I wish I had some sort of update as to what is going on with my back, but unfortunately for now all I can write is that I'm still in pain...nothing compared to where I was on Sunday night, but still not able to function as I need to in order to take care of my husband & children. While we have once again been so well cared for by our family and friends, I have found it incredibly difficult not to be fit to provide for my husband's or children's needs during this time of recovery. Recovering is what we're all hoping is happening while I spend now the 3rd day in bed.
Last night, I was able to look in the mirror for the first time in 2 days and notice that I'm crooked. I don't really know how else to explain it, but it appears if nothing else, something is mis-aligned in my back or hips. I don't know if it's the cause or effect of my back pain over the last week, and I'm having a difficult time getting a doctor to see me.
After helping my husband get things ready for the kids to spend the day at a friend's house today (Thanks, Kathleen!!), we laid down to go to bed. Only, I was assaulted with all kinds of fearful thoughts to the point that I was convinced I was going to die in my sleep if I didn't get to a hospital. Lawrence and I prayed; he tried to sing worship songs to me, but nothing prevailed to bring me peace. I was trying to tell myself truths like God has my days numbered and if I'm going to die tonight, it won't matter if I made it to the hospital or not (I know most reading this are thinking I'm crazy for thinking such things, but at midnight on the 2nd full day of taking narcotics and laying in bed alone, it sounds very plausible.)
I was struggling to discern whether God was imparting some kind of intuition to me to go be seen by a medical doctor right away or if it was an assault from the enemy of my soul trying to keep me from the rest that I desperately need and the peace that God promises to His children who trust in Him. I became so convinced that I was going to die that my husband actually allowed me to call my dear friend, Heather, who also happens to be a Hopkins' nurse. It was nearly midnight when I called, and she was gracious and compassionate nevertheless.
She helped me think a bit more clearly through my symptoms and said that most of what I was experiencing was not acute nor merited emergent care. She graciously suggested that after spending 2 days in bed on narcotics, I was probably a little overly sensitive to any kind of change in my normal bodily functions. She then prayed with me and went back to sleep. I, however, was still in a state of unrest and panic. I pulled out the ring of verses I have from my labor/delivery experience with Bella and began to read all the verses under the "fear/anxiety" category aloud. God also led me to pray aloud, thanking Him for the truths and promises I was reading about in these verses.
I would nod off and wake right back up from evil images that would pop into my mind. I'd begin to read again, pray, nod off, wake up. And, the cycle continued like that for at least an hour or so. Eventually, my exhausted body took over my active mind, and I did fall asleep.
"In my distress I called upon the Lord; to my God I cried for help. From His temple He heard my voice and my cry to Him reached His ears." Psalm 18:6