First Touch

I couldn’t stop thinking about what sleeping was going to be like now that I am bandage-less and bra-less. As I stood in front of the bathroom mirror for my nighttime routine, I glanced in the mirror. The slightly inflamed top corner of the surgical site jumped out at me, exposed from under my button-front pajama top. I audibly gasped at the unexpected sight. Tears flowed once again. Staring at me was the truth that this is my body now, for the rest of my life. There’s no running away from it.

I cried as I brushed my teeth, choking back sobs. I cried as I sloshed mouthwash and spit it out. I cried as I pulled the covers down, and as I crawled into bed. I cried out to Jesus, to God, “I need your help. I can’t do this on my own.”

Thoughts of how God’s heart was sorrowful at the sight of my predicament seemed like the release of a time-released capsule that gave me comfort. It occurred to me how hard it was to use words to pray through this, but my groans of despair reach the throne of grace. “The Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.” (Romans 8:26) The promises are true, I’m not alone. The Holy Spirit is with me making sure my pitiful attempts to cry out to God reach God’s ears and express exactly what I am at a loss for words.

This morning I woke up thinking about taking a shower. There was no bandaging to remove, just turn on the hot water and step in. It was true that the transplanted skin on my chest would need Aquaphor before getting dressed. It was also true that Caroline would not be up that early. I would have no choice but apply the Aquaphor myself.  

That’s exactly what I did. God gave me the courage to explore what is left from the surgeons’ radical procedure that saved my life. Courage to look. Courage to touch. Courage to massage Aquaphor onto the transplanted skin. Clearly answered prayer.

These warm days tease—spring weather is fast approaching. I long to go for walks. Build up my stamina and strength again. Yet it’s not time yet. The flesh wounds are still healing. All in good time. I’m making progress every day and so thankful.