Some days you don't forget

There are some things you never forget.


Two years ago today, by this time (6:30 a.m.), I already been at the hospital for an hour and a half. The first ever surgery of my life was one of the most extensive surgeries a person can have. As my daughter said to my surgeon after hearing what was about to take place, "Well, Mom never does anything halfway!"


Four hours later, the surgeon's report that the operation had gone well was welcome news to my family. But the outcome for my life was still hanging in the pathology report from the pancreatic tumor that had been removed. News from the pathology report would take another week.



The thing I remember is not the time in the hospital. The overwhelming weakness, pain and that barely dulled it--those days are all a blur. My physician sister -- who was my guardian-angel-guide/with-me-every-step-of-the way helper--says the blur is a blessing. The surgeon was right. This was very extensive surgery. But it's not the pain I remember. What I remember most was the peace--a deep, pervasive, profound peace.
You can go to a superb hospital, have a brilliant surgeon, the blessing of medications and the most attentive care in and after the hospital -- I am grateful that I had all those things. But that's not the source of peace. The peace I had went beyond that. And the peace wasn't based on an optimistic outcome. I had a mucinous pancreatic tumor -- the type of tumor that causes pancreatic cancer. The tumor was the size of a grapefruit and we had no idea how long I had had it. Nothing about the prospective prognosis pointed toward peace.

But the peace I felt was, truly, the peace that the world can't give or take away. And as I faced this enormous health challenge, I could honestly tell my children and my congregation and my family that I was fine. Long before the discovery of the tumor, I had placed my life in God's hands. And nothing I was facing changed the peace that comes through faith. That's the part I will never forget.

In all the recovery and the many changes since then, the gift of that peace has remained as continual, constant anchor as well as primary blessed memory...something so extraordinary that you never forget.