Merry Christmas!

Wishes for a blessed Christmas come with this note!  I tried to write a blog for this week, but couldn’t.  Here’s what happened instead.

Andrea and I were all set for a quiet Christmas in Austin together since we had been with kids and grandkids for Thanksgiving.  One night earlier this month, after watching a Spurs basketball game, I began to feel a sharp pain in my stomach, and I began to wretch with the dry heaves from this very sharp pain.

Because I couldn’t stop, and the pain grew very intense, Andrea called 911.  They arrived very quickly and took me to the emergency room at Seton NW hospital.

After X-rays and an ultra-sound, the ER doctor said I’d had a gall bladder attack and I should see my doctor to talk about having my gall bladder removed.  A few days later we sat together in the office of a surgeon, listening to his explanation of where the gall bladder is and what it does…and how it is removed.  He suggested that I sign up for the nearest Monday and have mine out.

Since Andrea and I have been trying to complete the writing of a four-year book project, I was reluctant to undergo general anesthesia for the third time this year.  The first two had set me back mentally so much that I was afraid I’d “lose” my train of thought about the book.  So I was determined to put my surgery off until we completed the first draft—which I estimated would be about mid-January.  I figured I could tough it out until then.

The surgeon said it was a “reasonable risk.”  But he added, shaking his head, that if I had any more attacks I’d need to go into surgery ASAP!

All went well until last Friday morning at about 5:00 a.m.  I had another bad attack, and I had misplaced the emergency gall bladder medicine I had gotten.  I felt like Ray Milland in the 1945 movie The Lost Weekend about an alcoholic on a four-day binge, looking frantically all over his house for a bottle of bourbon he’d hidden from his family.  Finally we located the pills and in about an hour the pain subsided.  As soon as the doctor’s office opened, I called and was scheduled for the first opportunity available, which was the following Monday. So I had to wait all day Saturday and Sunday for surgery on Monday morning, just hoping that there would not be another attack.

Looking back, I can’t believe how arrogant I was.  The phrase, “I am older, though “wiser” is not something I can relate to today.  But I have learned once more that the philosopher was right on when he said “Advice we may listen to, but pain we obey!”

I tried to write a blog about Christmas for you today, but it’s a little difficult to be spiritual when one has made a complete fool out of himself—at least it is for me!  So instead, I’ll offer this newly acquired wisdom for the coming holidays:  Pay attention to your stomach while you’re over-eating at Christmas.  Cut down on greasy food, and drink plenty of water.”

I am very grateful that the surgery was successful, but am ashamed about my arrogance in thinking my work was more important than the gift of health God had offered me in my 83rd year.  I think the Lord may be speaking to me, telling me to provide food and medical attention for other people who are more willing to be more obedient and not so cocky about their ability to control their lives.

Andrea and I wish you and your family a blessed Christmas!

Lord, thank you that you continue—again and again—to give us new chances to grow up and become the people you made us to be.  And thank you for giving Andrea the patience to stay the course when I stand up and rock the boat.  In Jesus’ name, amen.

“Calling the crowd to join his disciples, he said, “Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You’re not in the driver’s seat; I am. Don’t run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I’ll show you how. Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to saving yourself, your true self. What good would it do to get everything you want and lose you, the real you?”

Mark 34-37, The Message

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