Day 63 - God sustains

It had been a long day for me. And again, I was in a hospital.


I had never liked the hospital. It always intimidates me. The moment you enter it's vicinity, you'll see gloomy faces, weak frail people, worried-looking family members, grim-faced staff and doctors... all scrruying past, to wherever they are heading. Not a welcoming sight to behold, for sure.


Sometimes, I think hospitals are like battlefields. It is where everyone is fighting. It is where death is nearest. It is where sorrow, fear and tension always hung, like a huge grey cloud above...

And no, I don't like it.

But then again, who does?

It's scary, lying on the cold bed; I know.
It's scary, lying helpless when people prick and prode you with needles and all; I know.
It's scary, sitting on the benches, awaiting medical reports; I know.
It's scary, just wondering what they will do to you next; I know.


But sometimes, life doesn't give you much of a choice, does it? I've known, from when I first went under the knife, at six years old. Tumour in the eye, I was told. Then, I knew what a tumour was at six. Heart murmur, at seven. And all that preceeds--- mitral valve prolapse, ultrasound tests, echocardiograms, electrocardiograms... I remember the cool gel the doctor applied over my chest, and the wand-like thing he ran over my skin. I guess it took a pretty long time for the doctors to come to a diagnosis and treatment plans. A couple of years maybe. For that was how long I had been in and out of hospitals, meeting doctor after doctor.

I remember a doctor mentioning something about a balloon once, angioplasty balloon, to be exact. But at that age, the only balloon I knew was the big colourful ones we used to play with. And for long after that, I had a hard time imagining how a balloon as such could be inserted right up to my heart, through my wrist. But how it was done, I never got to know, for I never got the balloon inserted anyway. Not that I wanted it too.


Truth is, there is nothing much to be done about MVP, it doesn't affect you much, I was told.


Still, illnesses often have a way of reminding you that you are afterall, not completely normal. Such as the large doses of antibiotics you need to take before every dentist visit or surgery. Why mummy would never let you play much sports. Why you could never run as long and fast as the other kids cause you get breathless easily. And why you could never drink coffee for it causes hours of palpitation that could leave your whole chest paralysed...


On top of that all, eczema clung to me, however badly I wanted to shake it off. Anti-histamines, protopic cream... even steroids, I used all through the years. But it kept coming back to me.

And again, all that the doctors say was, there is nothing much to be done about it.


I learnt that when nothing else could do anything to help me, in Him alone, I have my only hope. For everytime my body fails me, I pray to Him, for healing grace. For everytime I recovered, I give thanks to Him, for healing grace. He is the one who is always there for me, to help me live through it all. Never abandoned me as the doctors did. Never abandoned me as I myself did.

He sustains me, all the while.
God sustains me, through it all. :)


With a thankful heart,
Christine