Almost two weeks ago, my right side and back throbbed with pain. I suspected it was a kidney stone. Past experience revealed nothing would ease the pain, and I’d have to grit my way through it. The low-grade fever concerned me. The pain worsened the next morning.
I debated. Should I go in to the doctor? I opted for peace of mind and was able to get an appointment that same morning. Sitting on the exam table, I fumbled my words, feeling stupid for being there, certain he would tell me to go home and rest until the stone passed.
After a test and pressing gently on my very tender side, he decided blood tests were needed. The tests he’d run in-office verified I was not dealing with a kidney stone. He said it could be something intestinal. Or, it could be my appendix.
I did the “obedient-girl” thing and had my blood drawn. That afternoon the pain decreased to almost nothing.
“X’s” appeared as I marked off things on my to-do list. Even the fever was gone. Kids came home. We wrestled through homework. I cooked dinner for my guys to eat before heading to karate that evening.
Life as normal.
At 5:15, my phone rang. It was the doctor’s office. I mentally crossed my fingers, praying he would say it was nothing. Probably an intestinal bug wreaking havoc in my abdomen. I moved out of the boys’ hearing. Just in case.
“Your white counts are up. The chance you’re dealing with appendicitis just increased. You need to get to the ER tonight.” My stomach dropped.
Who gets appendicitis in their mid-forties?
I do, apparently.
Taking a deep breath, I shuffled my priorities. A friend came to stay with the boys. Hubby and I headed to the ER.
Long story short, after more tests, they decided my appendix would need to come out. Pronto.
How many times have I dealt with spiritual appendicitis? That something inflamed within my spirit causing tenderness to an inner wound? When it festers, the pain intensifies. The fever rises as the heart-hurt deepens.
Some wounds will always be with me, ratcheting up the pain every so often. But sometimes, there are hidden hurts that must come out. The pain inflicted—accidentally or not, by another—is the result of bitterness or past hurts I’ve clung to.
They can be surgically removed by Jesus, if I am willing to lay myself on the operating table. If I’ll release my grip on the hurt. Forgiveness is often the tool I must offer the Father so He can begin healing my spirit.
Sometimes, what needs to be removed are unmet expectations toward God or people. When I hold tightly to those expectations, disappointment inevitably follows. Because people will fail me sooner or later.
And God . . . well, He doesn’t work according to my expectations. He operates with the plans He knows are best for me. If I can relinquish those expectations to His care, I find healing more quickly.
I’m fortunate. My healing process has gone well. I’ve slowed down and re-evaluated some things in my life. I’m healing physically.
When unexpected pain—physical or spiritual— rears up, diagnosing it and dealing with it early helps recovery to go more smoothly.
What about you? Have you ever had emergency surgery? When has God removed something from you that ended with good results?