Angels in Scrubs

In a few hours I’m scheduled for surgery, an operation I’ve known was coming since last April. Compared to many procedures to remove cancerous tumors, mine will be relatively simple. Over the last few months I’ve had a lot of time to ponder the types of cancer I could’ve been diagnosed with – cancers that aren’t treated so easily. Cancers that don’t have such a hopeful prognosis. Cancers that have spread to other parts of your body.

That’s not the case for me.

I will have a lumpectomy, which together with radiation and Herceptin infusions over the next year will give me a five percent chance of recurrence of cancer over the next eight years. Those are great odds, if you ask me.

But I’m still scared.

I’ve had enough surgeries in my lifetime to know that most of the time things go just fine and you recover without a hitch. And I know that sometimes there are complications.

The last time I had surgery there were complications and it was no picnic. It took ten more days in the hospital and five more surgical procedures to repair the damage. The doctor did everything he could to make it right, including standing at the foot of my bed and telling me he was sorry.

That’s a good doctor, if you ask me.

During one of the last procedures, I woke up, keenly aware of the tube down my throat and a choking sensation. Terrified, I remember thinking, oh God, just put me back to sleep! Not being able to speak or move, I opened my eyes, thinking that would alert someone, which it probably did because I went back to sleep shortly thereafter. But right before I did, I glanced over to the corner of the room and noticed a nurse I hadn’t seen before – and by that time I knew all the staff involved in this particular procedure. Standing with her arms folded and one foot crossed over the other, she smiled at me.


“You’re okay,” she said. “He’s right here with you.”

I went back to sleep and never saw her again.

So maybe it was all the drugs they’d given me that week. Maybe it was just a dream.

Or maybe it was an angel in scrubs.

And whether I actually see her tomorrow or not, he’ll be there.




9 Comments Add yours

  1. Ann Mariotti says:

    Sally, you are such an inspiration to me! You have taken this journey with grace I can’t describe. May the Lord heal your body quickly. And thank you for your story. Praying for your quick recovery. Love, Ann Mariotti

  2. Eric Whelchel says:

    Now that you’re out of surgery and safe at home, we will step up the prayers to a whole new level for a full, cancer free recovery. God bless you!

  3. Steve says:

    Lifting you up before the Gentle Healer today.

  4. Carl Agee says:

    I am praying for you Sally and asking for a speedy and complete recovery. Carl

  5. bbbam1 says:

    GOD loves you Sally and so do the Marshalls in Wichita Falls. The Angel in scrubs represents all of us as we watch over you and the doctors along with God doing the same thing.

  6. Turpin, Candra says:

    Praying for you that the surgery goes well and for speedy and complete healing.

    In Christian love from Oklahoma,

    Candra Turpin

  7. Terri Kellar says:

    Yes He is, and you have hundreds of prayer warriors on their knees for you.
    Including me! love you sweet friend

  8. como62 says:

    Sally, I’m praying this morning for your body to be perfectly safe and rid of every cancer cell for your lifetime with this lumpectomy. God IS there with you.

  9. raye lakey says:

    Paul and I are praying relentlessly and wish we could be there. Paul could just tell the medical staff that he’s your minister or pastor.

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