A Weight Off My Chest

(Yes, that joke was 9 months in the making).

Sam with his new “letter opener.”

It’s amazing how quickly the human body can become conditioned to things. Up until the last year of my life, I laughed, sneezed, even hiccuped normally. The pectus excavatum had it’s symptoms, but none that simple or obvious. But when I had the bar in these last 9 months, it wasn’t always that easy. Towards the end of the time, the bar had become quite embedded (I think this was due to a fall down the steps in April). Sneezes were pure torture once that happened; I was petrified of getting a cold. I essentially stopped sneezing, at least as far as I could help it.  Whenever I felt that recognizable tickle I’d proceed through my checklist of sneeze-preventing procedures. Hold my breath: check! Squeeze my nostrils closed: check! Push on the roof of my mouth with my tongue: check! Look like an idiot if doing these things in public: check!!!  But, that google search was productive, as those things did usually help keep the sneezes at bay. Sadly, laughing wasn’t fun either…  it especially hurt when it was a sudden fit of laughter, like when Sam would throw in a random funny comment out of no where and I would burst out laughing. In a positive note, I’ve realized how blessed I am to live a life filled with frequent laughter. 🙂

So, when I returned from the hospital just two days after having the bar removed, I felt lighter in more ways than one. Once it became clear that it didn’t hurt to laugh, Sam and I sat down and watched gag reels on YouTube for way too long, chuckling, chortling, and even guffawing together – pain free. Praise God! And, since my surgery two weeks ago, I’ve enjoyed several pain-free sneezes. (Yes, enjoyed. I actually love sneezing usually.) For the first week post-surgery my instinct was still to shut down the sneezes (No! NO!!! Initiate Anti-Sneeze Protocol!) and I had to actively think about sneezing, but this week I think I have enjoyed more carefree sneezes than I did the entire past 9 months. I even had a fit of hiccups while cooking dinner tonight and it just made me feel silly, as opposed to sore. These little things have meant more to me than you’ll probably understand, and to me they truly mark an improvement.

My general recovery after this surgery has been a breeze, especially compared to the first surgery. Now, two weeks later, I feel great! I was able to sing in the worship team on Sunday, I’ve been back to work for a week already, and I’ve even done some gentle yoga a few times. Soon I’ll begin physical therapy to begin tackling the bingo wings I’ve gained these past few months of not being able to lift anything over 15 lbs. Cardio will come soon – jogging, running, dancing – all in its time.

So, I’ll commit the next months to these worthy tasks: praising God as I laugh more, dance around my house simply because I can, and sneeze whenever the sunshine tickles my nose. 

Surgery #2 – Looking Back

Here I sit, back “in hospital,” about 9 months after I had my first surgery to repair my pectus excavatum. What a long road it has been…

Tomorrow I will have part two of the surgery – removing the metal bar that I’ve had in my chest since November. I read back over my posts from my diagnosis and surgery (see the links in my first sentence), and I realize how far I’ve come and how much God has taught me. I’ve told a few people that I’m actually excited about this surgery, more for what it means than the actual procedure.

On Sunday, during worship at church, I was really struck by the lyrics of the worship song “Dance Again” by Life Worship UK. You can listen to it here. The lyrics are:

Praise Him, when your heart is breaking
When your strength is almost gone
Sing out your song and praise Him, in the fire and fury
In the dark night of your soul, your God is in control

Praise Him, for His love and mercy
Praise Him, for His grace and favour
Praise Him, our God is faithful
Praise Him, He is strong and mighty
Praise Him, He is holy, holy
Praise Him, He is always in control
His love has conquered all, His love has conquered all

Your tears will dry, your heart will mend
Your scars will heal and you will dance again
And of His kingdom there will be no end, for Christ our King is coming back again

( by Matthew Hooper, Copyright © 2013 Integrity Worship Music & LIFE Worship)

As I sang those words I thought of the limitations I’ve had since the first surgery: no running, jumping or doing anything that could jostle the bar; no lifting anything over 15 lbs; limited twisting and bending; occasional chest pain when I laugh or breathe deeply; back aches as my posture changed; worry over the bar shifting, etc.

But even as I thought of that, I pictured myself teaching Zumba as I used to. Dancing, feeling alive, thanking God as I often did for giving me the health to dance. And I remembered… I will dance again. My God is faithful. His plans are far better than mine, and his timing perfect.

Looking back over my old posts from my first surgery – they act as a journal of sorts – a few things stood out to me:

• “Hopefully when I look back at this post in a week, two weeks, a month, etc. I will see some real improvements.”  That post was from the end of November and I really have seen improvements… At that point, Sam had to help me lie down, and help me up. I couldn’t use my abs to pull myself up at all, and I was not allowed to “log roll.”  It even hurt to raise my arms above my head and shampoo my hair.  This morning, as I pulled myself out of bed and got ready for work, I remembered how much of an accomplishment that really was.

 

• “Was this even worth it?” A day or two after the surgery, when I was in the worst pain and my thinking was clouded by nausea, I remember moaning this. Months later, even though the bar isn’t out yet, I can see the fruit of that pain and the surgery. If nothing else, God has strengthened my faith through this and built my character. He’s taught me to trust him unconditionally, even in the “dark night of your soul.”  On Sunday, my friend Rhiannon preached and delivered an encouraging and insightful message  on waiting for God, called Watching Paint Dry (you can listen to it here). She mentioned Romans 5:3-4 at one point:
  

  Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance;  perseverance, character; and character, hope. (Romans 5:3-4, NIV)

  I realized as she spoke that hope doesn’t always come first. We must persevere in order to build our character, and that in turn gives us hope. In that painful time after my surgery I couldn’t see how God was going to use all of this – I only felt pain – but God showed me how to hand every day and circumstance over to him and persevere.

 

• Another small thing I mentioned before was noticing the weight of the bar. I said it felt like my cell phone was sitting on my chest. Now, 9 months later, I don’t notice the weight at all. I’m hoping that means I’ll feel light and free once it’s removed. And I’m praying that my lung capacity will improve as well without that pesky bar in the way!

So, I’m about to go to bed. When I wake up, I’ll begin all of the typical pre-op procedures. Please pray for my surgery, my recovery (anesthesia and I don’t get along), and my doctors and nurses. Also please pray for my at-home nurse over the next few days (his name is Sam… and I hear he’s pretty cute). Thank you so much for your prayers – over this whole journey – and I’ll update you again after I’ve recovered.

2 months after surgery

It has been two months since I had surgery to fix my pectus excavatum. The recovery has been many things  – difficult, frustrating, painful, important, necessary, slow, boring, lazy, etc. – depending on the day. But now, two months out, I can look back and really see how far I’ve come since I was laying in the hospital in a post-surgery daze.

Here’s where I’m at now:

– I can drive. Tight corners, mini-roundabouts, and parking are still difficult, as I can’t move the steering wheel quite as quickly as I’m used to. A flat tire I got a few weeks ago is evidence of that. But, I can at least get myself around if I need to. I’m working now on building up the time and distance I can go while driving.

– I am on ZERO pain medication. None. Zippo. No ibuprofen or nuthin’. That, possibly more than anything, shows my progress. My back still aches often, and my abdominal muscles whine from having to support my new-and-improved posture, but it’s all very tolerable.

– Slowly, but surely, I’m picking back up household chores such as emptying the dishwasher, folding laundry, etc. Some things are still difficult, or I can just tell I shouldn’t be doing them yet… I tried to sweep the kitchen floor the other day, figuring I could just lazily drag the broom behind me as I walked, but even that was too much resistance on my chest. Similarly, the other day I had Sam move the laundry down to the laundry area for me so I could try to switch out loads from the washer and dryer. Three loads later, I sat on the couch hugging my heating pad to my chest, aware I had pushed myself too far. I have to remind myself to take it slow. Sam reminds me often too. That’s what I struggle with the most now… I feel fine, so I want to do normal things, but I have to remind myself that I just can’t do everything yet. Thankfully, Sam is an absolute gentleman and does all the chores I cannot without so much as a frown.

– Though I’m not supposed to do any weight-lifting, running, or anything that would put stress on or “jostle” the bar, I have been able to do some cardio… Taking Tobes out on some faster walks, even going to the gym and riding the exercise bike once (without Toby, of course). It’s a tricky balance, getting needed exercise while not overdoing it, but I’m working on it. I keep reminding myself of what the surgeon chided when I asked about what exercises I could do, “You’ll have plenty of time for that once the bar is out.” No need to rush. 

– *Warning**Medical details in this bullet point*  The incision is healing up well and I have almost all feeling back around the incision site. My only concern, which has just come up this week, is that I’ve developed a lovely yellowish-red bruise around my sternum and that my sternum aches just a bit. Two months after the surgery seems like a strange time for that to pop up. It also makes things look different because of the discoloration, so it’s difficult to judge if things are possibly reverting a little or are staying as they should. Please pray with me that everything is as it should be and that I will continue to recover well.

Overall, I’m feeling great. In fact, I’ve had a few people ask me recently, “Oh, how are you feeling??” and it takes me a second to figure out what they’re talking about. (“Why? Do I look extra pale today or something? Bad hair day? OH! The surgery!… got it…”) That’s a good sign, right? 🙂  My grad school started this week and I had no problem sitting at a desk, reading and typing for a few hours a day. My walks with Toby are getting longer, and my errand-running endurance is increasing. Things are going well! Thank you to all of you who have prayed me through this. Please, keep the prayers coming, as I continue to recover and trust God throughout this process. It looks like the bar will be staying in until this summer or fall, so please pray also that I am patient and discerning with what I do. God has already shown me so much throughout these last two months – he’s shown me that with Him I can handle more than I ever thought possible. That I needn’t be strong myself, because I have the constant resource of His strength to use as my own. He’s taught me to be appreciative and present when I’m feeling well, when I’m surrounded by friends and family, but to trust Him and praise Him just the same when I’m suffering and in pain. Those lessons aren’t over, I’m still learning, reminders are often needed, but the times of resting and the many hours I had to think during my recovery have shown me how incredibly blessed I am: to have a God who loves me and provided eternal life at a terrible cost, to have family and friends that surround me (physically and in thought and prayer) and exhort me when I need it most, beautiful creation that surrounds us here as a constant reminder of God’s omnipotence, and new opportunities to glorify God and live for Him. This may be my last “medical” update for a while – I hope I have nothing new to report until the bar comes out – but I hope I have lived (and typed) in a way that gives the glory to God. I could not have done any of this without the hope, strength, and comfort hat I receive from the Holy Spirit. I remember moaning from the hospital bed, “Is this even worth it?” when I was feeling my worst, but even if it wasn’t, I hope I have glorified God and that I continue to do the same throughout this process.

Thank you again for your prayers! Onward to recovery. 🙂

I sneezed.

It happened. Yesterday, while knitting on the couch, I sneezed.

Newsworthy, right?

This wasn’t just any sneeze though… this was my first post-surgery sneeze. The one that I was completely dreading. That I had been warned about. The sneeze that haunted my thoughts. The sneeze that I was sure would feel as if my chest was splitting open and the bar was punching my lungs.

Since my surgery, I’d had several of the “ahh… ahhh… AHHHHH….” noisy inhales that lead to a sneeze, but it was as if my body shut them down before the “CHOOOO” could follow.

“No.”

“You’re not ready for that yet,” my body said.

But then, as mentioned, yesterday it happened. I could feel it coming. I accepted my fate and awaited the painful, agonizing “CHOO!”

And you know what? It wasn’t terrible. Typically my sneezes bring to mind terms like “explosive,” “messy,” or possibly even “equine.”  But his sneeze was soft and gentle, maybe even dainty. It didn’t hurt a bit. It also wasn’t nearly as brain-clearingly satisfying as my pre-surgery ones, but I was completely fine with that. 🙂

All of this is a strange way of saying that I’m feeling a bit better. When I wrote my last update two weeks ago, I was feeling discouraged and extremely uncomfortable. Today, as I type this, I’m sitting up at the table, my back only mildly aching. I’m just taking Ibuprofen instead of the strong painkillers and muscle relaxers I was on back then. Sure, my chest aches a bit. My endurance isn’t great. I am SO tired of sleeping flat on my back. BUT I’ve come a long way. God brought me out of a painful and tough time and I can feel the promise of healing ahead.

God has taught me in the last few weeks that when I’m not focused on myself, I’m not focused on my pain. I’ve been challenged to look at His promises, sacrifices and love. I’ve seen the compassion of friends and family, and I’ve tried to find ways to give back to them. I’ve been blessed with laughter and hope, even in the most painful moments.

I can testify, God is good. ALL THE TIME. Even when we’re blinded by earthly circumstances and can’t see it. He loves us, cares for us, and teaches us to trust him… sometimes through something and silly and simple as a sneeze.

Two Weeks Post-Surgery

Tomorrow will mark two weeks since my surgery. (You can read about the condition/procedure here and the 2 day post-surgery report here.) It has been quite a roller coaster, for lack of a better metaphor. My initial recovery was quite speedy, and I was able to have all the tubes, etc. detached early and leave the hospital sooner than expected, which I was SO thankful for. But I feel like now I’ve hit a bit of a wall. I keep telling myself, “Your surgery was only ___ days ago!” (today 13 fills that blank) but I still hope and pray for a slight improvement in the pain I’m experiencing. At least once a day, while sitting up or standing, it will get to be too much and I think, “I need to lay down. Now.”

I guess when your rib cage is in a specific spot for 26 years and then it gets moved, it doesn’t accept that well. It hurts. I think that’s why my back is aching terribly as well. Things are just not where I’m used to them being, and that’s incredibly uncomfortable. Also, I’m supposed to either lay flat or sit up at a 90 degree angle for the next few weeks, and as someone who’s pre-surgery posture was something like this:

… it’s been uncomfortable. This has been the main difficulty (and literal pain) since the surgery and the one thing that is keeping me from “feeling better.” I’m trying to be thankful and trust God’s timing though. Patience is a difficult thing to learn.

The incision hasn’t been too uncomfortable, just itchy, although parts of it are still numb. According to my family practice doctor, nerves grow back at a rate of 1mm per day, which explains why I can’t feel parts of my chest still. It’s an odd sensation, but one I’m thankful for, as it might be keeping more pain at bay.

One symptom that caught me by surprise is the weight of the bar on my chest. I hadn’t really expected to be able to feel the weight. The bar, I believe, is about 6 inches long, and it is made of steel, but I don’t think it actually weighs much. Nonetheless, I can feel the weight, especially when I lay on my back. It feels as if my cell phone is lying flat on my chest, in fact I’ve reached for it a few times, only to find nothing there. I suppose I’ll get used to it over the 9 months I’ll have the bar in. For now, I just have to keep the kitties off of it as they try to sneak-attack at night.

For the last four days or so, I’ve actually been trying to get up and get dressed. Sam had to help at first, but yesterday I got dressed all by myself and it felt like an accomplishment, even though it hurt a bit. Getting ready at least makes me feel a little more active, even if I am still stuck in the house most of the day. I was beginning to tire of pajamas and this:

It’s amazing how just changing from sweats to jeans and putting on some make-up can help. Oh make-up, that reminds me of one more thing… my right arm is a little weak and shaky still from the surgery. I don’t have my normal muscle strength in that arm – a mug of coffee feels incredibly heavy – and my right thumb feels constantly asleep. My family doctor assured me that’s common and it should improve as I recover. For now, I do my granny arm stretches and hold my coffee in my left hand. Not too terrible to adjust to. Although I am definitely not ambidextrous when it comes to applying make-up. It is veerrryy hard to put on eye make-up with my left hand, so please excuse me if I look like Tammy Faye Bakker for the next few weeks.

My back and ribs are telling me I’ve been sitting up for too long, so I’m going to go lay flat until I can take more pain medicine. Hopefully when I look back at this post in a week, two weeks, a month, etc. I will see some real improvements. Until then, I do ask for your prayers, for both my physical symptoms and that I remain focused on Christ and the joy that comes from Him. Cheers!

Working on Thankfulness

There are days when life seems so full of blessings that it almost seems unreal. The beauty and opportunities that encompass my life make it easy to be thankful. Other days, when family seems farther away than normal, or when pain and sickness are too close for comfort, it is a struggle to focus on thankfulness. Blessings are still present. There are still things to smile about. But they get pushed aside unintentionally as I dwell on what is wrong.

Here in England they obviously don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, so it really has been out of sight and mind. Our town is already fully decked out for the holidays, I have boxes, gifts, and shipping forms littering my kitchen table instead of thanksgiving decor. The main news I hear from the states about the subject is whether or not stores should be open on the actual holiday. Someone at the doctor’s office today told me to have a nice Thanksgiving and it caught me off guard. Oh yeah, Thanksgiving is soon! Thanks and gratitude have not been #1 in my mind. But as I continue into my recovery, however uphill it feels, I’m trying to change my view. I’m asking God to change my view. There is so much to be thankful for and so many positive things to dwell on. Here is a list of sorts.

– I am so thankful for laughter, and how much of it is in my life. Because of my surgery and the steel bar that is now at home in my chest, it hurts to laugh and it will for a while until I get used to it. I’ve pointed out a few times since being home that I never knew how much I really laughed! The first few days post-surgery I would have to tell Sam to stop being so funny because he kept making me laugh. Or the dog or cats would do something silly and crack me up. I said a few times as I tried not to laugh, “Who knew my life was this funny!?” But those little pangs have reminded me of the joy that I am blessed with. In the midst of pain I can still find things to laugh at and I am surrounded by sources of laughter and happiness. That’s something to be thankful for.

– I am thankful for friends and family who make the oceans and miles seem a little smaller. I have been so uplifted by cards, care packages, messages, and prayers. New friends and old friends alike have visited, cheered me on, and encouraged me. I have felt the love of my family even though they are far. I know I’m not alone. 🙂

– I am so thankful for modern medicine and wise, caring medical teams. For too many reasons to list!

– I am thankful that God’s timing is perfect and that I had this procedure done while unemployed and childless. What a blessing it has been to not have to worry about sub plans, getting back to work or asking for more time off. Heck, today is my first time in real clothes (not pajamas) in over a week!

– I am thankful for a husband who is living the promise, “in sickness or in health.” What an incredible caretaker he is. He has cooked, cleaned, vacuumed, washed dishes and clothes, bathed me, helped me change my clothes, organized my medicines, and seen some sights I hope he can forget (ha) … Without one complaint. We were sleeping on the lower guest bed because I can’t get up into our tall four-poster bed and without me asking or even hinting, he switched the two beds (box springs, mattresses AND frames) by himself so I could sleep in our bedroom again. He is incredible. And all the while he continues to make me smile and laugh. He’s the best.

– I am thankful for home and that our new house here feels like home. Sam and I have noted that several times to each other. It’s cozy and comfortable. Welcoming. We can come in and drop our burdens, plop down and relax. This is something I am hugely thankful for in the midst of the newness that comes with an overseas move. Our houses is far from perfect or spotless – the previous renter patched the paint on the walls with the wrong color, the carpet has stains, the windows are thin, etc. – but it’s our haven.

– I am thankful for my furry family (my pets). To those of you who don’t have pets – or to Mrs. Vix who thinks my dog is the ugliest – this might be odd, but they are such a comfort and joy to me! Little, fluffy Peanut Butter is curled up on the bed next to me, Toby is breathing heavily as he snoozes on the floor and Muffins is probably snuggled up with the radiator downstairs. When I came home from the hospital they greeted me at the door. I heard the kitty collars jingle as they ran down the hall towards us, and I immediately smiled. They are a major comforting presence in my life. And, they’re crazy. We have the strangest pets and they make us laugh all the time. The other day Sam asked, “Are the pets just weird or did we make them weird?” Great question. Either way. We love them and are so thankful for them.

– I am thankful for the reason I have hope and joy: Jesus Christ. Titus 3:4-7, “But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that, having been justified by his grace, we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life.”

In hospital

Now that the pain and nausea are somewhat subsiding, I’m beginning to note all of the interesting ins-and-outs of being “in hospital” in the UK. I’ve been here for 5 days now and will probably be here a few more, so I’ve been able to really soak it all in. Now, up until this point, I’ve never really been admitted to a hospital for an extended period of time, so if I point something out as being unique but it happens whenever you go to the hospital, well, that’s okay. 🙂

First of all, I’m staying at a hospital that is specialized for the surgery I had but that also operates on private patients and NHS patients. From what I’ve heard, NHS-only hospitals here can leave a bit to be desired as they’re stripped down a bit, but I can’t say that’s been the case here. I have a private room with a lovely wooded view, a clean bathroom, a desk, high back chair, and a nightstand, in addition to the medical bed (duh). It has cable television (“90 channels of rubbish” as the lady who welcomed us mentioned) and after a few days we finally asked and got the password for the secured wi-fi. Free newspapers (The Daily Telegraph) are brought around daily, and tea/coffee is offered anywhere from 4-6 times a day.

As far as food goes, they bring me a menu daily where I can select my choices for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Each meal has a starter and a dessert. The food isn’t anything to call home about but it’s fine. The nurses and housekeeping staff here are so obliging though… If I don’t eat what is given to me they offer me whatever else they can find to get me full. “Would you like lemonade? Fizzy water? Ice cream? Tea and biscuits?” For one meal I checked the “fresh fruit” box and expected to get the equivalent of a restaurant side dish, but nope, I was brought a banana, an apple, an orange and a pear. With a container of fruit yogurt thrown in for good measure. Not too shabby.

The language difference between my ‘Merican English and their English English hasn’t been too difficult to overcome, but a few things are different or humorous at least. For example, they come every few hours to bring me my “tablets,” (medicine). The nurses had a good chuckle when they came to change my “plasters” and I told them we called those bandages or Band-Aids. Several times I have heard the oh-so-British “Ta!” which is a casual way to say “thanks.” And one of my nurses would say “Oh bless yahh…” whenever I asked for more medicine or complained of anything. Thanks to the drugs I’ve been on, there hasn’t been a lot of… uh… well, bowel activity, but the Brit nurses check by asking if my bowels have “opened.” I may just be immature, but that seems like a really gross way to ask that question. And their British (or British mix with another background) accents make it sound so proper and therefore funnier. I’ve also been called Love, Lovey, Duck, Dear, and a fine young lady on a few occasions by the nurses and doctors too. Ha! I think just about every nurse and doctor has asked me where I’m from in the states, recognizing my accent wasn’t English, but one nurse did say that she knew Sam was American but couldn’t tell by my accent. I considered that a small victory. 🙂

Overall, this hasn’t been what I’d call fun or enjoyable, but I will say it could have been far worse. Every person looking after me has been calm, compassionate, well trained, and generally pleasant. I don’t feel Iike a nuisance by any means. Though it’s been a painful and woozy last few days, I’ve been in great hands and I’ve been able to see evidence of God’s care around me. He has painted a beautiful autumnal scene right outside my window. Sam was able to take off as much work as needed. Toby was taken care off and was out of sight and mind for the last week (and according to the kennel worker, Toby “couldn’t give two shits” about us leaving him there. He made friends easily. Ha!). Nurse after nurse reassured me that my surgeon was really the best one for this procedure, a fact that I had discovered from my own research before. And not once did I pass out or get sick because of having to get a shot or get blood drawn. These things aren’t coincidences. God is at work, not just on the big days or in the important life events, but at all times. I’m so thankful for that!

Post surgery

It has been two full days since my surgery and I’m finally feeling well enough to sit up and type for a bit.

First of all, THANK YOU ALL for your prayers, kind messages, and support. It’s been encouraging and humbling to know so many people are praying for me, my family, and my healing.

The surgery was on Wednesday. The surgeon and anesthetist were both so encouraging and skilled. I’m terrible with needles, so the anesthetist suggested they give me the epidural after I went under, and that really helped. I woke up two hours later in the recovery area surrounded by wonderful nurses. Usually patients don’t spend long in that are area, but I was a special case – the anesthesia made my blood pressure drop very low, at one point to 60/40 – so they wanted to keep me there for further observation. I was quite shaky and queasy for the rest of the day, and I spent most of my time lying down.

Yesterday was rough. I remember lots of moaning, grumbling, and pain. There was some vomit, I’ll spare you the details. It was probably the worst day of my life as far as pain and general helplessness. The doctors were working very hard to figure out the right mix of pain killer and anti-nausea. And my already high level of respect for all members of the medical field was definitely raised. I’m in good hands here.

Today was much better… No vomit, yay! I was able to sit up and eat a little at every meal. I was able to have coffee. The physical therapist made me get up and walk over to the chair in the room to sit for a while. It hurt and I had a difficult time catching my breath, but I’m glad I did it. Later they removed my catheter (it will not be missed) and my epidural (I still had a partial spinal block) so now I can get up and use the restroom with just a little help. It gets easier every time, but I still feel exhausted after.

For now, please pray for:
– my incision and my the drainage tubes, that they continue to heal well
– strength and stability (and nausea control) as I get up and move around
– continued energy and endurance for Sam, who has been doing a wonderful job caring for me
– stillness (literally) as I rest and recover, so I don’t dislodge the bar
– healing of back pain I’ve been having from lying flat or sitting up straight, as I’ll have to do for the next several days

Even though I remember groaning, “Was this even worth it?” a few times yesterday, I am excited for the end results. I’m still hopeful that God will heal the accelerated heart rate, unsteady breathing, and lightheadedness that I had before; I also know the surgery will diminish the pressure that was on my heart. The doctors seemed pleased with the physical appearance of the fix. I know they’re coming from a purely medical point of view, but it does sound a little creepy when three men stand around and discuss the “definite improvement,” of you our chest region and how they’re “pleased with the result.” Ahem, thanks, but can I just go back to pretending you didn’t see any of that??

Once again, thank you thank you thank you for your prayers and please keep remembering me in the weeks after my surgery. The recovery is not over by any means and I cannot do this on my own. I am so thankful for my friends and family, no matter how far away.

Pectus Excavatum

Okay, let’s begin with a quick quiz. Have you ever played WordPower in Reader’s Digest? No?!  … me neither… *ahem* … but I hear this is just like it.

     Pectus excavatum is:

a) a Latin legal term

b) a spell from Harry Potter

c) a chest deformity

I bet Hermione would know the answer… 

The correct answer is c.  And, well, I have it. I’ve always known that my “chest caves in,” as I would usually phrase it, but only recently did I learn the term for it. I never thought much of it, except for the inconvenience involved with all v-neck clothing. But, upon checking into the ER last week with various symptoms, the doctor called for a CT scan. The scan showed that my chest caves in so severely that it is pressing on my heart. In fact, it has pushed my heart further left than it is supposed to be. This picture isn’t me, don’t be fooled, but it’s pretty accurate.

An EKG later showed that my left ventricle is behaving “abnormally” and my heart is definitely “under stress.” Using the CT scan measurements, a severity index known as the Haller Index is used. “Normal” is about 2 or 2.5, while anything above a 3.5 is considered severe. I measured as a 6.25. Always an overachiever. This explains the racing heartbeat while resting or doing simple activities like walking up stairs, and the feeling like I need to pause and take deep breaths. What I thought had been stress related over the summer was actually brought on by this. Now that the doctor brought all of this up, I recall chest aches that lingered for hours after a tough Zumba class or workout, which I just attributed to my lungs overworking or something unimportant.

Once again, not me, but you get the idea.

In some instances, expecto patronum pectus excavatum can be treated with physical therapy or in minimally-invasive ways, but I’ve been told to expect surgery. I’ll be meeting with a cardiologist and a cardiothoracic surgeon in the next few weeks to figure out the plan. Please pray for myself, Sam, and all the doctors involved. Pray for wisdom and discernment for us all, and comfort and peace for Sam and I. If you know me well, you know I’m terrible with all things medical and I tend to work myself up over it.

While it is somewhat disappointing to think that I may have to spend a few months recovering from this while I’m in ENGLAND of all places, I have seen God’s hand at work in all of this. For example, what if these symptoms had escalated while I was teaching full time or when Sam was gone? God protected me through that. I am taking a break from teaching and have the time to recover without the stress of sub planning. Where we lived before, there was no hospital on base and no ER, so medical help would have been more difficult and would have involved many more referrals and phone calls. The base here has a hospital and we are very close to several other highly regarded hospitals and clinics. The surgeon I’m seeing is considered one of the most experienced in the UK. God’s timing is no accident, and I am taking comfort in that.

Once again, I ask that you pray for me and everyone involved, for God’s “peace that passes all understanding.” Also please pray that I may give God the glory in all of this and that I may be a blessing and encouragement to those I come into contact with as I seek treatment. I’ll keep you posted on what’s to come. Thanks for reading!