New Things

I don’t really know where to start and this will probably be scattered but the past four days have been a blur of hospital rooms and needles. 

I went to the doctor a while back for chronic stomach issues that would not desist. When I got referred to a pediatrician, I also mentioned a bump in my stomach that I started noticing when I had mono in December. It seemed to be getting bigger and more noticeable so, to err on the side of caution, he ordered an ultrasound. About a week later, I was laying on the table having goo rubbed all over my stomach discussing, in great detail, my nurse’s herb garden. I was sent out and called into the ultrasound room three times before the doctor who'd been reading my results told my mother and I to go to the hospital for a CT scan. Maybe it was youthful naivete or subconscious denial, but I repressed any inkling that there could be something wrong with me. Later that night, the doctor called my mom saying that the CT scan confirmed a large mass either adjacent or attached to my pancreas. This could be a whole list of things, I told myself, no need to worry. 

I had a day to remain in blissful ignorance of whatever was inside of me. But at an appointment the next morning, a new doctor showed me all of my insides in the form of a CT scan. I gasped a thousand times inside when he pointed out the tumor located at the head of my pancreas. I will not pretend to understand half of what he proceeded to say after he referred to it as a solid pseudopapillary tumor. Due to its rarity and position, none of the surgeons at the pediatric hospital would operate on it. They referred me to Portsmouth Naval for what could potentially turn into a Whipple surgery that would result in the removal and reconstruction of some vital organs in my abdomen. After some discrepancy with our insurance provider over who would operate on me, I was angered and disheartened that I could not get the area’s most highly recommended surgeon for such a delicate and involved procedure. But I woke up early the next morning to go to the hospital and discuss a plan of action for my operation. I immediately felt at peace when I met the short, intense woman who would be operating on me. We talked for a while about the ins and outs of the procedure and what recovery would look like and the technical talk confused me, but the overwhelming and inexplicable peace I felt upon meeting her assured me that it was all part of the Plan.

This Plan does not coincide with my will but the Creator’s above. Trials hardly make sense and often cause our mortal hearts to question what is true. The doctor kept repeating, “This isn’t fair. You are young and healthy and bright, this is not fair.” But this situation only proves to me that Christ’s love is real and deep: more real and deep than anything this world has to offer. In the short amount of time we have known about the severity of this mass, I have already experienced moments as sweet and astounding as when I first fell in love with my Savior. His love is realized in the community that has been placed around me in Chesapeake and across the country. Trusting God in what has been laid before me, I pray to remain in spiritual communion. Jesus is not waiting to see if I’ll manage on my own, but is walking right beside me in love. I am thankful, not for this sickness, but the unique vantage point that it is providing of His sovereign power and benevolent grace. I will not give up on That which has never given up on me.

"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." John 1:5