Dale Matson
One comes to reluctantly accept life’s personal limitations
and physical limitations. As family and friends decline and even some, sadly pass
on, there is a sense of survivor guilt. My best friend of over fifty years
recently died of a sudden and unexpected heart attack.
Whether we admit it or not, we sometimes try and strike a
deal with God to perform this or that meaningful deed before our life comes to
an end. It reminds me of the actor in The Seventh Seal pleading with death that
he still had a contract to perform.
My recent treadmill stress test led to a definitive
angiogram, which led to stents in an artery blocked by plaque. The blood
thinner (Plavix) “exposed” longstanding but undiagnosed ulcers in my stomach
with resultant serious bleeding. This led to another hospitalization with the
difficult choice of stopping the Plavix, which keeps blood from clotting in the
stents or continuing the Plavix and needing a transfusion with all the risks
that entailed. A Gastroenterologist was called in to cauterize the ulcers and I
was released with the hope that things were stabilized.
The three days were filled with anxiety, lonely, enforced,
seemingly endless and restrictive and that is the point of this account. It is
only too easy to take the activities of daily living (ADL) for granted. These
ADLs, the ordinary things of life are taken for granted until they are taken
away. For example, the chores of brushing one’s teeth or showering at home,
when performed in a hospital, become a privilege and can push aside the dehumanization
of hospitalization. For convenience and efficiency you are not even processed
as a number. Your wrist contains a band with a bar code that is frequently
scanned, making you an ‘inventory’ item.
IV lines installed in your wrist and arm to infuse
medication limit your movement. All too often a slight arm movement will
trigger a loud beep on a machine that needs to be reset by a person not
immediately available.
Procedures and protocols dictate treatment as staff moves by
endlessly this way and then that way. Doctors of course, are the final arbiters
of meds and treatment decisions. They also say when you can leave. Using the
bathroom is an advanced stage of treatment along with walking unaccompanied
down the hall. Sitting in a chair, standing up, walking makes you feel human
again. So and so will see you soon but waiting is more like waiting for Godot.
I understand this process and realize that what I
experienced was minimal and of short duration. I don’t resent this experience
or the well intended staff and treatment I underwent. What is shameful and
difficult to express is the anxiety and uncertainty, which dominated my
thinking during this time. I should have appreciated and trusted in the many
caring brothers and sisters holding me aloft and their prayers for God’s
guidance of the treatment efforts. This experience ‘rehumanizes’. It makes me pose the questions once again. “What have
I done with this day?” “At the end of this day, if I am granted a tomorrow will
I be a good steward of that time?” “Will I appreciate more fully the simple
ADLs of daily life daily?
Thank You Lord,
Your unprofitable servant Dale+
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