December 11 – “A pastor’s day at the hospital

So what happens when you are a pastor and one of your parishioners is scheduled for open heart surgery?  Well, here’s a window into that experience.

I arrived 5:40.  Yep, that would be in the morning.  I wanted to get there before all the pre-op hoopla started so I could pray with Jamie and Melissa.  Just barely made it, too.  In fact he was already getting ready to take his shower with that special disinfectant soap.  We prayed for protection and wisdom for the docs and peace for Melissa (she had to go to work) and even for a good nap for Jamie.  He was going to get that one anyway as soon as the anesthesia took effect.  Not long after that his Dad, brother, and good friend arrived.  They were there for the long haul. 

His nurse came in to check on him and he was still in the shower.  She wanted to know if he was trying to scrape a whole layer of skin off.  I guess technically that’s what you do in the shower, isn’t it?  I knew what she meant, though.  Very good-natured lady.  Helpful and fun and good at setting her patient at ease. 

Things began to happen rapidly.  The transport bed arrived from the operating room, with the OR nurse dutifully doing her best to untangle all the wires they would be hooking him up to.  Melissa was scrambling to get her stuff all together so she could get on the road as soon as they took him to the OR.  Wires all hooked up.  Rolling down the hall.  Alarms going off on the transport box.  Wait.  What was wrong?  Stop to check.  Quick question, “What is your usual heart rate, Jamie?”  OK.  All good.  On to the elevator.  Squeezing all six of us in.  The pause by the waiting room to do the final goodbyes.  Watching the bed roll around the corner.  Whew.  It’s a whirlwind.  And then … nothing.  Time to wait.  Nothing else to do but leave it in the doctors’ hands and trust that God will be in there as well.  I know it was tough on Jamie’s Dad.  I understood his pain when we hugged and he whispered, “It should be me.”  Exactly how I would feel if it was one of my boys. 

Shortly after that I left for my water therapy.  I had plenty of time to get there.  It was, after all, only 7:00.  All of that in less than two hours.  Makes me tired even now just thinking about it.  I got to garage and suddenly realized that I only had a $20 bill in my wallet.  Not that I wasn’t grateful for it, but the parking garage unattended costs $5, and the largest bill the machine accepts is a ten.  So I walked all the way back into the hospital’s Starbucks franchise.  Only thing open that could get me change.  I returned to the garage with my small large cup of coffee (Starbucks drinkers will understand that one.  Their smallest drink is designated “large.”  Doesn’t make much sense to me).  All set now, I drove up to the exit gate and dutifully extended my five dollar bill into the proper receptacle.  But nothing happened.  It wouldn’t take it.  I tried again.  Nothing.  I turned the bill around.  Nope.  I creased it in the middle to give it more body.  No.  My struggle continued until the lady who was coming on shift to work the garage exit walked up.  I told her it simply refused to take my money.  She kind of grinned, looked over her shoulder and said, “The gate’s open.  Just drive through.”  Oh.  Oops.  I didn’t see that.  I tried the old “I meant to do that” and “I just wanted to do the right thing” trick.  Sounded kind of hollow to me.  I can imagine what was going through her head.  “What a knucklehead.”  That's sure what I was thinking.

After therapy I went by the house and got in about an hour’s worth of study for the sermon on Sunday.  And then it was back up to the hospital to join the wait club.  They were all gone when I got there.  The volunteer  checked on me and let me know they had gone for some lunch.  Lunch.  That’s right.  You are supposed to eat something in the middle of the day, aren’t you?  I went downstairs and had one of those heavenly hospital hamburgers on a huge dry whole wheat bun.  Scrumptious.  By the time I got back to the waiting room, the guys had returned as well.  And I think I only fell asleep once while doing a crossword puzzle.  I did begin to wonder where Teri was.  She is Melissa’s closest friend, and Jamie is like a brother to her.  I expected her to be there.  She was the one who was posting the “official” updates about Jamie.  That question was answered with a FaceBook check.  Seems Teri’s Dad had been taken to the emergency room in Houston and was now in ICU up there.  Bless her heart.  She can only be in one place at a time.  I whispered a prayer for her and her Dad.

It really didn’t take long though before the information board changed to indicate the doc had switched to closing Jamie up.  And not long after the report came out that everything had gone well.  Three bypasses done.  All looked good.  Pretty soon he was wheeled by and into ICU.  That would be his home for the next few days, but the breathing tube should come out by five or so in the evening.  All excellent news.  And now the prayers for recovery begin.  And for his ability to adapt to an entirely different lifestyle. 

Ephesians 5:1-2 says, “Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”

Father, work that healing you are so known for in Jamie’s life.  And draw him close to you for the long haul ahead of him in learning his new way of living.  Amen.