Friday, August 12, 2011
Transforming life’s major challenges into adventures
No one can go through life without facing challenges. Sometimes these challenges are large and frightening. How we face them depends mainly on our attitude. We could despair and consider the challenge an outright disaster. Or we can hope for some glimmer of light that will lead us through the storm to a good place beyond. Neither approach is easy.
In May 2011, I encountered one of the greatest challenges in my life. I had been feeling tired and having trouble sleeping. Reluctantly I went to the doctor and had a chest x-ray, which showed a little fluid in my lungs. I was given a diuretic pill to reduce the fluid in my system. I started feeling worse, so I went to St. Mary’s Hospital in Sechelt, British Columbia on May 1. I laid down for a nap in the intensive care unit and never realized what happened next.
As I was sleeping my breathing became erratic and the medical staff realized that my lungs were completely filled with fluid. They induced a coma, and paralyzed me so they could insert a life support tube into my lungs. I was airlifted to a large hospital in Vancouver where a team of medical experts battled for three weeks to save my life. I didn’t start waking up from the coma for 40 days, and then it took me a few more weeks to regain my senses, due to the powerful drugs wearing off so slowly.
After I finally understood what had happened and realized that I was almost paralyzed, I told my wife Kathy we should consider this hospital stay an adventure. I might well have considered this a disaster.
There were negative things about my hospital stay. To start with, I couldn’t speak due to a tracheotomy that put a tube into my lungs that bypassed my vocal chords. Eventually, I was provided a sheet with letters of the alphabet in order to spell out my requests or complaints. But Kathy could barely understand my communication and I was helpless to do anything for myself. I could hardly move my arms or roll over on my side.
Those of you have spent time in hospitals, or have been with friends or family who are seriously ill don’t need a detailed chronicle of the indignities experienced in hospital. But I will share just a few. Not being able to go to a toilet, but rather getting wet and soiled is irritating to say the least. Not being able to eat or drink or even to suck on ice cubes was immensely frustrating when I felt so thirsty. I dreamed that the doctor had given me permission to have ice cubes, but my nurse refused to guided by my mistaken recollection – they worried I might choke on the ice. I was helpless to do anything whatsoever for myself and the nurses were sometimes too busy to help me, and a few nurses seemed fatigued and unsympathetic.
However, most of the hospital staff was kind and competent. I had many visitors, cards, flowers, messages and phone calls. Kathy stayed by my side daily and sang to me and prayed for me, even before I became conscious. She was an angel of mercy in my desperate situation.
Small simple pleasures cheered me. Drinking Tazo tea was a delight. Seeing the mountains, sky and clouds from my window was calming. Eventually, Kathy and her brother were able to take me outside into the garden sunshine. I enjoyed many interesting conversations and had time for inspiring reflection. Friends brought me fresh fruit and flowers.
My struggle to regain my health seemed endlessly long at the time, but in less than 6 weeks after the coma, I had mostly recovered from my congestive heart failure. However, my muscles affected by childhood Polio, had become still weaker. I could not feed myself at first and it took a long while before I could get out of bed or stand up. Finally, I managed to sit up in a wheelchair, even though it seemed highly uncomfortable at first.
Each day I made a little progress and eventually I was able to use the bathroom on my own. The hospital staff helped me through rehabilitation, but there was improvement left to finish when I was discharged from the hospital at the end of July.
So how could this experience have been an adventure rather than a disaster? I chose to count my good times and blessings during this time as more significant than my limitations and suffering. I met people I would never have met. I learned things I could know no other way. I heard many personal stories. I made friends with each nurse, staff member and each patient. They came from everywhere: from Africa, India, Ireland, Caribbean, Australia and many other places.
I had long chats and played cards with Kathy. I had encouraging visitors and I eventually got a phone in my room. I avoided TV and internet so that I would have tranquility. I had hours to think, read and contemplate. The doctors said that rate of my recovery was surprisingly quick given the enormity of the blow to my system.
I believe that God works out the circumstances of our lives for our good, so I didn’t take this severe illness as rebuke or punishment. Perhaps this illness brought a message that I should attend more fully to my health as I grow older.
As I am reaching the end of my long health ordeal I feel strangely reborn. This trying time has proven valuable. My life has returned with surprising new potential. I feel an overwhelming sense of wonder and hope. I eagerly await the coming years, even more adventures.
Now it is August and I am back at our delightful home. I am swimming almost every day in our swimming pool. Our gardens are in full blossom and the fruit is ripening on our trees and berry bushes. We eat salad and veggies daily from the gardens that our friends/caretakers have tended. We have many visitors. Life is very good again.
In May 2011, I encountered one of the greatest challenges in my life. I had been feeling tired and having trouble sleeping. Reluctantly I went to the doctor and had a chest x-ray, which showed a little fluid in my lungs. I was given a diuretic pill to reduce the fluid in my system. I started feeling worse, so I went to St. Mary’s Hospital in Sechelt, British Columbia on May 1. I laid down for a nap in the intensive care unit and never realized what happened next.
As I was sleeping my breathing became erratic and the medical staff realized that my lungs were completely filled with fluid. They induced a coma, and paralyzed me so they could insert a life support tube into my lungs. I was airlifted to a large hospital in Vancouver where a team of medical experts battled for three weeks to save my life. I didn’t start waking up from the coma for 40 days, and then it took me a few more weeks to regain my senses, due to the powerful drugs wearing off so slowly.
After I finally understood what had happened and realized that I was almost paralyzed, I told my wife Kathy we should consider this hospital stay an adventure. I might well have considered this a disaster.
There were negative things about my hospital stay. To start with, I couldn’t speak due to a tracheotomy that put a tube into my lungs that bypassed my vocal chords. Eventually, I was provided a sheet with letters of the alphabet in order to spell out my requests or complaints. But Kathy could barely understand my communication and I was helpless to do anything for myself. I could hardly move my arms or roll over on my side.
Those of you have spent time in hospitals, or have been with friends or family who are seriously ill don’t need a detailed chronicle of the indignities experienced in hospital. But I will share just a few. Not being able to go to a toilet, but rather getting wet and soiled is irritating to say the least. Not being able to eat or drink or even to suck on ice cubes was immensely frustrating when I felt so thirsty. I dreamed that the doctor had given me permission to have ice cubes, but my nurse refused to guided by my mistaken recollection – they worried I might choke on the ice. I was helpless to do anything whatsoever for myself and the nurses were sometimes too busy to help me, and a few nurses seemed fatigued and unsympathetic.
However, most of the hospital staff was kind and competent. I had many visitors, cards, flowers, messages and phone calls. Kathy stayed by my side daily and sang to me and prayed for me, even before I became conscious. She was an angel of mercy in my desperate situation.
Small simple pleasures cheered me. Drinking Tazo tea was a delight. Seeing the mountains, sky and clouds from my window was calming. Eventually, Kathy and her brother were able to take me outside into the garden sunshine. I enjoyed many interesting conversations and had time for inspiring reflection. Friends brought me fresh fruit and flowers.
My struggle to regain my health seemed endlessly long at the time, but in less than 6 weeks after the coma, I had mostly recovered from my congestive heart failure. However, my muscles affected by childhood Polio, had become still weaker. I could not feed myself at first and it took a long while before I could get out of bed or stand up. Finally, I managed to sit up in a wheelchair, even though it seemed highly uncomfortable at first.
Each day I made a little progress and eventually I was able to use the bathroom on my own. The hospital staff helped me through rehabilitation, but there was improvement left to finish when I was discharged from the hospital at the end of July.
So how could this experience have been an adventure rather than a disaster? I chose to count my good times and blessings during this time as more significant than my limitations and suffering. I met people I would never have met. I learned things I could know no other way. I heard many personal stories. I made friends with each nurse, staff member and each patient. They came from everywhere: from Africa, India, Ireland, Caribbean, Australia and many other places.
I had long chats and played cards with Kathy. I had encouraging visitors and I eventually got a phone in my room. I avoided TV and internet so that I would have tranquility. I had hours to think, read and contemplate. The doctors said that rate of my recovery was surprisingly quick given the enormity of the blow to my system.
I believe that God works out the circumstances of our lives for our good, so I didn’t take this severe illness as rebuke or punishment. Perhaps this illness brought a message that I should attend more fully to my health as I grow older.
As I am reaching the end of my long health ordeal I feel strangely reborn. This trying time has proven valuable. My life has returned with surprising new potential. I feel an overwhelming sense of wonder and hope. I eagerly await the coming years, even more adventures.
Now it is August and I am back at our delightful home. I am swimming almost every day in our swimming pool. Our gardens are in full blossom and the fruit is ripening on our trees and berry bushes. We eat salad and veggies daily from the gardens that our friends/caretakers have tended. We have many visitors. Life is very good again.
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