DAY OF SURGERY
The 13 year old girl lay in bed shivering. Tomorrow morning early, she was going into hospital for spinal surgery. In a way she was relieved because she’d fractured the tailbone of her spine 10 months previously when she’d fallen down the stairs at her boarding school, and had walked around in agony ever since.
No X-rays had been taken at the time. Her father declared there was nothing wrong with her, and that it was all in her head. He’d taken her to four different doctors, and every time he’d told them his daughter was a hypochondriac who had absolutely nothing wrong with her. Naturally, the medical practitioners had taken his word for it, and hadn’t examined her.
And the agony continued.
Finally her mother stepped in and took her to the fifth doctor who, on being told about the fall, immediately ordered X-rays to be taken which told the whole story – her tailbone had been broken and pushed in. Surgery was the only option.
“She can’t have surgery right now,” her father declared. “She’s in the middle of her school term. If she has this surgery now she’s going to fail her school year. It will have to be delayed until her summer holidays.
This entailed a further 6 months of agony, but her father didn’t care.
She played truant every day. She’d go into school, her attendance was duly noted, then she’d slip out and walk the streets until school was out, then she’d go home. She literally couldn’t bear to sit for any length of time. Although she was sure her absence from school was noticed, her teachers were compassionate and understood her suffering – they never once reported her to her parents.
Month after month after month, she suffered – at times the pain was so bad, she fainted from it.
And now tomorrow morning, the surgery would be performed – finally. But she was terrified of the surgery and had a hard time getting to sleep. She finally drifted off at around 3.00 a.m.
Her father was to take her in to the hospital, and her mother would come around later after the procedure was finished.
“Get up, time to go,” her father shouted from downstairs.
She was deeply asleep and didn’t hear him.
The next thing she knew, the bedclothes had been ripped off her body, her leg grabbed and she was pulled down violently onto the floor and kicked.
“I TOLD YOU TO GET UP,” her father roared. “HOW DARE YOU DISOBEY ME?”
Trembling violently, she got to her feet. She didn’t dare weep because that would’ve earned her a second beating, with a “IF YOU ARE GOING TO CRY, I’LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT.” Oh she knew him and his ways well enough to control her emotions.
She went into that surgery hoping to die – and she did just that. In the middle of the procedure, she felt her spirit leave her body and float overhead, watching with detachment, the surgeons frantically working on her body below.
When she came back into her body, she was in the recovery room in dreadful pain. Her mother was there.
“Mum, I died on the operating table and went through a dark tunnel into a beautiful place, and I wanted to stay there was so wonderful. But I was told I had to come back because my mission in life wasn’t over.”
“Sweetheart, anesthetics make people have strange dreams. I think it was all just a wonderful dream.”
At that point, the surgeon came into her bedroom. “Young lady, you gave us a terrible fright back there – we thought we’d lost you.”
It wasn’t a dream, she knew that now.
The man in this story was my father and I was the daughter he’d battered, both emotionally and physically throughout my growing up years. There were many such events,but this particular battery was especially heinous.
He was a Priest – go figure.
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OMG this is terrible jojo – I’m so sorry.
Thanks forever, I appreciate your comment. I have never written about this before, and it was hard to do so even after all these years.
Jo,
I can relate being the victim of a Father who was abusive also. It is hard to rehash painful events in our lives, but it is healing. You wonder what would cause a parent especially one who studies God word to act like that. Maybe abuse in their young lives?
I am so sorry you also had an abusive father. For years I hated mine, used to avoid him like the plague, then forgave him but forgiving is one thing, forgetting is another. This particular day in my life was the darkest I can remember. You’re right, he was abused by an alcoholic father but that is so often the case. The Bible refers to this phenomenon as “The sins of the fathers shall be visited unto the children, and the children’s children unto the 7th generation.” At least that’s how I interpret it.
Thanks so much for your comment – I really appreciate it.
I’m so sorry for what happened to you jojo. As a father, I have always put my kids and wife first, being last on the list. I remember when my daughters would be sick with the flu; they would be quiet and still. I wished that they were running and screaming instead.
I cannot understand your father for letting you suffer like that. And then to drag you out and kick you…that was totally wrong. There is absolutely no excuse for that behavior. You did not do anything wrong that warranted such hatred.
I remember when you talked about your out of body experience. I’m glad you made it back to finish your mission in life. Hopefully your mission is not all done, I’m looking forward to reading your future blogs.
Take care jojo,
David
Thanks for your comment David. My father was a tormented man with a lot of unresolved rage inside him, which he unleashed on me. But not on either my sister or my mother. There was no excuse for what he did, nor for the Uncle I turned to for help who said while he didn’t doubt for a minute that what I’d told him was going on was true, he couldn’t “interfere.” Those who know and choose to turn a blind eye are, in my opinion, almost as guilty as those who do the battery. It’s taken me all these years to be able to write about that dreadful day in my life. Feels good to get it out into the open.
very sad story jo…it makes you wonder why parents do things like that sometimes…I was also bullied at home by my older sister and both my parents to some degree.The weirdest thing its that I was never bullied at school or anywhere else…just at home.
Hi nmod,
It was the same for me – only bullied at home, not outside the home. I’m sorry this was the case for you too. It’s amazing how often I find folks who’ve gone through the same thing at home. Some people aren’t cut out to be parents, I guess.
Thanks so much for your comment – I really appreciate it.
Such a sad story Jo but despite it you turned out to be remarkable and loving human being.
Thanks so much sunflower – I think all life’s experiences, whether good or bad, are there to shape and define us as human beings.
I believe people who’ve never suffered pain, can’t understand suffering; those who’ve never been mistreated can only understand abuse on a superficial level, those who have things easy throughout their lives turn out to be shallow, superficial people.
As the great German philosopher Nietsche said “That which doesn’t kill us, makes us stronger.”
Thanks so much for your comment – I really appreciate it.
Boy Angelia, I couldn’t agree more…Jo is remarkable, spiritual ,and loving….
Aw thanks so much Lori – you are a very spiritual and caring person which is why we’ve become such good friends. I treasure your friendship.
Joanna , I am so sorry you had to have a father who abused you and to have suffered like you did. I know that alot of parents are abusive to their children and hope that they are reported by the child or the other parent and taken out of that home . Some people are not cut out to be a parent ‘s and should never have children. I only had my Mother and my grandfather and his cousin Marggie who lived with us and all three helped raised me and was never abused. I really think you are a very special lady Joanna. Thank you for sharing your story’s with us. Take care . Marie
Hi Marie,
I’m so glad you had a secure and happy childhood, free from fear and tension. That’s wonderful. Your Mom, grandfather and his cousin obviously did a wonderful job of raising you!
I know people think parents should remain together for the sake of their children, but when they don’t love each other or get along, the kids are much better off if the parents divorce. I used to pray that mine would and that Mum would get custody of my sister and me. I remember as a wee tot of 3 praying earnestly “Dear God, please make Daddy go away and never come back.”
I really appreciate your kind remarks about me, thanks so much. I think you’re very special too.