My Turn, Part 2 ...

It took about an hour last Monday in the emergency room to diagnose my primary condition not as heart failure, as was suspected because of earlier diagnoses, but as pneumonia and anemia. It took about another 7 hours to get a room and start treatments and test for other things.

I didn't know that a human body could sustain as many punctures, prods, scopes, and needles as were pierced into me through Thursday evening when they finally kicked me out. And, Lord knows, I certainly was not among the most needful. All you have to do in a hospital to feel better is look around at others. Then, pray. I can now appreciate what people say when released from a hospital: go home and get some rest!

See, my physical condition got so bad over the last weekend that I didn't think I could go on without help. Chris and Lill were just waiting for the word to take me in. And when Ted called to see how I was on Monday morning, he said that I sounded like I was ready to pass out and that he'd be here in an hour to take me in. That's all it took to convince me. I needed help. Couldn't do this on my own any longer. See, I dread the hospital; and if I gave in, I half-expected surgery, or worse. That's the last thing I wanted after issues with my brothers.

Good news is: I actually feel half-alive today, one week later. What a novel feeling! I was even able to spend quality time in His Word earlier and over the weekend.

After all this testing, they did not find a cause for the anemia that led to a transfusion of two units of blood. They and we suspect it comes from my nose. That big scab inside has a proclivity to open up and hemorrhage so badly that I need a sink or toilet to capture the blood instead of swallowing the volume, which tastes awful and not at all like blood. (Want to know how to make a  nurse panic? Leave your bloody-nose tissues exposed for her to glimpse. That's all it takes. Rockets propel to the ceiling; believe me.)

After two scopes, they did not find anything unusual in my upper and lower tracts. (They call those procedures "surgery". Don't ask me why. But the coolest part of it is coming out of the anesthesia.) Nor, did an abdominal scan show anything out of the ordinary.

Chest? Yep, the x-rays are cloudy. Did you know that your heart and its components transverse the upper part of your lungs? I didn't. The clouds are in the lower parts. That's a good thing, I think.

It seems like they came for blood tests three times or more each day. My veins began to hide every time the cart came near my room. One astonishment: my white platelet count was down to 18000 ppm. The norm that we've been targeting is around 250K. Last regular tests had my level at 318K and 428K. Oops! Now, it's way too low. Then, the good doctors discover a rare side-effect of the medication: can cause lung damage. Wonderful.

Prognosis: You'll have to put up with me. I'm around for a while longer. I will recover. It will take some time for my lungs to clear; and, we're going to investigate the blood and anemia issues further.

I don't know about you, but when I'm laid up like this, I really miss my closeness with Christ. I know he's there, but communicating on a conscious level is really difficult for me. So, I've learned that when I pray for someone who is ill, bedridden, or incapacitated in any way, I not only pray for that person. I pray for what I believe that person would want to be praying for. I try to be specific as possible in that, placing my feet as it were in his/her shoes, because if he or she is anything like me, their communion can't be very efficacious.

Thanks for praying for me over these last several days. I know that He has heard you.

In Him in all ways...