WHAT I LEARNED IN THE HOSPITAL [R, 9-2-21]

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith & Life for the Years of Winter

I sorted through and discarded my old sermon notes a long time ago. Now I’m doing the same with the files from other speaking and writing. One of my first “talks” after my hospital cancer surgery was What I Learned in the Hospital. I wasn’t yet at the point of Now That I Have Cancer I Am Whole. What I learned there follows nicely the column of two days ago about intercessory prayer.

The surgery was a surprise, so I had no chance to prepare. But I am loathe to let any experience go by without getting a story or three out of it, and this looked like a gold mine of stories, so I immediately started working on a list of what I was learning. Here is the list:

Whatever nurses are paid, it’s not enough.

You can go much longer without washing your hair than you think. 

The hospital is no place to get a rest.

Major surgery should be upgraded to at least Colonel, maybe Admiral.

There are better ways to lose weight.

Prevention is better than cure.

The switchboard operator in a Catholic hospital will put a call through to your room even if she’s been told not to if the caller identifies himself as a bishop.

Five A.M. is apparently the proper time to get out of bed to  get weighed.

We exist in each moment by the grace of God.

Prayer helps.

Knowing others are praying for you helps.

Prayer comes in many different shapes and sizes.

The single most important experiences for me were when people prayed with me and for me.

There is great pleasure in simple things.

Pain is a prison.

You gotta walk that lonesome valley by yourself.

Here is one that requires a bit of explanation. Perry Biddle was a clergy friend who tried to commit suicide by automobile and was almost successful but said his first thought, as the EMTs stood over him and thought he was dead, “Yes, but also I’m still alive, and I’m glad.” So in the hospital I wrote: Perry Biddle and I belong to the pre-victorious. We have seen the enemy, and the enemy ain’t got nothin’. We have already died and gone to be with Christ. [1]

All the grace you need is what you have at the moment.

I dictated those observations into a cassette recorder while I was in the hospital and wrote them out later. I think they’re all still accurate. Except that it gets easier to go without washing your hair when you have less of it.

John Robert McFarland

[1] I like that phrase, pre-victorious. Did I come up with that on my own?