Enough is Enough

I have been taught to listen to my body.

Normally, I'm as easy going as can be.  I don't get my feathers ruffled.  I keep a pretty good monitor on my anxiety and am able to keep it at a pretty low level.  I can tell when my anxiety is raised a little bit: my sleeping is affected.

It's been about two and a half to three years since I've had a night like I had last night.  Too many things happened yesterday which affected my anxiety level.  The flesh was willing and needing to rest, but the brain kept me awake until the wee hours of the morning.  (And then it didn't help when my daughter came in complaining of a nightmare saying that it kept coming back and she didn't want to go to sleep anymore.  After a few minutes in bed with us, miraculously, she fell back to sleep.  I wish it would have taken me that short of an amount of time.)

Several things impacted me yesterday including: an extremely unique (at least for me) hospital visit; a Matrix moment; and a deep reflection upon a train of thought I have adhered to for years--a reflection that is making me rethink the whole shebang.  There's too much to include in one blog post, so I'll break it up into a couple.

A Unique Hospital Visit

Usually, hospital visits are pretty routine--even when involving minors.  Most hospitals are very good at protecting their patients, especially children, therefore they make you sign in each and every time you visit.  Healthbridge Children's Hospital, where I visited yesterday, is no exception.

I remember vividly signing in yesterday.  (You might wonder why I am going to go into such detail here, but you will understand later.)  I walked up to the desk, and said hello to the woman behind the counter.  She was wearing a grey pants suit with a purple blouse.  She was Hispanic with shoulder length straight, black hair.  She asked me what room I was visiting, and I replied, "...... ..........in room 407."  I said this as I was signing into the register.  I printed out the date, my name, relationship to the patient, looked at the white clock on the wall and noted the time of 12:25.  The lady then said, "Just fill out a visitor tag."  I did and then placed my hands underneath the hand sanitizer--a requirement for all who enter.

I went down to the room to find a social worker visiting with the patient's mom.  They'd like to get the young man out of the hospital and home to do his rehabbing, but things didn't quite work out, much to the chagrin of everyone.  We visited a little about this and a few other things.  The patient slept through much of this conversation.  About 30 minutes into my visit, the nurse came in to give the patient some pain medication.  He woke up at this point, and we were able to do some more talking.

That's when I noticed the bandage on his leg was soaked with blood.  I pointed it out, and that's when things got a little chaotic.  The thing wasn't supposed to be bleeding, there was a bulge on the guy's leg, and the doctor was called in.  I told the patient's mom, "Take a picture."

She said, "I don't have a camera.  Do you?"

"Yep."  For the first time ever in my career, I took a couple of photos of a wound.

The doctor came in and looked at the bulge and ordered an x-ray.  Mom asked me to stay for a while so that she could make some phone calls.  The situation was a bit tense for a while. 

Finally, things settled down.  It was time for me to leave.  I said my good-byes and promised continued prayer.  I headed back to the front desk, and that's when I had...

My Matrix Moment

I picked up the pen laying on the sign in/out sheet and looked for my name.  I couldn't find it.  It wasn't there.

I scanned through the list again and didn't see it.  I didn't see my name.  I didn't see "Pastor" listed anywhere under "Relationship to Patient."  I flipped the page back and looked.  I flipped to the next page and looked.  Nothing.  I probably looked like a complete idiot standing there, but I was truly at a loss at this moment.

Now, I know the brain can play tricks on you.  I know you can believe you have done something and really haven't done it.  It's happened to me more than once.  But I know I signed in.  I had proof in the visitor's tag pasted on my shirt pocket.  But where was my name in the register?  I have no freakin' clue. 

Is it possible I completely missed it even after looking at the page three times?  I guess so.  If that is the case, then that record has my name signed into it two times because I repeated the entire sign in/out on the next page.  I left that hospital scratching my head.  It was just too weird, and I am still trying to figure it out.

Enough Is Enough

After having endured all of this and having my mind thrown into complete chaos, I jumped into my Mustang and headed toward home.  I called the patient's grandfather and had a conversation with him.  I checked my email and found another member's son was scheduled to have his heart checked out the following morning, and prayers were being asked for.

I called his mom and received permission to send out a church-wide email asking for prayers.

While I was leaving a message on this woman's phone, I received a text.  Another major prayer request that I must keep confidential. 

At this point, I was done.  I'd like to say at that point, the Good Lord and I had an intense conversation, but there was no conversation to it.  It was more like a one way flow out of my mouth toward Him.  "What in the world are You up to!!!!  I'm tired of this cr@p.  It never ends!  Are You trying to test me, my congregation, my people?  When is all this stuff going to let up?  Is this some kind of demonic attack against Your people here?  Help me out here; I'm almost at my wit's end!"

This afternoon, I'm driving to one of my member's ranch to sit on the front porch to see if God has anything to say.

Ah, if only this was the extent of why my mind wouldn't turn off.