I’m pretty sure that eventually one of three things will happen:
1. I will be cured and life will go back to “normal” and everyone will be happy and rainbows will appear magically and then puppies will fall from the sky and as we all walk past chocolate rivers.
2. I will wake up one day and really grasp that this stabbing pain in my right ribs is part of my life now. That it is has become a part of my soul and has been stitched into my story and that I need to learn to live with it, and I will change accordingly.
3. I will kill myself and finally be pain free for an entire day.
More and more it’s looking like number two is going to going to win out here. Although I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I still consider three more often than you’d probably feel comfortable hearing me confess.
As for number one. Well. I guess it could happen. The same way winning the lottery could happen. Or me marrying Prince Harry could happen. But it’s not looking so great.
Ya, ya, ya, God and stuff. He can do anything. I have to tell you though, he hasn’t exactly be waving the magical miracle wand for me lately these days.
I mean sure, if you’re on the outside looking in, all healthy and whatnot, and you might be all like, “Well at least you finally have some pills that help you get through the day.” Or, “At least you have a great job that’s been super flexible and willing to work with you through all this.” Or even, “Thank God you have health insurance.”
And don’t worry, I am glad that I have those things. But I’d also love it if I could, you know, walk through a Walmart without it killing the rest of my day because I’m in too much pain to do anything else. Or, you know, if I was say, “blessed” enough to be able to go into the office everyday. Heck, wouldn’t it be cool if I could just get out of bed in the morning feeling refreshed, instead of having to reach over and grab six pills and then lie there and wait an hour before I felt decent enough to get in the shower? That’d be pretty sweet.
So ya, I’m not in the greatest thankful place right now.
I’m not even in the greatest God place right now.
I don’t understand this. I don’t understand why this is happening to me, and my faith is being tested.
I can see it sort of starting to disappear like Michael J. Fox’s family in those old photos from Back to the Future I. Parts of it are still clear, but there are other areas that are really hazy.
I’ve been praying to Him so much, but all I seem to get is dead silence on the other side.
I’ll be laying there in bed at 3 a.m., in agonizing pain, wishing I were dead. And I cry out to Him with everything I have inside of me. I cry out to Him to give me peace. I cry out to Him to send me help. I cry out to Him just to see if I’m all alone.
Nothing happens. The pain just gets worse. Peace never fills my heart. And all I hear is silence.
I pray for procedures to work. And they don’t. I pray for people to have some sort of understanding of what I’m going through. And they don’t. I pray for the doctors to have some wisdom. And they don’t.
I pray and I pray and I pray.
And I cannot see God in this.
What really makes me upset these days is when something, anything good happens and people are like, “Oh, that was God!”
Really? Then, where is God in this? Where is the “Oh, that was God!” in my pain? Why hasn’t He fixed me? Why am I having to endure this horrible stabbing pain? And really, why does any human being have to endure long-term pain?
I am starting to see that the number two scenario I mentioned above is the most likely outcome for me. That this is going to be my life for at least a little while. But I have no idea how to reconcile God with that situation.
Maybe He will use this for good. Maybe I need to go through this to understand something else later. Or maybe something amazing will come from this.
I cannot see any of that right now though. And from this angle, it all looks really dark.
I thought my faith was strong, but it is so much weaker than I even knew.
“I have no peace, no quietness; I have no rest, but only turmoil.”
— Job 3:26