I&D

During one of our visits to Thorsten, we found out that a doctor lives across the street from us in our new house (ain’t that lucky). When I first started feeling sick, that’s who I went to go see last Sunday. He gave me some meds, ordered me to rest, and then said that he would do perform an I and D on my abscess in a week. I&D being incision and drain, cut me open and push all the crud out of my abscess. Ew. Come Wednesday though, the thing hurts like flaming Hades and looks like its ready to pop right open so Megan helps me across the street to get the doctor. He comes out and takes a look at the beast and says, “Ok, I’ll do it later.” And I’m like WHAT? Because I think he means later as in, its not ready yet... try again later in the week. But he reassures me that he means today and says he’ll get his tools and slicers and such ready and be over in a little bit. So we turn around to go home. I plop down on our bed and wait.

A little less than an hour later, he comes to the gate. And can I just take this opportunity to say what an amazing guy I think Doctor Frantz is? He is Haitian but speaks wonderful English, works in a clinic in a neighboring town, he’s funny, and he is darn good looking. What a guy! (He still checks up on me almost daily) I really couldn’t have picked out a better doctor to cut on me here if I had to. So anyway, I ask where he wants me to sit or whatever and he says the bed is fine. I lay down. I’m starting to feel very nervous. This thing HURTS and I can’t imagine cutting on it will make my sensory experiences more pleasant. Doctor F asks me if I’m ready, and I think, “aw what the heck,” and give a somewhat enthusiastic Yes…!

I didn’t want to make this too big of an affair, but I guess it just wouldn’t be my style if it didn’t turn out that way. So Megan has decided to be the junior doctor is running around the room excitedly scrubbing up and gathering supplies. At first I said no pictures, but then decided maybe pictures would be kinda cool, so DJ comes in with her super fancy camera to capture the memories. She stands next to me and I wrap my hand firmly around her thigh so I have something to squeeze on. Someone turns on the ipod speaker to some soothing Norah Jones. So we’re all in position, and here we GO.

I wrote the first sentence and then deleted it because I realized this is really graphic. I’m not sure if yall really want to hear all the nitty gritty details. So the short of it anyway is that I get jabbed on with at least 4 needles and then get my abscess cut open, as promised, and all the goods come out just like a piñata. All the while I’m trying not to scream because it is probably the most intense pain I have ever felt in my life. I don’t actually cry like making sobbing noises (except for one time...) or anything but tears involuntarily shoot out of my eyes and run down into my ears. At some point, Megan yells, “What’s your favorite song!?!” As calmly as I can, reply, “My favorite song is Electric Feel by MGMT.” And she promptly runs to the ipod speaker and begins blasting Electric Feel. Its really weird, I’m not sure whether I’m at some super fun party or if I’m actually getting operated on in my bedroom in Haiti.

Eventually, after I really don’t know how long, its over. He wraps me up and I lay there for a minute before sitting up to survey the damage. Its pretty gross, so I’ll spare you those details on this part too. My adrenaline is pumping hard so I’m feeling really cool at this point thinking about how tough and bad-a its going to be to tell the story of my 3^rd world operation. I thank the good and wonderful doctor profusely; he really did a remarkable job on everything.

After he leaves, I lay back down and let things die down. I notice that my right leg is hurting worse than the left, which just got cut on. This strikes me as odd, and ominous. Megan comes to have a look at it and squeezes on it to get some of the juice out which hurts like MAD. She finishes up and the pain is overwhelming. My adrenaline is gone; I don’t feel cool anymore, just exhausted. And on the verge of tears. They sneak up on me really quick and just start rolling out of my eyes. I wimper at Megan that I just want to be alone for a little while, so she turns up the music and leaves the room.

And I bawl like a baby. I cry for how much I’m hurting, for how traumatizing the last hour has been, I cry for how miserable I’ve been the past week, and for how alone I’ve felt sometimes being in this far away, strange place with all the familiar comforts stripped away.

I hardly ever cry. Its like I'm outside of myself watching me cry and wondering what is this thing this girl is doing. I think the sound of my sobbing is the strangest thing. Its such a weird and foreign noise to me, so pathetic and sad sounding. I struggle to remember the last time I REALLY cried like this, a good bone-shaking cry that wells up from some unknown place deep inside. (I conclude that had to have been when I broke up with my first boyfriend). I let it ALL out right there, and its liberating in so many ways.

Its in these moments where you come to the end of yourself that you can see the truth most clearly, that God is there, sustaining and providing for you moment by moment. I felt him holding me in the palm of his hand.

A little while later, Megan comes back and takes me to the beauty parlor (aka our bathroom) and washes my hair for me. Then she makes me some delicious mashed potatoes and I go to sleep, so tired from the day. I’m very thankful to have to her take time out of the busyness to be my nurse.

(Sorry Mom & Grandma etc. if that traumatized you. You’ll be happy to know that I’m doing MUCH better now and am totally on the mend. I had a really great post-op vacation… stay tuned.) Oh and I really need to get a present for the doc because he still hasn't charged me a dime for anything. Let me know if you have suggestions!!