As my encounter with the pulmonologist continues, he asks a barrage of questions. With as much grace, calmness and respect as I can muster, I try to answer all the physician’s questions. Oddly, the doctor considers almost all my answers lies. “People do not develop respiratory failure. You must have had an accident or had an infection which required the use of invasive ventilation. You did not just get a tracheostomy tube. You first were sedated, and a tube was inserted through your mouth and down into your lungs. Then after invasive ventilation was used and proven effective, then you received your tracheostomy tube. You just are not remembering things right. You have been on a ventilator too long. It’s time to pull out your trach and disconnect you from your vent.”
The interaction with the clinician lasts about 20-30 minutes. In addition to fear, I am frustrated. Despite trying my best to explain my medical history, my words seem to have fallen on deaf ears. I want to flee the confines of this hospital. I want to escape to a far off place and never encounter another medical professional ever again. But, as much as I wish to be on a catamaran sailing the seas of the Caribbean, I know this is all a pipe dream. I need my ventilator to breathe; I need treatment for my respiratory infections. Not knowing what else to do, when the two physicians leave, I click open my iPad and start reading God’s Word.
As I am in the midst of my daily Scripture reading, a person from the hospital’s clergy staff enters my room. She introduces herself and starts asking the usual introductory questions—what’s my name, where do I live, why am I here in the emergency department, etc. The text on my iPad screen catches her eye. She asks me what I am reading. I reply, “Psalm 59.” The woman seems surprised that I am reading the Bible. But nonetheless, she bends over and starts reading the passage. She remarks how the Psalms always give her comfort. I explain I was just doing my daily Bible reading. The woman immediately stops in her tracks and appears as though she might fall over from shock and awe. “You read the Bible every day!?” I answer, “Yes. I try to read through the Bible once every three months. I read five chapters from the books of history, five chapters from the prophets, two Psalms, one chapter from the books of wisdom and four chapters from the New Testament every day.” The woman’s eyes grow wide. She is in disbelief that anyone would commit that much time to studying God’s Word and seems to bestow upon me great reverence. She quickly says a short prayer and leaves the room.
As I sit in my bed in a good humor, I thank God for instructing me to have His Word open. I thank God for sending the clergy woman my way. I silently laugh at the woman’s expressions during our visit. However, I am saddened that anyone, especially someone representing God, would be awestruck by a person reading the Bible. I pray my interactions with the woman inspires her to commit more time to reading and studying God’s Word.
As the hours roll by and morning turns into night, I begin to wonder if a room will ever open up for me upstairs. I have been informed I am going to be admitted to the medical center. Sleep tugs at my eyes lids, and my body starts relaxing. Very late in the night, a nurse walks into my room. It is time to be transferred to the progressive intensive care unit. It is time to start another chapter of this hospital excursion.
(Link to Part Three click here)
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