Visions | #7
Glow in bright light
Dancing into my heart’s eye
It’s time to take me into the operating room. I smile at D and get his gorgeous smile back. Ready.
A tall burly man pushes my bed down the hall and around the corners. He kindly warns me when bright light is about to shine directly into my eyes. The sun is just coming up, streaming through the corridor windows.
We round a corner. Have I been sedated a bit? I see that wall about 1 inch from the side of my bed, but we just keep going! I think I’m on a barge lumbering down the Rhine River.
We round another corner. Massive double doors loom straight ahead. I get the bright light warning as the doors swing open.
I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. There they are, at least 10 women and men, including my doctor, standing around the table set for me. They’re standing straight, eyes focused on me as I roll in. I tear up just writing about it. Is this how many people it takes to put this tiny gadget into my chest?
Carefully they move me from the trolley bed to the operating table. No, it feels more like a canoe–or like I’m floating on air! What? They’re putting my feet gently into air-cushioned delight! I want slippers just like that!
The anesthesiologist (I already met her—she seemed really young.) puts an oxygen mask over my nose and mouth and tells me to breathe deeply. After a minute or so the oxygen mask is off and I can see what’s happening.
I count at least six huge screens, three on top and three on the bottom, being pushed over on the right side of my bed. I hear at least a thousand clips as I get electronically wired to a zillion things. One by one I see things showing up on the monitors. My heartbeat, oxygen level, blood pressure, everything they need to know including a live picture show of my heart!
I want to stay awake and watch the show! I feel the oxygen mask going over my face again.
Suddenly I’m watching a wondrous movie in reverse. The gleaming light is back. Everything is happening so quickly I’m afraid I won’t remember it. Medical personnel surround my body. I think they’ve already wiped off the blood. Good. Right now they’re unclicking things, putting things back in order, reaching over to help each other as needed. Working together at lightning speed to take care of me.
I tear up. My anesthesiologist asks if I’m alright. Yes! I’m just so happy!!! In two or three more minutes God’s angels have finished, and I’m fully awake.
With the exception of D, I’ve never felt so cared for—so gently held by human hands. Surely this is the way God holds my heart and my personhood every moment of every day.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 15 April 2016
Stunning photo of Psalm 23 quilt art found at http://www.leeporterart.com