I am home from a weekend at the luxurious Nashville Baptist Hospital. I have q-tipped my ears, brushed my teeth, and showered off much of the remains of the betadine tan on my stomach. But I digress. Let me catch you up.
When I last left you, I said that I was feeling okay. Yeah, well that didn't last long. Around eleven on Thursday morning, I started feeling like crap again. About the only thing that gave me any relief was to stand in a hot shower, which really wasn't feasible for the long term. I tried to eat something to ease the burning twisting in my abdomen, but nothing worked.
I was supposed to see Rebekah at 2:00. I vaguely remember calling her and just saying over and over, "I'm sick, I'm sorry." I supposed it would have been helpful to say something more meaningful like, "I will not be able to make it today," or "I need to cancel so I can arrange my funeral," but I think she probably got the message. The pains continued to increase, so I called the office of my 24-hour-old gastroenterologist, who was not in his office but next door doing procedures. Tammy-Jo, the temp receptionist tried her best to help me, and finally said if she were in that much pain, she would go to the ER. At that point, I declared Tammy-Jo a genius, and followed her advice.
I got in my car and headed for Baptist, apparently deciding in my clouded mind to take the most circuitous route possible. Nashville rush hour seemed to start early that day. I called Sam, who was in the checkout line at Publix with volumes of frozen food, and he said he would meet me. I called Steve who was in Ohio on his way home from South Carolina.
I finally arrived at the ER. I checked in at reception, then waited for the admitting nurse. At her turn, she took my vitals and told me I came at a good time, because they're not busy. Then I go to wait in waiting room, to be joined by Sam. Pain continues to get worse, so I get up and pace. Finally ER nurse #1 comes to get me and we leisurely strolled back to pod #10. At this point, the memories become rather fuzzy. I know Sam goes in and out to chat with various family members. Nurse 2 comes and goes and Dr. ER comes in and orders an ultrasound, blood work, and pain meds. Nurse 2 brings the drugs, and life gets better. Vampire comes in and takes blood. Steve and Molly show up and I go for ultrasound. Dr. ER comes in and says ultrasound confirms gallstones but my blood work is okay, so he's going to go confer with Dr. Gastro. Then he comes back and says somebody wrote it down wrong, and my liver blood work is shaky, so I get to have my gallbladder out the next day rather than next week. I get admitted.
Steve goes home and Molly stays until I get in my room - several hours later. Molly's highlight is when the Filipino tech tells me he will be in the next morning to give me a sponge bath. Sadly, that never happens. Molly leaves to go home, and nurse gives me more pain medicine, which I throw up, then gives me nausea medicine, and I go to sleep.
Friday starts horribly. I am in pain and throwing up constantly. Dr. Knife comes in to tell me he will be doing the surgery. I tell him I am in pain, but the Dilaudid made me sick, so he says he will prescribe me something else. Steve arrives, followed later by Marilyn, who stopped in on her way to Birmingham. The morning consists of me throwing up, followed my Nurse Steve (on Baptist payroll, not to be confused with Husband Steve) saying how sick I am, then giving me a shot of morphine. Finally some dude comes in and takes me to surgery.
I get to pre-op, and a whole parade of people start trooping by. I sign anything and everything in anticipation of a life without pain. Finally Nurse Feel-Good says, "Here is the good stuff," and I close my eyes. The next thing I hear is someone saying, "Take deep breaths." Thinking I have died and they are bringing me back to life, I do as I am told. I manage to open my eyes and ask where I am - apparently I have arrived in the recovery room, less one gallstone-ridden gallbladder.
I get back to my room, and spend the rest of the day sleeping. Saturday I walked and slept, and today I finally got to return home.
Lately, when I have been sick, and particularly on Thursday and Friday when I felt so horrible, I have to admit I had a lot on my mind to talk to God about.
I didn't ask why, because it wasn't that type of question. The "why" is that we have human bodies that do human things. It is the uniqueness of our creation that allow the uniqueness of our physical abilities and disabilities. I don't believe that God goes around pointing his finger to decide who is to be in pain and who isn't - these are physical situations that end up being part of our lives.
I didn't ask if God had forsaken me, although the thought did cross my mind. God has never forsaken me, and in fact, proved his ever-present proximity during this situation. Why else did I decide to call a gastroenterologist on Tuesday, get an appointment for Wednesday, have an attack on Thursday, and get it remedied on Friday? Why else did I go to the ER at a time when it was not busy? Why else did I get a parking place practically right across from the entrance? Why else did I get the surgeon that is the best (according to any of the hospital personnel)? God took care of the details because He was right there all the time.
I guess the question that I have learned to ask is, "What do you want me to learn from this?" That question is the most useful. In this situation, I was reminded of God's walk with me always. I also faced an apprehension of having an operation. I'm learning that if I don't slow down, I may face a situation where I have to slow down.
Fifty has started out with a bang. But I think I'll just take a rest for now - too much excitement for this old codger!
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