It is no secret that we often forget important happenings that occurred in our lives. Even more so, we totally omit what we say to others. The epitome of this carnal trait is displayed in our prayer lives. We tend to neglect and pay the least mind to the intimate conversations we previously had with our heavenly Father. Yet, I find that God reminds me to remind Him (Isa 62:6) about promises that He made. Revealing to me that He delights in us remembering our requests once filed to Him.
Last year round about this time were one of those times when God wanted me to remember what I had prayed and asked Him. Also, a time to show off His wonder again.
June 2015 brought me to a point of despair and to my knees again. I felt void, redundant in my way and plain discouraged. I needed something new...something fresh! And so, from this forlorn emotion arose a prayer to Jesus. "Please take me to the next level in your kingdom, upgrade me Lord?! Shower me with new revelation of your majesty and wonder."
A week later I was commissioned, by my employer, to head out with 2 colleagues to the Caribbean in order to supply 3D signage for a T20 cricket tournament (CPLT20). By this time I had fully forgotten my prayer request and was only focused on the task at hand. The emotional and logistical implications that followed the decision was all too intense. I was going to be away from my wife and two daughters for three weeks! And Taylor was but only 3 months at the time.
Early July we started making our way to Jamaica via UK air travel. After a ten day stay in Kingston, we'd be on to Guyana in South America for yet another ten days. Upon landing at Norman Manley International Airport I was hit with the heat and humidity of the Caribbean. It was clear that I was far from my home in Bayview, Cape Town. The off shore winds brought no cooling with it and neither did it help with fanning away the sultriness clinging to my skin.
After being completely settled in at our hotel, we set out the following day to scope the work waiting for us. It was prime to what began to look like a getaway or holiday. Besides the sweltering heat and small vampiric bugs assaulting us every evening, the first two days flew by without any major hiccups. Came Tuesday 7th July, we headed out to the stadium to complete the first leg of our painting escapades.
By this time I have learned that Kingston, the capital of Jamaica, was impoverished and most parts of it was not very tourist friendly. Its hostile streets, the enervate people and lack of spirit - for a lack of a better word - reminded me of some of the places in Cape Town. Shacks, poverty, dirt... so far from home yet not so far at all. Both men and women carried themselves in a manner that said they were ready for a fight within two seconds. The tension was thick in the air and I saw no reason other than due to the social and economic consequences of a failed government.
Before every work day we would have our usual breakfast at the hotel. Thereafter we'd stock up on loads of ice, water, cold drinks and maybe a light snack like an energy bar. This would carry us through till evening when we could properly enjoy the foreign cuisine. This particular day, day 3, started the same, except for me having a heightened sense of the Holy Spirit. I noted a white dove flying ahead of us, coming from behind and gliding over our cab while we were making our way to the stadium. It stood out like...well, a single white dove in the city where there were little or no other flying birds. I felt an instant sense of protection with me. This was later much more intensified by the presence of a eagle that was circling overhead the stadium. I assumed it was hunting for breakfast but later realized that it must have been very unsuccessful seeing as it was flying above us the whole day. But even this prompted my spirit to be aware of God's protection. Then the DJ through me out completely! While busy setting up hardware around the stadium, they normally do extensive sound checks by playing small snippets of different songs. For some strange reason, unbeknown to me, the songs that were playing all had one thing in common. They all shared the words "I love you" or "remember I love you". Even "never forget that I love you". This made me feel like the Holy Spirit was beginning to tap my shoulder to seriously start paying attention of Him and the Father's ever present help and love.
The usual scorching sun meant hefty intakes of liquids - drink breaks every fifteen minutes to hydrate and not suffer heatstroke. By 2 pm I was urged to go and relieve myself after accumulating too much fluids in my bladder. I felt slight discomfort after that. As if I had a bladder infection. The passing of urine felt incomplete as I zipped up to get back to work. Within 30 minutes I was literally brought to my knees by a pain in my lower abdomen and back. After failing to identify the pain and any previous memory of such anguish, I scuffed on to the First Aid room. When I arrived there, I was welcomed by a friendly lady who tried her best to evaluate me and determine what the cause behind the pain was. My squealing like a mad man coupled with the uncontrollable cringing forced the medical team to load me in to an ambulance and on to Kingston Public Hospital.
At the time I have never been hospitalized or even a passenger in an ambulance. I've never suffered any broken bones as a child..nothing! And it all escalated so quickly!
I crawled into the van not at all concerned with my sweaty paint covered body messing up their used white sheets. Sirens going mad and off we went in full blast. By the looks of things in the back of the van, the medic who was at the wheel was waiting for an opportunity such as this where his driving skills could be showcased. It felt like I was in a movie scene!
Upon arriving at what looked like our local day hospital but only ten times worse, I was received by surprised faces. From the moment we entered the emergency unit the locals could not help but stare at us three foreigners. Medical insurance, which we supposedly had, meant nothing at the time. We went to the closest hospital seeing as it looked like I was busy giving birth to pain's child. And right off the bat we were told that there were no available beds. The lack of hygiene, the tired disinterested attitudes...so like our SA government style day hospitals. Well, the ones I'm familiar with. In the mean time all I was doing was calling on the name of the Lord. About five seconds after another shout from my heart, a doctor pointed to an empty bed in the corner of the busy square. A cleaner that was dressed in casual clothes was busy mopping up, what looked like a couple of liters of blood, from the floor next to the bed designated for me. Things weren't looking good at all.
Immediately after taking up the spot that would serve me a lifetime's worth of shame and pain, a few female nurses gathered. Then another female doctor. She calmly relayed her plan of action to resolve the unknown agony. Which was followed with a polite request to remove my pants and underwear. The latter didn't shake me up too much as I had expected it. Plus, the pain was superseding all other knowledge and sense at the time. So without hesitation, I slipped out of my drenched trunks much to the delight of the onlookers. Onlookers as in those moving about in the rest of the ward and not just the 5 females assisting me. A drip was hooked on to hydrate me. But only successfully after the third attempt. The adrenaline coursing through my vanes kept expelling the needle and causing my valued ichor to squirt all over the place.
Not long after that the young female doctor came to my busy bedside with a sealed packet of goods. A catheter. Yep... I've never seen or heard of a catheter utilized on a male. I've never spoken to anyone that has experienced or administered it. Even though both my sisters are in the working in the medical field. My ignorance or innocence was to be broken abruptly!
The doctor explained her plan of action to try and get to the bottom of things. Seeing as I could not urinate properly, they wanted to start with going in via the penis, up in to the bladder to drain it. It was...wait, let me put it this way; IT WAS THE WORST FEELING EVER!!! Not counting the pain of course. Nothing compared to the pain. Lying flat was impossible. Sitting up was worse! Cringing was the best I could manage as nothing eased the terror in my lower left side. I could not sit nor lay still for even a second. The bleakness on my face had also remotely transferred to my colleagues' faces. They were left worried sick and scratching their heads. Probably thinking of what to tell the boss and my family about the moments leading up to my death. None of us knew what was going on, and when I say none, I mean not even the hospital staff. And to be honest, I did think I was going to die. That is how bad the pain really was.
At this point you're probably thinking how the above could relate to where I began. I started out with telling you how we forget what we ask God in prayer and what's busy unfolding here as you read it, will conclude with a wonderful illustration of God's glory revealed in our every day lives. What we think is chance, moments that seem unimportant to us and little details we daily take for granted, is ultimately God's good will for us. His plans to give us hope and a future unraveling in the most exciting, bizarre and sometimes painful ways.
end of part 1
