February, 2010

It was May of last year when I wrote the "My Healing" story.  Much has happened since then.  

When I got out of the hospital on April 15, 2009 I stayed at my daughter's house for a few weeks.  After 3 weeks of laying in a hospital bed, I unhappily discovered that I was not able to walk.  I simply lost the strength to do that- I guess it disappeared along with the 50 lbs from my body.  The afternoon that I was discharged, I was very weak.  I needed to make it from the bed to the closet to put on the clothes and shoes that my son had brought me.  The closet was only about 10 feet away, but it took me more than an hour to accomplish that task. Afterward, I collapsed in a chair and waited for my exit.  A few minutes later, a jovial looking man, who I did not know, came striding in the door.  He had a bible in his hand and announced that he was Pastor (don’t remember his name) from the Second Baptist Church prayer ministry and wanted to pray with me.  I tuned many of the pianos there for years and they had heard I was out of commission.  He did not stop talking long enough, and did not talk soft enough, for me to get a word in edgewise, so I could ask him to pray for strength- I was so very weak that I could not even get the words out, much less heard.  Then he said, “Let’s pray”.  Before I could tell him what I needed him to pray for me, he just started praying.  I closed my eyes to pray with him.  In one of the most unapologetically bold voices I’ve ever heard, he began his prayer that God would continue my healing that most of all, that God would give me strength for this day.  I’m sure they could hear him through the open door and all the way down the hall, but I was so in need of that prayer at that time, I hoped every one heard it.  I know God did.  I don’t know if I so obviously needed strength, or if the spirit told him what to pray, but it did not matter to me.  He emailed me a few weeks later, but for some reason, I could not find the email just now to tell you his name- but thank you, pastor.  Your prayer was amazing for me. 

Shelley and Dave showed up a little while later and we left the room.  I managed with a walker to barely make it from the exit wheelchair to Dave's car.  It was late afternoon in Houston and we had 20+ miles to negotiate through the afternoon rush hour.  It's a nice car, but every start and stop- along with every bump- seemed to be a challenge for my emaciated body. It took an hour to make it home, and it was so nice to get there. 

The first night, I fell asleep on the couch.  About 3 am, I got up to go into the bedroom they had prepared for me.  Standing, at that time, was a procedure for me.  I had to scoot to the edge, rock a little bit for momentum, push up on the arm of the chair, and straighten my legs- all at the same time.  I celebrated mentally each time I made it to my feet. The next thing I remember that night was the crash when my head hit the coffee table on the way down to the floor.  I woke up a few minutes later on my side on the floor and my head hurt.  There was no blood.  I noticed that my walker was on its side on the floor at my feet.  I thought, “ I don’t remember putting that there- or seeing it fall”.  Great.  I’m living the now not so funny line that I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.  I laid there for more an hour. I did not want to wake the kids because they had to get up in a few hours for work.  Besides, this was somewhat embarrassing.  The dog came by to lick my face.  The cat disgustedly jumped over this new obstacle in its path. Then I heard a voice that said, “Get up”.  I remember thinking in response that I just got out of the hospital, I was really weak and there was no way I could stand up from the floor.  The voice (I think it was God) repeated “Get your butt off that floor. NOW! “   All right, that’s not the language I was expecting from God, but I thought that I should at least try.  I rolled onto my stomach, pulled my knees up under me, and straightened my arms.  Hey ! I had just assumed the crawling position- I know I’ve done this at some point before in my life.  I thought that I could indeed crawl, and finally made it back over to the couch, my head still throbbing.  I hopped onto the couch, uprighted the walker, and went through my standing procedure again.  This time, however, I consciously made sure that I retained consciousness and held onto the walker before moving away from the couch.  That's how I learned the final “make sure you’re not going to faint” step in my standing procedure.

Pastor Rick told me, learning this from his own major surgery and recovery 10 years earlier, that the key to recovery is exercise.  It, he said, drives everything- appetite, energy, and rest-  start small and do a little more each day.  The next day at Shelley’s house, I took his advice to heart.  After Dave and Shelley left, I was determined to go all the way from the garage door to the end of the driveway, about 30 feet, using my walker.  I had to stop about half way and rest on a stool for five minutes each way, but when I made it back inside to the couch- it was like I had just climbed Mt Everest.  I slept for hours.  I kept going a little farther each day, like Rick said, and it was about a week before I could make it all the way down the street with the walker.  Praise God.  My daily prayer was “Stronger each day, Lord.  Stronger today than yesterday. Stronger tomorrow than today.”

Some of my readers might know that playing the piano is my life, my passion, my partial source of income, my main way of worship (I play in tongues)- and most of all- my therapy.  Because my temperature in ICU was so high (108 deg) I was very afraid that the neuron pathways that players develop between the brain and the fingers had been damaged.  I could not make myself sit down and play the piano because I was fearful that my ability would be compromised- or even gone.  After about 10 days of being out of the hospital, I finally summoned enough courage to sit down at the piano.  I tentatively put my hands on the keyboard, breathed a prayer, and began to play the Jernigan song “Thank You” (for all You have done, I will thank you…).  It wasn’t perfect, but it was wonderful to know my chops were still intact.  Coincidentally, Dennis Jernigan was at our church in October.  I shared this story with him and he gave me a big hug- happy to have been such a huge part of what he knew was a major milestone in my recovery.  When the concert started, he began it with “Thank You” (just for me) and I basically fell apart in worship and thanksgiving.  Thank you, Dennis.

The first Tuesday afternoon dialysis, we left early so I could stop at the church and play the wonderful 6’ grand that I had been missing so desperately.  I walked into the office with my walker.  Pastor Rick and Christina were surprised to see me up and about.  We went down the hall to the sanctuary, and then I went up to the front, where the piano is.  I did not remember it being such a long way.  I sat down at the piano like it was an old friend (which it was) and started to play “Great is Thy Faithfulness”.  I did not make it through the whole thing, but I noticed that I was not the only one that had tears of thanksgiving.  It was a life moment for me.

I told Pastor Rick that I’d like to come back and play for the pastoral 25^th anniversary celebration at the Omni Hotel on May 10^th.  In the mean time, I was weaning myself from the walker.  After two weeks using that device, I found that I could go short distances without it.  The doctors did not say anything about not driving (I’m sure they thought I had enough sense not to), so I started driving myself to dialysis, and wherever I needed to go.  It was the beginning of the beginning for me.  I still looked rather bad, but like the Beach Boy’s old song, I was getting around round round. 

I never get to go to my son’s church in San Marcos (river-stone.org community church) because I play the piano at my church, so I decided to drive the 3 hours to go hear my son preach on May 3rd- the last Sunday that I would have off.  They are currently meeting on campus at Texas State in a large lecture hall.  There is a sub-terrarium parking garage and a long uphill walk up to the lecture hall.  I was not sure that I could actually make it that far without a walker, but I was at least going to try.  When I got to the hall, the door opened for me and there stood Elder Steve, who came to the hospital while I was unconscious so he could pray for me, and make reports to my son- who was in England at the time.  Steve gave me a big hug (he is a big guy) and I thanked him for coming to the hospital as Jason's proxy.  Elder Brian was the next person I saw, and I knew that his prayers were also among those that brought about my healing miracle.  It was so good to see him.  I told him that if I looked like I was going to faint, that was because I just might.  He helped me to a seat in the auditorium, near the door.  It was a wonderful, memorable service, with a packed house. 

I started doing a few piano tunings in mid-May, and then increased the work load as I could.  By June, non-dialysis days were nearly normal.  By July, I was even back moving pianos.

Dialysis was three days a week, TTS, for about 4 hour sessions.  For me, I never got used to it.  It was like someone pulled the plug on my soul.  I felt like one of those grayed out inactive computer icons, and usually had to sleep for 10 hours before recovering to nearly normal.  Dr Pula, my kidney doctor at the time, was hopeful that my kidneys would kick back in after 6 weeks, and was putting off installing a permanent dialysis connection- rather than using the catheter that was put in while in the hospital.  In June, they gave me a bright orange plastic jug so they could do a 24 hour urinalysis.  The numbers came back the next week.  There are dozens of measures, but the main one is some kind of creatin composite score.  The range is something like 60-80 for normal kidneys.  My score was (9). She shook her head and said that my kidneys were not working and that I would be on dialysis for the rest of my life.

Yeah.  Basically, it destroyed me.  They sent me to an access center to have a fistula installed in my arm.  They could not guarantee that there would not be chronic pain or nerve damage in that arm, so I would not let them put one in.  The next best option was to put a graft in my upper thigh, which is a U-shaped plastic tube with remarkable self healing properties- underneath the skin.  What they did not tell me was that to connect to the graft, they have to use (2) 1-1/2” long 15 gauge elephant (I call them)  needles, which they stick through the skin and into the tube- all the way in.  The pain is not all that bad and lasts only for a few seconds, but I would often tear up for a while after the stick.  When my dialysis time was moved to 5:45am, I would try to stay up until 3am so I could basically sleep through the 3.5 hour process.  Often, as is common with dialysis patients, I would throw up, or lose blood pressure, or faint upon standing, or cramp up.  I had leg cramps only twice, but I pray that I will not ever have another one.  Unbelieveable pain.

My church family, my real family and even people I did not even know, were praying for my kidney function to be restored.  I recently found out that my friend Linda Banks’ mother had been praying all summer for my kidney function.  I never met her or knew her, but she would call Linda each month for an update on my condition.  Linda’s mom passed away on Christmas day, I sorry to report.   I never got to thank her.  She'll be one of the first people I try to find when I get to heaven.

As I was praying for my kidneys one morning, I felt like God told me that my healing miracle had nothing to do with my faith.  After all, I was unconscious at the time.  He said that my kidney miracle would have everything to with my faith.  This, He said, was on me.  All right, Lord. I believe.

In October,  they did another 24 hour urinalysis.  I brought the jug back, set it on the counter, laid my hands on it, and prayed over my own pee.  I felt kind of silly, but I prayed, “Bless this, O Lord.  Let this be the miracle that we have all been waiting for.”  About this same time Kevin, at church, preached a Wednesday night sermon about how God was going to work another miracle in my life.  He would restore my kidney function.

My doctor did not get the October results until 5 weeks later, around Thanksgiving time.  When he did, he said that the numbers were good enough to take me off dialysis altogether, but he was going to be cautious and reduce the number of days from (3) to (2).  Then he would check the bloodwork tests in January.  Praise God !  The composite creatin score that was (9) in June was now (56)- nearly normal!! 

The first Thursday in January, the doctor told me that, depending on my bloodwork results, he thought he could reduce me to (1) dialysis day a week.  I went in the following Tuesday, but he did not leave orders for any change.  Wednesday night, there were (2) missionaries from Africa at church.  They spoke of the signs and wonders that God was doing in their country.  Blind people seeing, crippled people walking.  Pastor Rick asked them to go over to the piano and pray for me.  They laid hands on me and prayed that God would not just reduce my dialysis days to (1), but that He would release me from dialysis.

Thursday, the next morning, my doctor came by to tell me that he was going to release me.  I was in the dialysis chair, but inside I was jumping higher than the sky.  Thank you Jesus.  Mighty to save. Mighty to heal. I remembered one day at the hospital when Pastor Rick found me in the dialysis clinic there.  He leaned over my reclined chair and told me much of what happened while I was in the coma.  How God was energizing and uniting our church.  How God gave him the John 11:4 scripture- and how he read that promise to me for hours that night while I was unconscious.  I was so incredulous at what he was telling me.  I asked him what about my kidneys.  He nonchalantly shook his head and basically blew off the question.  He said, “Don’t worry about your kidneys.  After what God has done for you already, your kidneys are not going to be a problem for Him at all.”  I thought of his comment many times last year.  What faith !  He was the first call I made that morning from my dialysis chair.

My doctor calls me miracle man, but in actuality, we have a miracle God.

My daughter, who was 7 months pregnant when she found me unconscious at my shop, had her baby on July 10. Samantha. I volunteered to watch her at least one day a week, but after seeing what I had just gone through, they were rightly afraid to trust my recovery status.  What if I fainted? What if I dropped her?  So I started to stop by in the afternoon while Dave was there so he could work at home -while I watched Sam.  It worked out good because he could see that I was becoming capable of being a good baby sitter.  Since around October, I've had the high honor of watching her each Wednesday, by myself- all day long.  What a blessing for me.  Sometimes, when I hold her, I start crying thankful tears that God has allowed me this extension on life to be with my granddaughter.  I am so indebted to Shelley and Dave for saving my life last March, and now for enriching my life each Wednesday.  She is almost 8 months old now, and truly is a joy to be with (most of the time).

I’m so afraid that I will forget what God has done in my life over the last (11) months.  I wrote a liturgy that I try to pray every day.  Let me share it with you…

You have delivered me, O Lord, from certain death.

From the rabble of hopeless souls you have salvaged me.

You breathed life into my lifeless body. 

You gave me strength when I was weak.

You restored my soul, captured my broken heart, and rescued me from hell.

I will remember, O God, what You have done for me.

I will remember Your voice and Your touch.

I will remember where You found me. 

I will live knowing what You have done in me, and that it is not yet complete. 

Reign in me.  

Purify my heart.

Make me holy.

Shine Your truth and love through me.

Never let it be about me.

Ever let it be only for Your glory- and Your Kingdom come.

Amen