Reflections…

There I was…

On a Monday morning…

In a hospital bed in Good Samaritan hospital.

 

It was Sunday morning; I got up do take my morning pee. Like all good manly men, I stayed standing to do my business.

It was at that moment that some part of me decided to add a little more adventure into my day; so I passed out, hitting my face on the toilet. I woke up hugging the commode like a drunkard and for a few moments, it all felt normal. My daughter knocked on the door and meekly asked if I was alright. Because the talking part of my brain was still standing I simply answered: “I’ll be right out”, and proceeded to try and figure out why there was antiperspirant and hair spray in the toilet. As I slowly began to stand all the parts of my brain re-synchronized and I soon realized that something was a little out of place –specifically me.

Except for a banged up nose and head I was fine… really I was; however, my wife felt that I should go to the emergency room. We dickered back and forth a while until finally we agreed that if we called the doctor and he felt I should go in… I would go in.

Needless to say… I went in.

It was all routine at first; I have fainted before. I am a card holding member of the “Fainting Goat” society. But when bloodwork showed a specific enzyme that suggests stress on the heart they had to take me in.

 

I have learned over the years to take blessings where ever I can get them. I have also learned that sometimes, blessings can even come disguised as a pile of crap –if you just know how to look at it.

Being stuck in the hospital is no blessing. However, having the right perspective and being open to the possibilities can make it so.

 

I admit that there are times in my life that I too often tend to look at myself and think “Self: Your life Stinks”, or “Your situation is less than desirable”, and “If I only had an Irish accent and gobs of cash like Eve Dallas’s Roarke I would be a happy man”. I think it takes times like this to help me put things in their proper perspective.

First of all, I am 54 years old and during my stay in the hospital I had been called a young man by just about everyone who saw me. I very rarely feel young. However, if I really do look younger than I feel, than maybe I need to align my attitude more with my appearance. And think of it: if I lose weight and keep working out I will look even younger…

While in the hospital, I was exposed to all kinds of poking and prodding and blood work and other scary things. At the beginning, the results had all been positive. There would be more yet to come before I was considered a real “Jedi” but somehow, I was confident. They came to my room and did an echocardiogram one morning. It’s kind of like the camera they use to look at unborn babies except they are looking at your heart. It was kind of scary at first; looking between the little screen and the expression of the technician doing the test. I could see the screen and I kept expecting to see a huge obvious blockage or a startled gasp from the operator suggesting something ghastly was wrong.

However I soon found myself fascinated by this little pulsating muscle on the monitor, pounding away, pumping blood to all the extremities that is me.

I stress out… It pumps.

I get depressed… it pumps.

I sometimes do things that are less than healthy, and it pumps.

I sometimes flop down and all but give up on this thing called life… and it just happily keeps on pumping.

It was kind of seductive there on the screen and at the same time cute. Its little valves were flapping open and closed over and over again; the major arteries’ pulsing and throbbing like the friction of two bodies reacting to each other on a cool fall night.

I was inspired by its persistence; it never gave up, never quit, no matter what. As I looked, I soon realized that I was in fact in charge of this little muscle –I could actually control it. No, I’m not talking about some kind of ninja muscle control thing, I’m talking about real control.

If I get happy, I can feel it lighten.

If I get excited or overjoyed, I can feel it filling with that joy.

If I dream, I can feel it soar with the Eagles.

If I experience love or passion, I can feel it pound and pulse with the feeling of the moment.

If I run or swim, it rises to the occasion to fulfill the need.

And if I feel loss or sadness, it breaks and weeps with me, releasing the tension and letting me know I will be alright.

It was a simple test, showing a muscle. But to me, at the time, it was so much more.

 

At the end of the first day, I got a new roommate. Within the first half hour I knew it was going to be a long night. Not being a medical man, I cannot remember or repeat the ailments he had, but they were numerous. It’s not the fact that he had ailments that was the problem, because after all, that is why we were all there in the first place. It was because he was obsessed with them that made it so difficult to be his roomie. I learned that all one had to do was ask: “So, how are you feeling…” to get an hour long dissertation of the history of everything that ever had and ever would be wrong with him.

When you room with a person who talks a lot, and talks to himself, and mumbles to himself, you get to know that person very well, weather you want to or not.

It turns out he ended up with a two foot long blood clot in his leg because the technician who put on his “Una-boot” after they were finished bleeding the hernia on his leg put it on too tight, causing the clot. Of course, he knew it was on too tight and if he had only gone to the hospital sooner, he would not have these problems. After all, he had had this hernia for over fifteen years so he should have known better.

It went on like this for hours. I tried being polite but too often I ended up just giving the generic “Hum…” response while trying not to sound rude.

I learned that his wife had died back in 2007. He lived alone in a room he rented from an elderly woman who sounded sicker than he was. As a 63 year old man he had some kids, but they were all grown and gone. The status of their relationship was not too clear by his description. He was on Social Security and Medicare and despite being sick and having a bloated leg, he was still able to drive. However, his car was in the shop and he was supposed to approve the repairs and pick it up but now he couldn’t because of the clot. Most distressing was the fact that he couldn’t use his phone because he forgot his charger and was having trouble with the hospital phone.

…Gasp!

The next day, while he was away having a test done a woman that I assumed was his daughter or daughter in law stopped by to drop off his phone charger. Asking where he was, she didn’t seem too thrilled to be there. She dropped off his charger and left, seeming even less interested in waiting for him to return.

I soon realized that the poor man was simply lonely and desperate for somebody to talk to. Between his dead wife and his children that seemed none too interested in his wellbeing, all he really had left was his ailments.

As the second day went on, I began to feel both sorry for him and more blessed than I ever believed I was. The whole time I was there my side of the room was filled with family friends and church members that had come to offer their blessings. It was a constant revolving door of people, and they all came for me. My roomie on the other hand was alone with his ailments and a collection of doctors and nurses who would come in, listen to his stories, and then try to figure how to get back out again without seeming rude or insensitive.

Seeing this contrast, I soon came to realize –or rather was reminded- just how blessed my life really was. Once again a difficult situation and a difficult neighbor resulted in another positive and uplifting experience, one that helped me to see my life in a new light.

I am an important person to a lot of people.

I am worthy of people’s time and care.

I am loved.

Because I am loved, I must be a good person.

I… am OK!

 

Later in the morning I went down for my stress test. This was the kind where you drink the magic nuclear elixir and then run on the treadmill until you are ready to drop so they can see if it kills you. I strapped on my wireless harness which connected me to the machine that displayed my heart beats on the screen. I was sitting waiting and watching when it happened.

For the longest time I have been getting these little fluttering feelings in my chest. It’s nothing painful or staggering; it’s just a little butterfly feeling. For years I’ve tried to explain it to doctors and the like, but was never actually able to show it to someone to help them understand it. For years I just thought it was proof that I was on the brink of death with a failing heart. But this time, hooked up to the monitors, waiting for my stress test, I felt it happen.

I quickly looked over to the screen and for the first time in my life I saw it; a little inverted blip on there that didn’t look at all like any of the others that were normal.

“Ah Ha!” I exclaimed. Now I have proof. Now I know what it is.

Before I began the test I told the technicians what had happened. They instantly knew what I was talking about and told me that everyone has those; it’s completely normal.

…Another lifelong fear officially put to rest!

 

Later that day, my parents came by to see me for the second time. While they were visiting, my mother was sitting in a chair near my roomie’s bed. During that time, a specialist came in for my neighbor to discuss a procedure that needed to be done and the options that he would have to choose from. This specialist was trying to decide between forcefully removing the Clot, and doing a medication approach where it would dissolve over time. This specialist somehow though we were talking loud because he was speaking like an umpire at a Cubs game –we were able to hear every word he said; the people down the hall could hear every word he said. Somehow through all this conversation it became clear he was concerned over his level 1 Kidney failure and how this procedure would effect that. After a couple more visits over the next few minutes the course of action was decided; the really loud specialist was gone. However, after later overhearing a conversation my roomie was having on the phone, it seemed clear that he was still concerned about his Kidney failure and being stuck with a catheter for the rest of his life.

Once the phone call was over my mother went over to his side of the room and had a short quiet conversation with him. She came back to join us where I then asked what she had said. Again, I am not a doctor, so I can’t begin to explain or repeat what she said. In digest however she told him not to be concerned and to let them do whatever it was they wanted to do because it would all work out all right. When asked how she knew so much about it she said:

“Well, I have Level 4 Kidney failure and I am waiting for a transplant…”

Understand…I am not completely blind and deaf; I knew that my mother was waiting for a kidney. I just never knew the technical definition of her condition.

As she told me this story I began to choke up with tears.

Imagine all the things that had to happen for those two people to be in that room at that time to have that conversation. I had to fall on my face. He had to mess up his leg. We both had to end up in the same room together in the same hospital, even though this hospital is over an hour away from my house and not the one I would have normally gone to. He had to have that conversation at that time and my mother had to be there at that time as well. She also had to be sitting where she was so she could hear what was said.

By the time my mother was finished talking to him, his mind was at ease; he felt 100 percent better than before and was ready to venture forward and face the fire.

I knew that this whole thing was no accident. No, I do not believe that God made me fall so this would all be possible. I do however believe that he is able to take bad situations that come along in our lives and get as much good out of those situations as possible. All we need to do is be willing to see it in a good light and follow the wee small voice when we hear it.

As the second day (and thankfully my last day in the hospital) wound into the afternoon, I had finished all my tests and was waiting for the results. The Bishop from my church came by to see me, which in itself was a wonderful gift from a good friend. We talked for a while, me, the Bishop, my parents and my youngest daughter. Before too long a couple of our churches Missionaries came in to offer me a blessing.

Here I was in my bed with three family members, one good friend and two brothers of the faith gathered around me in a hospital room with a sign that clearly says “Limit two visitors at a time please”, and I had six. I was a bit overwhelmed. Overwhelmed in a bad way because I admit that I have a hard time being the center of attention like that. But, also overwhelmed in a good way because all of those people were there for me; they cared for and were concerned for me. It filled my heart to over flowing and made me sad at the same time. I was happy at the blessings and joy in my life from family and friends; something that I too often take for granted. And, I was sad at the fact that here I was, surrounded by so much love and support lying next to a man who had been and still was all alone.

Sometimes, we can best see the blessings of our own lives, by looking at them through the eyes of another less fortunate person. I feel that in some small way, I was given that blessing during this stay at the hospital. Rather than feeling agitated and bothered by this somewhat annoying individual that was rooming with me, I felt sympathy for him. I felt myself wishing that he could have just a portion of the blessings that I had –blessings that just 24 hours before I probably would not have acknowledged as existing or important.

 

When a member of the Mormon Church gives a blessing, it involves two or more priest holders gathering around, anointing with consecrated oil, and the laying on of hands upon the head of the recipient. To me, it is a solemn and very moving experience, both to give a blessing and to receive one. The blessing is given in two parts, both parts being of a specific context, with the second part ending in a personal prayer of whatever the giver desires to say.

My friend the Bishop gave the second part.

I will not bore you with the details of that he said. Suffice it to say that without even knowing what I was going through, besides the obvious, it was exactly what I needed to hear at the moment. The words touched upon things that I had been struggling with and worrying over for months, all summed up in a simple prayer.

For the second time in one day I was again brought to tears.

“It always amazes me that someone can walk into a room and offer up a prayer that includes exactly what I needed to hear”, I said to my friend.

He looked at me and simply pointed to the sky and said: “I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t me speaking.”

 

Next followed the results of the tests. Suffice it to say: I got exactly what I needed here as well.

I am not really a worry wart per say, but I do have my stressors: those things in my life that I have always worried about. For me, I have always worried about my heart. Since I was a young teenager I have felt for and stressed about every little ache and pain I felt. I was sure that there was some kind of problem –something that would result in my imminent demise at any moment. Over the years I have had my share of tests and exams, but I have never had such in-depth and complete testing as I had this time. For over 54 years I never really knew if my heart was clean and clear, or was clogged with impassable arteries leading to and from a faulty ticker.

The results came in and I finally had my answer: I was clean and clear. No valve problems, no blockage… Nothing. My life long fear was finally proven once and for all to be faulty –a waste of my time and energy to even think about.

Whatever would I worry about now!

There was one thing they did find however. One of the tests showed that my heart was a bit larger than it should have been. When I asked what it meant, they said that the tests just showed the size being a little larger. They said that there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with it at all.

I decided that this too was good news; I decided that I was the “Anti-Grinch”.

 

So there you have it:

In a two day span of existence I was given something priceless.

I fell on my face.

Was reminded that I am loved and cared for beyond that which most people will ever know.

I was shown that I have value and purpose; that I am important.

I was shown that one of my greatest fears was a load of hooey, and had no place in my life.

I was shown that the Lord is not finished with me yet; that I have a long and happy life ahead of me.

I was again reminded of the meaning of family, and friend, and brotherhood.

 

We all have challenges and difficult times. But if we can just learn to look –really look- we can see the good in just about anything.

 

Despite what it started out to be…

These two days, were not a pile of crap at all!