Monday, February 6, 2017
On Monday, I woke up to the familiar sound of a nurse walking into my room, giggling with glee at what she was about to do to my belly. Some nurses could do it with less pain than others, but I think they were just the less experienced ones. The ones who knew what they were doing could get a cry, or perhaps even a shout, of pain each time.
I think on that Monday morning, I asked if they HAD to do it. She said yes and then went all gladiator on my belly. I don’t remember the details other than it hurt, and she likely laughed maniacally while driving that steel stake into the soft, friendly layer covering my hidden abs of steel.
I also had an EEG on this day. Many memories of that time are garbled in my mind. It’s possible the EEG happened on Sunday or Tuesday. I’m pretty sure it actually happened; I just don’t know when. They hooked me up to a machine that would tell them if my brain was doing funny stuff. I think it turned out it wasn’t doing much of anything.
Feel free to interpret that any way you like.
I continued to struggle this day with the fear and the pain of the possible loss my family could experience. It’s difficult to keep tabs on the timeline of when everything happened, but I think I came to a place of peace on this day.
I realized something.
I believe that I have an eternal hope in Jesus Christ for my life and my future and my eternity. I trust Jesus with my life… that is at the core of my faith.
As I continued to pray through the matter of my life, considering my family, I believe God brought me to a special point of trust.
I knew that if I could trust God with my future, I could also trust him with my family. It was a matter of trust that I could give them up to God, knowing he would care for them.
I found peace in that moment.
For sure, I didn’t want my family to go through the loss of their husband and dad, but I knew on that day that God would care for them, family and friends would as well, and our loving church family would step in and be there for my wife and kids.
This was a turning point for me, spiritually speaking. A place of rest and calm. This is one of those many things I’m grateful for through this journey.
The doctors, by this point, were looking to send me home soon. It wasn’t because I was “out of the woods” with the encephalitis, but I had reached a point where they didn’t need to keep me in isolation, and there wasn’t too much more they could do for me there that a nurse couldn’t do for me at my home.
For me, being stuck in that room for so long, I was itching to get out! I couldn’t wait to get home. Aside from a nasty headache, I didn’t feel all that bad. I just continued to take the time to write my story for my sons, and waited for the word from the doctor, telling me I could leave.
One of the many things I didn’t understand, however, was that the isolation room was exactly what I needed.
I didn’t learn that until I arrived home.
To be continued…
