The Lord Giveth and Kaiser Taketh Away.

Next Friday, I will acquire a whole new right knee.

Yep, it’s a bit daunting to consider relinquishing ownership of yet another entire joint. I’ve had it for awhile now, since I lived in my mother’s womb — so, yeah, I’m mourning its demise. It has served me well.

I’ve already bid farewell to another joint.

Thirteen years ago, I exchanged my old, used up, pain-infused right hip for a new, improved titanium model—one that gets special attention at TSA every time I fly.  (Nothing like letting the general public know what “old person surgery” I’ve had! No secrets at the airport!)

The hip replacement was my first big, scary surgery. I remember fretting for weeks before going under the knife. The day of, as Cliff walked with me (I hobbled) across the parking lot to the hospital, I froze about 100 yards from the front door. Like a child unwilling to step inside her pre-school on the first day, I had unexplainable fear and unwillingness to go through with this. I begged Cliff to just take me home, NOW. He encouraged me to breath (I didn’t realize I wasn’t) and pray for comfort and a brave spirit.  So, right out loud, right there in the parking lot, I sent up a vertical message, “God, can you pretty please just send me a sign (or two) to help me know this is the right thing to do?”

Kinda childish. But I was feeling kinda childish. Not sure what I expected. The burning bush probably wasn’t going to happen.

With my Amen, I felt some courage to restart my trek to the hospital entrance. (Cliff was so patient, pardon the pun). As I entered, a cheerful nurse came  down the hallway to greet me. “Are you Suzanne Peppers?” I wanted to say no, but I admitted it was indeed me. “I’m your nurse, Helen.”

No way. My mom’s name was Helen and she had a hip replacement! (God, you didn’t really have to do that, but thank you!)

Later, while being prepped for surgery, a young white coat clad man appeared at the top of my head.  I looked up to meet him, upside down. “Hello Suzanne, I’m Dr. Miller, your anesthesiologist.” He explained all he would be doing, which all sounded like the teacher on Charlie Brown (wah, wah, wah,) and then said, “Do you have any questions?” I did. “What is your first name?”  I’m sure he’d never had that question before. “I’m Bob.” I laughed. My dad’s name was Bob, and HE had a hip replacement!  God knows how to speak to my heart, and calm my all my fear!

I was good to go! I’ve never regretted that surgery.  

I find myself going through similar gyrations about this upcoming knee replacement. Praying for comfort. And I find myself asking again for a sign. I wonder what it will be this time.

My first appointment with my new surgeon revealed the first sign and I knew I was in good hands. I’d been reading a Christian book in the waiting room called “Don’t Waste your Life.” When I went to the exam room, I laid the book on top of my purse. My surgeon walked in (Gads, young enough to be my grandson). After introducing himself, he spied my book. “I see you’re reading John Piper. What a great book. I read it twice.”

Okay, God, you did it again. He looks too young to be a surgeon, but at least I know he’s a man that will pray for me (and for himself) while I’m under the knife, and that’s good enough for me!

I asked him show me what the new joint looks like and explain his installation plan. Curiosity drove me to learn every single thing he was gonna do to get this new joint in place. It was fascinating. He seemed to fully enjoy his work.

“Tell me Dr., when you were little, did you like building models?”

“Absolutely. It was my favorite past time. In fact last night, I spent 2 hours putting Legos together with my son.”

That was strangely encouraging.

Then, he felt compelled to tell me about the things that could go wrong. My thought was ‘the first thing to go wrong was that he had to tell me what could go wrong!’ He said there is a 1% chance of infection. Then he mentioned popliteal artery injury, saying “that hardly ever happens”. He said most surgeons only have that happen once in their entire career. Oh, that’s good, I think. But it begged my next question.

“So have you already had that happen in your career yet?”

He must have read my mind, because he kind of giggled. “No, not yet.” I told him that wasn’t encouraging.

All this repair work is pretty typical as we age. We wear stuff out. Even the Bible says that we are wasting away. I get it. I was just really hoping I would be fortunate enough to avoid it all. I am glad to be renewed day by day, in my soul.

A year and a half ago, I had rotator cuff surgery. Again, on my right side. All of this is on my right. My husband recently began singing that children’s song to me, ”Head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes, knees and toes”. (So sensitive of him.)

I did tell him the other day that I’m only half the woman he originally married. I’m getting all new parts. Maybe we should renew our vows?