I was floating in the ocean on Grand Cayman Island after hitting a wake and being thrown from my wave runner. Momentarily bound by fear, even though the Lord had forewarned me that I was coming home with a broken ankle, my flesh took over and I started screaming hysterically. I glanced around for help. My husband and son were nowhere in sight. Finally, I saw my son in the distance. I stopped screaming and waved him over. Later he told me he thought I got in the water to look at the fish. As he got closer, I yelled, "Don't make waves! My ankle's broken."
He slowed down, got off his wave runner and joined me
in the water. I pulled my leg up for him to see the damage and told him how it
happened. Seeing his dad, he waved him over. After a few minutes, my husband
said, "We need to get her back on the wave runner." My eyes went
wide. No way—I can't do that—it'll be too painful.
Our son wisely spoke my thoughts.
We saw a boat off in the distance. Turns out it was a dive boat and had low sides, exactly what was needed to get me on board with the least amount of pain (oh, how God provides for our needs). They were just heading out, and seeing all three of us in the water they headed our way. Still 2-300 feet away, one of them called out and asked if everything was all right. I yelled, "No. My ankles broken."
Help at last. They had a back board and one of them got in the water with us to help get me onto the board and strapped on. The back board floated, allowing my husband to clearly see my ankle. "There's blood." The guy shook his head at my husband.
Sharks! —they're attracted to the scent of blood. "Hurry, get me out of the water!"
After we were safe on the dive boat, I started going into shock. My entire body trembled intensifying the pain in my ankle. I started to pray and felt the Lord urging me to speak it out loud. "Lord, please calm me. This shaking is making the pain worse." I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Instantly, the shaking stopped. Thank you, Lord!
I'll save time and not go into all the details about the rough road and the ride to the emergency center, or the center's condition, but I'll say this. The equipment was antiquated, but at least it did the job. They asked how soon we were flying home. "In two days." "If you want, we can fly you to Florida where you can be treated, or you can wait until you get home." We opted to wait.
I was instructed to see an orthopedic surgeon as soon as we got back.
The next day my husband cancelled the boat trip we planned to take to Sting Ray City. Instead, he took our son out for another day of snorkeling. I stayed at the hotel and laid in the sun, until it started raining. One of the hotel staff quickly wheeled over one or their suitcase carts to get me back to my room. I learned that many on the Island, including many of the hotel staff, were praying for me. How good our God is!
The crazy thing about G.C., they don't have a jetway. You have to walk outside to the plane, and up steep stairs, or in my case, be wheeled out. They carried me up the stairs in the wheelchair, backwards. It was a little scary. By then, I had what my dad would later refer to as Cabbage Patch toes. They were fat, and purple.
One thing about being disabled, we flew through customs in record time, a blessing in itself. We got home late that night, and the following morning, I made an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon. It hadn't occurred to me that it meant I needed surgery. I simply thought they wanted an orthopedic surgeon to take a look and put me in a better cast. By 4:00 p.m. I was in surgery, for four hours.
My foot had been dislocated, the medial malleolus (ball like bone on the inside ankle) had a compound fracture. The surgeon said it was like oatmeal at the break. And my fibula was crushed at the break. He called my bones ghost bones because you could see through them on the x-rays. Most likely from long term Type 1 Diabetes.
He put a screw into the medial malleolus to hold the bone together, and a plate and screws along the fibula. Remember the pain I mentioned in my back when I came down on the runner? The x-ray didn't show any damage, but a lot of capillaries were broken. From my waist down to my bottom, my skin was such a dark purple it looked black. I spent a week in the hospital and was told I'd be laid up for two months.
I learned that people across the country were lifting me in prayer. God is so good! My friend Vicki took on the task of getting people from our church to bring meals. Only she didn't have to make any calls. People called asking her what they could do to help. The outpouring of love on my behalf was amazing.
I had told the Lord I'd praise Him no matter what, and I did. I wanted my life to be a testimony of His love and grace. I'm thankful He didn't reveal the entirety of what would happen. But I imagine the devil asked the Lord's permission to test me, and He gave it. Yet in His great mercy and love, He forewarned me.
During the time I was laid up, I felt the Lord calling me to write and speak for Him. In only one month, I was in a walking cast—a miraculous healing for a type 1 diabetic. Shortly after, I heard of a correspondence writing course and signed up.
Glory to God for His inconceivable love, and for His peace that passes understanding. While He may give us knowledge about something, it doesn't necessarily mean He'll give us the where or how. Our responsibility is to trust His faithfulness, and seek to praise Him no matter the circumstances. For He is worthy.
Lord, minister to those who are hurting today. I pray they experience your peace that passes understanding. May they choose to praise you no matter their circumstances, that you be glorified. In Jesus name I pray. Amen.
Love & Blessings ~ Danie Marie
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