the midst of despair if you look for it. A quote from Yancey's book reads,
"Bear one another's burden, the Bible says. It is a lesson about pain [and suffering] we can all agree on. Of course, some of us will not see pain as a gift; some will always accuse God of being unfair for allowing it. But the fact is, pain and suffering are here among us, and we need to respond in some way..."
