Something happened to me.
I went in to the hospital for what was supposed to be
outpatient surgery to fuse a couple of vertebrae in my neck. It was supposed to be 2-3 hours of surgery.
It was 5.
There were complications, and the surgeon had to change his
strategy once he got in there and laid eyes on the actual bones. He accomplished what he set out to do, but as
a result my esophagus experienced some extreme swelling. It was completely closed. When I woke up, I was unable to swallow
anything. Not even water.
The first night was a little different for me. I was hooked up to a breathing monitor, which
kept going off whenever I wasn’t breathing enough. Which was apparently quite often, because it
was an almost constant sound. So sleep
deprivation was a fact of life, and I have to say that is kind of a big deal. I was suddenly forced to make a conscious
choice between swallowing, which I could not do, or breathing. Two of the things that I have unconsciously
done since I was born, were now things I had to consciously choose. It was odd to realize I had taken these
simple things for granted. It felt like
I was suddenly given complete responsibility for the all the bodily functions
necessary for me to live. (Spit first,
now breathe and don’t choke, is my heart still beating – yes, spit, breathe, ….).
I quickly realized that I couldn’t deal with it. That’s why God made us the way He did. Our bodies are created to work with
miraculous precision, and when we interfere with their function as we seek to
make “improvements”, it often throws everything out of balance.
My tendency to analyze everything went into overdrive
because of the lack of sleep. I began to
look at every single aspect of the situation, trying to imagine what my life
was going to look like. (Are they going
to have to put in a feeding tube? Am I
going to slowly starve? My blood
pressure was spiking and I thought about a stroke.) I was caught in a spiral. I felt like my body was rejecting me. I have never felt so helpless. My perception, though skewed, became my
reality.
I was terrified.
I didn’t say anything about what was in my head at the time,
but I think the nurses were aware. They
were constantly checking me, caring for me, meeting every need. They were amazing. I’ve never seen that level of care in any hospital
before.
In my anxiety I didn’t want any visitors. I didn’t want to be seen like this.
This is the lie we tell ourselves. When we humans are in pain or distress our
tendency is to isolate, but that is exactly the opposite of what we need. We tell ourselves we need to figure this out
on our own. We have to be independent,
and show our strength to the world. We
can’t be vulnerable.
The problem with this is we were created to depend on each
other, to need each other. Our presence with
each other literally keeps us alive.
All of this really highlighted my incredible hypocrisy, because
I try to be someone who will be there for others whenever I can. I’m always telling people not to isolate or
think they have to “go it alone”.
Yet, at my first exposure to helplessness, I shut it all
down. From a Christian standpoint this
actually attempts to negate the point of Christ’s sacrifice of His life. He died so that each of us would know we are
worth EVERYTHING! All my words and
feelings are powerless to defeat this.
Into this walked my wife.
We have always said that it’s obvious God brought us
together. He proves it to us again and
again and again.
She refused to leave when I told her she should. When I said I didn’t want visitors, she
responded with, “Maybe they should make that choice, instead of you making it
for them. They need to see you too.” She knows me so well. Her presence and love were the most
incredible healing I’ve known. I’ve
always said I’m so glad to be the one who gets to be married to Brenda. It is an honor and privilege to be loved so
completely by a woman like her. All the
visitors I had truly lifted me in so many unexpected ways.
The next day was a little clearer for me. I slept after they took the breathing monitor
away. I still had to make the choice to
try to swallow or breathe, but I was getting used to the idea. I was beginning to believe this wasn’t
permanent.
It was three days before I could get water down.
On the fourth day I was able to get some pureed food
down. I never thought this could be
true, but it actually tasted pretty good.
I’m pretty sure I felt that way largely because I was just grateful to
be able to get something that remotely passed as real food into my stomach, but
my memories tell me that it actually wasn’t that bad. When they said I would be on a puree diet, I
thought they were thinking applesauce, pudding, jell-o, and similar stuff.
I was wrong.
They puree everything.
Chicken with gravy was a piece of pureed chicken that was
pressed into a mold of the shape of a piece of chicken with gravy over the
top. It still tasted like chicken –
although the texture was a little off.
The pureed waffle was pressed into the shape of a waffle, I
guess so I’d know what it was supposed to be.
It tasted like a waffle.
The berries came in a dish and were shaped like a pile of
mixed berries (the raspberry shape tasted like the cherry shape).
Pureed broccoli…. Well, let’s just say it apparently takes
more than a blender to help it. They
didn’t bother to shape that.
I give them an A for effort.
I think their regular hospital food actually tastes pretty good, but I
don’t need to go back to find out.
The day I left I walked the floor and dragged my IV with
me. I tracked down as many of my nurses
as I could find and thanked them. They
taught me a lot.
The hospital is named Mercy Hospital.
I kept thinking about that while I was laying in my bed,
trying to think of something other than myself.
I realized that what I was seeing in the nursing staff as they cared for
me was actually the embodiment of Mercy.
I think Mercy has three aspects:
The First is the concept of Mercy: unwarranted compassion.
The Second is the application of Mercy: Putting that
compassion into action, and pouring it into the lives of others.
The Third is the receiving of Mercy. Feeling helpless, yet being cared for
unconditionally.
I got the third part this time.
I have tried to practice Mercy and Compassion in my
relationships with others. This was the
first time in my life where I felt so helpless and disconnected. Every time one of the nurses came in, I felt like
they were taking the time to gently coax me back to some better place. There was no judgement or dismissal of my
feelings. Just compassion – Mercy.
Yes, I know they get paid for this. I also know they catch a lot of grief for countless
things and put up with a lot of garbage from patients who lash out in their
pain.
I think they really cared.
I felt that from every one of them.
What they taught me about Mercy will improve the way I apply
it to others. Having received it in a
helpless state, has a greater impact on me knowing how it affects others to
receive it. This was part of the reason
Christ died - so we would understand that He knew what human suffering is. He is not a distant God. He doesn’t love only a certain group. He loves all of us. Even the people I may not like. Just because someone sins differently than I
do, never gives me the right to judgement. For me to give less Mercy to one person over
another goes against everything He has taught me.
There’s a saying I like that I try to apply to myself as
often as possible:
‘“The Golden Rule that Jesus gave us says, “Do unto others
as you would have them do unto you.”
It is of no consequence until I realize that the first move
is always mine.’
I came home after five days.
The first thing I did was just walk through the house so I could see
different walls. I needed to know there
were different boundaries. I needed to
see the backyard that my wife designed through the window instead of a parking
lot.
I needed to see the home we made together.
It was fantastic.
©Dan Bode 2025
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