Surgery is over and Maggie is in a room on 2C. Pain is under control. She had been anticipating renewing friendship with her nurses on 5C (post surgery) floor. The decision was made for her to be taken to 2C which is a step-down unit for closer monitoring. She has an epidural for pain management (a newer approach we’re trying for the first time) which means her vitals need to be monitored closely. She was a tad distraught about not being on 5 at first but seems to be settling in. Her nurse here is a Forrest county girl with mutual friends and is off to quick start toward becoming one of Maggie’s new favorites.

According to Dr. Berch, the surgery went according to plan with minimal blood loss and no complications. He did remove more liver tissue than originally planned to make sure we get all of whatever is there. We’ll have to wait a day or two for the pathology report. The portion removed was from a non-vital area and should not affect organ function. We’ll be watching closely for any signs of leakage or bleeding for a day or two which extends the first estimate of our length of stay.

Last week I read in Chambers'”My Utmost for His Highest” this quote that slapped me in the face. “Beware of allowing your self-awareness to continue, because slowly but surely it will awaken self-pity, and self-pity is satanic.”

Self-pity satanic? Wait. I’m one of my best friends. Isn’t it totally acceptable for me to keep company with the most commiserating friend I know, at least for a time? Don’t I know me well enough to offer customized sympathy and total understanding. The only problem is I don’t always realize I’m doing it and forget to stop at the line between healthy introspection and unhealthy self-absorption.

But God is faithful and always brings me back with a bucket of cold reality dumped over the head. Today it involved moving into our room on 2C – a floor we have never visited (3C and 5C are our usual hangouts). Someone explained it is the step-down unit (for close monitoring) and the palliative care floor (which goes by a different name that I cannot remember). It seems the floor is home to four patients who never leave. As in this is their home. My self pity friend heard that and moved on to find greener (or browner?) pastures.

It’s not easy seeing a child, your child, in pain without the ability to remove it. Knowing it is temporary helps you get through the first post-op hours until those eyes finally flutter closed for a well earned sleep – which Maggie’s eyes did as I sit typing. Without complications, we’ll leave for Hattiesburg in a few days. Imagine making a home here with no promise of loading the car for a ride home at the end of the week. Or month. Or ever.

My mind doesn’t want to think about that very long. But it needs to when self pity taps me on the shoulder with a cup of coffee and scone. Maybe I need to snatch those goodies and take them to the person next door who needs them more than I.

Thank you for your prayers for Maggie. We feel their power and the love prompting them. I’ll keep you posted.