Monday 4pm: Glory, rocking chair, broken glass, blood (read last post for full story)
Monday 6pm: emergency room sends me away since this repair can only be done by a plastic surgeon and one is not available. I feel overwhelmingly encouraged that my eye is ok and my children were unharmed.
Tuesday 8am: I wake up in pain and grumpy. Still relieved that more damage was not done, but now I'm just a leeeeetle annoyed that I can't spend my birthday going on a lunch date with my sister and mom or playing with my kids at the beach.
Tuesday 1pm: plastic surgeon explains that "this is a mess". I have a skin avulsion, also known as "deep hole with skin missing", and it's going to take a pretty extensive surgery to fix it. He also informs us we need to pay up front and panic sets in. We're in the middle of planting a church. We head back to the emergency room.
Tuesday 2pm: Still bleeding profusely and now crying profusely, we never make it to the ER. My sister calls and says a few of the pastors at my family's church have pulled strings and have an amazing doctor who is willing to see me right away and do whatever he can to help.
3pm: Nick grounds me from texting since I'm sending out delusional-pain-med-induced-texts.
4pm: See amazing doctor, who is, truly amazing. And kind. And nice. Amazing as he is, he believes this is too difficult for him. He calls in another very kind and generous plastic surgeon who believes it is also too hard for him. They do, however, know of an amazing eyelid plastic surgeon (seriously, that is his specialty!) in the area and they offer to pull any and all strings to get him to see me and help me out.
9pm on my 26th birthday: I pass out from exhaustion and pain/nausea meds on my parent's floor after over-indulging in soy-cheese pizza and soy chocolate ice cream. That's not a horrible way to celebrate.
Wednesday 8am: after waking up in more face pain and praying that the Lord would please help us get this all figured out, an amazing family donates $500 to our church/family.
Wednesday 8:30am: we make an appointment with eyelid-plastic-surgeon-specialist and since the doctors have called and convinced them to help us, they are going to allow me to have this surgery that should cost thousands and thousands of dollars for exactly $500. I'm actually not joking.
2pm: In the middle of surgery (which I am awake for), the surgeon says
"... and the plot thickens" to which his assistant replies,
" now what are you going to do with that?!"
Not your favorite thing to hear mid-face surgery.
Basically, once they got in there - everything was different than what they expected and because of this, the surgeon explained to me that he believes he was the only surgeon who could've done this successfully. I don't care if he was being over-confident or not, I'm so thankful that he was the one who did it.
6pm: pain levels reach an all-time high and I feel sorry for myself. There are so many people who've prayed for us in the past twenty four hours, so many small miracles that have happened, it seems clear to everyone else we're up against a little spiritual warfare as things are progressing with the church plant. But ugh, I just want to cry and I can't cry because it hurts and blah, blah, blah.
9pm: I think back over the last thirty six hours and get over myself.
God is good.
Now I just need to get over my intense fear of rocking chairs.