I was convinced that everyone could hear them. You know, the butterflies the size of airplanes that buzzed around in my stomach. I sat there in my stylish paper gown (I promise you in another life if I was a paper gown designer…) feeling a cool breeze that my husband did not feel in his armour of clothing. They poked and prodded me checking to make sure that I was indeed human and finally nodded their head in consent—the surgery was to go forward.
Hard to believe that, not two days ago I was sitting nervously in the surgeon’s office. This would be the first time meeting my prospective surgeon in the hopes of going to surgery in the next month or so. When we met her she looked like a cat who had swallowed a canary and I could feel my heart thumping in my chest. She could remove the cancer in my breast as early as a week from now, but…if I was willing to go with another doctor than I could go for surgery in two days. My heart leapt, she left my husband and I alone to think it over.
“I’m not ready,” I said sitting on his lap crying.
“Will you ever be ready?” he asked kindly.
I shook my head still sulking a little like a petulant child.
“God certainly has his hand in all this,” he said with a slight tremor in his voice.
And so here I was on the cold steel slab. The lights burned my eyes as I pretended that this was the most normal thing that I had ever done. I couldn’t help but start sobbing as I sank into a deep sleep. When I awoke I could barely keep my eyes open but my husband was excited and was repeating the same phrase over and over to me.
“They believe they got it all, love,” he smiled his crooked smile of his.
And as I sank back into sleep I felt God’s blessing and comfort like I’d never felt before. I knew no matter what came in the future I was in His hands. And that made it the best day ever.