Someday...

As I prepared for my tracheostomy surgery, I savor things which could be my last. I joyfully consume a large pot of my favorite English tea. Ah, nothing rejuvenates me like a nice pot of good tea. (Having a tracheostomy could inhibit my ability to swallow.) With the caffeine roaring through my blood, I head off to conduct what could be my last Bible study. I praise God that I have enough breath to get me through each sentence. I praise God for allowing me week after week to teach His word. I savor every moment. Will this be the last time I will be able to speak? Will this group ever hear my voice again? I hold back these thoughts and allow the abundant splendor of hosting this Bible study to wash over me. (Having a tracheostomy could prevent me from speaking.)

When I arrive home, I eat one last meal--shrimp and vegetable soup, salad with all my favorite veggies, boiled green beans, a baked kohlrabi, whole milk and a frozen banana for desert. How delicious each bite tastes. I wonder when I will next be able to eat such treats.

Exhausted and struggling to breathe, I take a shower. As the water runs down my neck, I think, "Will I be able to shower with a tracheostomy?" As I wash my hair, I think, "When will be the next time my hair is washed?" I savor the water pouring down on my head. This could be the last time I can shower like this.

The next morning, I watch the sun rise as we drive to the hospital. What a glorious sight! A multitude of birds sing "Good Morning!" to each other as I enter the hospital. The noisy symphony reminds me of the birds at my house. They make a similar ruckus as I leave for church on Sunday mornings. I wonder when I will next be able to attend a service and see my dearly beloved church family.

As I am waiting to be wheeled down to the operating preparation room, I suddenly feel the need to void some of the tea I consumed the night before. I cheerfully make my way to the bathroom. I wonder when the next time I wil have this freedom to go without assistance and without being hooked up to machines.

In the pre-op area, my breathing is ragged despite being on my BiPAP machine. I gasp to talk to the nurse. I am growing so very tired. The nurse seems surprised how short of breath I am. I wonder if she will be the last person to hear my voice. Right before I am rolled to the operating theater, a nurse gives me light sedation through my IV. Things are growing foggy. Breathing is so very hard. I pray as I go down the hall, "Thank you Jesus for all your abundant blessings. Please protect me through this surgery. Give wisdom to this surgical staff. Whatever limitations this surgery brings about, I know someday I will be able to do all things for You in heaven. I will sing and shout and joyously serve You. I can't wait for that day, that "someday" to be free of all these health burdens. But until that day, give me the strength and courage to carry forth. Amen"