Hospital Recollections
One of the consequences of spending a lot of time at the hospital is that I have too little time to record here the things that I want to remember and reflect on later. In this post, I'll corral whatever comes to mind and nail it to the screen before it escapes me.
***********************
Crises impose themselves on a normal schedule, displacing what feels good and right with something that feels bad and wrong. Crises do not act like ladies and gentlemen. They intrude rudely and demand attention. No waiting quietly till there is a convenient interlude in which to deal with an unpleasant reality. Sometimes they pile on top of each other. My niece Emily's friend was murdered on Thanksgiving eve. My brother Marcus witnessed an accident at close range last week when an elderly lady drove into the path of a semi right in front of where he was doing work with a skid steer. Her obituary appeared in today's paper. My sister Carol has ongoing concerns about her health.
On the other hand, the reverse is true also. Ordinary life intrudes into crisis situations and asserts its own rights. In our extended family we are taking time now also for chicken pox in two households, a viral respiratory infection in another, term papers coming due, programs to prepare for and present, dental appointments, plumbing problems, skunks and possums at the cat dish, the newspaper not being delivered regularly, working overtime at regular jobs, cleaning the church, getting ready for the singing (at Shane's house), and a Thanksgiving meal to orchestrate.
I see the goodness of God in my being on sabbatical right now. I can't imagine how I would cope if I had teaching responsibilities to see to.
*********************
Joe S. tell me that he finds it interesting to learn about Galichia and the hospital experience from the perspective of a patient's family member via this blog. To him, medical care is "just what we do," but he realizes it looks different through the eyes of others.
I suspect I sound a little clueless and breathless from his perspective, but so be it. I am clueless and breathless, after all.
It's good to see his familiar face occasionally when he's on duty. Since he works in the outpatient area, he is not directly involved in Mom's care.
*********************
The receptionist that was working at Galichia Medical Group when Mom first visited Dr. B.'s office suffered a massive heart attack this past week. She is 58. Her family tells us that she is being given almost no chance of survival, due to the ravages on her blood vessels from smoking and diabetes. Galichia doctors will not operate since they do not believe a good outcome is possible.
Her family is understandably distraught, and shared their pain with members of my family. The woman was thought to be unconscious, but her mother was almost sure she had felt a squeeze from her hand at least once. When my father offered to pray with them, they eagerly agreed. The next day, the woman's mother saw Dad in the hall and asked him to come back to ICU to pray again for her daughter. When Dad finished, the patient said "Thank you." Astounding.
We are praying that, whatever the outcome, she will understand that God is present with her, and she will be at peace with Him.
**********************
On the night after Mom's surgery, Dad and I slept in one of the waiting rooms. He was on a recliner, and I slept on a chair-bed. I secreted my bed as much as possible along the back wall of windows and lined up a row of chairs in front of it to create a barrier between the bed and the rest of the room. People came and went all night in the hall, but I actually got some sleep.
Things got going early the next morning though. Before I was up, a mother and son came in and sat down in the semi-darkness at the side of the waiting room. I was almost sure I heard them praying quietly together.
In the peculiar way that people usually act in such circumstances, I did not "notice" them till I was properly prepared for the day--that is, till I had donned my glasses and shoved my hair under my covering. Then I said "Good morning" after I had folded my blankets and walked past them to brush my teeth and comb my hair properly in the bathroom.
As the lights came on and the day wore on, we did a good bit of visiting with Tom and his mother. He was a junior in high school, and he had taken the day off from school by pre-arrangement. The patient in their family was his father, who was there for outpatient surgery. In the waiting room, Tom was writing a letter to his eighth grade teacher. He wanted to thank her for something she had done which he hated her for at the time. In explaining why he was writing the letter, Tom told us an amazing story.
In eighth grade, Tom had gotten carried away with trying to impress his peers and, since none of them liked their teacher, they kept one-upping each other with mean tricks at her expense. One day Tom spit in her drink.
The reaction was swift and severe. He was expelled from school for the last quarter of the year, and the teacher filed assault charges against him and his parents. A long, expensive legal case ensued. Since the teacher had never actually drunk any of the the spit-tainted drink, the charges were eventually dismissed.
During this time Tom had almost no contact with his peers, and could not attend any school functions--not even his own graduation. He went to church because he liked a girl that attended there, even though his parents were not attending at this time because they were busy on weekends with remodeling their kitchen. Gradually Tom began to realize that he was on a destructive path, and that he would end up in prison if he did not change. He actually began to listen to the sermons he heard. Over time, his desires changed completely and eventually he wanted most of all to please God.
He regularly assists the youth pastor in their church, and he told Dad that he had been asked to preach a sermon in the near future. He told Dad what he thought he might talk about. He asked Dad for help and advice on that subject and Dad obliged. This is how it was all morning. Most of the conversation was between Dad and Tom about Christian faith. His mother and I occasionally joined in when his mother was not busy talking to her sister-in-law.
I have no idea what denomination Tom is part of, and we never talked about ours. He never learned either that my dad is a pastor. We were simply all Christians, who had much in common on that day in the waiting room. Tom is a smashingly handsome young man, but the most memorable thing about him in my mind will always be his clear eyes, his open, friendly expression, and his inner peace and purpose.
Tom is planning for an Air Force career--something his family is very proud of. Dad casually suggested before we parted that Tom might want to read the Sermon on the Mount and Romans 12 in connection with his career choice. He assured Dad that he would do so.
********************
Dad had another heart-warming encounter with a Galichia patient. By way of a lab technician who knew our family, he sent word that he would like to talk with Dad about matters of faith. After one false start when Dad thought he was in the wrong room, the man told Dad that he was a believer until his stint in Viet Nam with the military. He became an agnostic during that time, and developed a drug addiction.
Eventually he overcame that, only to become alcohol dependant. When he talked to the lab technician he had begun to realize that he needed the Lord's help to overcome his addiction. That was why he wanted to talk to Dad--to find help to re-establish a relationship with the Lord.
After they talked and Dad understood his need and his intentions, he asked the patient if he would like to pray. He was ready, and prayed a very appropriate prayer. My dad prayed then too.
Desperation comes in many forms at Galichia. God isn't shocked by any of them, and people who know the power of God needn't be shocked either. It's a privilege to help provide a link between needy people and a powerful God. Having experienced our own share of neediness and much of God's blessing helps us understand how to do that.
***********************
Crises impose themselves on a normal schedule, displacing what feels good and right with something that feels bad and wrong. Crises do not act like ladies and gentlemen. They intrude rudely and demand attention. No waiting quietly till there is a convenient interlude in which to deal with an unpleasant reality. Sometimes they pile on top of each other. My niece Emily's friend was murdered on Thanksgiving eve. My brother Marcus witnessed an accident at close range last week when an elderly lady drove into the path of a semi right in front of where he was doing work with a skid steer. Her obituary appeared in today's paper. My sister Carol has ongoing concerns about her health.
On the other hand, the reverse is true also. Ordinary life intrudes into crisis situations and asserts its own rights. In our extended family we are taking time now also for chicken pox in two households, a viral respiratory infection in another, term papers coming due, programs to prepare for and present, dental appointments, plumbing problems, skunks and possums at the cat dish, the newspaper not being delivered regularly, working overtime at regular jobs, cleaning the church, getting ready for the singing (at Shane's house), and a Thanksgiving meal to orchestrate.
I see the goodness of God in my being on sabbatical right now. I can't imagine how I would cope if I had teaching responsibilities to see to.
*********************
Joe S. tell me that he finds it interesting to learn about Galichia and the hospital experience from the perspective of a patient's family member via this blog. To him, medical care is "just what we do," but he realizes it looks different through the eyes of others.
I suspect I sound a little clueless and breathless from his perspective, but so be it. I am clueless and breathless, after all.
It's good to see his familiar face occasionally when he's on duty. Since he works in the outpatient area, he is not directly involved in Mom's care.
*********************
The receptionist that was working at Galichia Medical Group when Mom first visited Dr. B.'s office suffered a massive heart attack this past week. She is 58. Her family tells us that she is being given almost no chance of survival, due to the ravages on her blood vessels from smoking and diabetes. Galichia doctors will not operate since they do not believe a good outcome is possible.
Her family is understandably distraught, and shared their pain with members of my family. The woman was thought to be unconscious, but her mother was almost sure she had felt a squeeze from her hand at least once. When my father offered to pray with them, they eagerly agreed. The next day, the woman's mother saw Dad in the hall and asked him to come back to ICU to pray again for her daughter. When Dad finished, the patient said "Thank you." Astounding.
We are praying that, whatever the outcome, she will understand that God is present with her, and she will be at peace with Him.
**********************
On the night after Mom's surgery, Dad and I slept in one of the waiting rooms. He was on a recliner, and I slept on a chair-bed. I secreted my bed as much as possible along the back wall of windows and lined up a row of chairs in front of it to create a barrier between the bed and the rest of the room. People came and went all night in the hall, but I actually got some sleep.
Things got going early the next morning though. Before I was up, a mother and son came in and sat down in the semi-darkness at the side of the waiting room. I was almost sure I heard them praying quietly together.
In the peculiar way that people usually act in such circumstances, I did not "notice" them till I was properly prepared for the day--that is, till I had donned my glasses and shoved my hair under my covering. Then I said "Good morning" after I had folded my blankets and walked past them to brush my teeth and comb my hair properly in the bathroom.
As the lights came on and the day wore on, we did a good bit of visiting with Tom and his mother. He was a junior in high school, and he had taken the day off from school by pre-arrangement. The patient in their family was his father, who was there for outpatient surgery. In the waiting room, Tom was writing a letter to his eighth grade teacher. He wanted to thank her for something she had done which he hated her for at the time. In explaining why he was writing the letter, Tom told us an amazing story.
In eighth grade, Tom had gotten carried away with trying to impress his peers and, since none of them liked their teacher, they kept one-upping each other with mean tricks at her expense. One day Tom spit in her drink.
The reaction was swift and severe. He was expelled from school for the last quarter of the year, and the teacher filed assault charges against him and his parents. A long, expensive legal case ensued. Since the teacher had never actually drunk any of the the spit-tainted drink, the charges were eventually dismissed.
During this time Tom had almost no contact with his peers, and could not attend any school functions--not even his own graduation. He went to church because he liked a girl that attended there, even though his parents were not attending at this time because they were busy on weekends with remodeling their kitchen. Gradually Tom began to realize that he was on a destructive path, and that he would end up in prison if he did not change. He actually began to listen to the sermons he heard. Over time, his desires changed completely and eventually he wanted most of all to please God.
He regularly assists the youth pastor in their church, and he told Dad that he had been asked to preach a sermon in the near future. He told Dad what he thought he might talk about. He asked Dad for help and advice on that subject and Dad obliged. This is how it was all morning. Most of the conversation was between Dad and Tom about Christian faith. His mother and I occasionally joined in when his mother was not busy talking to her sister-in-law.
I have no idea what denomination Tom is part of, and we never talked about ours. He never learned either that my dad is a pastor. We were simply all Christians, who had much in common on that day in the waiting room. Tom is a smashingly handsome young man, but the most memorable thing about him in my mind will always be his clear eyes, his open, friendly expression, and his inner peace and purpose.
Tom is planning for an Air Force career--something his family is very proud of. Dad casually suggested before we parted that Tom might want to read the Sermon on the Mount and Romans 12 in connection with his career choice. He assured Dad that he would do so.
********************
Dad had another heart-warming encounter with a Galichia patient. By way of a lab technician who knew our family, he sent word that he would like to talk with Dad about matters of faith. After one false start when Dad thought he was in the wrong room, the man told Dad that he was a believer until his stint in Viet Nam with the military. He became an agnostic during that time, and developed a drug addiction.
Eventually he overcame that, only to become alcohol dependant. When he talked to the lab technician he had begun to realize that he needed the Lord's help to overcome his addiction. That was why he wanted to talk to Dad--to find help to re-establish a relationship with the Lord.
After they talked and Dad understood his need and his intentions, he asked the patient if he would like to pray. He was ready, and prayed a very appropriate prayer. My dad prayed then too.
Desperation comes in many forms at Galichia. God isn't shocked by any of them, and people who know the power of God needn't be shocked either. It's a privilege to help provide a link between needy people and a powerful God. Having experienced our own share of neediness and much of God's blessing helps us understand how to do that.
posted by Mrs. I at
4:43 PM
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