We were on Cloud 9 after we made it to Day 5 and saw the heart in the bulb of my drain. We drew great comfort from that and ANY sign that encouraged us that I was going to improve, go home, and be "Penny" again. BUT there was still one major hurdle to jump. There was still a questionable pocket of fluid in my lower abdomen.
This pocket of fluid previously had a drain in it that was inserted outside of surgery by an Interventional Radiologist. They took me to CT and inserted the drain by taking pictures, inserting and using the CT scan to assist to ensure it was placed properly. I was scared, but in the end it didn't hurt that much to put IN. Now, pulling it out was another story. I did not want another drain placed there because it would have been the same method and the removal was a bear. Quick, but a high-pitched scream kind of a moment. It also meant going home....but with a drain. I just wanted to go home with as few attachments as possible.
My surgeon ordered a CT scan of the area where the pocket had recently been seen. It had been there all along, in all the CTs and didn't disappear even after the drain had stopped draining. It was very stubborn. He said if it was the same size or smaller, then we wouldn't worry about it. As you can imagine, I didn't want it there AT ALL. Even if it was smaller, it was still a potential breeding ground for infection that I had had plenty of. I wanted it GONE! So, we began to pray. We spread the word, yet again, to pray for this pocket to vanish, disappear, be GONE! Please, please, Lord, I begged! Please let this be gone. I was so fearful of going home with anything remotely close to having potential for infection. I always went back to the fact that I was "near death septic" and I was walking, driving my kids, feeling tired, but OK and I had no idea how sick I really was. I didn't trust myself to know the warning signs if things went bad at home.
A dear friend of my mom and dad wrote a prayer to me and included "Rapha Father". I know there are multiple names for God and each has a different meaning. This is certainly something I want to dig deeper into now, but at the time, we learned that "Rapha" meant healing. I held onto this and regularly prayed for Rapha Father to heal me.
When it came time for the moment, the "big" CT, I was scared. I have had so many procedures and even surgeries in my life and never truly felt fear like this. I didn't want to be in the hospital any longer, I was worried about my boys, I was tired of being sick and fighting for my life. I was just tired. I was transported back down to my very familiar CT room for the scan. Of course, by now, I knew all the techs in the department and they all greeted me. "You STILL here?" one of them said. I scooted over to the scanner and tears just streamed down my face. Yes...I was still there. STILL. All I could do was say, "Rapha!" and then I just started naming all the names for God that I could think of, "Emmanuel, El Shaddai, Elohim, Jesus, Father, God..." And for the next fifteen minutes I was moved in and out of the scanner and I just kept repeating the names of my Father in Heaven. I just closed my eyes and whispered over and over again. Amazingly, just saying those names, I stopped crying and found a great peace over my entire body. "Heal me. Rapha Father. Heal me."
With previous CT's, as I left, I looked over my shoulder in the computer room to see what was on their screen. I could always see multiple white balls (abscesses) scattered all over my abdominal cavity. I didn't allow myself to look this time for fear I would see an old scan or see something that was really nothing. I kept my eyes straight forward as I was wheeled back out the door and to my room and continued to pray that my CT scan was clear.
Later that afternoon, my Infectious Disease doctor rounded thru my room. We loved him. He was very amiable and joked with my kids when they were there. He loved me and took great care of me. He was as important as the surgeon as he was in charge of the antibiotics and killing all the infection we couldn't see with our eyes. When he came in he started to talk then stopped. He said, "Has anyone told you about your CT yet?" My Dad was with me and we both blurted, "NO!" We had no idea it was back and the surgeon hadn't been by yet. "Please tell us!" I hung on every word he said. For a moment and the way he asked that, I thought it was time to make a plan for re-insertion of the drain. But in his next breath, he said, "It's gone. The scan looks great." I just stared at him for what seemed like forever as he went on talking and I interrupted. "You are telling me that the pocket we are worried about has completely vanished? It's no longer there?" And he said, "Yes!" And believe it or not, I cried. And I looked at my Dad and he was crying....another non-surprise. We cried A LOT! Tears of joy for my healing and tears in awe that our prayers were answered and tears that we had no doubt that we had just witnessed a miracle. It wasn't the same size or smaller...the pocket had VANISHED!
Praise GOD! Rapha Father, healing Father, Elohim, El Shaddai, JESUS!
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