It could have been much worse

It could have been much worse – that right there is something to be grateful for.

I was traveling in April when I needed emergency hernia surgery. The hernia was small and the laparoscopic surgery  no big deal. However, I developed a massive infection. Organs shut down. The doctors gave me 24 hours and a Catholic priest gave me the Last Rites. Yet here I am.

I’m grateful to be intact. 
I spent nine weeks in the ICU, five of them in a coma on a ventilator. So many people my age on a ventilator that long either die or are profoundly brain damaged. (I’d rather be dead.) My battle damage was mostly temporary. I still have a rough voice and a limp, but they should be gone by Christmas.

I’m grateful for my fantastic medical care.
My brother, a doctor, was very impressed by my small-town Swiss hospital. They handled 90% of my care and snagged surgeons from big cities for some tricky stuff. When my brain started doing odd stuff, they got the experts in Zurich involved. The experts were equally baffled. My case was one of the most complex they’d seen.

I’m so grateful to have health insurance.
Too many people don’t. The total bill for four months in the hospital comes to about $475,000. Insurance is paying all of it. Otherwise, we’d be in rough shape.

I’m so thankful for amnesia.
I have almost no recollection of the first two months. I’ve seen videos and pictures of myself.  They’re horrific. I was thrashing around and had to be restrained. My eyes stayed wide open for days, no blinking. In brief periods of lucidity, I’m told I was terrified and tried to rip out tubes. Jean and our three adult children are still traumatized after watching me for days. I’m so sorry they had to see that.

I’m grateful for the many people who pitched in.
We still have a lot of other expenses. When word went out, my brothers and sisters sent money. (We even may end up returning some after all the dust settles). United Airlines turned a plane around on the taxiway to let Norman off to go see me. Isabel’s classmates bought her round-trip ticket to Zurich. My brother, sister, and sister-in-law dropped everything, bought expensive tickets, and flew to see me as did all three of our adult kids. Ed’s employer paid for half of his ticket.

I’m grateful for all the prayers.
I was on Catholic, Episcopalian, Pentecostal, Methodist, and Presbyterian prayer lists. Hundreds of people praying for me. “Folks were stormin’ heaven.”

I so appreciate my dozens of caregivers. 
All of them were so kind and compassionate. I didn’t meet one grump in four months. I was sometimes touched to tears by their kindness.

My wife Jean: words escape me.
What can I say? She was at the hospital 24/7 in the early days. She got a local apartment and was with me every day for four months. This was so much harder on her than me.

All Saints.
You all made movies and sent them to me. Gary and Charles recorded a song. Lots of cards and emails. Your wonderful welcome home poster. Mother Nancy set the distance record for pastoral visits, interrupting her European sabbatical to come see me in Switzerland.

Now, the big question…
As I look over all my luck (grace) I see how fortunate I am compared to most people in my shoes. I am convinced God saved me for a purpose. He’s got something in mind. I don’t yet know what that is. I feel like Paul, another traveler, who was knocked off his donkey and blinded. God got his attention but subsequently discerning his mission took time.

My new quest is to find and carry out His mission for me. Maybe some of you all will help show me the path.

Al Bonnyman