SURGERY: WALKING INTO THE UNKNOWN

The original plan after finishing my radiation and chemotherapy tablets was to begin IV chemotherapy a couple of weeks later.

But when the time came, I knew I couldn't do it.

By that point, I was completely exhausted. I had very little energy, my skin still hadn't fully healed, and I was still struggling to keep food down. My body had already been through so much, and deep down I knew it simply couldn't cope with any more treatment.

When I spoke with my medical oncologist, she explained that if I didn't start chemotherapy within the planned timeframe, the benefits would drop significantly. As it stood, there was only about a 50% chance it would provide any additional benefit. Waiting another week would reduce that even further, to the point where it likely wouldn't be worthwhile.

If that was the decision I made, we would move straight to planning surgery.

It wasn't an easy decision, but I believed it was the best one for my body.

I prayed, placed the outcome in God's hands, and trusted that whatever lay ahead, He would go before me.

I had another MRI and CT scan. The cancer had shrunk, but not enough to avoid surgery.

There was also significant skin damage from the radiation around the area where the surgery would take place. The team weren't sure whether my skin would heal in time, and if it didn't, it would make an already complex operation even more challenging.

So once again, I prayed and left it with God.

Because of the type of surgery I needed, I was referred to North Shore Hospital. These operations are highly specialised and performed there.

I met with my surgeons and the cancer nurse, who would help coordinate everything leading up to surgery. They explained just how significant the operation would be and prepared me for the possibility that recovery could involve months in hospital.

Up until that point, I had been coping reasonably well.

Then I met with the anaesthetist.

He explained that when I woke up after surgery, I would have tubes connected to me to monitor me and administer pain relief and medication, because I wouldn't be well.

He repeated several times that I wouldn't be well, and even though I know he was only trying to prepare me, those words threw me.

My mind immediately filled with questions.

How unwell?

What kind of tubes?

What would I look like?

What would waking up actually feel like?

The entire surgical team at North Shore Hospital were wonderful, but more than anything, I wanted to talk to someone who had actually been through this surgery. I wanted to ask the questions that only someone on the other side could really answer - what it felt like to wake up, what the tubes were like, and what those first few days of recovery were really like.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t anyone.

Thankfully, the cancer nurse was incredible. She patiently answered every question she could and helped ease many of my fears.

That's another reason I wanted to write this blog. If someone else finds themselves preparing for a similar surgery, I hope my experience can answer some of the questions I once had.

Before surgery, I also had to undergo a cardiopulmonary exercise test to assess whether my body was fit enough for such a major operation.

I wore an oxygen mask while they monitored my heart and lungs as I cycled on an exercise bike. The test measured how well my body could cope with the physical stress of surgery.

The verdict?

"Adequate."

Not exactly the word you hope to hear before facing a surgery expected to last more than nine hours.

To be fair, it wasn't entirely surprising.

I'd spent weeks almost completely bedridden after treatment, and my body had been through so much. The main concern wasn't my lungs; it was my heart. My heart rate was climbing much sooner than they would normally expect.

One of the physiotherapists who supervised the test said, "If you're willing to put in the work, I'll work with you to get you ready for surgery."

So that's exactly what we did.

Every week we trained together, and every week I felt myself getting just a little bit stronger.

I also made the decision to postpone my surgery from October until November. The team explained that delaying it by a few weeks probably wouldn't make a significant difference medically, but I wanted to give my body every possible chance to recover beforehand.

By then, my skin had healed completely.

Another set of scans showed that the cancer had shrunk even further, and the pet scan revealed that there was still no spread.

In the weeks leading up to surgery, life had slowed right down.

Most days, Mum and I would sit in the lounge and work our way through whatever reality TV series we were watching at the time. It became our little routine and gave us something light-hearted to focus on while we waited.

Aaron would often set himself up to work from the lounge so he could be close to us. I'm fairly certain reality TV wasn't how he would have chosen to spend his workday, but he never complained. He simply wanted to be there, and that meant more to me than he probably realised.

Mum and I also started each morning by listening to Dodie Osteen's healing scriptures and reading Psalm 91 together. It became part of our daily rhythm.

Before the appointments, the scans, the questions, and all the unknowns, we would begin the day by turning our hearts back to God.

Those morning routines meant so much. They didn't take away the reality of what I was facing, but they reminded me that I wasn't facing it alone.

The days seemed to disappear.

Before I knew it, surgery was only days away.

It was scheduled for the day after my birthday.

The weekend before surgery, I went to church and prayed that everything would go well.

During worship, the team sang Same God, and the message that morning was about trusting God.

It felt as though God was gently reminding me, even then, that He already knew what lay ahead and that I could trust Him with it.

The day before surgery, I was admitted to hospital. The team marked where my stomas would be, I met with a physiotherapist, and we prepared for what recovery would involve.

Before surgery, I'd bought a simple cross necklace.

It had been prayed over by so many people from church.

When the nurses asked whether I had any special requests, I asked if I could wear it during surgery.

Not because I believed the necklace itself would protect me.

I already knew God would be with me.

But wearing it reminded me that I wasn't walking into that operating theatre alone.

It felt as though I was wrapped in the prayers of everyone who loved me.

I still wear it every day.

And then the day was finally here.

As strange as it sounds, by the time surgery arrived, I felt ready.

Not because I knew what lay ahead, but because I knew who would be with me.

The surgery team came to check in and see how I was doing. I was nervous, but mostly about what I would feel like when I woke up and what recovery would look like afterwards.

The anaesthetist explained that they would place my epidural before surgery and asked whether I wanted medication that would keep me awake but unaware of what was happening.

"Yes, please," I replied.

After that, I don't remember anything.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up to a life that would look different in practical ways, but one I love deeply and am so grateful I still get to live.

The Psalm that we held close

Psalm 91 has always been a Psalm my family has held close.

I wanted to include it here because of how meaningful this Psalm is to me, and because these words would become even more significant in the days that followed.

🪶

Psalm 91

¹ Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty

² I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”

³ Surely he will save you from the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence.

⁴ He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.

⁵ You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day,

⁶ nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday.

⁷ A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you.

⁸ You will only observe with your eyes and see the punishment of the wicked.

⁹ If you say, “The Lord is my refuge,” and you make the Most High your dwelling,

¹⁰ no harm will overtake you, no disaster will come near your tent.

¹¹ For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways;

¹² they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.

¹³ You will tread on the lion and the cobra; you will trample the great lion and the serpent.

¹⁴ “Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.

¹⁵ He will call on me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honour him.

¹⁶ With long life I will satisfy him and show him my salvation.”

🎵 One more thing I’d like to share...

This is the song we sang at church the weekend before my surgery.

At the time, it felt like God was gently reminding me that He already knew what was ahead and that I could trust Him with it.

If you're walking into something unknown, I hope this song reminds you too that He is still the same God. He is faithful, He is present, and He goes before us.

❦

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