THREE TESTS OF
FAITH
(entered in Arkansas Christian Writer's short story contest of how you faith impacts your family)
The word pacemaker sounds more than a little unsettling when
you have an irregular heartbeat. In
February, my beat dropped to less than 25 per minute. I was continually exhausted. At a friend’s recommendation, I explored
another option and sought a doctor who performs heart ablations. This procedure kills the cell causing the
missed beats and usually eliminates the need for a pacemaker. I jumped at the alternative.
Only surgery didn’t go well. The bad cell was attached to
the outside of my heart and couldn’t be reached. As the surgery ended, I was fully awake and
began yelling, “Oh, it hurts! It
hurts! My ears, my throat, my shoulders,
my chest hurt!” The surgery nurse cried,
“Her pressure is dropping!” The doctor jammed
a probe deep into my chest. I screamed
louder.
The doctor suggested that my husband should phone the
children. I might not make it. My husband and the ICU nurse patiently
tolerated my all night shrieking, “Oh!
Oh! It hurts!”
Once home, I continued having pain. The following week I returned to the hospital
to conduct more tests. My heart was
surrounded with fluid, but I was not satisfied with the results. My stomach ached, not just my chest.
The doctor prescribed a strong steroid. My face swelled, but that wasn’t all
bad. It filled in lots of my wrinkles,
and the side-effect of only sleeping two to four hours per night provided abundant
time for completing a book I was writing.
A week later, I insisted on tests to determine why my
stomach hurt. The physician ordered a
CAT scan. As I completed the test, a
nurse met me with a wheelchair, saying I had blood clots in both lungs and would
die if they didn’t immediately get me to ICU and begin administering shots of
a strong blood thinner. Again my husband
phoned the children.
During a friend’s visit, I laughed about the side-effects
of the steroid and now of the blood thinner.
When asked how I could laugh during such a traumatic and dangerous ordeal,
I explained, “I resolved facing death three years ago while vacationing in Athens,
Greece. I spent 10 days in a Greek hospital
because of an allergic reaction to an ear ache medicine that I brought from home. In addition to being seriously ill, I became
totally deaf. I was left with permanent
hearing loss and am thankful for hearing aids. During the hospital stay, I continued
weakening in spite of having antibiotics and IV fluids pumped into my arms
around the clock. On the fifth day, I
asked my husband to read Psalm 23, and, afterwards, I told him I thought I was
dying. Once you genuinely believe you
are dying, you make peace with God and death.
You no longer fear dying. You
actually feel peaceful. At least, I did.”
My daughter insists that I am like a cat with nine lives,
and, after this heart ordeal, I have now used three of them. But we
all know the truth. God just isn’t ready
for me yet. I hope it means I have His blessing
for my writing and speaking. Besides, I
want to meet God with a smile on my face.
It’s the example of faith that I want to model for my husband and children.
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