Lisa Sexton - No Such Thing as Cant: A Triumphant Story of Faith and Perseverance

No Such Thing as Cant: A Triumphant Story of Faith and Perseverance

2020 Tyler Sexton, MD, and Lisa Sexton. All rights reserved.

A Focus on the Family book published by Tyndale House Publishers, Carol Stream, Illinois 60188

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Scripture quotations marked ( NASB ) are taken from the New American Standard Bible. Copyright 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. (www.Lockman.org).

Editor: Julie B. Holmquist

Cover design: Sally Dunn

All stories in this book are true and are used by permission.

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ISBN 978-1-58997-973-4

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Build: 2021-04-21 22:32:24 EPUB 3.0

Im only six years old, but I already know the drill. It usually starts at the family dinner table.

Eat up, Tyler, my mom tells me. You cant have any snacks tonight or any breakfast tomorrow. Were going to see the doctor in the morning.

Im sitting in front of a dish heaped with some of my favorite foods, and Mom is smiling at me. Even though I know I wont be able to have breakfast, Im too anxious to eat much.

Hey, Tyler, Dad says. Are you ready to play Contra after dinner?

I love that video game, but Dads offer doesnt make me happy.

Dad, I dont feel like playing right now, I say, trying to smile.

I know you must be nervous, Tyler, but playing a game might take your mind off of tomorrow.

I just cant, Dad.

You guys are so faking it, I say to myself, knowing they are doing their best to take my mind off whats happening tomorrow. We have gone through the same motions so many times before. Another surgery. Another night of feeling so scared before another day of fear. And then, after that, a lot of painful physical therapy.

I cant eat or focus on a game. My parents try and try to make me feel better, but it isnt working. Im just a little kid, and I wish I didnt have cerebral palsy and need operations. At the same time, I know my mom and dad love me and hope that another surgery will help me walk without braces strapped on both my legs.

That night my parents tuck me in bed and say those flowery words parents say when they want their kid to not be afraid.

Tyler, Mom says as she sits next to me on my bed, youre so brave, and we know that youll be doing great by this time tomorrow.

Great? I think to myself. Sure! Lots of pain and lots of pain and lots of pain. I dont say any of that as I look at my mom trying so hard to make me feel better.

Remember, Jesus is with you, she keeps trying. Hell protect you, and Dad and I and all our friends at church will be praying for you.

I know, I mumble as my dad walks up next to my mom.

Dad now starts to help make me feel better too.

I wish the words did make me feel better. I can tell that they dont really feel good about another surgery either.

Mom and Dad both put a hand on me, and Mom starts praying, Father, we bring Tyler to You now and place him before Your throne of grace. Please remove his fear and let him fall asleep quickly and sleep peacefully until tomorrow morning. Put your angels around this bed and touch him with Your love and peace. We love him so much and know You love him even more. In Jesus name, amen.

Im glad they prayed I would sleep because thats so hard for me to do the night before surgery. Theres a little light from the streetlight outside my window, so I squeeze my eyes tightly shut. I make myself keep my eyes shut and try not to think about the knot in my stomach. Im sad that I face another surgery. Im afraid of more pain. Im even angry that my parents think I need to go through this agonyagain.

I must have fallen asleep, because the next time I open my eyes my mom is waking me up. Its still dark outside, and there will be no breakfast for my knotted, and now empty, stomach.

Im buckled in the back seat of the car, soon to be strapped to a torture table. My mom would be terribly upset if she knew I felt so afraid. I try not to show it, but as soon as the hospital doors open before us, I start pulling on my moms arm, trying to keep her back from them.

Mom, cant we do this another time? I beg, as terror fills my little-boy thoughts.

I know where were headedto the holding room where Ill get ready for surgery. Im really mad now. This place is so phony... all cheerful and fun. A jungle scene is painted really big on the walls, all kinds of video games are on a shelf in one corner, and huge television screens are running kids shows. I know its a sham. Its supposed to make little kids feel all happy and forget that they are about to be cut into.

Im not one of those dumb kids who is tricked into believing this is the way the day will continue. No, Ive been here before. I know that sometime soon my prep for surgery will begin. And here she comes, the nurse with the dreaded gown in her hand.

Come on, Tyler, Mom says. Lets get you changed. But the too-small hospital gown barely covers me. The ties in the back never close all the way, so about a one-inch gap opens all the way down from my neck to my knees. My bare bottom is hanging out for the whole world to see. Im put in a bed. Playtime is over.

Pretty soon Mom will leave to go change into a sterile gown and cap. I know from experience that she will be back, but the panic starts to bubble up and out of my mouth.

Mom! Dont go! I scream.

I dont want her to leave, even for a few minutes. Im so frustrated at how I feel. I have no power to make anything change. My body wont let me jump up like other kids and try to run out of the room. Im twisting and turning, feeling helpless while I cry, but I cant get away. Mom will come back, I tell myself... and she does, but Im still crying as Im put on a gurney and wheeled down the hall.

As soon as we enter the surgery theater, that bleach-drenched, super-clean smell hits me in the face. I hate it! I shiver as the cold air wiggles like a snake under the loose end of the sheet lying over me. I wish theyd let me keep my underpants on.

Im held down and bound to the operating table with sturdy fabric straps. The straps are soft, but I cant move at all.

My arms are stretched out and tied down to bed rods, along with my legs. I squirm and try to twist out of the straps. I think of pictures of Jesus with His arms and legs just like mine, and I dont feel good about this image. I cant protect myself from the beady eyes behind the masks of the doctors and nurses who surround me.