“It’s another lung collapse; in fact, it is the worst one yet. Come with me to look at the scan! I’m not sure who your thoracic physician thinks he is, but he cannot operate on that lung. You will lose part of your lung, your entire lung, or your life!” A pulmonologist

Five years ago this month, these words above were being delivered to me on the floor of Baptist East in Memphis, Tennessee.  Stunned. Alone. Beaten. Terrified. Five years ago, I began what seemed then to be a never-ending or life-taking detour. Spontaneous lung collapses. Five in all. Three hospitalizations. 18 days. First collapse while sitting in the audience of a wedding at our church. Second collapse while readying for a beach trip and a fifteenth birthday celebration for my oldest at the lake. The third just another month after the second one in which I had endured lung surgery. Then two more collapses would follow; yet, my body would begin to hold, just had to endure pleurisy.

My kids often roll their eyes when I share from this vantage point; yet, this time proved to mold me like no other. The Lord Jesus became more precious to me when I was stripped of all props this world has to offer. So as I begin this blog, I want to share a little of my story, not because mine is any more or less important than yours. It is simply mine. It is simply one story in God’s narrative, not to point to me, but rather a God who loves to be in the details. A God who goes before us to prepare the road. A God who never leaves His children, not for one minute. A God who delights to show  mercy when one of His comes to the end of herself.

I vividly remember my first prayer while feeling the first stab of back pain. I pleaded with God to have the minister finish the vows. Panic and fear gripped me while I was sitting in the back left pew halfway down the back of the church. I tapped my husband to explain that there was something deeply wrong. He very kindly tapped my leg and said, “Just take a deep breath.”  I responded, “I can’t! That’s the problem.” I desperately wanted to exit the enormous sanctuary; yet, I realized I might collapse just standing up. Making it through the wedding was a miracle in itself; and in typical fashion, my dear husband told everyone that we would see them at the reception. That would not happen. Urgent Care.  Then after he realized it was closed, he raced to Baptist East. His emergency room training at the University of Alabama-Birmingham sped into overdrive! He said, “I think your lung has collapsed.” I glanced down at the speedometer; we were going 80 mph.

When one walks into an emergency room and complains of stabbing back pain as well as chest pain, be assured, she goes to the front of the line. Blood work. X-rays. Lost blood work. Then, around 2 am, the physician on call decided to have the X-ray read by a radiologist. This time, the ER doctor rushed to my room; and he said, ” I am so sorry. I missed it. I must send you straight to ICU. You have a collapsed lung! I cannot believe I missed it.” To which I kindly replied, “Look, I am fine. I have been saturated with oxygen the whole time. It’s really ok. I’m just thankful that you caught it; or I may have been at the lake tomorrow.”

My aching and sleep deprived body was delivered to the step down ICU where after a few hours of sleep, the pulmonary team hastily inserted a chest tube while I watched and grimaced. A knife wound to the chest wide awake was a surreal experience to say the least.  In lung collapses, the treatment the first time is simply inserting a chest tube. Often that procedure alone works. Once you have a history of spontaneous lung collapses or pneumothoraces, the next time the collapse occurs, lung surgery is usually indicated. It’s pleurodesis, the roughening of the lining of the lung and the insertion of talc powder to cause adhesions to form in order to force the lung to attach to the chest wall.

Five days in step down ICU connected to a wall to support life. One month later a similar set of pains that led me back. This time lung surgery. Two large chest tubes. IV crashes for 2-3 hours after surgery, my only hope for pain relief. Then, drug interactions at 4am.  Five more days in stepdown ICU, and five more days attached to the wall. A month later, another collapse, as the boys started back to school. This time, I had no reserve. I pleaded with God as I crawled back on that hospital bed, “PLEASE LORD, I UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU ARE TEACHING ME. I SEE YOU WANT NOTHING MORE FOR ME THAN TO SEE THAT I AM LOVED BY YOU, THAT YOU WILL NOT LEAVE ME, AND THAT YOU WILL PROVIDE. I CAN DO NOTHING ON MY OWN.” By this time, there were no answers for these very bizarre occurrences.  I even had someone at church wonder if these calamities were plaguing me for some unconfessed sin.

I HAD TO COME TO THE END OF MYSELF. Some of us must learn this truth the hard way. I can still smell the sterile surroundings and feel the pain, both physical and mental.   The teams met in our room: the pulmonologists and the thoracic surgeons. There was no hesitation in voicing that they had no idea what to do.  And… I was attached to the wall. I could not even go out for a fresh bit of air or stroll down the hall. Bruised. Battered. Exhausted. I wanted and pleaded for God to take me; I could not handle the pain anymore. Apparently, lung pain ranks fairly high in terms of intensity; and I simply could not fathom any more.

A thoracotomy was scheduled to attempt to correct my right lung; however, the comments above became the topic of conversation.“It’s another lung collapse; in fact, it is the worst one yet. Come with me to look at the scan! I’m not sure who your pulmonary physician thinks he is, but he cannot operate on that. You will lose part of your lung, your entire lung, or your life!”  I was scheduled for the 6 am surgery; but praise God, another thoracic surgeon friend showed up at the hospital to plead with them to try suction again. After 4-5 days on wet suction, I was disconnected, and the lung collapsed yet again. Then five more days on dry suction. It finally stayed up!

Then, I was forced to learn just how to LIVE again in TRUST. To trust my Father had me. To trust my lung would stay up. To depend on the church body as never before. To learn the pain would not kill me. To let go and surrender to what God was doing in my life. I was the mom who never wanted to ask for help, nor did I. I had everything under the guise of control. 18 days in the hospital over a 3 month period can take a toll on any family with young kids. My church body, my friends, and the boys’ schools stepped up to the plate as never before; and what a blessing each person was to my family and me.

Sharing this story has forced me to honor the difficult time in my narrative; but much more importantly, the story shouts into the character of our God who goes before us. He prepares the way long before the road gets bumpy and hard to navigate!

So, what did I learn from the pain? As our former minister often would say from the pulpit on his final point, “So, what?” So, the following is a short list of what I learned in suffering and pain:

1. His provision is always good and always on time. If my youngest had not had an appendectomy years earlier by another church member friend and pediatric surgeon…. If I had not called my dear friend and minister on the last hospital visit and had asked him for prayers….If this pediatric surgeon had not been at church on that Wednesday night and heard the prayer petitions….If this pediatric surgeon had not immediately come to my hospital bed to inquire about my medical history…..He was the first to mention  and help diagnose my condition as catamenial pneumothoraces.   God delivered the data just in time! IF the dad of one of my youngest’s best friends had not trained under my particular surgeon…..IF this cardiac and thoracic surgeon had not shown up that night to plead with them to try suction again rather than more extensive surgery…..There’s so much  more from the nursing staff down to countless others.  I won’t bore you with more details; you get the picture. We have a big God Who will go to great lengths to provide well for His children. Often the provision is delivered in a different package than we expected, but that’s good too.

2. His heart is always kind, loving, trusting, and present. WOW! I truly have never in my entire life been so inundated with love and acts of kindness. My husband did not miss a single night staying with me in the hospital. Not one. Friends had rotations to stay with me in the hospital so I was never alone. Friends organized and ran my carpools with my kids. Friends provided countless numbers of meals (60+). Friends sent cards, texts, Facebook notes, and they prayed. Friends came to visit. Friends totally came to my rescue. You see, due to my particular family background, I had never experienced this kind of love and support. God had orchestrated in the details a real life rescue, one in which I never would have fathomed or one in which i would never forget.  My parents never came; but they were dealing with the early stages of Alzheimer’s for my father. Hunter’s siblings, especially his mother and his sister, came to our rescue on the home front.

3. His grace is indeed sufficient in our weaknesses. The fear endured in the waiting room…..The fear after two collapses and visiting the ER early one morning…. The fear when you are lying on a gurney waiting for lung surgery…. The fear when no one has answers…. The fear when you just run out of your own ability to cope…..The fear of death…. The fear of pain and seven rounds of pleurisy…..MY weakness became evident! FEAR was playing around in my heart and head; but it was in THAT PARTICULAR PLACE, that God came near. I pleaded with God to take the circumstances away, the physical, and even the emotional. BUT HE SAID, “DO NOT FEAR. DO NOT FEAR. DO NOT FEAR, I HAVE CALLED YOU BY NAME; YOU ARE MINE. MY GRACE IS SUFFICIENT FOR YOU!”

There’s so much more to the story but in God’s narrative, it’s a blip on His screen. He so often allows suffering so that our gaze must glance in His direction, so that our own abilities do not sustain us, and so that His rescue is without question. I am much like you in that I would rather take a pass in this line; yet, the beauty which is brought to fruition can only be achieved through adversity.

What, right now, is on your plate which is bearing down on you with a crushing weight that you can hardly take a gasp of air? A wayward child? A dream unfulfilled? A poor prognosis? A tough business deal? A deep betrayal? A huge disappointment? A severed relationship? A busy life?

Run to His Welcoming Heart! Rest in His Mighty Embrace! Lean into His rescue for you, my friend! He longs for you to show up in your story, His story!