Beautiful Scars

Months ago, while unloading the dishwasher, I fell on my kitchen floor, slightly injuring my hip and neck. Being a busy wife, mother, and grandmother, I thought nothing more about the injuries, and continued my regular activities.

But before long, I began noticing numbness in my fingers and elbows. Since it was time for a visit to my family physician, I mentioned the numbness to him. His immediate diagnosis was, "It sounds like a neck injury to me." I then remembered the fall.

Soon, pain developed, and my doctor ordered an MRI. When the results were sent to my family physician, he said I must see a neurosurgeon. I suppose that should have alerted me to a serious problem, but I was not alarmed. So, walking into the neurosurgeon's office a few days later, I was in no way prepared for the look in his eyes, or the tone of his voice as he explained the life-threatening image he had seen in my MRI. My fall had brought a much more serious problem to light.

The vertebrae in my neck had so deteriorated that my spinal cord was in a very dangerous position. The doctor explained how another fall could have meant sudden death or instant quadriplegia. The sudden death I could handle. I knew my destiny was to spend eternity with my Heavenly Father. But the thought of my family having to care for me as a quadriplegic for the rest of my life broke my heart.

Following additional tests that confirmed what the MRI had shown, my husband and I agreed to the needed surgery.

I spent much time in prayer and in the Word, preparing myself emotionally and physically for the grueling surgery and the extended healing process that would follow. After 14 long hours of remaking five of the seven vertebrae in my neck, the nurses returned me to my room.

Excruciating pain followed the extensive surgery. And every time I looked in the mirror, I saw an ugly scar across my throat. If I turned in the mirror just so, I could see another scar several inches down the back of my head and neck. Aghast, I suddenly realized those ugly scars would be there for the rest of my life.

But when I looked in the mirror on my 60th birthday three weeks later, the scars across the front of my neck and down my back were no longer ugly. They were sweet and beautiful reminders that I had been saved from sudden death or perhaps living the rest of my life as a quadriplegic.

I found myself shouting into the mirror – fourscore years, here I come!

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