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Upon Their Hands They Will Carry you
Page 46

This Risky Operation

In the doctors office in Dallas I was waiting for his opinion and advice. He was in his chair with long legs stretched out from where he was sitting. His head was almost down on his chest. and without moving his body he turned to look directly at me. His whole posture and attitude spoke of concern.

"You have a problem." His words were to the point as I knew he would be.

"If you have a doctor closer to your home let me work with him and letís try to get this under control."

Evidently my doctor in Oklahoma City had time to think and he next sent me to a doctor who was Catholic. I wasnít of that faith but my motherís whole family was so I knew well they did not support abortion.

It was a fine decision on the part of my doctor at Oklahoma City and maybe the one in Dallas. My confidence in his decision making ability didnít disappoint me. I knew this because of the way he had taken care of Markís delivery. Some decisions involve issues to deal with the heart.

I was listening with appreciation to the doctor at Mercy in Oklahoma City who spoke to me now.

"At the rate this tumor is growing you must have it out. The thing will simply grow so large it will endanger your life and your childís, too. This statement made me know he knew of what he spoke.

The day came for the surgery and it there was great emotional tribulation I suffered. My other children, Rhonda and Mark possibly being left without a mother was ever on my mind. Too, there was the thought of losing this child through the surgery I had to face during this fourth month of pregnancy. As my doctor in Dallas had pointed out, "the arteries that are maybe pencil size become engorged and are the size, larger than my thumb." He held up his large hand and thumb to demonstrate the cylindrical magnitude of their shape.

"Bleeding then becomes a major issue." He was warning me.

With my stance on the commitment and former dedication I had made for not using blood or breaking into the principles of The Ancient of Days regarding a carelessness for spilling of blood, surgery then became a risk. The doctors were well aware of this. During these years the laser surgery with cauterizing tools for cutting was not in use. Uncontrolled Bleeding was a distinct possibility. I wasnít alone in my decision at the time. Who knows how many others had been enlightened to the dangers of diseases transmitted through blood transfusions and were taking similar stands against it.

The blood itself is more individually and singularly, distinctly unique than even the fingerprint. As the study of genetics and the DNA are coming there is absolutely no clue for the great possibilities involved here. Regarding disease of all ranges even up and onto such as Alzheimerís and more is being studied. Only the utmost faith and belief in oneís dedication to fidelity for a service to the greater needs of humanity could bind a person to hold to this pledge which was itself a dance with death.

"Who did I think I was? Joan of Arc?" I later laughed about it, when actually this wasnít funny or anything to be taken lightly. True my Indian name was Jen neeí, but certainly not, "DíArc.

The doctor stood beside me at the operating table. It was almost as if I could read his deepest thoughts while he was going into this risky operation.

"Please doctor, save my baby. Please donít hurt my baby."

As if the words somehow strengthened him, he set his jaw, looked straight ahead and nodded in a determined way. The anesthesia dropped me instantly away from consciousness.

Bit by bit, as if working through a disagreeable chore

Rodney told me of how the doctor went through the surgery. The doctor was now standing beside my bed.

"I removed the tumor, it was large, about the size of a small watermelon. You would never have been able to carry your child with it growing at the rate it was. I had to cut into it because part of it was attached to the pregnant uterus. I left a piece about the size of a lemon and stitched it up. Because I had to cut into it these cells have been spilled into your system. The rest of your life will be different. You will always have to cope with this." The doctor kept his discussion with me short and to the point.

I would live to understand his words.

My release from Mercy hospital at Oklahoma City brought Rodney and our the children with him from Ponca City, a little over 100 miles away, to take me home. I left behind a painting for the doctor and hospital. It was of a tall, giant tree taken from a picture I had snapped of the huge old Pen Oak trees out of Dallas.

The painting depicted children playing under its shade in a peaceful way. I spent my entire pregnancy working on the painting and believed it belonged with the people who saved my life.

"I just canít get enough looking at this world. How beautiful everything is. Every tree, every person I see, even the movement of the wind through the tops of the trees is vibrant with life. There is such a strength in these things I donít think Iíve ever fully appreciated them before." The joy of being able to be with my family again swept over me.

Rodney must have been at the end of his rope with the children and snapped a warning to quiet them when they were busily and happily chatting about the things we saw.

"Please donít spoil this for me, Iím so happy to be going home." Mark seemed to be the one to understand and with his arms resting on the back of the seat behind me, he was instantly quiet and looking straight ahead out the car window.

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