Well, maybe just one organ. My appendix to be exact.
I gotta be honest— I never thought I’d lose an organ in another country. And I also never thought it’d be as emotionally taxing as it has been. Physically taxing, yes. But after the Gallbladder Saga of 2016-17 I never pictured that anything related to sickness would emotionally hit me as hard.
But here we are, in Myanmar, living on soup, bread, and water, bedridden for the foreseeable future. (Yes, I am being melodramatic in both comma usage and tone. I’m milking this for all it’s worth!)
I posted the story on Facebook, but to recap—
This past Sunday I was in the city of Yangon, Myanmar (Burma) with my teammates. One teammate, Hannah, needed to go to the clinic due to an ongoing sickness, and Adriana was tagging along. I was also debating on going in because I’d been having some stomach pain, so I invited myself to the clinic party just in case. My debate was due to the fact that I’d only been hurting for about 24 hours, and I’m a hardcore rule follower. World Race rules state to go to a clinic after 48+ hours of sickness, and I’d only been feeling sick for 24 (This rule is CLEARLY not to cause harm, but simply trying to honor our health insurance.).
Anyway I tagged along. When we got to the clinic I felt fine, so I didn’t go in. The three of us then went to lunch to chat and enjoy our last bit of city time before returning to our last week of rural Burmese village life.
To speed this up, my stomach started hurting again, so we weighed the pros and cons of going to the city clinic rather than waiting 48 hours and needing the village clinic. The city won out.
The doctor told me he wanted an ultrasound of my abdomen, and I thought this was simply precautionary since only about a year ago I had surgery to remove my gallbladder. So we jogged across Yangon to another hospital for an ultrasound, jogged back to give the doctor my results, dodging buses and taxis that don’t stop for pedestrians. Little did they (and we) know my appendix was inflamed!
The doc looked at my results and told me to go to a hospital for an emergency appendectomy. So Adriana and I hailed a taxi to the nearest surgical hospital, which was about an hour away.
Sidebar, Hannah and Dre (and later Chloe and Michelle) are probably the only reasons I remained calm throughout. They joked that these would be the memories we’d fondly look back on, remembering the day we hospital-hopped in Yangon.
Two hours later I was being wheeled into surgery. Turns out my appendix was severely obstructed and inflamed, so the surgeon was clearly glad it was removed before rupturing. I was awake for the surgery, which was actually kind of fun, and I got him to take a picture of it for me.
Post-op life wasn’t bad for a bit. I watched a lot (A LOT) of movies, read, and FaceTimed people back home. Physically I was exhausted, but that I expected. Day 2 though my spirit started getting restless. I felt homesick, though I could talk to my mom whenever I wanted (she was up worried about me at all hours, sweet girl). I felt lonely, though I had someone with me at all times, and not just after hitting the emergency call button.
For the first time in a long time I felt myself deeply craving relationship with God. Now, I realize that sounds weird. After all, I’m on a mission trip. But wanting a deeper relationship and craving it are two separate emotions to me. One seems to come from the heart and one from the gut.
Small tangent regarding this from Deuteronomy class (@DrCamp!!!). So in Deuteronomy 6:5 we find an important part of the Torah, often read, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your strength.”
But apparently this important verse is difficult to translate from Hebrew to English. Not only is the grammar difficult, but the ending word “meod” often translated “strength” in English, isn’t fully conveyed in a different language. (Caveat, I copied and pasted from an online interlinear Bible, so I really hope it doesn’t say some ancient Hebrew expletive. Possible apologies.)
It’s supposedly hard to translate because we don’t have an English word that embodies its magnitude. It’s a word that simultaneously means your might, your gut, your force, your muchness, your…literal everything.
So, I can say that post-op life left my meod deeply craving, yearning for something more. Surpassing desire, it was a deep and “muchly” aching for something outside of myself, that which we name “God.”
I started reading 2 Corinthians, because it seemed everything everyone read from the Bible the last couple months has been from that book. And I clearly had the time.
In the last few years I’ve become one to read commentaries and historical backgrounds for books (both biblical and otherwise) before actually reading them, looking up every verse to try and decipher the original meaning before applying it to myself. But this time was different; I simply read and reread section 1:3-11 without really questioning anything. The title for this section in my bible reads “God Offers Comfort to All.” And I think right now, regardless of commentaries or whatnot, I can blindly / however ignorantly get behind that idea!
Go read it; it’s quite good. It’s all about a purpose for pain, the purpose being to receive comfort from Jesus and then spread comfort to the world. Which is pretty much my life’s mission (Can I get an amen, @ApostlePaul??). Paul and Timothy receive comfort and safety amongst suffering via prayers (1:11) so they can then give the same comfort and safety to others.
I don’t know why exactly, but this gave me a great spiritual peace. I was/am confident that people prayed for me during and after surgery, and I was/am confident that God will answer those prayers with comfort. Comfort because of, not in spite of, my homesickness and loneliness. Comfort because of, not in spite of, that empty feeling when I’m learning to crave God with my “meod“.
So. This concludes my thoughts/revelations since losing a non-vital piece of my body.
Now I could end with something cheesy like, “lost my appendix, gained new perspective.” Or cliche like, “everything is great when you follow God, even when you lose a couple organs for it.” Both are true; neither make good endings.
So I guess I’ll end with this:
I feel blessed to be able to write with confidence, “…we stopped relying on ourselves and learned to rely only on God, who raises the dead. He rescued us from danger, and he will rescue us again. We have placed our confidence in him, and he will continue to rescue us…many will give thanks because God has graciously answered so many prayers for safety.” (1 Corinthians 1:9-11)
And “may God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ give you grace and peace.”
