So the mid-November follow up appointment after the shot in the head is the appointment that we started planning the hospital visit. We were told that we would be able to get a spot in the treatment during my Christmas break from school, which we thought would end up being perfect for me. One of the things we did not foresee was just how much the hospital visit would take its toll on me. I had hoped to be admitted the week after Christmas, so I would have one week of cushion before school was back in session. Unfortunately, the only opening was two weeks later, the week that school started. This treatment is not something that can be scheduled according to my preferences, so it was either miss some school or wait until the summer. I was in quite a bit of pain daily, so I opted for the time out of school. Since I was already behind from the first semester, I wanted plenty of time to build up my strength after the hospital as well as time to catch up on some schoolwork. See, I was expecting the treatment to considerably lower my pain fairly quickly. I figured that since the medicine went straight into my bloodstream for an entire week, it would take its effect faster than the other treatments I had tried before. So, with these things in mind, I scheduled a month out of school with independent study. I was confident that by the end of that month, I would not only be caught up on school, but be back to a state in which I could go to school nearly every day, ideally for the rest of the school year.
So far I have listed my expectations. One of the things I am constantly learning and relearning is that my expectations will never be exceeded unless they are realistic. I had blind positivity about the hospital treatment. I was not afraid of being in a hospital because I want to work in one one day. I was not afraid of the treatment because... well I don't know why that part did not frighten me. Looking back, I realize that I was not afraid because God told me not to be. I also realize that while my expectations were unrealistic, I was prepared in every other way for the exhaustion that came after the treatment. I had the perfect amount of independent study time, wonderful teachers who basically told me that everything I was behind on from the first semester would be excused, endless prayers from family, friends, acquaintances, friends of friends, and support from my entire family. All in all, I was prepared for the hospital visit. God also came through with the timing of the treatment because, fairly last minute, a spot opened up for me for the week before my scheduled visit. I ended up being admitted for the week before school was back in session, which made all the difference in the world. Some of you may be wondering how merely a week could make a difference when I had a month of independent study. Well, in my school district, the maximum allowed days of independent study is 20 days. I was in the hospital for five days. If I had been admitted the week that school started up, I would have only had fifteen school days to recover from the treatment. So, the week's difference gave me a full month to recover rather than three weeks.
When looking back, I see God's work in all aspects of the treatment. While I was physically and mentally going through the planning, treatment, and recovery, I had a hard time seeing God's hand... All I could see was the pain, exhaustion, anger, disappointment, frustration, and difficulty of the whole ordeal. While I wish I could have realized what God was doing to help me in those moments, I also realize that I am human, God's child, and that He did not need me to see the work He was doing. God does not need us to thank him for what He does for us, just as your parents do not need us to thank them for loving us. I am currently a counselor at my church's Vacation Bible School, and one of the activities has a speaker who refers to God as our "daddy." While I realize that she is using the word "daddy" to make it more understandable for the children, it is also opening my eyes to see how God truly is our Daddy. Not everybody has a good human daddy. Personally, I adore my daddy, because he constantly supports and loves me, just as God does. So why do I not call God my daddy? Only because it never occurred to me before. Now that it has, I urge others to see God as their daddy. Whether you have a wonderful or awful human daddy, you also have the perfect daddy in God. For those of you who do not have a good daddy, God is a daddy that will hold you when you are sad, give you advice on boys, listen to you rant about random things, talk to you daily, etc... our Daddy is always there for us.
I have not read all of The Message (basically a translation of the Bible that tells the same exact stories by changing it from its formal, old fashioned tone to a current, casual tone), but I came across this excerpt that I will share tonight in lieu of a verse from the Bible:
“This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It’s adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike “What’s next, Papa?” God’s Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who he is, and we know who we are: Father and children. And we know we are going to get what’s coming to us—an unbelievable inheritance! We go through exactly what Christ goes through. If we go through the hard times with him, then we’re certainly going to go through the good times with him!” Romans 8:15-17 (The Message)
Love always,
Sierra
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