My Moment With God

In March of 2004, I had an abdominal surgery for Inflammatory Bowel Disease, secondary to a surgery performed the year prior: after spending 7 months with an ileostomy bag, surgery was performed to give me an internal J-Pouch and ileoanal anastomosis. 

The surgery itself went alright, but my post-op recovery was tumultuous. I had multiple allergic reactions to medications, a severe stomach bleed, a nasal-gastric tube that caused a stomach ulcer, and a lost stitch that wound itself around muscle so badly that I had to go digging for it the day I was discharged. 

It wasn't exactly smooth.

The day that I had the stomach bleed was the most severe. I had been horrendously nauseated for days. All I wanted was to vomit to feel better, and for it to be anything except stomach acid and bile. A bucket was perpetually in my hands and I could barely stand without vomiting or dry-heaving. Then I got my wish. Something came out (and a whole lot of it)... and it wasn't bile or stomach acid. That brief moment of relief was short-lived. 

It was blood. 

Before I knew it, my roommate and my parents had been ushered out of the room and I was surrounded by nurses, doctors, and an x-ray technician. The pain was so intense that I was literally writhing on the bed. 

Everything was chaotic - nurses holding me still, shoving a nasal-gastric tube down to my stomach, being positioned for x-rays with the mobile machine, measuring my blood output, and trying to figure out what the hell happened. 

Then, quiet. 

I couldn't hear or see anything. I also couldn't feel anything - no pain, no nausea, nothing. It was as though everything just paused. It couldn't have been more than a few milliseconds, but everything stopped. 

I didn't hear any kind of a voice. I didn't see any kind of a light, no pathway, no gate. I experienced something else entirely: 

A decision. 

In that brief moment, I suddenly knew that I had a choice. I knew that if I let go, I would never have to experience any pain again. That would be the end, right then and there, and I would go blissfully and gently away from this broken body. 

However, if I decided to stay, I was making the conscious decision to fight. I would have to accept that I would be in pain every day, and that I would have to fight each day for the rest of my life. 

I chose to fight. 

Maybe that's part of figuring out how to cope with these kinds of illnesses. While my life was on pause, I was actually given the opportunity to either choose to live in this body, or to cut and run. So now when I have a really hard time, I remind myself that (in some cosmic way) I chose this. I promised to keep fighting; I was given a way out and chose to stay anyways. Despite the pain and the illness.  

So whatever comes at me, I owe it to myself to keep going. 

Was it a moment with God? Was it a trauma-induced hallucination? Was it just my brain firing random thoughts because I was so near death? Did I actually choose, or was it pure fantasy? 

And does it really matter? 

I can't remember if I have ever shared this story beyond my immediate family, but this was one of the most pivotal moments in my life when it concerns my illnesses.  

I don't automatically think that I am 'destined to do great things' or that I was kept alive for some gargantuan, predetermined, purpose. To know great love, to live a simple life, and to find happiness through all of the muck is more than enough for me. 

Illness and Faith

Watching Grey's Anatomy tonight brought up a topic that I thought I would write about.

There is a conversation on the show about having a crisis of faith. That there are people in this world who do not seem to have any moral compass or code, who are not stricken with horrible parts of life like illness or death or tragedy. Sometimes, people who have no regard for anyone, who have no care for what is considered 'right' or 'wrong' seem to live their lives without struggle.

Then there are those people who do whatever they can to stay 'good' people. Who follow the general guidelines about treating people well and having faith and seeing heartbreak and struggle and tragedy as a learning experience; a test of faith. That these people, no matter how fervently they try, each and every single day, to be the representation of what God intended, it feels as though they keep getting bombarded with situations that have no rhyme or reason. Tragic, horrific, traumatic situations that leave no room for reason.

All of this can often make people wonder those two so very common words: "Why me?".

I do not talk about faith much. I believe that faith is one of the most personal parts of life that any of us will have. How many of us are 100% completely honest, every day, with anyone around us about what our faith-life entails. It is one of the most complex relationships an individual can have - regardless of what a person actually believes.
Maybe you don't believe there is a higher power. Maybe you have zero faith-life and have never even wondered about it. Or, maybe you go to church and pray and hope, but maybe there is doubt. Maybe you wonder every day whether today is the day that He relieves you of all of your pain and allows you to live the remainder of your life in peace. Maybe one day you will find clarity. Maybe something has happened and you are so heartachingly furious with the idea of faith that you cannot even discuss it. Maybe you think that the idea of 'everything happens for a reason' is just a way for people to justify things that go wrong.
Think about it - it is a LIFE long relationship. You are bound to have a few fights. Even have a falling out... sometimes over and over and over again. Or maybe it's like that arch-nemesis that you secretly would prefer to be friends with but you rarely speak, if at all.

Here is what I believe:
I believe that it is vitally important to try and be kind to people whenever we can, and that kindness will get you farther in life and farther in your relationship with yourself than any other endeavor. I believe that there have been far too many coincidences in my life to completely rule out this idea of things happening for a specific reason. I believe that questioning and reacting in a way that makes you feel tormented by something you have no control over is a very natural feeling. I believe that every single person struggles in their life - that even the people we think are the happiest, the luckiest, the most successful, are fighting battles that we will never know or understand.
I believe that there is a lesson in every single situation.

Life seems unfair. It can be. Life is NOT fair at many different points. We all come across road blocks and instances of incessantly pouring rain of complete bs.

I also believe that catharsis is one of THE most vital and necessary parts of life - and not just the life of one human being. I believe that the universe and everything in it is always moving towards catharsis.

So get angry. Get angry, be sad, question your struggles, allow yourself to be depressed when your body needs it, but also allow yourself to try and learn, open your mind to whatever new detour you have to navigate, and take a deep breath. We all deserve happiness. We all struggle. We will all experience tragedy and we will all have a cathartic moment, if not many.

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