Mercy

Mercy Hospital, Oklahoma City

Mercy Hospital in Oklahoma City, OK is an extraordinary place, full of extraordinary people.  Unlike other hospitals I’ve been to, where eye contact was avoided lest you be looking for assistance, eye contact at Mercy could not be avoided!  I was there on May 29, 2013 to undergo a craniotomy for the removal of a tumor in my right temporal lobe that had been diagnosed two weeks prior by Dr. Eric S. Friedman.  In the hands of Dr. Friedman I was not the least bit concerned for my welfare as he was highly regarded in his field of neurosurgery.  Dr. Friedman also epitomizes the upbeat, professional, and Christian culture that permeates Mercy Hospital and everyone within its environs.

The first day, prior to undergoing another MRI and other pre-op activities, Reverend G. David Johnson paid me a surprise visit with an offer of prayer that relieved me of any misgiving I might have had left over after the comforting countenance of the admitting clerk, the admitting nurse who showed me to my room, and the nurses who undertook the task of getting me settled in and comfortable.  Every move, every word, was imbued with feelings of true caring and concern, with constant reminders of “God Bless you” and “The Lord is with you,” something that is missing in most health care centers today.  Reverend Johnson delivers his message from the heart and is sublimely gifted for the role he plays in the healing process at Mercy Hospital.

By 9:00 am I was in the capable hands of the anesthesiologist, Dr. Darrell Heck.  For five hours, Dr. Heck walked the tightrope that held me in that narrow space between here and there.  Without Dr. Heck’s constant attention, any unexpected event or one oversight could have caused me to careen off into a deep irretrievable sleep or a sudden awakening on the operating table, either one having catastrophic results.  With only a few pieces of monitoring equipment to guide him, I cannot imagine the pressure of that responsibility.

Likewise, Neurosurgeon Dr. Eric S. Friedman’s responsibility was no less formidable.  Dr. Friedman (he sometimes refers to himself as the fixit man) must know where to start and where to stop based only on his education and experience to help him delineate between the good tissue and the bad he must carefully attack the invading tumor.  If he takes too little the patient is likely to have to undergo this dangerous procedure all over again and if he takes too much, well, I think we can all guess the results of that disaster.  Lights can go off, memories can shut down and bodily functions can be irreparably compromised, or worse.  For three hours Dr. Friedman worked with steady hands carefully removing the growth that had been putting pressure on my brain and causing me to have seizures.  Who of us can keep steady hands for even half an hour while doing any kind of detailed work?  And all this under the extreme pressure of holding a life in your hands!

These two men are far more than the years they spent learning their craft.  They are an unusual mixture of science and art that allows them to use their finely honed education with a talent that can only be gained with experience, like a Pavarotti or a Baryshnikov.  Knowing that “Time” is probably the most important asset any of us possess in this life, I thank God that these two men were willing to take on the enormous responsibility and use their time, science, and talent on my behalf.

With the help of Urologist Dr. Richard Herlihy and several highly trained nurses, this team brought me through my ordeal in good shape.  I am looking forward to a follow-up appointment with Dr. Herlihy since he is the first Urologist I have met who not only knows about another rare malady I have been dealing with for several years, but also listened intensely to my questions and has some suggestions for improvement.  Thank you Dr. Herlihy.

Recovering in the Intensive Care Unit I was blessed to meet Michelle whose Bassett Hound barely escaped from the recent rash of tornados, David Hackett whose constant assurance and attention lightened this patients load considerably, and many more folks who were assigned to other patients but whose activities I watched and heard while they were all busily attending to their charges.  More than just attending to the usual duties of monitoring vitals, administering medications and seeing to other comforts, these people were just as adept attending to their patient’s emotional needs.  I surmised it was an offshoot of the Christian values and culture that underpinned the entire operation at Mercy Hospital.

While it was comforting to be surrounded by people steeped in Christian values and culture, it was sad to realize that it only exists in lone bastions of enterprise that resist the general trend of our society today.  At an ever increasing rate these principles are disappearing from our, no longer, hallowed halls of government and even worse, from the venerable halls of our school system.  It is comforting to know that it is alive right here in Oklahoma and I pray that, one day, with institutions like Mercy Hospital we can provide the seed material to reinvigorate this country with its founder’s ideals.  The Founding Fathers knew what they were doing and we should not stray too far from the culture they established.  In their own words, “Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes.”

If the sign of a good manager is one who surrounds himself with the best and brightest then surely Mercy Hospital is guided by a world class manager.  I am still not sure whether all these talented and gifted people were brought in from other places or whether many of them were manufactured right on the premises.  The Christian based culture is very infectious and it is easy to see, with the help of folks like Reverend G. David Johnson and Dr. Friedman’s “Chief Surgical Nurse,” Teresa Avery, how this can happen.  It is my belief that Mercy Hospital is a place where the spiritual body as well as the physical body are given equal treatment and if my rapid recovery is evidence, then I am living testimony to the importance of the Mercy Hospital culture.

Indians and Africans

Writers of African and Indian history take great delight in blaming everything on the white man, but a closer look will show that it was the white man who tried to help both of these cultures.  It is the white men who were desperately trying to help the Indians assimilate into a changing society and it was the Indian's tenacious effort to maintain their old way of life that forced their eventual removal to reservations..

The Africans themselves and then the Portuguese opened up the slave trade and it was the British who started the movement to end it.  In America, abolitionist John Brown sacrificed his life and one of his sons to the cause of emancipation.  In the Civil War it is estimated that 620,000 white Americans died over the issue of slavery!

The Indian way of life was disintegrating long before Europeans arrived on this continent.  Inter-tribal warfare was rampant and some tribes had already been annihilated by their red brothers.  In the Northeast, the Abenakis had fragmented into many small groups, some no larger than 150 individuals.  These small groups called themselves “tribes” but today, we would call them gangs.  Most of these “gangs” found the new settlers to be easy pickings and they perpetrated many atrocities on the unsuspecting pioneers.

Efforts were made as far back as the 1700's to assimilate the native Americans into a changing world but most refused, doggedly hanging on to their old ways.  It was their incessant and savage attacks on the new settlers that finally forced the government into one of two scenarios, either exterminate them or corral them so they would not pose any further danger to those who did assimilate.  History is rife with the tales of atrocities being perpetrated on white settlers but all we hear about is the retaliatory attacks of the white man.

Is it reasonable to think the people of this country could survive today if we had joined the Indian culture?  Could 300,000,000 people still survive as hunter/gatherers?  Maybe, as many think, the Europeans shouldn't be here at all but is that reasonable?  History has always been the story of one culture being infiltrated by another and it will always be that way.  It is happening today here in America with the influx of people from all over the world, but it doesn't mean the demise of our culture; we adapt!

The Awakening

Several months ago we relocated from Southern California to the small town of Atoka, Oklahoma.  At the time, it seemed like an innocuous move of small relevance, but for a cynical man such as I have been all my life, a move to the “bible belt” was anything but casual and one small change did occur in my life shortly after our move here.  It is no exaggeration to say that my church attendance during my previous 20 years could be accounted for on the fingers of one hand but we were soon invited by Lynn to attend services at the Baptist Church in the nearby community of Lane.  The church was ministered by Pastor John Howard.  Pastor Howard is an engaging speaker whose sermons embody the flavor of “that old time religion” and I found myself returning week after week to hear him speak.  It was incredible, I had attended church no more than three times in the past 10 years and here I was returning for four consecutive weeks!

When we first arrived in Atoka, I was immediately immersed in the cattle business with my cousin Richard whose entire life had been immersed in what I considered biblical fantasy.  Richard is a highly trained minister of the gospel and had been a chaplain in the Army.  I suffered Richard’s bible thumping manner with a little chagrin and large doses of ridicule leveled at his childlike interpretation of biblical events.

Richard’s efforts to enlighten me were met with fierce resistance.  I had unassailable answers for everything and could not be moved by his best efforts.  “I know God,” I told him “and I don’t need to be saved.”  This was the state of our relationship on that fateful morning of March 10, 2013.  That Sunday started out like any other day.  I was up at 4:00 a.m. for our usual 5:00 o’clock meeting at the local McDonald’s restaurant with many other of the local cattlemen.  We usually spent a couple of hours drinking coffee before we headed out to feed the cattle at about 7:00 a.m..  It was a daily ritual that rarely saw any variation.  What was different on Sundays was the fact that Richard conducted Sunday services at one of the local prisons and that prevented him from accompanying me to feed the cattle.  On this Sunday, Frank would help me with the feeding.

By 9:00 a.m. Frank and I had finished feeding the herd and I drove him back to his “spread” on the other side of town.  Frank said all was well when I left his place, but that was soon to change.  My life was about to careen off in a direction I never suspected, and things would never be the same for me again.  It was only about five minutes from Frank’s place to my home, but in that short span of time my world would be turned upside down!  I remember pulling up in my driveway, removing my hat and looking into it and that’s when it happened.  I know of no other way to describe the dark ominous feeling that overwhelmed me other than to say it felt like what I imagined a demon possession to be like!  I was frightened by it and rushed into the house to get my wife’s opinion.  When I walked in, I did not have to say anything.  She took one look at me and asked “what in the world has happened to you”?  I told her that I thought I had just been demon possessed!  “Do you want to go to the hospital”? she asked.  “No” I said, “I want to go to church.”  Somehow, I managed to pull myself together long enough to make it to the Lane Baptist Church and delivered myself to Pastor John Howard.  I remember standing with him and he was looking directly into my eyes.  I was thinking at the time, does he see me or does he see the demon that had overtaken me?

After services, Gail and Richard took me to the hospital in Atoka and I was soon on a medivac helicopter being transported to “Mercy Hospital” in Oklahoma City.  I woke up two days later and spent a total of five days in the intensive care unit that included two MRI’s, two CAT Scans and a spinal tap before I was released.  I am still meeting with a brain surgeon this coming Thursday for a final analysis but as far as I am concerned, the verdict is in and what happened to me on that Sunday morning was nothing short of a miracle.  In one startling episode God’s truth was revealed to me and my eyes were opened.  Nothing was the same, not the people around me or the places I knew.  I now understand things that I used to scoff at and, as my grandson Caden told me on the day I returned home, I know that “Heaven is Real.”

I am still reeling from the events of the past week and probably will be for some time to come but I can assure the reader that I have been led to the Lord in a most extraordinary fashion.  I now wonder how I could have possibly survived my previous existence and the words of Hank Williams ring in my ears more clearly than they ever have before.

“I wandered so aimless

Life filled with sin.

I couldn’t let my dear savior in

Then Jesus came like a stranger in the night

Praise the Lord I saw the light.”

“I saw the light, I saw the light

No more darkness, no more night

Now I’m so happy no sorrow in sight

Praise the Lord, I saw the light.”

The Summer Soldier

Thomas Paine

On December 23, 1776, Thomas Paine wrote: “These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman.”  It was a plea to that 30% of the population who had not committed to the loyalists, nor joined their patriot brothers in the cause of the Revolution.  1/3 of our countrymen, at that time, were straddling the fence in a waiting game to see which side would come out on top.

We had Thanksgiving dinner at Doreen’s “Treehouse” yesterday and she pointed out that, once again, we are in “times that try men’s souls.”  Our country, which was founded on Christian principles is under attack and this is not the time to be a “summer soldier…[or] sunshine patriot.”  Those Christian principles are built into our Constitution and are what made the United States the greatest country on earth for over 230 years.  It is, largely, because we have strayed away from those principles that we are now in danger of becoming a “third world” nation controlled by a despotic regime.

All Americans need to stand up and be counted.  We all need to loudly profess our belief in the Christian values of our fathers and forefathers and be proud of our heritage.  It is not a crime to be American or Christian!  As Doreen put it, all it takes for evil to prevail is for good men to stand idly by and do nothing.

Check out the "Treehouse":  (http://www.wellsbiblestudy.com/Treehouse)