I’m afraid that “rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated!” (Twain, 1897). I feel like I have to clarify that fact because, earlier this evening, I was on a certain social media outlet and saw a posting in which my sister, Judy, was being consoled upon the death of her brother – yikes! Talk about disconcerting; that was kind of weird to read right after going through surgery. It made me want to pinch myself, you know, just to make sure that I’m still really here.
Actually, I’m up late on the evening following surgery, sipping some nice green tea sweetened with the nectar of blue agave—no, not the good stuff, the heath food stuff—and waiting for it to get late enough to take a little more pain medication so I can, hopefully, get some sleep. I’m also reflecting on the events of the past couple of days, which almost seem like weeks already.
The surgery went very well, I’m told. As I understand it, there were two surgeons present so that they could both evaluate the situation and provide instant “second opinion” analysis as to how far they should go with the initial surgery. Both determined that it appeared as if the tumor was contained; and that only removal of the nodule, along with the left hemisphere of the thyroid, was necessary—a really encouraging sign. However, both the nodule and the thyroid have been sent off to the lab for a comprehensive biopsy to determine, officially, whether or not more surgery or any follow-up protocol may be necessary. I should get the results by the end of the week. So, I guess a little more waiting—something a cancer patient gets really good at—is in order.
I want to, again, take a moment to brag on the marvels of modern medicine—only God provides miracles, but modern medicine is chocked full of marvels—and, in particular, my personal, local health care system. I hear people complaining about their insurance providers, their doctors, and the level of treatment they receive all the time and maybe I’m just ignorant and don’t know what I should expect, but my team at Kaiser Permanente has been absolutely marvelous. From my hometown doctor here in Kona, who has been on top of this whole thing from the get-go, to the surgical team in Honolulu, who call regularly to check on me, keep me informed, and monitor my progress—they’ve all been just top-notch.
I especially enjoyed the rather “blue-collar” working man’s, nitty-gritty, down to business kind of environment that I encountered at Moanalua Medical Center in Honolulu. The fact that they were remodeling half the building, so I was always walking through construction zones, just added to that whole effect. The sound of clanking tools, nail guns, drills, and skill saws, and the sight of passing workers in hardhats, right alongside medical personnel in their scrubs, sort of calmed my nerves; I liked it! It made me feel sort of like an old 1957 jalopy just going in for little more body work – ha!
But the main thing I’m pondering this evening—and I hope you don’t imagine me in some kind of a morbid stupor for sharing this—is how incredibly close to the whole death experience it must be to undergo anesthesia. I mean, think about it: one moment you’re lying on the bed, feeling kind of woozy, the next moment you’re out like a light, and the next you’re waking up already—like no time at all has gone by. Is this what it’s like to die? There was nothing particularly painful about the experience itself, nothing particularly frightening; even though we are all well aware of the fact that, sometimes, people don’t wake up. But, like getting on an airplane, we don’t worry about that, much; we just expect it to get us where we need to be—to go to sleep and then wake up all fixed. And we do, usually.
How far different can the death experience be, I mean, really? Think about it: one moment you’re lying there, feeling kind of woozy, the next moment you’re out like a light, and the next you’re waking up already—only in a whole new realm! For the child of God, there is absolutely nothing to fear. We just expect to wake up right where we need to be—in the arms of Jesus. And we do, by His grace. And, I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to fall into the arms of my Lord and then turn to see the menagerie of wonderful people who are waiting to greet me in that new realm.
Copyright © 2014 Salty Sails
All Rights Reserved