...with endurance and calm...

Once again, the eve of another medical procedure. Tomorrow afternoon, I will go to the hospital and they will insert electric leads into my epidural space of my spine. The wires will come out of my body, and a battery pack and stimulator will be attached to the wires. The stimulator will send electric currents through the wires into my spine, which will keep the nerves from firing pain signals to my brain. One of my classes got it out of me why I was going to be gone a big chunk of the week, and one of the kids said "...Does this mean you are going to be a robot?" To which I replied, "Yes, yes I am." Unfortunately, while this is in, I cannot shower (showering with electrodes going into your body is probably not a good idea, unless you are going for an Albert Einstein hairdo). So, I will be a stinky robot. I understand if no one comes to visit me in the next week.

I am extremely anxious to see what this new procedure will bring. Will it help? Will it be another failure? Will it help enough to warrant another major surgery? Is it going to suck a lot to recovery from a huge needle going into my spine tomorrow? (I will be asleep, but not totally under anesthesia).

Through all these questions, I felt a huge sense of peace about this procedure. I had even felt very at peace with the probability of another surgery to have this done. Back in July, I was told I would need another disc/spine surgery, and I was NOT at peace with that. I knew that was not the right choice for me. But all through this exploration of SCS, I felt very at peace.

Until this morning!

I have joined a couple facebook groups recently that have people that deal with chronic pain, especially back pain. I joined a new group this week and asked about SCS. The responses people gave were horrifying. Stories of allergies to the metal, infection, trauma during surgery, not being able to get it out if it stops working, surgeons messing up... whew! I was very very scared this morning. Something I had felt at peace about all month.

I went to church still a bit scared about it all. Then, the sermon was on fear during the times where we are lost, when we are looking at a multitude of paths that go many different ways, and when we journey to places that create these intense fears. The scripture was from Isaiah 43:1-5:

When you face stormy seas, I will be there with you with endurance and calm; you will not be engulfed in raging rivers. If it seems like you're walking through fire with flames licking at your limbs, keep going, you won't be burned. Because I, the Eternal One, am your God. So don't be afraid. I am here. -THE VOICE translation-

I was in tears listening to the pastor's story of being lost on a mountain. I felt very lost on top of a mountain this morning. Not sure what to expect, so scared that I would have a horror story like some of the people I spoke with this morning. Something I had felt so at peace about, so hopeful about, was suddenly wrecking my body with intense fears. But in reading this verse, I could feel God whispering in my ear, "My child. Remember, I am here? You are not alone. I am walking beside you."

The pastor also reminded us that as a community of faith, we are walking together with others. There may not be things that people can DO to fix it, but knowing that I have friends who are walking beside me during this time, is another reminder that I am not doing this alone. What an amazing support system I have, and I am very thankful for that.

I have no idea what tomorrow and the next week will hold during this trial. It could be great, it could be bad. It could dash hopes of another failed attempt to get pain and nerve damage symptoms under control. It could make me cry with happiness of not feeling intense pain anymore. I don't know. I really liked how the pastor ended his sermon today, saying that we may not make our way back to what was. But with the help of God and our support communities, we will find a new place of stability and peace together. I don't know what this new place of stability and peace is, and I may not find hope of it this week. But I am very thankful that God is continuing to whisper in my ear,

"You don't need anything Sarah, for I am your Good Shepherd, I will provide for your needs. I will let you catch your breath, even in the valley of death, for Sarah, I am all you need." Psalm 23 paraphrased by J.J. Heller and personalized for me