TCATS #317 - Strong, Positive, Hopeful

The title of this week's blog post comes from today's message from Music & the Spoken Word (see below). I use it because I wasn't able to attend choir this week and because the message itself both includes and expresses much of what I went through and felt these past few days.

It all started on Tuesday with my wife indicating that her chest and right side were hurting. As time went on, we realized that it wasn't something that was going to go away or something we could ignore. So, after a couple of initial doctor visits (we were hoping to avoid the ER) and an ultrasound, it was determined that she most likely needed her gall bladder removed. We were told to schedule a surgery consult and then get onto the surgery schedule. As my wife's pain continued to increase, I did this right away but was frustrated to find out that a consult couldn't be scheduled for two weeks! I called another hospital and got it down to one week. But it was clear my wife wouldn't be able to last that long. So calling the first hospital back and pleading my case as a desperate husband, a little miracle occurred and we got an appointment for the next day. 

Unfortunately, the "angry" gall bladder was not wanting to wait even until the next day. I've never seen my wife in such pain. So, in a last ditch effort to avoid the ER, we went to the clinic again on Wednesday to see if the doctor could talk to the surgery folks for us and just get us onto the schedule. But alas, she said she did not have that authority.

Arriving at the ER around 5:15 or so, we were told it would be at least a 2-3 hour wait. They did the initial "triage" within the hour, but then we went back to wait on the chairs in the ER lobby for a bed to open up. The minutes felt like hours and I can honestly say the experience was one of the worst of my life. My wife was in immense pain and in tears much of the time and there wasn't a single thing I could do about it. All of the other people in the ER just made things worse: a young father wheeling in his wife on a wheelchair--his wife doubled over and crying in pain; a guy who couldn't even explain to the front desk why he was there because he couldn't stop sobbing; several in masks coughing and hacking; a guy who was suicidal; and the list went on. So many in severe pain and they couldn't get any help. After 4+ hours of hell, we were finally escorted back to where Jenn was finally able to get some pain killers and a CAT scan to confirm the gall bladder issues. Because of the amount of surgeries scheduled and the higher number of trauma patients that were coming in and needing surgery, we were told we'd have to wait for surgery until an OR opened up. 

We waited and waited, the time moving from Wednesday to Thursday, being told it could be at any time. Amidst the crescendo of frustration, credit goes to my wife who finally just said we needed to turn all of this over to God and just submit to His will. As we had that conversation, I realized she was right. That it was time to let the negativity and frustration and anger leave, and replace those emotions with hope, with strength, and with a positive outlook. There were things to be thankful for, not the least of which was the myriad of friends and family who were texting and calling and showing love and concern. There were also great nurses and a friendly staff who showed genuine interest in making sure Jenn was taken care of. We had a prayer, we read scriptures, and things definitely took a turn for the better. 

At 8:30 Thursday evening, we finally were told Jenn was going in for surgery. After I kissed her goodbye as they wheeled her away, I went to the waiting room which, interestingly enough, was completely empty. Just me, my thoughts, my prayers, and being able to respond to texts of support that "coincidentally" came right at that moment.  

While the surgery didn't go perfectly, it went pretty well and Jenn embarked on her road to healing. We came home Saturday and I'll be privileged to help her take this next week to get better. Looking back on everything, was I justified in being frustrated and bitter and angry at a health care system that seems to be broken on multiple levels? I think so. Will I be submitting my constructive feedback to the hospital about things that can be improved? Absolutely. But as the Spoken Word points out, it's better in the end to be positive and hopeful that God will provide peace amidst the chaos, sweet amidst the bitter, and love to replace the anger. And in the end, isn't that "less traveled" path the better one to take?

Until next time, may God be with you.
 

 The Spoken Word, 2/2/20
 
"Most of the time, life is pretty wonderful. The world around us is filled with beauty. We are surrounded by people who care about us. And we wonder how life could be any better.

But then there are other times when life seems overwhelming and gloomy, and those happier days are a distant memory. At those times the best thing to do—maybe the only thing to do—is hold on to hope. Not just wishful thinking. Not even mere positive thinking. But robust, fearless hope. This kind of hope is not for the faint of heart. It demands courage to believe, strength to carry on, and the resolve to not give up. If our hope is to get us through the truly dark days, through life’s real storms, it must be anchored to something stronger than we are, something deeper than what we see around us. Hope has power as we focus on everlasting things, on eternal principles, on trust in God.

Most of life’s darkness and dreariness is temporary. Things tend to work out in the end. Gordon B. Hinckley was known for these reassuring words: “It isn’t as bad as you sometimes think it is. It all works out. Don’t worry. I say that to myself every morning. It will all work out. … Put your trust in God, and move forward with faith and confidence in the future. The Lord will not forsake [you].”1 He is the reason for our hope.

Not long ago, a man learned that he needed a major operation to preserve his health. As he faced this sobering news, three words came to his mind over and over again: strong, positive, hopeful. Although he was concerned about the operation and his recovery, the man determined to go to the hospital with those three words in his mind and heart. In the months of recovery that followed, he repeated those three words as a kind of motto to live by: Strong. Positive. Hopeful.

As he did, he found strength within himself he didn’t know he had. He found that positive things happened every day that he could be thankful for. And he found that there was reason to hope that things would improve and work out for the best. Life wasn’t always easy, but he saw that it was pretty wonderful."