How to Have a Colonoscopy at Age 39 in Twenty Easy Steps

1. Go into the hospital for a LONG-awaited knee replacement surgery. Must also have bone spur on side of knee and a Baker's Cyst behind said knee is helpful as well. (Helpful hint: Make sure your insurance has pre-approved the surgery or it could get expensive!)

2. Get crucial dose of antibiotics into your IV before the surgery to fight off any infections lurking in the knee area so you are not as susceptible to infection after the surgery.

3. It is very helpful to have Lupus and a suppressed immune system- the immune system (the white blood cells, the "good guys") must be suppressed because with Lupus, white blood cells overproduce into the billions and then turn on each other and their own Home Sweet Home. Henceforth, the white blood cells will be called Flesh Eating Zombies.

4. Make it out of the surgery with flying colors- anticipating the traditional three-day stay for this procedure. Eat a light Dinner on Day One.

5. On day two, be sure to order a full breakfast and lunch and eat them both. They will be the last meals you eat for a while. Take a leisurely stroll to the nurses station and back. Marvel at your accomplishment. Meanwhile in your body, the proactive dose of antibiotics you were given becomes very confused as it roams around. Who are the good guys? Who are the bad guys? There are so many of the white ones, and they are really quite menacing... the antibiotic decides to take them all out as a precaution. To the Flesh Eating Zombies... something more powerful than they are has entered their turf (a la Crypts vs. Bloods). And it's killing them all. Don't worry, the cost would be too high to have a funeral for each white blood cell (I mean Flesh Eating Zombie) that dies- they'll be taken care of in the next step or two.

6. Around suppertime on Day Two, start to get a stomach ache unlike any other you've ever had before. Watch your abdomen swell as if you were pregnant with an alien baby. Marvel as it becomes more painful than your knee, where bones have been sawed in half in two places- on the shin and the thigh- where the new and improved bionic knee has been placed with lots and lots of screws. You'll be forgetting about your knee for a while. Meanwhile, the antibiotic is doing a little dance in your intestines for killing off all the helpful bacteria that lives in there. It decides the bad bacteria (which everyone has to a small degree) can stay because we all know it's the bad kids that make parties more fun. A lot of the bad bacteria start pairing off like bad kids at an unsupervised party- finding dark corners and empty bedrooms...and they make lots and lots of bad bacteria babies.

7. The evening of day two, begin throwing up. Really do it up right. Un-controllable and projectile are two words that describe what you must aim for. After everything you've eaten for the past four days has been expunged (this will take about three hours), move on to throwing up bright yellow bile (sorry folks, but that's what happens when there's nothing left to puke). Do this for about three hours. By now it's about five in the morning and you can finish up with a couple of hours of dry heaves- you know, the kind where the inside of your belly button almost comes out of your mouth.

8. Day Three Dawns: Don't eat anything today... you don't want to give your body more ammunition. At this point, it helps to think you're just having a bad reaction to the General Anesthesia from the surgery. Realize that your stomach is too tender to move or even touch. Discover that the north end of "Home sweet Home" seems to be spent and you should now start worrying about the south end... better known as "the other side of the tramp stamp (not that I have one!)." Spend day three hobbling back and forth from the bed to the potty with a walker that somebody's grandma used in this room last week, sometimes making it in time, and sometimes not. Allow the humiliation to set in. You are completely weak and dependent. Not to fear, though, bile is still at the party and is ready to Party On, Wayne (Party on, Garth)!

9. Meet the Internist doctor who has been called in to consult. Allow him to prod your stomach like he's kneading a batch of dough. Cry. A lot. Promise to come up out of the hospital bed and personally introduce someone to Jesus if they don't give you more pain medication. Kiss the nurse that brings in the Dilauded drip. As you drift into dreamland, vaguely hear that you've been scheduled for a CAT scan of your stomach.

10. Have your CAT Scan. Allow them to draw gallons of blood for tests. Watch your arms turn a groovy shade of purple and green and yellow (still on Dilauded, remember?) Provide four "separate occurrences" of stool samples so they can count the white blood cells in your stool (I have a new Dirty Job for that guy on TV). Marvel that your body still has anything in it left at all to get rid of... but it does, my friend... it does. Endure another horrible night just like the last.

11. Day Four and Five: Get blood results back and find you've become severely, deathly anemic. Get put on a "NO FOOD OR DRINK diet to give your intestines a break. Have just a sip of water with your oral pills- no more than a couple ounces at a time. Just for fun, for a 24 hour time period lower your blood pressure to 60/30. Run a high fever. Get results of CAT Scan- Colitis. Never heard of it. It means your intestines are severely inflamed. huh. But are they treating you with the right antibiotics? HMMM. How can they find out? Continue diarrhea and next-to-nothing blood pressure. Meet the Gastroentologist called in to find out. Start feeling uneasy knowing something wicked this way comes...

12. Allow the nurses to poke you four times with a heavy grade IV line because your newest drip is going to be thick. In order to achieve this, your whole body must be swollen with all the fluids they've been pumping into you so they can't find your veins. Have your knee doctor tell you that your knee is cleared to go home, but your butt has to stay. Seriously.

13. Just for fun, start your period.

13. Have a blood transfusion. Have another blood transfusion.

14. Get stool results back- Find that you don't have the deathly (literally) wicked bacteria in your colon/intestines- that's the good news- but the bad news is that something is definitely going on in there. And Dr. Gastro is dying to find out what it is. He asks (while you are sitting on the toilet making ungodly noises from all orifices, no less) for consent to do a -gulp- colonoscopy. In your delirium, you agree. Anything to make the poopy stop. Confirm they are going to knock you out.

15. Mentally prepare for medical rape. Not enough time to prepare... they arrive in 15 minutes. Do they really need so many tv screens? Have this conversation with the assistant: (assistant) "So, Angela, do you know what we're going to be doing to you today?" (me) "Yeah, I hear you're going to be sticking something up my butt." (assistant) "Yes, that's about it- minus the medical terminology." Gratefully accept one gram of Dilaudid. Begin procedure. (I'll spare the details here but basically... ick.) Scream, cry, and plead for the doc to stop as he tries to "round a corner of my intestine". Hold procedure. Wait for nurse to bring one more gram of Dilaudid. Wait for a minute for it to kick in, all the while knowing there's a camera up your butt. The procedure goes on and they can go deeper and deeper- finally getting to the infected part- which is covered in ulcers. Watch with druggy fascination. (Again, I won't go into details- but think of the grossest thing you can and multiply that by about 10.) Watch a grabby alligator clip come in and rip off a piece of two separate ulcers. The farther they go, the more there are. Cry with relief when it's over- and feel like you need a scalding hot shower; unfortunately the whole knee surgery thing prevents that. (Oh yeah... I had knee surgery. I forgot.)

16. Day Six: things start to slow down intestinally and your stomach seems to be a tiny bit less tender with decreased stabbing pains. Antibiotics have been changed and increased according to my new diagnosis: Ulcerated Colitis. Start the pills with "good bugs" for your intestines- which have all been killed and flushed... literally. Feel a little perkier from yesterday's blood transfusions. Blood pressure is still low, but not dangerous anymore. Blood work comes back looking good. Get up and walk around a little. Get put on a "Clear Liquid Diet". Drink about a quarter cup of broth, eat some jello (whoever created jello is a GENIUS) and have a Popsicle. Keep it all down (maybe "in" is a better word). Watch the Jerry Springer show and feel better about your own current situation.

17. Day Seven: Get moved up to a liquid diet- eat some unidentifiable soup and keep it where it's supposed to be. Lower your fever to around 99-100*. Raise your blood pressure a little more. Sit through a wound check- which is really swollen but seems to be healing great. Have the Internal medicine doctor come in and tell you he thinks you're on the mend... and that your butt can now go home with your knee. Hooray!

18. Have all IV's disconnected, free yourself from the CPM (Continual Passive Motion) machine, which has now fondly been dubbed the Constant Pain Machine and let your loved ones pack up your stuff. Sign a bunch of papers.

19. Try to fit yourself into a minivan when you cannot lift, bend, or move your giant, pain-filled leg.

20. Make it to home sweet home and sleep on your feather bed with your feather pillow and down comforter. Thank God for His Glorious Protection. Take Valium and Percocet (the dose that was prescribed... don't freak out) and don't wake up until 11am the next day. You don't even have to click your heels three times to know that "There's no place like home!"

Amazing Grace

I recently read one of my favorite blogs, Lori Wilhite's Leading and Loving It and it prompted me to look back at some of the things I've learned since we started this journey in 2005... some of it good, some of it is not so good. Although I'm still figuring out how to deal with this role I've been thrust into- it's good to look back and see a little growth and progress. Here are my thoughts so far:

I’m getting used to being introduced as “the pastor’s wife” and also getting used to people thinking I’m their personal counselor (still learning to draw boundries there).

I’m learning I can’t be everywhere and that I can’t make everyone happy. My husband can't make everyone happy. I’m learning that my main job is to support him and be there for my kids.

I’m learning not to take on my husband's stress as my own, and I’m learning that God is big enough to deal with whatever disaster I think is about to end my world or hurt His church.

I’m learning who my friends are and who they aren’t. I'm learning there are levels of friendship and it hurts for a long time when someone steps down a level because they don't understand the pressure of my situation or they are too pressured themselves to have time for anyone else. I’m learning that I can’t be as open as I used to be and that God has graced me with one girlfriend with whom I can be completely honest.

I'm learning that just because someone is in leadership it doesn't make them right. And it doesn't make them smarter or better able to hear God than I am. I'm learning, as wrong as it is, that there are politics in ministry and there are people who want to see you fail when they let their human emotions take over. I'm learning that it isn't my place to fix them or justify myself to them.

I'm learning there is competition between churches and that this hurts God.

I’m learning to speak up when I feel like He is telling me something and to shut up when I get close to putting my foot in my mouth.

I’m learning I don’t have to have a spotless house and that people are pleasantly surprised when they stop by and my living room has been turned upside down by my son and ten of his best friends... that non-perfect and "normal" are good. I am learning that I can’t stop walking my dog just because we’re busy… that she’s going to continue on the path to doggy morbid obesity unless I get us both out of the house every once in a while.

I am learning to let past hurts go and what it feels like when something rolls off your back because you chose to judge favorably rather than assume the worst. I am learning to forgive the deepest of hurts and to forgive myself for the mistakes I have made.

I am learning to pray for the people God loves that I don’t. I am learning not to listen to gossip and that serving makes my own personal aches and pains go away.

I am learning to love my husband in a different way... as my pastor. I am learning to absorb the unexpected blessings that God sends to us with grace and thanksgiving.

I am learning to really pray for someone when I say I’m going to pray for them.

Most importantly, I’ve learned that God has us here for a reason… even though it seems completely crazy.

And I’ve definitely learned to laugh and laugh and laugh, mostly at myself.

I am grateful for what God is doing in my life- and things seem a little easier when I look at them in terms of the positive. I am growing and learning and moving forward... even though sometimes I do it kicking and screaming and shaking my tiny fist at a great big God. He is so patient with the likes of me... what amazing grace.

ahhhhhh

We made it through Hometown Days. My feet are swollen and aching from being on them for the entire weekend... my lupus is flaring... but, at least for me, calm is on the horizon. Our biggest event of the year is over.

For the next few weeks I am going to concentrate on getting better... having a long awaited knee-replacement surgery, and healing body and spirit. Remembering who I was before I hurt all the time, I hope. Learning to walk correctly again- without throwing everything else off-kilter. Ditching the limp. Dutifully going to therapy, and using crutches for as long as my doctor tells me to without cheating. Everyone says, "Oh how sad... 39 is so young for a knee replacement!" But for me, it's time. It represents a new outlook, a new start. Being active again and not dragging behind. Not dreading things. I can't wait.

Breathing...

Our first Sunday in the tent on our new property was awesome... things came together perfectly and God was there- we baptized nine people! This Sunday is our last week under the tent and then we are back in the school... but I'm to the point now where the catered meal has been ordered and the stress relating to this event is fading away. We have a worship night this Friday under the tent that I'm looking forward to- a lot of people are camping out and spending the night. Should be fun.

My husband has composed his letter to the editor, and it's classy and Christ-like. Not the letter I would have originally fired off, which shows his wisdom and patience in waiting. Now if I can just get him to actually SEND it. He just doesn't see the need to defend himself. The superintendent had a scheduled meeting with all of the teachers in the district today and spoke about the incident and defended my husband, explaining what was really said and the context of the remark and the conversation. He pretty much cleared his name with all of the staff, which was most important to us.

Our son has been working his tail off and is, at this moment, composing his letter of apology to his cousin and his aunt & uncle. Our yard looks amazing; there are perks to grounding and hard labor- for the parents at least! Best of all, we've had a lot of good talks, and we've seen his heart- which is truly repentant.

And God has kept me sane for yet another week... will miracles never cease? Thank you for your prayers.