In English, Year 8 students asked someone they look up to as a mentor about a personal story from their life. They then had to write a story from their mentor’s perspective that captured that moment. Adele van den Bos wrote this in response to this task. It’s a true story about her mentor (whose name has been changed).
I sighed, breathing in the cool, sweet air. It was so nice to be able to walk to the park after being stuck in the same place for so long. But this was only for a short time. A short respite from the medicines, the pain, the helplessness. Today was the last day of relief until the surgery, and the meds would start to become a part of daily life again.
Part of me was scared. My whole world had changed, slipped out of my control, that horrible day in the doctor’s office. It has been hard, of course, and it still is. But strangely, it was also calming. Knowing that in my helplessness, God is here. I have no real power in this world, leaving me no choice but to turn to him and give him my troubles, leaving me with nothing but trust.
And I really have noticed God in my life during this time. Not only through prayer, but through my church family, people being there for me, God providing through them. I hope I am in their prayers today. I need it.
‘Kirsten! Time to go!’ My Mum called. I walk over to the car, and shut the door, closing it on what was, and enter a new chapter.
As I sit down, the nerves start to kick in. But I swallow it down, turning to my Mum, and see tears glistening in her eyes, threatening to spill over onto her cheeks.
‘Should we pray?’ I ask, holding out a hand to her. She nods, clasping my hand.
As we pray together, I feel peace descend on me. For the first time since I heard about this surgery, I feel calm unafraid. For the next few hours, I sit, hands together, praying, knowing God is with me. Feeling his comfort.
‘Can Kirsten Brummer please report to room S106?’ a voice over the intercom says, ‘Kirsten Brummer to Room S106.’
I stand, and although the peace stays with me, butterflies begin to flutter in my stomach, and I feel my hands shake. Stepping into Room S106, I can’t help but stare.
Any peace I had seems to dissipate. Has God left me? Disappeared right when I need him most? The beeping machines are foreign to me, the sterile floor cold beneath my feet. The lights flash, glinting off the metal doors. The bed lies, still and frozen, a place meant only for the dead.
I turn, panic rising my throat, only to see the surgeons blocking my only escape.
‘Are you Kirsten?’ one of the surgeons say kindly. I blink, taken aback. This was not what I was expecting. ‘Now, I know this all seems a little strange, but you’re going to be ok. Now, come this way.’
I find myself lying on the bed, surrounded by bustling surgeons, and see one attaching a gas mask to a tube. The panic surges back, but now I remember how God’s peace felt. And I know I need Him. He has not left me, has not disappeared. He is here.
‘We are going to have to put you under, but it will be painless, I promise. Just count up, and we’ll be done in no time!’ surgeons stand over me, but I push back the panic and nerves, feeling God’s calm. I begin to count…
1, 2, 3, 4, 5… And the world goes black.
