Friends,
Over the weekend, a reminder of how we are angels to each other.
Last weekend I attended the Universal Light Expo in Columbus Ohio, sharing a booth with Books Etc. (an Orrville, Ohio bookstore owned by my friends Charles Sides and Jenny Horner) and, on Saturday, speaking and doing a workshop. Saturday night I had a fun supper with Richard and Tara Sutphen, but by Sunday morning the sickness I had been fighting for a week (a cold developed in asthma) hit full force.
Sunday I slept late, hit the show about noon, and toughed it out through the afternoon. (First time I ever did a trade show sitting down.) Spent the night (at Charles and Jenny’s in Orrville) coughing up phlegm – or trying to. Was even sicker Monday morning, but had just one thought in mind: Get back home.
For more than half a century, asthma has been a continuing challenge to my self-reliance and independence. Many friends think I am too resistant to getting medical assistance, but it is often hard to distinguish independence and self-reliance from pig-headedness, and I have to make the judgment call one incident at a time. When in doubt, I usually err on the side of independence, regardless of discomfort.
Monday became decision-time, in a big way.
At the Canton airport, when I was stopped by security (my inhaler was causing the beeping, as it turned out) I could scarcely stand unassisted during the wanding. Had to sit and rest before and after putting my shoes back on. It was hard getting to the plane; the few steps down and then up wore me out. The stewardess saw me sitting white-faced and rigid in seat 1A, smiled and asked if I were nervous! (After 35 years of flying?) All I could gasp out was “asthma.”
It is a 15-minute flight to Pittsburgh. By the time I got into the terminal, totally breathless, I had to grab a couple of seatbacks and wait to be able to continue. I had an hour between planes, but didn’t think I could get to the other gate. I flagged a cart and asked for a ride, which represented a first crack in the do-it-yourself-at-all-costs philosophy. Asked if I could pre-board. Second crack. When the plane arrived in Charlottesville, I thought about how far away my car was, and asked the stewardess if they could get me a wheelchair and wheel me there. Third — major — crack in the structure. As they wheeled me out to the car the guy persuaded me that we should have the guys from Pegasus – a sort of air-rescue unit – check me out. I thought about it and said okay.
The Pegasus guys gave me oxygen and a nebulizer treatment, took blood pressure, pulse, etc., and strongly suggested that I go to the hospital via ambulance. I decided instead to drive home (driving isn’t actually much physical exertion; nowhere near as much as walking, for instance) and then see my doctor. Then, fortunately, I thought that it would be muddle-headed to overrule so much strong advice from so many experienced men — at least half a dozen by then – who were there to help me. And the ambulance was already sitting there. So I gave in, and the rest of the day, and the next day, was a luxury of being cared for by others instead of having to struggle through it by myself. (Fine now.)
The entire stay was interesting and I may write about it, but all this is merely leading up to this point. There is an old saying that God has no hands to work through but ours. Regardless of your theology, surely you can see that the saying is not only true but obvious. It is never more obvious than when your life is in another person’s hands, which is more often than we usually realize. I watched the functioning of the emergency room for several hours, and what it amounted to was that all these people – doctors, nurses, orderlies, various technical types – are there every day, waiting to help whoever comes in needing help. I woke up the next day and put into the form of a cinquain.
E.R.
No breath.
Resource’s end.
Surrendering control
To these calm strangers, knowing them
God’s hands.
Be well, my friends. I send you my love.