Unexpected Lessons

In my fever-ridden mind, I imagine that my day 4 in the hospital feels a little bit like the Israelites' year 4 in the desert. (That's probably an exaggeration on my part, but hey- I'm being transparent.) The Israelites had a tendency to be whiny, and they had a terrible case of short-term memory loss. We read their story and think, "What is wrong with these people? Stop complaining and start walking!" As critical as I can be of them, I imagine had I been there I wouldn't be the best traveling companion either. There was, however, a purpose for the Israelite's extended journey. The Lord used their detour to refine and reshape them. He used their time in the wilderness to retrain their way of thinking and reteach them to depend on Him as their source. And just like the children of Israel walked into the Promised Land having learned some unexpected lessons, I can see that I will be walking out of this hospital saying the same. This blog gives me an opportunity to record what I'm learning, and hopefully gives you an opportunity to learn these lessons without living them (or at lease gives you a head-start on the lesson).

Lesson 1: Midnight Worship Session

Acts 16:25-26 Along about midnight, Paul and Silas were at prayer and singing a robust hymn to God. The other prisoners couldn’t believe their ears. Then, without warning, a huge earthquake! The jailhouse tottered, every door flew open, all the prisoners were loose.

After about day 2, a hospital room seems to transform into more of a jail cell than a place of rest. This was the only thought running through my head Thursday night as I lay wide awake waiting for the alarm on my IV machine to stop ringing in my ear. The nurse finally came in my room to fix the tube and I was left alone in the silence... feeling more miserable than grateful for sure. That's when the Holy Spirit reminded me of my good friends Paul and Silas. These guys have counseled me through situations more than once, and laying in the hospital bed, I could imagine them laying on the cold, hard floor of the Macedonian prison. I also imagined how that was a million times worse than my big room in this clean, air-conditioned, American hospital... I was feeling better already. Paul and Silas not only had a good attitude in that cold prison cell, but they also had the right mindset. They had hearts that said "even in the midst of our darkest situations we are going to worship because we are thankful for Who God Is" and that's exactly what they did. So that's exactly what I did. I worshipped myself to sleep (right after I apologized to the Lord for not having done so sooner) and I will continue to worship until I feel the earthquake and watch the doors swing open. And you know what? I think I'll worship after that happens, too.

Lesson 2: A Sure Cure for Self-Pity

One thing about being in any kind of hospital or doctor's office long-term is that you can start to feel really sorry for yourself. You could be the healthiest person in the whole place, but you're not thinking about that. You're thinking about all of the people on the outside who are free to sleep in their own beds at night... all the people eating real food... all the people who get to go outdoors whenever they please. It seems to be human nature to dwell on what's wrong in your life instead of how blessed you are. Right before I got admitted on Wednesday, I was watching Pastor Steve Riggle preach online at Gateway. We have known Steve and Becky for years, in fact I refer to them as Uncle Steve and Aunt Becky, but I had never really heard them tell their whole story. Years ago, Steve and Becky were overseas on a mission trip when they were taken hostage by escaping inmates in a local prison. Long story short, Steve was viciously stabbed in major organs 5 times by one of the prisoners and Becky lost two inches of her femur when the prison guard opened fire on them. I was listening to this story in amazement of the fact that 1. Steve and Becky were still alive after suffering such injuries 2. Steve and Becky were still alive after receiving months of medical attention overseas where there was high risk of infection and exposure to things we don't even want to think about and 3. Not one time laying in that hospital overseas did they feel sorry for themselves, but they remained the most grateful people I have met. I have thought about the Riggle's more than once these past few days. If they could find a way to be so free from the crippling effects of self-pity, I can surely do the same. But what is the secret? Paul says in Philippians "I’ve learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I’m just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I’ve found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am." What's the sure cure for self-pity? Dwelling not on your circumstances but on the One who supplies everything that we need and takes delight in doing it.


Lesson 3: A Line to the Heart
Yesterday I learned what a pick line is. After trying numerous times to get the IV back in my arm, the nurse told me they were going to call in a specialist to install a tube from my arm directly to my heart so that I could get the medicine I needed into my blood stream. She proceeded to tell me that I was going to be awake during this little procedure. That didn't really sound like something I was ready to volunteer for, but it didn't sound like I really had a choice. With all of my medical wisdom, I started searching my arms to find a vein I thought they could retry the IV in. I'd point to one of the blue lines and say "what about this one?" only to hear her explain to me that it wasn't the right kind of vein and the medicine wouldn't get where they needed it to go. Besides, she told me with the pick line in, there was a chance I could go home earlier and have home healthcare come and do the IV from the comfort of my own room. I knew that it was important to have the line and I knew if I wanted to get better, I really didn't have a choice. After what felt like hours of anticipation, the specialist arrived. He explained exactly what he was going to do and after numbing my arm, he began to bore a hole through the muscle and tissue so he could find the vein he needed. I can't say I was in a ton of pain since my arm had been numbed, but I can tell you that I haven't feel that much discomfort in a long time. There was no doubt in my mind that the doctor had just pushed his way three inches into tissue and muscle in order to gain the needed access to my heart. Aha! There it was... lesson number three. Oh how uncomfortable it is when the Lord is digging His way to where he needs to be, but oh how necessary and beneficial it is in the end. The pick line has been in for 24 hours now and I am so glad I trusted the specialist to put it in. It looks downright ugly, and I can feel the uncomfortable feeling you get from a healing wound, but the medicine is getting in my system, and the infection is dying. I can remember countless times that the Lord has had to tear things down in my life in order to heal me. Neither the tearing nor the healing process were comfortable, but praise God the healing came.