It was 2am when Scott woke me up and said we needed to go to the hospital. The pain was too intense and he couldn’t sleep, and we both knew we couldn’t just wait this one out. We called the only friend we knew over and over until we woke her to borrow her car, then tucked our sleeping kids in the backseat, and were off. With less than two weeks’ time living in South Africa, we raced to the nearest hospital we could find for an adventure we never could have planned for.
That was one month ago today, and as I reflect back on the past month and all it’s held, I get stuck knowing even where to begin. It’s hard to articulate the right words from this excruciating and beautiful month that has so deeply strengthened and encouraged my faith. It’s been a journey of some of the most intense hard I’ve ever walked through, mixed with some of the clearest and most tangible ways I’ve felt God at work in my life. And for that reason, I’m grateful for it all.
When we arrived at that hospital in those dark morning hours, we didn’t know what we were in for. What we thought could be appendicitis (and tested positive for in the ER) turned out to be something else entirely. The week that followed was slow, and painful, as Scott waited in a hospital bed for answers no one was giving. Every day we sat together, hoping for one more piece of the puzzle, not really getting a glimpse of the full picture of this medical emergency until now, weeks later.
Through multiple tests, and multiple doctors, we learned Scott had a tumor that had formed on the mesentery lining of his small intestine. And due to scar tissue that had developed, the tumor was actually pinching his small intestine closed, causing a tremendous amount of pain. Scott’s doctor then prescribed a treatment to wait it out until it healed on its own and all the pain had gone away, then come back in a couple weeks to see if he needed surgery. For days, Scott laid in the hospital room (that he shared with four others), in absolute pain, without any treatment except for the pain medication the nurses didn’t always remember to give. We consulted the doctor about our plans to travel abroad for another four months, and if it would be possible to perform the surgery right away. But he estimated this type of invasive surgery would cost up to $16,000 up front, out of pocket, and would likely be best done when we arrived back in the United States. So at that point, all we could do was desperately pray for healing.
When we left for the hospital in the middle of the night, all we had with us were the clothes on our backs, a bag of bananas and a few card games. Port Elizabeth was a brand new city for us (about 100km from our home in Alexandria), where we had nothing and knew no one. Thankfully, there was a mall across the street where we could buy Legos, coloring books and toothbrushes, but after three long days at the hospital, it was wearing on all of us. Jonah and Teagan did so well day after day, but the hospital is just no place for a high energy five and seven year old for 10 hours a day. We were blessed each morning and every afternoon by the sweet friends we made at the little café on the first floor, but when a teacher from Alexandria offered to give us a ride home that Thursday afternoon, we accepted – hoping we’d be back to pick up Dad in a day or two once he was fully recovered. Then Friday morning Scott got a new doctor, and everything changed.
If I can credit all of the prayers we received during that first week in the hospital to something, it was that his first doctor left on holiday for the following ten days (which we suspect might have something to do with his unwillingness to do any procedures right away). I got a call from Scott that Friday morning, telling me his new doctor had reviewed his charts and wanted to perform surgery immediately. He argued against the other doctor’s opinion to wait, because even if the pain went away, the tumor would remain, and without removing it there was no way to be sure what exactly was growing inside Scott’s abdomen. We both agreed this was what Scott needed, but then came a new struggle. Would we be able to afford the surgery in South Africa? Or would we immediately be getting on a plane flying back to Nebraska? After an already exhausting week, this was the news that broke me.
While the kids played with their classmates at school, I took a walk to a nearby field, and let it all out. I cried all the tears I was holding back, and felt all that strength I tried to have come crumbling down. We didn’t want to leave. But we didn’t know how to stay. This was something we never saw coming, and with my best friend in a hospital bed that felt a million miles away, I didn’t know what to do. And I knew in that moment, without God stepping in in some big, tangible ways, we were done. I just needed help.
That Friday felt like a turning point. Not that everything was easy from then on, but I earnestly knew it was out of our control. Where we stayed, how we got there, how we could possibly pay for it all, I didn’t have the answers for any of it. We didn’t know if this was the end of our medical treatments or the first of many. & we didn’t know why it was all happening on the other side of the world away from our family and friends and entire support system. But I knew that although we were completely caught off guard, God wasn’t surprised by any of it. & when I asked for help, he answered. Starting with a washing machine and a new friend.
Saturday was its own whirlwind of emotions, waiting on all the financial confirmations to come through before the doctor could perform surgery. The good news was that the final bill was astronomically less than the first doctor had estimated – and so the surgery could be done right where we were at in Greenacres hospital. But the hard was that it needed to be paid immediately before any operation could be done, and with a bank transfer pending from our savings account, none of the funds were available for withdrawal. As time was running out, I got ahold of a financial representative (which is hard to do when everyone takes the weekend off). I pleaded our case with her, and in the final hour, we got the okay to have surgery performed that day.
The kids and I arrived back at the hospital that afternoon, and we held our breath and prayed together that the doctor had been given enough time to gather a team for surgery. Transferring information between departments in the hospital was so unclear, that even though we got the go ahead from financials, it didn’t necessarily mean nursing staff or doctors would get any of the information they needed on time. So we waited. Then, just after 4:00pm, two nurses came in and asked to take Scott away to theater (the operating room).
& never in my whole life would I have thought I’d be so excited and incredibly relieved for my husband to wheeled away for invasive abdominal surgery to remove a tumor in Africa.
the henn adventures 