Surrounded By A Cloud Of Witnesses (Part II of III)

So here I am, writing the next installment on this three-part series...

...And it's going slowly. (I wonder why?)

In my first reflection, I laid out what happened to my thumb on Sunday. Here I hope to convey what happened next and to explain why I was reminded of a great passage from the book of Hebrews.

Standing there in the kitchen, I knew we had a problem. Blood dripping profusely from a clean and clearly deep incision. But it seemed like a simple problem to fix. Stitch it up and we're good, right?

No.

As noted in the prior reflection, at some point in the hospital it became perfectly clear to me that I was looking at another tendon rupture.

But... once again... not too big of a deal, right? After all... the ankles had to be opened up, but in this case, the job has done already. I'm at the hospital. Thanks to that shard of glass, I'm already open! Fix it now and go home?

No.

As noted in the prior reflection, I was pretty frustrated when they stitched me up and sent me home when I knew perfectly well that I'd be back under the knife soon enough. That kinda... SUCKS.

Part of what made it frustrating was the feeling that people were ignoring what I knew to be true. Yes, you're all medical professionals, of course.... but I know a thing or two, too. And I know that this thumb is not working properly. So I came home feeling pretty frustrated, but in possession of a recommended doctor to call in the morning.

My first clue that there was more to this story than I understood came when I tried a different route and called the doctor who stitched up my last Achilles rupture.

[And here I must stop and acknowledge the mysteries of God and seemingly random and unnecessary events. The doctor who cared for my first Achilles rupture? Dead. A very godly man with easily nine or ten kids. Died in a car accident during a snow storm. I'll never forget him, and God has not either. No, life does not always go according to our plans, nor according to our preferences, either. Somethings must be trusted to God with NO answers to comfort us, here on earth.]

I never ended up even speaking to the doctor. The receptionist took in my situation, went away from the phone, and came back pretty quickly. "We recommend that you visit a hand specialist."

Hmmmm. He did a great job on my ankle. What was that all about?

So I called the name that the hospital had sent me home with. They set me up with an appointment for Wednesday. And that seemed OK. Until I started to realize that
(a) the appointment was clearly not going to include surgery, and
(b) my (possibly long) recovery was getting delayed.

Frustrating. Very. Frustrating.

My frustration turned to action and on the morning of the appointment, I dropped the doctor's office a short note. I said, in so many words, "I know I have a ruptured tendon. Could we please dispense with the appointment and set up the date for surgery?"

I did try hard to be polite, but I made it clear that I didn't have spare cash or time for an appointment to confirm what I already knew. The response was not surprising at all. In so many words, "The doc has to see you, first." No shocker, there.

What did catch me by surprise, however, was what happened when I went in to see the doctor. As I passed between the receptionist's desk and the room where I was to examined, a woman glanced up and greeted me in a very familiar fashion. "Hi, Pilgrim!"

Oh, that's right. She works at an orthopaedic clinic. This one, apparently. My neighbor from down the block.

And you know what my first thought was, right?? "Hmmmm... did she read that note I wrote?" I don't know, and I haven't ask her, yet. But I was glad that I had worded it carefully as I had, and definitely wishing in hindsight that I had exercised even more restraint with my words.

This situation has happened to me before. I let feelings loose on a stranger.... and then discover that the stranger is actually an acquaintance. Or a friend. When this happens, I'm reminded of what the author of Hebrews had to say on the matter:

Hebrews 12:1
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.

Occasionally this fact is visible in the earthly realm. A secret or seemingly anonymous side of our lives becomes public knowledge or, at a minimum, known to people we had not intended to reveal ourselves to. And when that happens, it's always a bit spooky.

Spookier still is the stark reality. This just in. We're totally exposed to eternity. What happened to me in that office is the tiniest, most trivial taste of a wider reality: we live, every moment of every day, surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.

Let that sink in.

But we don't. We're like the hamster I share this office with. I'm working next to the little feller quite frequently, and he bustles about his cage, usually quite clueless that I'm watching him from time to time. But every now and then, some combination of movement and sound coming from me flips him out, and he goes into survival mode. He jumps and scurries as fast as his little legs can take him to some place of perceived safety.

Fact is, he's only as safe as I want him to be, and he's watched far more than he knows. Stupid hamster? Yeah. But we humans can be pretty stupid that way, too. More on that in the upcoming final reflection.

Until then, Merry Christmas. Seems I ought to say that before closing.

And.... yes... one other closing comment. I hate typing with one hand.