My rectal area has NEVER hurt this bad. It was so awful that I was screaming on the toilet as I was having diarrhea, I was screaming and crying and hobbling all the way to the tub, and I was screaming and hollering as I finally got in the tub. I was setting up such a wailin’ that I scared Scarlett and Lexi. They ran away from me, and then when I finally made it to the bathtub, I saw them peeking in and heard them asking “you okay, mommy? Your bottom hurts?”
Jeff finally got home from taking Gideon to school and he found me blubbering and slobbering all over myself in the tub. I told him I didn’t think I could handle this for the rest of my life. I told him I just wasn’t strong enough and I didn’t see how God could use this for my good.
On Sunday, we’d heard a message from Romans 8, about God working all things together for our good, in spite of our suffering, in spite of trials, in spite of life being chaotic and stressful. Oftentimes we hand out that verse like candy for trick-or-treaters and it comes across as trite and overused. Our friend, Michael, preached, and he reminded us of that our good is that which encompasses our eternal hope the glory of God through his son, Christ Jesus. He said it a lot better than I remember it….but I was mulling over this message as the stabbing pain subsided enough for me to quit moaning and screaming. At that moment, hope was a blurry shape far off in the distance because I was blinded by pain.
I got an appointment for 3:30, but my rear end throbbed unceasingly from 7:00 in the morning until that night.
My doctor told me I had internal hemorrhoids. When she pulled her gloves on, I knew she was going to have to touch me. I managed not to scream when I got the digit check, but it was still simply awful. When you’re in as much pain as I was, you don’t even want air to touch the area…much less someone’s finger.
I went and picked up my prescription for suppositories and rushed home (after eating some chicken noodle soup, heavy on the broth) to get it in. I haven’t had to use a suppository in YEARS, so I really wasn’t prepared for the violation I was about enact upon myself. It shouldn’t have been that hard, but of course, it was for me. Thought I got it in (again, an agonizing experience), and I stood up to walk away when I felt it slip out. It took me several times before I finally managed, and dude. That was most unpleasant, especially since much of it had melted…
Anyway, this morning rolled around, and I felt great. I swept and mopped the floors, I cooked Jeff an omelet, I even ate a couple bites, and then he left for school.
I began to feel the urge to go, and so I ran to Coco. As I was going, yes, it was hurting, but not nearly like yesterday thanks to modern medicine, I realized something felt different. It almost felt like I needed to push. Now, if you’ve ever had diarrhea, you know you don’t need to push. It RUNS out on its own. I didn’t push because it hurt too much (not completely healed yet) and then I just had to look in the toilet to see what was going on. I was so blown away, I had to take a picture when I was through. I HAD SOLID STOOL!!!! (No, I am not going to post it)
My solid stool is nothing like yours. It’s more like when you almost have diarrhea, but it’s still formed and kind of fat, like dumpling-sized and crescent -shaped.
I was so excited I wanted to jump up and down, but obviously, I couldn’t. Instead, I joyfully hobbled to the tub to take my sitz bath.
Solid poop. Like a whole pot full! I started singing “Poopin’ solid” simply because I was the only one here! I just couldn’t believe it. I started thinking about that message again, about eternal hope. Hope is what keeps us grounded to our faith and to our God when we’re right smack in the middle of a horrible situation. Hope keeps us going even when we don’t think we’re strong enough. Hope is Christ’s gift to us when we’re marooned alone on a remote island with no chance of rescue. Hope sees me through those blurry moments where the only thing sharply in focus is the ravaging swollen veins in my rectum. Hope is moving forward; it’s not looking back or standing still.
As the pain decreased I was able to see hope more clearly, and the joy I felt as I squeezed out yet another mini-me log was indescribable! Let me hear a whoop whoop for those moments your heart is so full you think you’ll burst!
I experienced a moment of clarity, of oneness, and of pure adoration for my Father who loves me and blessed me in the midst of a laborious undertaking. And that, my friends is what I’m supposed to be doing when I’m crying out my eyes to God to intercede and make things right when I’m being tossed like a ship in a sea of angry waves. The hope I have is based in eternity; it’s not rooted in this temporal body that’s half broke and has screwy plumbing.
I may not be able to move it and shake it just yet, but in my head, I’m giving God all the glory and I’m twirling with glee!
Solid gold, friends. This is solid gold.
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