JUST KEEPING IT REAL

You have heard that when a person is dying, his whole life flashes in front of his eyes. True? False? Guess we will never know, because the one who could tell us is dead.

Lately, I have had so many memories of my life run through my mind. It’s true what you have heard about my gang . . . also known as senior citizens. In my mind and heart, I feel like I am in my forties or fifties. I have a lot of good memories, but my body constantly reminds me I am in my seventies. SEVENTIES!

Frankly, I never thought I would last this long!

Since 2020 I’ve had four surgeries, don’t have a right hip, and have been bedridden.

The first several months after my surgery in November 2020, I was pretty much out of it. Partly because of the brain hematoma I received when some unknown person hit me on the head. I could understand what was said to me, but I could not communicate other than saying “Heddo!” I was trying to say hello.

Doctors thought I had had a stroke. After I spent a few days in neurology, they finally decided it was the hematoma on my brain. Eventually, my speech came back, but it was over a year before that bruise on my head stopped hurting.

Then the worst . . . a bad UTI had gone unnoticed, and I went into a state of paranoia followed by hallucinations. Horrible hallucinations that I still do not like to remember. And I was heartbroken that Bill and my children would not come see me and deliver me from my torturers. Of course, they could not because of the pandemic, but I didn’t know that, at first. I finally came back to myself after the UTI healed, just as they were taking off my restraints. I thought they had me handcuffed, so it was easier to torture me.

From the little I have been told; this normally introverted, non-confrontational person became hell on wheels. A week after I had my right mind again, an older nurse came back on duty to my ward. She was a true caregiver. So kind and helpful.

Toward the end of her shift, she was in my room, looking over her patient roster. She was saying the names as she read her list. When she came to my name, she said, “You’re not Karen DeLoach!” I answered, “Yes, I’m Karen DeLoach.” Very emphatically, she repeated, “YOU ARE NOT KAREN DeLOACH!”

I thought Dear Jesus, it is happening again!

After a minute, she laughed and said, “Honey, I’ve been scared all week long that when I came back to work, I’d have to work with that horrible DeLoach lady, ‘cause she scared the livin’ daylights outta me! All day long, and I never recognized you!”

I smiled and said, “Yep, it’s me.”  I had acted so horribly during my hallucinatory period that she didn’t recognize the mild-mannered person in front of her! I pray I never go through anything like that again!

After around three months in the hospital and two surgeries, I came home in 2021….in an ambulance with a wound vac on my right leg. I thought two or three months, and I will be back on my scooter playing outside with my grands.

Not!

In November 2020, the surgeon had to take out my hip replacement and scrape out the infection. In December 2020, a second surgeon went back in and scraped out more infection. I was on high-wired antibiotics, but it was not doing the trick.

For almost two years, I was under the care of a wound doctor who included “complete bed rest” on my charge sheet each week. I was ignorant of the fact that lying in my bed and not moving my right leg was causing it to atrophy until my leg and foot were crooked. I was concentrating so hard on my open wound and my pain. My mind was still not clear due to all the pain and trauma I continued to experience. Looking back now, I should have realized it, and I feel guilty because I didn’t.

The infection that started all of this not only affected my hip, leg, and foot muscles, but it went into my bones . . . osteomyelitis. My home nurse had been worried that it would get into my bloodstream, which would probably mean bye-bye, Karen.

Since the wound would never heal, a plastic surgeon went in to close the wound in May 2022, leaving me with something that looked like a cinnamon bun on the side of my leg, but the giant hole was closed up. Meanwhile, the infection became worse.

There were times, I begged God to please take me home to Heaven. At times, the enemy of my soul tempted me with “Look at all the pain pills you have. It’s O.K. You don’t have to continue in this pain. Just take some extra, and it will all be over. You won’t be a burden on your family anymore.” He is such a deceiver and knows our weakest spot to tempt us. If I wasn’t a follower of Christ, I may have done it. But though I was confused and in pain, I knew the Rock that I stood on, Jesus Christ.  Even when I couldn’t feel God’s presence, I knew He promised He would never forsake me.

There’s so much more pain and loneliness to this horror story, but we will leave it there.

Many times, I have felt alone, depressed, and confused. Several times, I have broken down and asked God, “WHY???”

I have had a few pity parties when I reminded Him that I’ve been His child since I gave my heart to Him at the age of six. I am not perfect, but I’m forgiven. I am still His child. Everyone who is a believing friend or loved one has been praying for me . . . men and women of faith. So, why?

Guess what? He has not answered that particular question. We walk by faith, not by sight.

In January 2023, I had another surgery by a highly recommended orthopedic surgeon who was willing to go behind the other surgeons and try to help me. He said it was an extremely complicated case that he would have to research, but he thought he could help me. During the surgery, he scraped and cleaned out more infection, removed loose wire in my hip, and replaced my “cinnamon bun” with two side by side “camel humps.” I still had a break in my calf, but he thought that bone would eventually come together and heal. More infection was removed through that surgery. For about three months, my wound continued to ooze out infection. I had several pinholes that opened and continued to seep out infection and, sometimes, blood. However, by the end of April 2023, there was one barely visible pinhole leaking only a tiny bit of drainage. Praise the Lord! I’m so much better!

I will probably take the antibiotics for the rest of my life, but that is O.K.

When people told me, God’s not finished with me yet, I agreed in my mind, but my heart sometimes questioned “HOW? What good am I to Him or anyone else?”

He’s God. I am not. He is sovereign. He knew even before I came out of my Mom’s tummy that all this would happen. He has allowed this for a purpose. I do not know what that purpose is, but He does.

And all the way through what I think of as a nightmare (even when I couldn’t feel His presence), He has been with me. Comforting me when I felt like I couldn’t live like this one more day. Strengthening me to do what I had to do. Loving me despite questions and pity parties. Helping me deal with my pain.

My sister once reminded me, “All I know is God is good.” And He is. Good…. faithful…. kind…. loving…. holy. I could not have made it this far without Him. Spiritually, mentally, or physically.

And materially! God has met so many needs for Bill and me. I honestly cannot remember them all. He has blessed us through people and circumstances and just His mysterious ways.

If I keep my eyes on Him, grow in my relationship with Him, and remember that every Word given to us in the Bible is true, I will continue to persevere, in Jesus’ name. That’s what I’m trying to do. Since my head has cleared for the most part, I am able to read the Bible more. I listen to gospel music and have a particular preacher that I enjoy watching on YouTube who inspires me with God’s Word. And I talk to God . . . a lot. This has cleared my head more and has strengthened me spiritually. My joy is restored, and I feel His sweet presence.

As we say in the South, I am in the short rows . . . most of my life is passed. I truly look forward to seeing Jesus! Meanwhile, the infection that has wracked my body since 2020 is better. And I will look to Jesus for strength and peace that passes all understanding. Because He lives, I can face tomorrow!

All my memories are not rainbows and roses, but I am so grateful that He has forgiven me my sins and mistakes and remembers them no more. When Satan accuses and condemns me, with the help of the Holy Spirit, I cast down those thoughts, in the name of Jesus. NaNaNaNaBooBoo, devil!! I am not that person anymore, because Jesus has forgiven me and covered me with His precious blood! What a wonderful reality! How blessed can I be?

I read Psalm 22 and many other Psalms in which David cried out in woe about his circumstances and questioned God. “O my God, I cry out by day, but You do not answer…” (verse 2). Yet David always cries out in faith in the end. “You who fear the Lord, praise Him . . . honor Him . . . revere Him . . . For He has not despised or disdained the suffering of the afflicted one; He has not hidden His face from him but has listened to his cry for help” (verses 24 and 25).

What do you know? The man who was after God’s own heart had doubts and fears and questioned God. Most of us do it at some point in our lives . . . we are just humans. Thank God, even when we question Him, He never turns His back on us.

With the help of my weekly physical therapist and my son, I have risen from my bed and sat in a wheelchair twice. I even wheeled myself outside with my therapist in front and my son behind me to make sure I didn’t crash. After two and a half years, how wonderful it was to sit outside and enjoy the beauty of nature! Praise God!

I’ve got a ways to go. I can only stand on my feet by myself for 48 seconds. We timed it. But my hope has been restored, and my faith is in Jesus.

Whatever my future, Jesus is with me. I love and praise Him!

My watchword for 2023 is HOPE!