February 26, 2013
Gift, ME Newsletter, Vol. 6, Issue 9
I don’t remember much about my hospital stay, a few visitors; the new room service food plan that was excellent and has many merits. I remember more about what was going on around me. The two roommates I had; one pleased to be discharged, and the other with a faith of such enormous strength it over-rode years of medical training and hospital experience. Our GODs were not the same, but our faith certainly was. I asked the family member who came and stayed overnight, a doctor from Chicago, if I could pray for them.
It’s hard to describe why I asked. I pray for plenty of people who have their own GOD, and do not know mine. I wasn’t sure it would be appropriate or acceptable for me to pray to my GOD about the situation they believed their GOD would carry them through. It wasn’t for a gap-save back-up plan in case their GOD failed. I have long been stuck on the idea of an Avengers-like GOD collaboration; a plethora of GODs under one One Almighty who created and assigns different GODs to reach different types of people. Though I don’t talk it about it much, I believe the same method of employ must be true of the devil.
My roommate left for surgery, with an expected best outcome of being in ICU. I don’t know, and never will, how that story ends. Instead, I was given another one to share.
A few hours later, getting ready for discharge, a woman came in and introduced herself as a social worker. She was working with a patient a few doors down who needed two witnesses for paperwork he was completing. My sister-in-law and I readily agreed.
I knew there were only two reasons requiring witnesses – either a Durable Power of Attorney or a Living Will, and I knew if the hospital had deployed a social worker to secure those two items the situation could not be good. Just a few steps down the hall, we were ushered through a door bearing a large black print on white paper sign. The sign said "DIFFICULT PATIENT." Through the night I had heard bursts of mumbled moaning and attempted shouting and realized this is where they had come from.
He was sitting in a chair by the window with monitoring tubes everywhere, and another one down his throat. He nodded at us and signed the document he had been holding, while the social worker explained that he was signing over his rights to his ex-wife. We signed them, too. He wrote out a note that said “Thank You,” and then motioned for us to wait. We watched him for a few moments while he scribbled another note. That one said, "I am a prayer warrior. Please write the names of the people you would like me to pray for." Without hesitating, I added my roommate’s name to his list. When I handed it back he had tears in his eyes and kept touching his heart. “May GOD be with you,” I said. He replied with an offering roll of his hand.
I have no idea if his GOD is the same as my GOD or the same as her GOD.
I don’t really think it matters much, anyway. A prayer is a gift, and that’s that.
Posted by jaselin at February 26, 2013 03:25 PM