Twilight Zone

Twilight Zone - good words to describe my time in Intensive Care, which I wasn't expecting to last more than a day. And especially good to describe the particular place I had on an inside wall with very little access to natural light. A zone of 24/7 vigilance with no accomodation whatever to natural cycles of night and day, but rather a constant barrage of light and urgent sound, as very sick or injured people are encouraged and assisted to live another day. It's the sound, perhaps, that is the most unique - a muted cacophany of electronic blips and bleeps, alarms of every sort, bells and chimes that indicate all is well - or not, as is often the case. Then, of course, you have the people willing to work in these particular places where life itself is never taken for granted. I could have sworn, almost every day in the hospital and ICU, the I had the very best nurses available and at times they did seem almost like angels with their gentle ministrations.

I mentioned on the last blog I wrote of having peeked ahead a day or two in the devotional I use so I knew the lesson on pain was coming up -and because of the pain it took quite a few days to get to it! There is a part of that particular entry so eloquent that I wanted to pass it along verbatim (Chuck Swindoll): "Pain humbles the proud. It softens the stubborn. It melts the hard. Silently and relentlessly, it wins battles deep within the lonely soul. The heart alone knows its own sorrow, and not another person can fully share in it. Pain operates alone; it needs no assistance. It communicates its own message, whether to statesman or servant, preacher or prodigal, mother or child. By staying, it refuses to be ignored. By hurting, it reduces its victim to profound depths of anquish. And it is at that anguishing point that the sufferer either submits and learns, developing maturity and character; or resists, and becomes embittered, swamped by self-pity, smothered by self will.
I have tried and cannot find, either in scripture or history, a strong will individual whom God used greatly until He allowed him to be hurt deeply."

There are, of course, many faces of pain and I sometimes think that physical pain is the least of them. Each of them, though, has the capacity to draw from us a choice - submit and learn, allow yourself to be changed for the better - or resist and refuse to allow good changes into your life. What if we learned to see pain not as an enemy, but a friend? Simply put, pain of any sort alerts us to the fact that something, somewhere, needs fixing. Do we have the courage to slow down or even stop to look it fully in the face? To become aware of changes that need to be made? To have the courage to make good choices to change? And what about the pain we see in the lives of others? On one of my last days in intensive care a young man occupied the room next to mine, but he was strapped onto a body board/brace with a broken neck and paralysis. That may have been the day of the greatest physical pain I had - yet how blessed I was to feel it. And what about those each of us know who have become embittered and "swamped by self pity"? Might you be willing sometime to step into their pain with them, share it in whatever way you're able to, and perhaps share an encouraging word?

In some ways the entire last 10 days seem like a twilight zone - I wonder if my brain will begin to sort things out after I go home. In any case, I can give an unqualified thumbs-up for the care I received at Swedish, it was truly outstanding. If you're lucky enough to have a medical provider of some sort in your circle of friends and family, give them a big hug when you can - they've chosen a good way to spend their life. I will, though, be so ready to go to bed at night and not be woken up every two hours!