Bad Memories

Our daughter Sherri called yesterday and demanded I call the cardiologist and see if he got a report from the kidney test I had. It was four in the afternoon and she said with vigor, "Mom, you need to call that office right now, I'm hanging up and you are calling." So, chicken that I am, asked Ken to call for the report. The report was received with joy as it showed my kidneys to be of normal size and general normalcy. That was a huge relief. Now, I'm left with the original problem of not being able to take the amount of diuretic that my body is used to. My appointment is at least a week away. I'm very tired of feeling bloated (and looking bloated). My husband assures me they will get it figured out. I'm hanging on to the healing promises the Lord gives me in His Word. I've been around this mountain many times and still find myself freaking out with fear and worry. I'm really sorry that those feelings come out; I feel so weak .......yesterday, I tried to figure out the source and origin of that fear. The only thing I can think of was what I experienced when I was five years old. My dad had a cerebral hemorrhage in my parent's bedroom one night. I recall my mother giving him a clothes pin to chew on so that he wouldn't swallow his tongue. I remember seeing blood coming from either his nose or mouth. We didn't have a phone at that time so my mother, feeling helpless, stood at the back door of our house yelling the neighbor's name. The neighbor lived at least the distance of a block away. The neighbor didn't hear her pleas for help but a man named Ed De Vries :) had met a car driven by a neighbor of his and they were parked in the middle of the gravel road chatting. People did that a lot when I was a kid, they didn't have the hurry we have today. They heard my mom's plea and Ed and his wife came over. Ed went to get word to the ambulance driver to come and then went to my dad's family home to alert his parents. Soon my mother's parents (who lived in the next house on the west side of our house) turned up as well. The ambulance came and took my daddy away. He had come home about a year and a half before from World War II. We weren't ready to have him gone again. I remember the quiet somber mood in the living room with my four grandparents. It was such a frightening time for me as well as for everyone else. I recall my mother telling someone within my earshot that a nurse had talked my dad through the night telling him to fight for life. My parents were acquainted with a couple a bit older than they whose seventeen year old daughter was also in the hospital. I walked into her room with my mom and the father was sitting in the corner of the room with a five year old daughter and a four year old daughter each on one of his knees. That five year old girl eventually became my bosom buddy at De Motte Christian School. She is one of my favorite people to this day. The outcome for their family was different than ours. My dad recovered, but Alisha died. Another horrid memory for this little girl called Gayle. My dad came home from the hospital in the same ambulance that took him. He was terribly weak and couldn't stand on his own. The ambulance parked at our front door (which was without stairs at that point). I recall with pure fondness my Grandpa saying to his son as he helped get his gurney through the door, "Put your arms around my neck, Jimmy, and hang on." It makes me weep all over again. Those were such tender words from the father to the son. It was the only time I recall hearing either of my dad's parents call him Jimmy. He was always Jim, which was a much better name for a man that at most times in his life was strong and self sufficient. Once home, my dad's job was to get stronger. The doctor told my mother to feed him an eggnog a day. Those were the days we whisked a raw egg, put in a cup of milk, a couple of tablespoons of sugar and a teaspoon of vanilla. Today we are warned not to eat fresh raw eggs. I do recall enjoying those eggnogs so much...they were delicious. Evidently they were nutritous as well. My dad recovered and is now 88 years old.

So that was what came to me when I explored why illness makes me so uneasy. I don't know if it has any bearing on my discomfort but that is the first time I remember experiencing those feelings of fear and dread. Lord Jesus, I invite you to go to that place in my memory bank and touch them with your healing.