(Part 3. Continued from “Today’s Your Day.”)
Dad looked pale. That look you never want to see.
We gathered around hospital bed.
The somber words “A lot of things are going to be different” clouded my mind like a fog.
Seeing us energized him.
Seventeen years he’s wrestled Prinzmetal; a rare heart disease where the arteries spasm, restricting oxygen to the heart muscle. The doctors throw medicine hoping for the best. After time the body grows immune and a new formula must be introduced, if there is one. The cause of Prinzmetal is unknown.
With each attack the heart weakens. This time they were running out of options.
“The doctors claim I need a Defibrillator, a device that delivers electrical shocks to the heart in order to stop certain forms of rapid heart rhythm disturbances (arrhythmias).”
Dad continued explaining procedures and options with precise detail.
I was left behind, mentally examining the word Defibrillator.
De – fib – rillator, sounded to me like an Anti – lie – thing-a-ma-jiggy. Everybody could use a device like that. Tell a lie – BAM we zip our lip. Profanity starts to spew – BUZZZZ our tongue goes numb. Angry words, gossip, slander – ZAP ZAP ZAP.
As the medical discourse continued, I thought about words, the power of them. Man can tame almost every beast but few can tame the tongue. Words can wound and words can heal. They’ve started wars and healed nations. Saved souls and damned them. It’s been said, you are what you eat, how about; you are what you speak. Words are powerful, stronger than a doctor’s report. They don’t know it all. That’s why it’s called “practicing” medicine right? All the medical mumbo-jumbo doesn’t mean squat compared to the power of words, true words, The True Word.
At God’s word the world was created. His Word is forever settled in heaven as the absolute undisputed ultimate Truth.
Just as I refocused on what Dad was saying I heard, “Personally, I’m ready to go. But, I fully intend to come out of this. I still have some loose ends to tie up.” His words calmed the emotional storm. What mattered wasn’t what the doc said but what Dad said.
And with those words a decision was made. At that moment I knew. I quietly prayed agreement, “I fully intend for him to come out of this too.” The fog lifted.
I looked again, and Color had returned to his face.
The next day he was jogging in place next to his bed. He’s not out of the woods yet. But then again, none of us are.
As I write this he’s driving to his winter campground in Aransas Pass, Texas. By the time you read this he’ll probably be fishing.
Dear friends, what battle are you fighting today? There is hope. No matter what the Doctors report, no matter what the bank balance, no matter what the facts, there is hope. Facts are subject to change, The Truth isn’t.
Our life here is so short. Don't you think it’s time to tie up the loose ends. Let’s live and love with eternity in view and let every good-bye be said, knowing it could be our last.
Some of Dad’s favorite sayings:
* “Never say, ‘can’t’.”
* When life’s churning out of control, “Crème always rises to the top.”
* And when good attempts fall short, “It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”
Thanks for stopping by. You’re welcome to leave a comment or prayer request. I love hearing from you. Remember, Jesus loves you.
Merry Christmas and God bless us everyone.