Out 09


When I’m writing a text I usually have a strong idea in mind from which I develop the rest, as a cook stretching pizza dough (and here I go again making cooking metaphors…). The idea can be something clearer, like a sentence. When that’s the case, I work building up what comes before and after the sentence I have in mind, as a mountain I climb up and then down. When I haven’t got a sentence, I wrestle with the words trying to shape my thoughts into something tangible, something cohesive, as someone who kneads the dough to make good bread.


But not today. I haven’t got a strong idea nor have I got a clear sentence. And I have no clue how I’m gonna do this… How I’m gonna write. There’s a thousand things inside of me, spread out all over, like stars in the sky while I stare at them trying to find constellations. There’s no theme, really… It was an experience I had. But I think there may be a sentence… Yeah… I guess there is… But I’m not the one who wrote it. Though I repeated it multiple times while the nurse pushed me on a wheelchair towards the surgery room. This is kind of how it started…


I was going to Alaska in a week. I was meeting my husband there where we had planned to spend some time. Three weeks prior to that day I had had a miscarriage and this was supposed to be just a regular check, like those you do when you get better and return to see the doctor just as…normal procedure, to have the final “ok”. That was when we found out it had been an ectopic pregnancy and I had to go through an emergency surgery. The conversation with the doctor went kind of like this, “urgent like…when…? This week…? Next week…?” She said, “urgent like today…tomorrow tops…as soon as possible..”. “Like…sort of now…??”. “Yeah… Sort of”, she said trying not to make me panic but also trying to make me understand it was serious, urgent.


At the health center, while I was waiting for the paperwork to be processed for me to go to the hospital, I was informed about how things were going and in the middle of that I hear, “bla, bla, bla…the ambulance will come to pick you up…bla, bla, bla…”. “What?? Ambulance??”


Look… It’s a long story, full of details and conversations I had with countless people. Women in waiting rooms, nurses, doctors, friends and relatives. So much happened and so much went through my head concerning my situation, their situation, the world, everything! SO MUCH in between the lines until the moment someone came to take me to the surgery room. Then I sat on the wheelchair. Then I thought about my son. About my husband. About our friend who passed away about a month ago, so young… About his wife, such a dear friend of ours… About the husbandless wives and the wifeless husbands, and the fatherless and motherless children and how I missed my son and my husband and how lost I feel without them… Then the tears finally started to roll down. Fear tried to sneak in… Then I shut the door. And I repeated many times on the way to the surgery room the sentence I mentioned in the beginning of this text. I talked to myself and I talked to fear and to things around me. God and I got together and stuck together right there. I kept repeating what He said in the Bible and He kept repeating what He had already said and written. The Bible verse is Philippians 1:6, “being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus”. As I was raised in a Christian environment, I heard many versions of this verse and combinations of other verses with this one so, after some time you end up having your own favorite combination of words, you know. So, for me, the words that I said sounded exactly like this, “THE ONE WHO HAS STARTED THE GOOD WORK IS FAITHFUL TO FINISH IT UNTIL THE DAY OF CHRIST”. And also “HE HAS BEEN FAITHFUL!”.


I’m quite afraid of needles, you know? I’ve also got “a thing” concerning health problems and weird things going on in my body, and on top of that an unusual resistance to pain that lead me to a late diagnosis of an ectopic pregnancy and, years ago, a huge hernia in my lower back. Regardless of my medical history, you;ve got to agree with me that it isn’t something random and simple having your body cut open and sewn back together and having some part of you removed, needles and catheters pierced into your skin, blood and more blood taken for exams and all that. It is sort of a big deal… If you really think about it, it is in a way quite brutal, an emotional impact that shouldn’t be ignored. If I told you about the events that preceeded this surgery you would certainly agree with me that I’m on a deficit of tears. Some say I’m a strong person. I don’t know about that. All I know is I have to deal with the things that happen to me, one way or another. The path towards the surgery room was the moment for me to choose how I was going to handle all this. Then I chose to remember all those times God was with me and all He has done in my life so far. And everything that could have been worse and those that could have happened but didn’t. Also those that were bad but that God turned into good later, and not only good but amazing and beyond I could have ever imagined or dreamed of. Philippians 1:6 resounded inside of me and reminded me that nothing is over before its time. Because the One who has started the good work is going to finish it until the moment when it is, in fact, the end.

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