"Now all glory to God, who is able, through His mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think."
Ephesians 3:20 NLT
It's been said that God works in mysterious ways...
Ephesians 3:20 NLT
It's been said that God works in mysterious ways...
And what I am going to share in this entry attests to this.
Last week, I went to the prison's Infirmary because I had a toothache. But when I walked past the nurse’s station, one of the nurses stopped me and asked, "David, why are you breathing so hard?" I politely responded, "I don't know." She then said, "I'm going to tell the doctor."
I tried to dissuade her because I dislike going to the doctor. But she was adamant, "No! I'm going to tell him about your shortness of breath." I simply shrugged and said, "Whatever." I've known her for years, and she's always been kind and helpful to the inmates.
And a few minutes later, she returned and told me the doctor ordered her to perform an electrocardiograph (EKG) on me. I tried to protest in a friendly manner, but she wasn't going for it. "Doctor's orders," she said.
So off we went into the examination room. Then, when she was done with the EKG, she took the results to the doctor. The next thing I knew, she was calling for an ambulance as per the doctor's instructions. And about thirty minutes later, off I went, toothache and all.
Going on an outside trip is no joyride. Chained and shackled with leg irons and in handcuffs, the ambulance's crew drove me right to the emergency room, where I was then directed to a room on an upper floor. The nurses were great. Friendly and professional, they put me onto a real bed with a real mattress, not at all like the thin ones at the prison which sit on top of a solid steel platform, and leave you waking up the next day feeling stiff and with aching bones.
Then came a barrage of tests, everything from blood work to a Magnetic Resonance Imaging exam (MRI). The results? To my surprise, they discovered that my heart wasn't beating in its correct rhythm. That it needed to be adjusted before I ended up with a stroke. While at the same time, it was discovered that I developed pneumonia in my left lung. I was stunned. I had no idea that all this was going on inside my body. While adding to the drama was my aching tooth.
So here I was staying in a room with two corrections officers to keep watch over me throughout the night. When early in the morning, on the following day, came the "cardio crew." Several cardiologists along with a few nurses introduced themselves and told me they were here to fix my heart. I was smiling, but they weren't. To them, fixing a patient's heart is their top priority. But my mind was on getting breakfast, even with a now swollen mouth.
So within the next few days, nurses came in and out of my room to take my vitals, or to draw blood. It was nice being around them because they were always so pleasant and upbeat. Yet it was also boring. I'm not used to lounging around, even with a comfortable bed to lie on.
But then came time for the procedure to help get my heart back into its proper rhythm. So off I went to meet with the cardiologist who was going to do what's known as a "cardio conversion." I was given an anesthesia to put me to sleep so he could zap my heart with electrical charges, and it worked. While at the same time I was being given heavy doses of antibiotics to fight against pneumonia, and pain relievers to deal with my toothache.
But then came another surprise. The day after my procedure, while I was resting on my bed, in walked one of the hospital's cardiologist. I looked up as he entered the room. He had a big smile on his face. I noticed, too, that he had a Bible in his hands. My immediate thought was, "He's coming to give me my last rights."
Instead, he asked me, "David, can I pray for you.?" I quickly said, okay. While at the same moment, I turned to the guards who were sitting across the room, and asked if it was alright with them. They both gave a disinterested shrug and said, "Yeah, go ahead."
So we did. I sat up as we bowed our heads, He prayed first. Then I in turn prayed for him. And when we were done, he told me how much my story of God's having redeemed me from all my sins and crimes, inspired him.
He then asked if it was okay to give me the Bible he'd been carrying. He said he inscribed a message in it for me as well. So I told him that he needed to ask the guards for permission to do that. And again, he got the same response as before. "Yeah, go ahead."
After the doctor left, I looked at what he wrote. With blue ink, he penned these words:
"To my brother in Christ, Mr. David,.. Thank you for
inspiring me and many more to draw nearer to the
everlasting wonder that is our Lord and Savior
Jesus Christ."
As I write this, I am obviously out of the hospital and back in my prison cell. And with me is the Bible signed by the doctor, whose name I omitted for privacy reasons. It's a gift I will always treasure.
My stay in the hospital turned out to be a blessing. An alert nurse at the prison observed my shortness of breath. She in turn alerted the doctor in spite of my protests. As it turned out, unbeknownst to me, my heart was in need of a tune up, and I'd been battling pneumonia without my being aware of it.
The medical staff at the hospital took good care of me. But they don't do dental work. I still have a bad toothache.
D.B.
Last week, I went to the prison's Infirmary because I had a toothache. But when I walked past the nurse’s station, one of the nurses stopped me and asked, "David, why are you breathing so hard?" I politely responded, "I don't know." She then said, "I'm going to tell the doctor."
I tried to dissuade her because I dislike going to the doctor. But she was adamant, "No! I'm going to tell him about your shortness of breath." I simply shrugged and said, "Whatever." I've known her for years, and she's always been kind and helpful to the inmates.
And a few minutes later, she returned and told me the doctor ordered her to perform an electrocardiograph (EKG) on me. I tried to protest in a friendly manner, but she wasn't going for it. "Doctor's orders," she said.
So off we went into the examination room. Then, when she was done with the EKG, she took the results to the doctor. The next thing I knew, she was calling for an ambulance as per the doctor's instructions. And about thirty minutes later, off I went, toothache and all.
Going on an outside trip is no joyride. Chained and shackled with leg irons and in handcuffs, the ambulance's crew drove me right to the emergency room, where I was then directed to a room on an upper floor. The nurses were great. Friendly and professional, they put me onto a real bed with a real mattress, not at all like the thin ones at the prison which sit on top of a solid steel platform, and leave you waking up the next day feeling stiff and with aching bones.
Then came a barrage of tests, everything from blood work to a Magnetic Resonance Imaging exam (MRI). The results? To my surprise, they discovered that my heart wasn't beating in its correct rhythm. That it needed to be adjusted before I ended up with a stroke. While at the same time, it was discovered that I developed pneumonia in my left lung. I was stunned. I had no idea that all this was going on inside my body. While adding to the drama was my aching tooth.
So here I was staying in a room with two corrections officers to keep watch over me throughout the night. When early in the morning, on the following day, came the "cardio crew." Several cardiologists along with a few nurses introduced themselves and told me they were here to fix my heart. I was smiling, but they weren't. To them, fixing a patient's heart is their top priority. But my mind was on getting breakfast, even with a now swollen mouth.
So within the next few days, nurses came in and out of my room to take my vitals, or to draw blood. It was nice being around them because they were always so pleasant and upbeat. Yet it was also boring. I'm not used to lounging around, even with a comfortable bed to lie on.
But then came time for the procedure to help get my heart back into its proper rhythm. So off I went to meet with the cardiologist who was going to do what's known as a "cardio conversion." I was given an anesthesia to put me to sleep so he could zap my heart with electrical charges, and it worked. While at the same time I was being given heavy doses of antibiotics to fight against pneumonia, and pain relievers to deal with my toothache.
But then came another surprise. The day after my procedure, while I was resting on my bed, in walked one of the hospital's cardiologist. I looked up as he entered the room. He had a big smile on his face. I noticed, too, that he had a Bible in his hands. My immediate thought was, "He's coming to give me my last rights."
Instead, he asked me, "David, can I pray for you.?" I quickly said, okay. While at the same moment, I turned to the guards who were sitting across the room, and asked if it was alright with them. They both gave a disinterested shrug and said, "Yeah, go ahead."
So we did. I sat up as we bowed our heads, He prayed first. Then I in turn prayed for him. And when we were done, he told me how much my story of God's having redeemed me from all my sins and crimes, inspired him.
He then asked if it was okay to give me the Bible he'd been carrying. He said he inscribed a message in it for me as well. So I told him that he needed to ask the guards for permission to do that. And again, he got the same response as before. "Yeah, go ahead."
After the doctor left, I looked at what he wrote. With blue ink, he penned these words:
"To my brother in Christ, Mr. David,.. Thank you for
inspiring me and many more to draw nearer to the
everlasting wonder that is our Lord and Savior
Jesus Christ."
As I write this, I am obviously out of the hospital and back in my prison cell. And with me is the Bible signed by the doctor, whose name I omitted for privacy reasons. It's a gift I will always treasure.
My stay in the hospital turned out to be a blessing. An alert nurse at the prison observed my shortness of breath. She in turn alerted the doctor in spite of my protests. As it turned out, unbeknownst to me, my heart was in need of a tune up, and I'd been battling pneumonia without my being aware of it.
The medical staff at the hospital took good care of me. But they don't do dental work. I still have a bad toothache.
D.B.
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