The next time I cover a football game, I’m considering wearing pads and a helmet. The use of an armored vehicle also crossed my mind. Apparently, you can never be too careful.
The field must have mistaken me for an opponent. After it successfully accomplished a shoestring tackle, I face planted near the concession stand. Being the tough guy that I imagine myself to be, I assumed the next step would be to dust myself off and get up. Madison being the Mayberry that it is, a kind young man was standing over me within seconds, with his arm outstretched. “I got you man. Tell me when you’re ready.” I never really was.
Eventually, I found myself treasuring the memories of easy breathing. I labored for each small, painful breath until an ambulance rocketed me to Tallahassee Memorial HealthCare, where the fun really began. It was quickly discovered that my right lung was collapsed, compliments of an encounter with one of four broken ribs.
Still feeling as if I was breathing through the eye of a needle, I next had the pleasure of having a drainage pipe inserted into my chest cavity, which allowed my lung to reinflate. This rapidly returned me to the land of the painfully living.
My remaining objectives were simple: don’t get an infection or pneumonia and get the plumbing extracted from my chest without complications. This pipe in my side, which the misguided staff referred to as a “tube,” was a growing concern, since it wasn’t exactly resting peacefully in its new home.
There is much irony in life but none seems more apparent than a hospital stay. In the course of my five-day visit, nurses and staff exhorted me to “get some rest” about 2,565 times. I know this because they were in and out of my room 2,565 times on any given day. While they constantly took my blood pressure, took x-rays, checked my temp, gave me shots and took enough blood to bring on anemia, I was “getting some rest.”
In the midst of all this activity, the pipe extraction was looming in my head. After beseeching the Lord’s tender mercies the night before the removal, I drifted into just enough sleep to dream, and that is where God showed up. Jesus is referred to in scripture as the Lion of Judah, which is exactly how He appeared in my dream.
In massive lion form, He entered my room and sat directly in front of me. I reached over and scratched his back. He then rolled back into my lap and nestled his mane under my chin. At this point, I woke up in full Tarzan mode. With no jungle to conquer, I realized that God was reminding me that He was ever in front of me and there was nothing to fear when He was present.
Better than all of that was the disposition of the Lord towards me that the dream revealed. He was thrilled with my affection and was looking for a way to get closer. I got lost in the wonder of that. By the time the doctor came in to remove the chest tube, I was still cuddling with the big Cat in my heart.
For the doctor’s part, she must have mistaken me for a push mower. After some brief conversation about the weather and eternal security, she grabbed the tube and pulled with remarkable speed. For a brief moment, my mortality flashed before my eyes, and then, all was well.
Most folks are chugging painkillers after this procedure. I was getting some rest in the mane of my Messiah. I took nothing for pain because I had so little of it. Sometimes, God conquers things for us, while other times, He conquers things through us. Whether He carries us around trouble or through it, the important thing is just staying close to Him. This will keep the big Cat purring with pleasure. Cuddle up. He has all the help and rest you will ever need.