The Saturday before Easter was supposed to be beautiful. The day promised to pour forth perfect spring weather and we were going to be meeting friends from our Life Group for a family picnic/Easter egg hunt.
But the moment I rolled out of bed and my feet hit the floor, dread flooded my heart.
A feeling I hadn't felt in eleven years was shooting up my left leg, and with every step, a memory and a fear pounded through my veins. Over a decade ago I was admitted into the hospital for 8 days with several blood clots (DVTs) in my right leg--only three weeks from my wedding.
The same pain, swelling, and signs that hospitalized me then reappeared this April morning. I refused to believe this was happening again. Wesley knew I was in pain that morning and he tried to care for me, but we chose to go on to the picnic anyway.
It was a beautiful day...just as glorious as we had expected it to be. We took the typical Texas Bluebonnet pictures with our kids in a field covered with Bluebonnets and Indian Paintbrushes. The picnic baskets were broken open and eggs were hidden. The kids were running through the trees pretending to go on some sort of quest. Like I said, it was glorious.
We took his advice. So here's a run down of the week:
Day 1, Saturday: ER and admittance to the hospital.
Once we were finally taken back to the Emergency Room, interviewed and examined, the ER doctor (a great guy!) ordered an ultrasound to confirm whether or not I had another DVT (blood clot). The test was conclusive. I had a single DVT in my left leg that stretched from my abdomen to the vein behind my knee.
Although the ER doctor had wanted to admit me to the hospital right away, the hospitalist physician (whom I never saw) wanted to send me home with an oral medication. Don't get me wrong, the idea of going home was tempting, but to go home with a clot that size freaked me out. We immediately called another friend in our life group who is a vascular surgeon. He wanted to speak to the ER doctor as soon as possible and then he absolutely forbid us from going home.
Our friend Dr. T told the ER doctor about a procedure to remove the clot from my leg. Well, bless his heart, the ER doctor had never heard of the procedure, but when he got off the phone with Dr. T he said, "Yep, this is what you need. You're going to be admitted right away."
The tricky thing was, this surgery (called a Thrombolysis) was considered "new" at least to our small town. Unfortunately, Dr. T was out of town for a week and unable to be with us, but he was amazing in arranging for some of the partners from his surgical group to take care of me.
Day 2, Sunday:
Easter, rest and celebration of Jesus's victory over death from our little room in the hospital. I had ideas of what the week might look like but nothing for certain. As we had plenty of quiet in those early morning hours of Easter, Wesley and I listened to a sermon online, Wesley read to me from the book of Ephesians (one of my favorites) and we prayed.
One of my prayers was that this time would not be wasted. I wanted Him to show up. To reveal Himself in all His glory. I didn't want to waste one moment of the entire experience because I wanted to come out of this stronger, with greater wisdom and a deeper faith.
Our family brought the kids up to us. They both seemed to handle everything well, but Josie who is older, did take things harder. At this point in her life, she frequently demonstrates great maturity and perception; therefore, she needed a little more reassurance.
Monday was the first attempt at Thrombolysis. Dr. T said the surgeon who would be doing the procedure is the best surgeon in our town and he had complete confidence that he would do his best to help me. The wonderful doctor explained that he would do everything in his power to remove the clot but if he believed the situation to be over his head he would stop immediately and send me to a hospital in Dallas where they performed this procedure on a regular basis. Just before he left he prayed with us--holding my hand in both of his and asking that our Great and Glorious Physician would lead and guide him to do what was best and that Jesus would receive all glory from the outcome.
As surgery began, one problem after another presented itself, the final one being now that he was able to see inside my veins he saw the clot was actually larger than he had anticipated. He approached my head (I was awake) and very gently said, "Sweetheart, we're going to have to stop. I believe the best thing for you right now is to send you to Dallas." And that was that. This great surgeon didn't allow his ego to stand in the way of doing what was best. I was transported to Dallas that night by ambulance.
Day 4, Tuesday: Baylor Heart and Vascular Hospital in Dallas.
I was taken to the OR and prepped by some amazing nurses. The Doctor performing the surgery spoke very highly of our friend Dr. T and affirmed his decision to remove the clot as soon as possible. By God's grace, this doctor was able to do everything that had seemed so difficult before. Following surgery, I was sent to a room in the ICU where I would be for the next 48 hours.
The surgeon shared that there was a lot of old damage with lots of scarring in my veins. So much that my body had already started to compensate for getting the blood back to my heart by creating new, smaller veins around the scarred tissue. The idea of "old damage" and not knowing how long it's been there is quite disconcerting. But it still amazes me of God's handiwork in how resilient the human body can be.
Day 5, Wednesday: Phase two of the surgery.
Everything was looking good except now I had developed a hematoma near my right hip. The doctor believed that if this hematoma grew it would interfere with the progress being made by the TPA (clot buster meds) in my blocked veins.
Naturally, there's a way to deal with it--manual compression. But if that doesn't work then you get "The Clamp". If the clamp sounds like a medieval torture device, well, then you'd be just about right. Here's a picture:
NOT. FUN.
I can honestly say without hesitation that that was the worst pain I have EVER experienced in my life. And of course, I couldn't get any additional pain medication because my blood pressure was too low.
I'll be totally honest. Tears and yells burst out of me freely. I almost broke Wesley's hand. I was in so much pain I almost threw up and prayed to pass out. I wanted to give up. The nurses (who were INCREDIBLE) would encourage me and remind me that this pain was worth it because it would let the surgery and medication have its full effect on the other leg.
As they gently and lovingly reminded me of this, the Holy Spirit flooded my memory with a passage from James chapter 1.
" 2 Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds,3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 4 Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.5 If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you." NIV
Years ago I had done a Bible study on the book of James and heard a teacher explain this passage. (I even blogged about it in 2011.) If you have time, I highly recommend you watching this message.
Finally, as the nurses finished applying the clamp, I laid flat and motionless for the next 3.5 hours. While being pressed under a great weight, I tried to replay this message in my head. I fought to trust the Holy Spirit that this pain would be worth it because not only would it allow the medication to have it's full effect, but the pain would also give me strength to trust God and rejoice in Him through all the difficulty I was going through. That through this, He would answer the prayer I had prayed on Easter--that it would not be wasted. He would generously give me wisdom--the sanctifying and refining wisdom that only comes through trial.
Day 6, Thursday:
Day three of surgery was to check the overall progress and wrap things up. Despite a few small/painful hiccups during surgery, everything went very well. I was still slated to receive an ultrasound on my hematoma but ultimately, I was downgraded from the ICU to a regular room and given permission to go home the next day.
Day 7, Friday:
There was some discussion of keeping me one more day to monitor my hematoma and possibly give me a blood transfusion, but it was decided I was clear to go home.
Since we've been home, we've relished in the kisses and snuggles from our kids who have kept us smiling. We've all rested and eaten yummy food brought by family and friends. I've also tried to get used to my new routine of medication, recovery and doctors' appointments. I'm also going to get fitted for some really sexy compression stockings that will aid in further recovery. (Be jealous, you know you want some too.)
I have HUGE bruises, mostly from the clamp. I also still walk with some pain. These reminders of the week's trauma will fade, but today and always I will rejoice.
So, what do I rejoice in from this (very painful) week?
I rejoice in God's provision and faithfulness. I saw God arrange for me to be in the right place at the right time with the right people to address this quickly. I rejoice that He has made the human body in such a way that it has the ability to make new veins when others become blocked. He absolutely blows my mind!
I rejoice in the absolutely brilliant, caring, and gifted medical care I was given by every nurse and doctor I came in contact with. I want to boast in the Lord and give great thanks for nurses. I am still amazed at their hearts, their passion, and their tireless efforts to care for and advocate for me.
I rejoice in all the friends and family that stepped forward to love on us through taking care of our kids, cleaning our house, coming to visit, bringing flowers, painting my nails and dry washing my hair, texting, calling, and praying for us.
I rejoice and praise God for my husband who without hesitation stayed by my side through the entire ordeal even though he had one of the busiest weeks of the year approaching him at work. He was a servant and comforter. He never complained or made me feel guilty for causing him to be behind at work. He was my steadfast companion and friend. My pastor and spiritual leader. What an absolutely beautiful man.
This is how we have joy in pain. We praise God and rejoice in the ways He provides for us in the dark places. Knowing He wants us to be made perfect in sanctification and that His faith is steadfast to complete the work He has begun in us.
