Tuesday, September 16...late!

Hospital Lessons

Moving out of ICU today was a complicated process! There were lots of wires to disconnect and lines to unplug. Robert is quite unsteady on his feet, so just getting him into a wheelchair was major. It is amazing how weak one becomes from inactivity. One nurse told me she thought the amount of strength muscles lose for every day spent in bed was 3% - hmmm...he’s operating with about 40% less of where he started. Tomorrow they promised him he can go for a walk…with a walker of course! I wonder how quickly that strength is regained once one starts moving. I guess I’ll soon find out.
The result of physical inactivity should teach us something about spiritual inactivity. Just as physical inactivity causes our body to lose flexibility, and power and the ability for muscles to work properly, spiritual inactivity does exactly the same thing to our soul. We become spiritually weak and susceptible when we are inactive. When we stop asking forgiveness, we begin to be in denial of our own shortcomings, and we wonder why we are becoming hard and inflexible. When we stop “being still”, we cannot see the gracious hand of God, and we wonder why He is not working. When we stop depending on God, we try to do everything on our own, and we wonder why we are so tired. We atrophy spiritually, not realizing the effects of the inactivity. Only through exercise will Robert regain his strength. Here’s a lesson I’ve learned from “living in the hospital”: The ability to stand strong spiritually comes from exercise and there are no shortcuts!

We are in a very nice room with a view! I feel like we moved into a nice motel room compared to where we were, and with fewer machines, there is room for the “chair that turns into a bed” for me! After seeing our room and thinking it was probably one of the best, I walked down the hall and discovered one that was empty of furniture, and it has a sliding door onto a balcony, with a great view. I started saying we should see if we could move in there, when a nurse overheard and said, just keep in mind it is shared between two patients. Now that changed my perspective. Never mind, I’ll keep the private room. Now, several hours later I am so glad for being in here alone with Robert. Looking for a room with the best view was looking at things from my perspective…I was focused on me. Once in the room, it didn’t take long to remember this is not about me, it’s about Robert, the patient…and soon the nice motel room became a place of a lot of activity, with lots of care giving, and quite frankly, I’ve spent most of my time being a servant. And right now, there is nowhere else I want to be than obeying the vows I made years ago.
When we are grow weary, sometimes we long for escape, in fact we demand escape, and declare our “right” to escape. When really all we need is a change of perspective – and honestly that has come more through the quick drive home I made, listening to God’s word on a CD, than it has through the change in view out the window. Here’s a lesson I’ve learned from “living in the hospital”: changing our perspective of a duty we’ve been given takes more of a “relinquishing” than a change of location!

The patient / nurse ratio is certainly different outside of ICU. We don’t see a nurse very often. I was so excited to get Robert into a different room that it was 7 hours before it dawned on me that he had no heart monitor. Oops. After checking the chart, the nurse scurried to get one hooked up. That, along with several other situations would be why I am spending the night here in his room. Patients need an advocate. I haven’t seen anyone come or go from the room next door where there is an elderly patient. I wonder who is their advocate? I wonder how many patients have no one to check on them, no one to observe what is being done correctly or incorrectly and speak up for them? How many are missing something vital to their care and no one has noticed? No one is near who understands how much their weakness and vulnerability need constant attention.
I am so thankful I have an advocate – one who speaks with the Father in my defense. Jesus promises to be my advocate, to stand as my representative when I am weak and unable to stand for myself. He knows when something vital to my care is missing and He advocates for me. Here’s a lesson I’ve learned from “living in the hospital”: There is one who monitors my spiritual heart and knows what lessons I need to learn – I only need to trust Him.
When the rollercoaster begins we need to be spiritually strong, we need the right perspective and we need the assurance of an advocate who has not forgotten us. As I close my eyes tonight with a peaceful heart, I know that He has not forgotten us, here in our room with a view.

~Jeanette