PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

In late February, 2007, I went to the ER with extreme shortness of breath.  Upon examination, my lungs were found to be over 90% filled with my own blood; and, had I delayed my visit to the ER, I might very well have drowned in my own blood.

The cause of this was an aortic dissection that had sprung a leak.  The doctor told me that I must undergo a complicated and long surgery, the survival ration of which was 15%, or three chances in twenty.  My surgeon is nationally, even internationally, recognized as an expert in these matters; so, at least medically, I was in good hands.

At about 4am on the morning of my surgery, the surgeon visited my room.  I was awake, having been unable to sleep any time that previous night due to fear.  A cold sleet was falling.  My surgeon was wearing a yellow rain slicker and a floppy hat, and said, in broken English, "I guarantee to do the best medically possible, but I do not guarantee that you will wake up from the surgery."  With moisture dripping from his rain slicker on to me, the picture would have been comic were the situation not so dire.

About an hour before the surgery, a Medical Assistant came in my room to shave my thorax.  He was a very large, muscular man---his biceps were huge---with long red hair that seemed more like a flame on his head than simply a hair style.  Unlike all the other medical personnel, whose scrubs were drab green or blue, his were stainlessly white.  I noticed, too, despite the usually dim lights in the room, and the dismal clouds in the sky above my window, the room seemed to be very brightly lit.

The shaving began, and extended down to just above my privates.  I remarked that my heart was "up here, not down there," and the Medical Assistant laughed wryly and said, "I know, but they want you clean-shaven all over."  My fear then took over, and I lapsed back into silence.

After a few more moments, the Medical Assistant paused the shaving process, turned to me, looked directly into my eyes, and said:  You can relax.  It has already been decided that you will survive the surgery . . . but you must stop being afraid right now.  He then finished the shave without a further word, and exited the room.  The room again resumed its usual dimness.  In a short time, others came to transport me to the surgery.

I later learned that no one, either of the medical staff or my relatives who were visiting, had seen that particular Medical Assistant, as I had described him, enter or exit my room.

And, I did survive.

I spent another two weeks in Recovery, and was released, with huge restrictions upon me, to return home.  About two weeks after my return, I had a follow-up visit with my surgeon in his office.  To be courteous, I thanked him for saving my life, and he smiled and said I need not thank him, as he had not done anything.  I asked him how he could say he had not done anything.  And his reply went like this:

"When I had opened your chest, I found a mess" (his exact words) "so extreme that I was entirely unprepared for it.  No textbook I had ever studied had addressed such a situation."  (And he was, and is, nationally recognized as an expert in this kind of surgery.)  I asked, then what did you do.  He continued:  "I picked up my instruments, and put both of my hands into your chest cavity.  I did not know exactly what to do, but my hands began to move by themselves.  For the entire duration of the surgery, I was never sure what the next step would be, but my hands continued to move on their own.  Your survival is a miracle.  Your God wanted you to live; I only held the instruments."

I believe that the person who shaved my chest was my Guardian Angel.  His appearance was such that I feel very safe whenever I think of him watching over me.  And what Medical worker ever says, It has already been decided that you will survive . . . ?  And then my surgeon . . . telling me that his hands moved by themselves and attributing the miracle to God, even though the surgeon did not, and does not, share my Faith:  he himself acknowledged the miracle also.

Starward