Ever have a meltdown? Well, I had a fun one yesterday. I tell this not to whine about the adventures of the last week or so, but to share how important it is to keep the big picture in focus.

While I was very glad to be able to spend the three days and nights with Ken in ICU, obviously there come with that a few inconveniences. To say that I was operating on a minimal amount of food and sleep would be an understatement. So when we got settled into a normal room on Friday and our friends brought Camille and Caroline by, my first priority was to gobble down the lunch they brought me, then take a nap. The nap turned into an all day affair that lasted all night as well, so dinner wasn’t so important.

I say all that to explain that I came into Saturday in a food deficit. I realized at lunchtime that I’d really like to have some good old Paraguayan pizza, rather than the fried food offered in the hospital restaurant. The nurse told me I could request pizza from the restaurant if I called a certain number. Ten minutes and four or five phone calls and transfers later, I learned that no one in the hospital would make pizza or alter the menu to help me get something I thought my belly could tolerate.

Like any good American, I got online and found three pizzerias that made deliveries and began calling around. It was about 2:00 by then. Let me mention that I have an allergy to tomatoes, so I never eat pizza in the States. But here, most pizza doesn’t have the red sauce and is basically cheesy bread with oregano, olives, and corn. At least, that’s my favorite version of it. So the only place that would deliver at that hour was Pizza Hut. They told me they would not, could not sell me the pizza without sauce. I suspect that they get their pizzas directly from the US and just pop them in an oven, because they are EXACTLY like pizzas from home.

The next place I tried said they wouldn’t be open until 5:30 PM, and the third one at 7:00 PM. I decided to wait it out. At dead on 5:30, I called back only to be told that they’d not be getting started until 7:30 this time around. Okay, let’s wait till the third one opens at 7. On the dot, I called this place that advertised selling pizza by the meter (about a yard), and found that the minimum for delivery was ½ yard. Cool. I could eat some now, save the rest for tomorrow.

I waited the 30 minutes they told me to, then 45, then I went downstairs to hang out in the lobby. After a very lengthy phone conversation with the pizza operator, I was told that the delivery man was already there at the hospital somewhere, and I should try to find him. I walked all over some really shady places with some really shady people, before finding a motorcycle with the name of the restaurant on a box behind the driver, parked in the unlit back parking lot down a flight of stairs. I called out to the guy, who told me I’d have to come there because he couldn’t leave his motorcycle. And how is this termed delivery? At this point, I decided that my hunger was primal and I could fight off any attacker with sheer force of will to get to the food.

The guy handed over the pizza, and out of habit, I opened the box to see if it was correct. No need in getting back up a few flights of stairs and finding that it’s covered in sauce that I can’t eat, right? Well, the box was taped all the way around it, and when I tried to pull it open, the tape turned out to be stronger than the box. What I mean is, I pulled the tape and the bottom of the box ripped open. As I stared in disbelief at the pizza that dropped onto the filthy sidewalk, I just about lost it. No more strong girl holding it all together.

I felt like one of those movies where the chic runs off crying and everything on the screen is blurry. I held it in as best as possible as I ran up, up, up the stairs, opened the door, flung the box with the few remaining cold, hard pieces of pizza on the bedside table, and promptly shut myself into the bathroom to cry on the toilet. Poor Ken. He couldn’t figure out what was happening, and I couldn’t get enough breath to tell him.

After a few minutes of selfish pity, I remembered something a friend sent me when Ken was coming out of surgery… “Don’t let anything steal your joy in the Lord, because it will be your strength.” I remembered it the message and the scripture as plain as day and thanked the Lord for bringing it to my mind, and asked forgiveness for my silliness. Okay, enough whining Christie. Get out there and enjoy the pizza that DIDN’T fall out, with the man who DIDN’T have a heart attack, in the hospital room that DOES have a couch for you to sleep on and a hot shower for you to enjoy later. Perspective. I spent some time that night reading psalms of thanksgiving and counting my blessings. But I have to admit that I felt like one of those sit-coms where, just when you think the problem is going to resolve, it just keeps getting crazier and crazier. Ever have one of those days?

FINALLY! We're back in a regular room. Just thought I'd give you a quick run-down of how the last few days have gone, and how evident the hand of God has been to us.

DAY 1: TUESDAY--They took Ken into surgery at 2 PM, and I got to walk with him to the doors of the OR. I walked back to the empty ICU waiting room, said a prayer, and sat down to start reading or listening to music or something. Within a couple of minutes, a couple walked in and asked if I was Christie. I then remembered that they were the pastor and his wife from Shaun and Sara Morton's church, whom we'd met once at the Morton home. They settled in seats beside me, and when they found I was alone, stayed there with me through the four hours of surgery. I'm sure that was an answer to the prayers of our families, who didn't like that I was alone for that time. During the surgery, a lady came in to wait, and we struck up a conversation with her. At one point I excused myself to take a call, and I saw the pastor continuing the conversation and then praying with her.

The doctor came to get me around 6:30 PM, and said with a big smile that the surgery was a success. He said the valve company sends four different sizes, so that they can be tried on the actual heart rather than estimated and guessed at. Due to the size of Ken's heart, they weren't able to use the size 23 (mm maybe?) as usual, but had to use the largest of the four, the size 27. Thank God they had that size on hand. But the doctor did say that from all indications, the heart will go back to its normal size within 6 months. He also said that he could tell in looking that this was NOT something congenital--Ken was NOT born with it. He sent the defective valve to the lab to see if they could tell what the cause was, but the guess was maybe something like a bacteria or infection that had entered the heart at some point. Either way, the doctor was very happy with the surgery, and more secure in their decision to leave the aorta in place.

An hour or so later, another doctor called me into the consultation room to ask if I'd be willing to come back and translate for them. Ken was waking up confused and they wanted to be able to tell him not to bite the breathing tube, not to struggle with the sheets they'd tied him to the bed with, etc. I breathed a quick "Thank you" to God for answering that prayer, and donned the gown to go into the normally forbidden area. Once I got there, they let me stay the entire length of Ken's time in ICU. That is another miracle, as those of you with ICU experience know. I settled into a chair and tried to stay out of the way, translating for the nurses and calming Ken as he came out of the anesthesia. They were able to remove the tube in his throat within about an hour, and he was breathing on his own again. We didn't sleep much that night, but he was awake and glad to be alive.

DAY 2: WEDNESDAY--This wasn't such a fun day. The pain set in and there was no way for Ken to get comfortable in the bed. Did I mention that there were these two big tubes running out of his chest into buckets on the floor, to collect the extra blood draining from his chest cavity? I expected that throat tube, but those guys took me by surprise. There were a few IV lines in various places, plus a large one going into his wrist, and one in his jugular that they called a central line, with several tubes leading into it. The nurse explained that when medicines are put into this one, it goes directly to the heart and works almost instantly.

Ken's levels weren't so good this day, with a high blood sugar level and anemia. Those are two problems he's never had, so the doctor said they'd blame it on the surgery and monitor everything. Unfortunately, it meant he was having to be stuck a few more times than normal. He was really groggy and wasn't able to get much breath, and was in and out of naps all day. I think the staff was glad I was there that day because they needed to ask him lots of questions about his condition, his pain, his discomforts, and his brain just wasn't working enough to comprehend or speak Spanish yet. I was glad to be done with this day.

DAY 3: THURSDAY--This was the day we were told he'd get to sit up beside the bed, have the chest tubes out, and move to a regular room. He felt much better from the time he woke up Thursday, so we were very optimistic. And I was anxious to get back to a couch and a shower and the possibility of more food. Well, things didn't go as planned. His sugar leveled out, but the chest tubes were still draining a tiny bit, and his blood pressure climbed higher and higher as the day drug on. He did get to try real food, and did well with it. He was in such better spirits though, and we were able to talk to various nurses and therapists that came in. I love the way God opens doors to sharing about Him. :)

We were a little sad when the surgeon came in that night and took the tubes out of his chest but said he felt Ken needed to be in ICU one night more. I was glad they never asked me to step out of the room during the whole time, so I was able to watch each of the procedures. It was pretty amazing. As soon as the surgeon left, I made a break for food, trying to time it so that no one came in during the time I was gone. The secretary caught me at the door and asked me to come into the office. Uh-oh. I knew what this meant. She presented me with the bill for the first two days. I explained that we'd seen an estimate from the insurance company, and that we were trying to straighten out the misunderstanding that had caused them to refuse to pay for this surgery. She gave a knowing smile, but presented me with a set of pages that totaled to more than three times the amount insurance had told us, and reminded me that this was only for the first two days. She assured me that they would keep tabs and be back in touch as the days progressed. "Thanks." I had to go have a moment in the restroom with the Lord, as He reminded me that He was my provider when I thought the unexpected amount was much lower, and He's still my provider at this amount.

The doctor in charge of the ICU came in to see how Ken was progressing late that night, and I guess he hadn't realized until then that I was "living" there. He asked where I'd been sleeping, and I got a little nervous that he'd kick me out. I said I was very comfortable in the chair, and was grateful that they'd allowed me to be there this whole time. He smiled and thanked me for staying. Phwew.

Within a few minutes, a nurse came in to help Ken sit up for the first time, and he was pushing a chair that leaned back a little. He said his instructions were to leave the chair when he left so I didn't have to sleep in that other hard, straight one. I couldn't help but cry. Thanks, God. We decided there must be a reason to spend one more night there, and God was reassuring us with a little creature comfort.

That night, the nurse had lots of things to do with Ken, and we spent a lot of time talking with him. The same thing happened with the therapist who came by to see how Ken was doing with sitting up. We made new friends and enjoyed talking about the Lord.

DAY 4: FRIDAY--Early this morning, they began more blood work to find that Ken was still anemic, a little worse than before. They had been trying to correct that but decided it was time to give him a blood transfusion. We can now say we are truly ONE, as he has my blood in his veins. (I'm hoping that'll suffice as an anniversary present, since that comes Sunday and I don't see any doors opening for a quick trip to pick something up... and I've already thought of the jokes I can throw out, like "What do you want from me, my blood?!" and so forth....)

Around lunchtime, they decided to set us free to the world of normal rooms. But alas, there were no rooms open. Something did finally free up, and here we are in room 222. Joe and Jayne, who have been keeping the girls for us, came by this afternoon so that Camille and Caroline could see us. Man, how we've missed them, and I know they wanted to see their Daddy in person. J and J are very kind and brought me a bag full of lunch. Oh, man, was that good!

Ken is now walking around the room a bit, with a pillow tight to his chest. He is speaking with no problem and is able to take full breaths now. He is eating regular food, the blood pressure is under control (with medicine for right now), and the blood sugar levels are back to normal. Thank God for his hand on us, for the destiny appointments He lines up, and for the encouragement He sends us through your notes, prayers, and messages. :)

We are counting down the hours and doing well. This morning I gave blood, and as I was saying on facebook, I was very glad they didn't ask me about chocolate! The form had all the usual questions plus a few I'd never read before, that must pertain to folks who live an entirely different lifestyle.... Let's leave it at that.

Ken breezed through the cardiac catheterization yesterday morning. In the middle of it, the doctor invited me in to see the aorta and the valve. I have to tell you that I didn't really know what I was seeing on the screen, but I was fascinated that he let me watch while he wiggled that little wire around inside my man's heart. The final result was that yes, the valve is as they suspected, but the aorta is still small enough that they feel it will shrink back down to the normal size in time, as should the rest of the heart that is enlarged.

So all are optimistic, we are feeling all your prayers. We really appreciate the encouragement you've sent us through text messages, facebook comments, emails, calls, and little notes. It means more than I can explain right now, but I want you to know that they work, and that we are very peaceful about the surgery.

I'm still holding out hope that they'll let me be with him in ICU the next two days, as there was a sign in the waiting room to that effect. It basically said that there were a few exceptions to the isolation rule, such as someone on his death bed, an elderly person who may become upset at being alone, someone who was confused (dementia). I've been asking everyone I could if I could be there based on Spanish not being our primary language, and the difficulty for him to think clearly enough when he's under the heavy influence of drugs. I told Ken it would really help if he'd give a confused look every now and then or stumble over his words some, but he is in one of those Spanish highs right now and communicates very well. :)

We've reflected so many times these last couple of days of God's providence, and how miraculous it is that the heavy exercise, the heat of Paraguay, and the weightlifting that Ken was doing didn't cause a heart attack. And how the heart condition had raised his blood pressure abnormally high, to the level that he could easily have had a stroke. We really have no way of knowing how long he walked around like that, and many of the symptoms we now know are heart things, we were probably blaming on the change of climate in moving here. God is so faithful, and His hand has been on us. We sure don't take it lightly. We don't deserve His goodness, but we're glad to receive it. I honestly don't know how folks who don't walk with Him, get through the day without knowing He is in control.

Again, thanks for the prayers. We have two hours to go, so my next news will be from the other side of this.

How do I even start? Well, there's a word here that gets used a whole lot, and means a fight, a struggle, a battle of sorts. It's pronounced LOO-cha (written "lucha"). If you ask a Paraguayan how they're doing--or the equivalent of What's up?--they'll usually say that life is always a "lucha." I used to grimace every time I heard that phrase, thinking how sad it was that they saw life through a negative lens. I have to tell you that the longer we live here, the more I understand why they say it. There are certain things that shouldn't be, but are, a lucha.

Last night, I dreamed we drove through heavy rains that were fierce but only lasted a little time. We were on a road by the ocean, and it cleared up so that we could see the storm out over the water but no longer over us. We stopped in my dream to take pictures of the storm because there was such a contrast between the darkness over the ocean and the clear sky where we were.

This morning in real life, we left Carapegua for the capital, knowing that the day would be full of running errands to prepare for the hospital stay next week. Well, about half-way to Asuncion the bottom dropped out of the sky. We drove through some serious downpours, taking side roads once we got there because the main roads all looked like rivers. This is when streets made of cobblestone in uneven piles come in very handy! All the normally paved ones were too deep to cross, as evidenced by the cars we kept passing stalled out, with water over their tires. I prayed a lot, thanking God for His hand of protection on us. We finally got to a place we could just pull over and wait the rest of it out.

When we arrived at the first appointment, with the insurance company, things got even crazier. Let me prelude this by saying that we'd already turned in our paperwork last weekend to them and were told that we could pick it up Tuesday. We showed up Tuesday morning to find that they'd gotten all our information wrong. This was first apparent when they said that Ken wasn't covered for surgery. We knew that he should be according to his policy, so we dug around to find out that they'd put the wrong category for his level of coverage. The employee made the adjustment and came back to say that they still weren't covering it because there is a six-month waiting period. I explained that we'd passed that already, but he didn't believe me.

Thankfully, this is not my first experience with the system here, and I know that one must be prepared for WHATEVER in Paraguay. So I proceeded to take out my paperwork and show him that not only was Ken covered, but I showed him the exact date we bought the policy, and the receipts for our monthly payments since. He admitted their error again and said it would take a little while to redo the paperwork--"Just come back when we call you in a few hours." I left my phone number with the assurance that someone would call us that day. We never heard back from them, so showed up that afternoon in person anyway, to be told that the papers still weren't ready. No big surprise. He assured me that they would get it all straightened out, but that it would be Thursday evening, since Wednesday was a national holiday for the annual pilgrimage to the Holy City. Okay.

We'd been making so many 4-hr round trips to Asuncion this past week since our arrival, that we decided to combine the insurance trip with the pick-up-Ken's-bloodwork-results-and-appointment-with-the-surgeon visit we'd have to make today, Friday. I had a stinking feeling we should have made that special trip Thursday evening just for the insurance papers, but I kinda doubted they'd be ready anyway and didn't want to be on the road again for nothing.

Fast forward to today, after the rain, and they present me with the exact same paperwork we saw Tuesday, bottom line--no coverage. I went through the same two errors as before, each time the employee walking away for "just a second" to clear it up, coming back with the next reason they didn't want to pay. When the dates and the coverage were verified (again), they stated that this heart thing was probably something Ken was born with, meaning it was a pre-existing congenital defect that he probably knew about all his life. We agreed that it could have been a birth defect, but told them that we had only found out recently. I presented Ken's last "clean bill of health" that came from a required exam by a doctor in Paraguay, when we were applying for citizenship. I also asked to speak to the boss.

The boss explained to me that it really didn't matter if we just found out or whether we'd known for years and been waiting for our arrival in Paraguay to have the surgery, the fact that it had EXISTED before his coverage classified it as pre-existing and they wouldn't cover pre-existing. I promptly showed her the contract that said they WOULD, in fact, cover pre-existing conditions after the six-month wait. "When you are accepted by Asis-Med, your pre-existing conditions are covered after 6 months wait."

We went round and round, and I found out that she was not quite The Boss, since she had to keep leaving to make calls to someone "in a meeting" (are the folks with the power to fix the problem ALWAYS in a meeting, or is that just here in Paraguay?) Once, she came back with a letter addressed to us, in which the insurance company decided they no longer wanted Ken to be their client, and they were officially dissolving the relationship and did not have to have "just cause" to do so.

At this point (in all the waiting for her to talk to the "boss"), I had read the policy manual up and down, in and out. So I pointed out to her that yes, they do have the policy to dissolve the relationship, but they must give us 15 days notice. Since the surgery is in 3 days, and he's only set for a one-week stay, that should work out just fine, right? Well, no. Despite that I showed her in her own manual that they have to give us 15-days notice, she just flat out said that they would NOT cover most of the expenses. Thankfully, they already agreed to the basic stuff like a room, and we ARE in Paraguay. So the amount we are looking at is not nearly as shocking as it could add up to in the United States. If there are no complications, we're looking at $5,000. But the injustice of paying for a policy and then finding you don't have coverage just because they don't want to uphold their end of it just sits bad with me.

I tend to think too hard on these things, like is God spanking us for something? Have we ripped someone off and now we're gonna reap what we sowed? Have I not read enough chapters this week in the Bible? Should I have given $11 instead of $10 in that last offering? Am I the only one that thinks God is standing up there doling out swift punishments if we accidentally do something wrong? I know in my heart it isn't that way, but days like this, my heart has to have constant conversations with my head.

I am reminding myself that in the dream last night, we drove THROUGH a storm and once on the other side, stopped to look at it from afar and snap photos. I'll charge the batteries in my "camera" and wait till God walks us through this one, but we'll take any prayers/advice you would offer up. Hope your day was a lot less stormy than ours.

The typical Christmas looks a little different here in Paraguay than what we grew up with in the United States. For one, nobody is wearing coats or gloves or scarves. It's summertime, and we're in shorts and t-shirts and flip-flops. You won't see a spread of turkey and dressing or baked goods, but there's watermelon on every side and folks ARE passing around what amounts to fruitcake. They'll be sipping sidra (apple cider) and grilling out the week of Christmas.

There are hardly any trees or lights, but every home that can afford one has a pesebre, which is a manger scene. It's pretty close to ours, except that the wise men are almost always black, and the animals hanging out around Jesus are a bit different. For example, there are oxen and chickens and pigs. In the picture of the manger scene in the mall in Asuncion, see if you can pick out the chicken standing to the right of the angel. Something the girls get a kick out of, is that the animals are never to scale. The chickens in this particular scene were bigger than the oxen, but that adds to the character of it all. Most folks place a basket of fruit in there somewhere, as well as chipa (bread) hanging around the family like stars.

I have a bit of a struggle with mine, because I've ALWAYS had a manger scene. Well, here where idol worship is so prevalent, my little statuettes of the holy family and their visitors are looked on as un-Christian... imagine that! When we were in the US, I heard of struggles with Christians wanted to put their manger scenes up and were being opposed. But here the actual little statues are worshipped, rather than just used as a reminder of the "real" Jesus, and often more emphasis is placed on Mary or Joseph than the baby. So my scene last year offended some Christians, and I didn't come to offend. I totally get that, but to be honest, I'm having a hard time giving up the thing that most symbolizes Christmas-time for me. I tell you, there were years we didn't even put up a tree, but I've always had manger scenes scattered throughout the house. I could put it upstairs where our bedrooms are, but having it in the living area opens the door to talk about the original reason for the little reminder of Jesus' birth, and for a little education. Still, it's very ingrained in their culture that the little folks are not just decoration, they are to be worshiped. Here's a bit of trivia for you...

Saint Francis of Assisi, a twelfth-century churchman, is best known as the founder of the Franciscan Order of Friars. He is also credited with creating the very first nativity scene, as a way to convey the ideas of Christmas to an illiterate congregation.

In 1224, Saint Francis had the idea of creating a “living” recreation of the birth of Jesus, as a way to bring the Christmas spirit to the local villagers. It is believed that local shepherds, guarding their flocks outside the small Italian town of Greccio, inspired him. Saint Francis had real people dressed in biblical robes, and real animals positioned outside a cave on the outskirts of Greccio. In the manager was a life sized wax figure of the infant Jesus.

On Christmas Eve, families traveled far and wide to witness the spectacle. Saint Francis urged the people to rejoice in the season of Christ’s birth and put hatred from their hearts. Over time the presepio, as it was called in Italy, grew in popularity. Other towns began featuring them and soon people had individual nativity scenes in their own homes.

Read more at Suite101: Saint Francis of Assisi: Maker of the Christmas Nativity Scene http://www.suite101.com/content/saint-francis-of-assisi-a35417#ixzz17XTaaOVt

Any advice on this one? Feel free to comment (be nice, please)....

This is a little late, but the truth is that we were flying into Paraguay on Caroline's actual birthday and it got downplayed a bit. This past weekend Saul and her daddy cooked up their special homemade pizza in her honor, and she was perfectly satisfied after that. Pizza vs cake, and the pizza won out. We did have some cake before we left the States, so it's all good. :) She's a clown with a sensitive heart, who can't get enough of reading and loves all animals. I snapped this picture that sums her up well, at the state campgrounds, and I think this is Roddy's dog. She'd just met him, but with animals, she's never met a stranger. I can't believe she's already an adolescent, but it's great to see her develop into a young lady.

Today we made the trek into Asuncion. It seemed every person in Paraguay was also there, in preparation for the national holiday tomorrow. It's the day most Paraguayans make their yearly pilgrimage to the town of Caacupe to honor Mary, mother of Jesus. So not only were folks running around doing all their business, but some had begun walking the pilgrimage (over 50 kilometers, usually a full day's walk).

We went to have the preliminary bloodwork done before Ken's upcoming trip to the hospital, and to get the logistics in order surrounding all that. You know, fun stuff like visiting the insurance company, making doctor's appointments, all that jazz.

I had the privilege, however, of taking part in the monthly ladies Bible study. I haven't been to one of these in over a year, so it was great to see old faces and meet new folks. Since we're this close to Christmas, everyone brought baked goods to share--see the goodies in the picture above? I really enjoyed spending a couple hours this morning with fellow missionary gals, praying for our ministries and families and digging into God's Word. The verse that stood out to me was Luke 1:30, where the angel tells Mary for the second time that she's found favor with God. He says this just before explaining to her what freaky things are fixing to happen in her world, and I think it may be to point out to her that these seemingly negative things are really positive, and that God has chosen her to walk through them because he FAVORS her. I think I'll remember that the next time I'm complaining about what I have to walk through.

I also got to drive today, something that I normally am prohibited from, due to the craziness of the cars, buses, and motorcycles in Asuncion. Ken was really wiped out, though, so he handed me the wheel just in time for a huge thunderstorm. I navigated the rain and winds just fine, whipping around traffic just like he does (okay, not quite that bad), and elevating me to "capable" status in his eyes... something that is very important since he'll have to trust me to drive him home from the hospital!

Oh, my, it's been a L-O-N-G time since I've blogged! This one is long overdue. We are now back in Paraguay, leaving South Carolina this past cold, rainy Tuesday, and landing in Paraguay in the blazing heat on Wednesday. We're getting unpacked a little at a time and settling back into routine.

Our trip was incredible, traveling all over SC to visit churches, friends, and family. We were also able to participate in a youth retreat, a couples' retreat, a middle school career day, a Kenneth Copeland conference, the girls' old homeschool co-op and their buddies from playgroup, and an Operation Christmas Child shoebox rally. We were glad to be there for our god-daughter Julia's 5th birthday party (even if we stood out sorely in the room full of other 5-year-olds), my mom's birthday, Thanksgiving, and a whole lot of other great get-togethers. It was a fully packed two months, but we were reminded of how blessed we are to have such a supportive group of friends and family praying for us and encouraging us from across the world.

We were glad to be received warmly back to Paraguay and find our friends here doing well. We've already been treated to a traditional asado with mandioca (grilling out with yucca root on the side), and caught the kindergarten and 6th grade graduation at the school where we have Friday Bible study.

Today was Ken's appointment with the heart surgeon. He has scheduled some tests for next week, and the plan is to enter the hospital on Monday, the 13th for the heart cath, then surgery that next day, Tuesday the 14th. Again, your prayers are appreciated at this time for the whole family, but especially for Ken.

Thanks to all of you who welcomed us in the US and treated us so well, and we look forward to keeping you posted on what God's up to in Paraguay. God bless!