I tried to downplay the whole thing by joking about it (e.g previous post), and almost convinced myself that this surgery will be clean and simple. Surgeon cuts multiple warts out from boyfriend’s foot, boyfriend will walk free from the dulling pain on sole of feet after eight years of enduring it.
But after seeing the stitches and actual result of the surgery…
And this was already cleaned. When the doctor first opened the dressing, fresh blood was gushing out of the seams of the stitches profusely. Being a naturally squirmish person, I was a very reluctant witness to this whole scene but boyfriend wanted to take pictures of the wound, and the doctor kept referring me as his wife that one feels obliged to take on the expected role of a dutiful wife and fulfill the wounded husband’s request.
When the doctor wiped the oozing blood off with packets of wet, sterilized cotton buds and a grotesque brownish liquid to form and drip onto the pillow, I almost lost it right there and then. My throat was closing up, hot tears were stinging my eyes, and any food in my body was threatening to go on reverse gear. I had to struggle to maintain my composure. My only comfort was that boyfriend did not seem to feel any pain or discomfort from the massacre on his own foot.
But God has been gracious. When the doctor came to check on the boyfriend again the next day, he seemed slightly surprised at the healing process and commented so.
If God can bring the dead back to life, the boyfriend will do well under God’s care.
