My husband was diagnosed with a complicated case of diverticulitis in the latter part of May. It’s a condition I wouldn’t wish on anyone, and a condition I had never heard of. We are now over a month, and two surgeries into this condition.

For the record, the first day started with my husband having pain below his belly button, and feeling maybe constipated or full of gas. Then the pain moved and to the right. I rushed him to the ER thinking maybe he had appendicitis. I was surprised when they told me about diverticulitis, and that they were going to admit my husband into the hospital. They sent him home after several days on oral antibiotics. If only that had worked.

The antibiotics didn’t work and back to the ER we went with more pain, and then came surgery number one. The first surgery was 17 days ago, and it was to remove an infection that had packed into the lower part of his small intestine that oral antibiotics were not touching. Next, was a PICC line inserted in his upper arm for us to administer IV antibiotics ourselves for 2 weeks from home.

Despite the efforts, his pain never went away, and so the final surgery today was unavoidable. Today was a surgery to remove 3 inches of his colon/large intestine that was infected with the diverticulitis. A 3-hour surgery lasted closer to 5 hours, and I have never been so scared and stressed in my life.

I felt as though God was saying “I’ll teach you patience yet” while every nerve in my body rebelled in protest. And yet I lost the battle. For patience was not a choice in this endeavor, but a must. I had no control of the movement or what was to happen. So, like a defeated dog, I waited in the corner, for time to finally end.

At last it did. Out of surgery my husband finally came, and in recovery he was calling my name. The nurses brought me back to the recovery room early because he kept asking for me. Thank God, of course! Thank you for another day together. May his body finally heal to where he can go back to living again.

It turns out many people have the condition, and never know it because it stays diverticulosis and is more common in elderly adults. However, when one of these little balloon pockets become infected, and then bursts, the havoc on the body gets complicated and then it’s diverticulitis. I have watched my husband suffer for more than a month, and it has been a horrible experience. We have both been so helpless because this isn’t something that any past illness can prepare you for. The process to get here was long even with us getting lucky.

Listen to your body everyone, and pray you get to the right doctor who performs the right test to diagnose you correctly the first time. I am grateful we were lucky, and found the right doctor at the right time.

Although a long road is still ahead- it is finally a road that should have an end.