(part 2 - Unmerited Favour)
The Caribbean sun has set over the island but the same could not be said of my pain. I was still as unsettled as when I arrived four hours ago. My faith began to waiver as I began to ask God why this was happening. Also, why couldn't I shake this unknown tormentor!
Just as I was about to give in to the whole saga, a male - finally - doctor showed up. I was advised to get ready for x-rays and to try and get to some resolution. Although this method was not precise in revealing all the unknowns, it would help in eliminating some possibilities like abdominal issues caused by digesting foreign objects. Yep, they thought I'd swallowed a scissor or blades maybe. I was past my ability to contest any malfunctioning hospital system and agreed to get it done soonest. After declining my assigned means of commute, I scurried off past the wheelchair to the x-ray room. Almost limping and not sure how to bring myself to the upright position.
Once there, I was now finally alone. The silence was most welcoming and an atmosphere change was tangible. I began to ease myself in thought and began to pray in the Spirit. Not that I wasn't before, but my heart was now calling from a place of rest and not out of pandemonium. No later and the pain began to submit itself to the voice of faith. As I sat in my drenched boxers, half naked on a cold stainless steel bed, my life began to regulate. Then finally the x-ray was done.
I walked out of the room in the normal posture of a man whose prayer was just answered. Some minutes later the abdominal specialist returned with a clear x-ray scan result. Only to tell me that if the pain doesn't subside, he'd have no other option than to open me up. Yes! He explained that they would have to cut my stomach area from below the chest cavity to my naval! I replied in a calm but stern voice, "You will have to tell my family back in Cape Town that I love them, but you won't cut on me sir. I'd rather die than have that done because of some untold pain." Also, he could see I was no longer in agony so why even talk about cutting! At least I got him to smile and he left kind of disappointed, I think.
A few minutes after the butchery doctor had left, my urinal specialist arrived at my new bedside. They had moved to another area away from the hustle. Right next to the peeps dying of TB I supposed. Next to gas tanks and random folks jacked up to masks. If the pain or the doctor wasn't going to kill me, the patients were. I really just wanted to get out of there by then. I was healed and just wanted to get on out of there away from all the famine.
But not before the young female specialist asked me to try and urinate in her presence, into a metal pan. Come on! How much of this can a person really handle in just a few hours! At that time I was so past humiliation that I just dropped my undies and whipped it out. After a slight delay... yeah! it worked again! "He's back!" I nearly said aloud. The woman left only to return five minutes later to hit the final nail in the coffin. I'm not even sure if I wanna share this here. The memory alone is causing me to make weird facial expressions. And the rest of the people in this restaurant I'm sitting in - where I'm writing today - is probably wondering what's up with me.
To say the least; she came back with some lube and gloves. I'm still not sure if it was one or two fingers. But yeah... prostate check done. It was right up there, literally, with the catheter feeling in terms of eerie. After I was cleared by her, the animal doctor and the first female doctor that saw me, I evacuated the premises with a necessary spring in my step and a CT-scan appointment letter in my pocket for the next day. We picked up some strong pain killers, for in case I was in more pain the following day and headed back to the hotel.
Once we got back to our rooms, I went to check if my liquid draining system was still agreeing with my filled up bladder. And there it came; a little black stone dropped in to the toilet bowl. The fierce kidney stone that disabled me for the past six hours. It was no bigger than a grain of sugar. This tiny deposit of minerals and acid salts formulated inside of me during that hot afternoon. I remember my urine was quite colourful and concentrated prior to the happening. And thanks to my kind colleague who bought us some salted peanuts as a snack that morning, my chances of forming a kidney stone was maximized. And based on the colour of the stone itself, I can assume that it had crystallized within a few hours. The next question then was how many stones were still needing to force their way down one of my ureters? Nevertheless, I crashed into bed relieved that the day had finally ended in a somewhat good way.
The next day I taxied to the prescribed rooms where the CT scan would be done. After ending up at the wrong place, I successfully signed myself in at one of the private practices in Kingston. No blood stains, no three year old kids playing at the door without their parents and no imminent viral outbreak threats. Restricted entry, air conditioning and a waiting room with a TV was just a few differences I'll mention. This was on another planet it seemed.
While waiting along with some other people, I was advised to drink 250 ml of water every fifteen minutes for the next hour before they would see to me. This so my bladder could fill up for a better scan result. I had to sit for an hour and do ... nothing but wait. My usual investigative character kicked in to action and I began to do my own scan. A scan of the room and the humans around me. I was bored within two minutes and my mobile device had no internet connection for me to connect with anyone.
The stone coloured painted room that had more than enough plants in it was occupied by myself, three other people waiting and two receptionists. One of the people waiting with me was a tall man in a white shirt and brown pants with formal shoes. I found him to be a bit odd after he entered the place with a large handset playing some sort of loud video clip or something. This guy didn't care much for the quietness we all enjoyed in the room. I also thought that he was a bit "out there." I could bare the sound of his device because I couldn't make out what the sounds were. Until he decided to leave at everyone else' relief. But then he return about five minutes later and came to sit right next to me.
After a slight hesitation, he pulled out his Samsung and opened up the Facebook application. I tried my best to keep at my business of filling up my bladder but had to look what he was looking at when I got back to my seat. The single armchairs were tightly arranged to accommodate for that busy periods the doctors had. So I had no choice but to peek every now and then.
It is now that I need you to recall where we started with this reading. Forgetting what we ask God in prayer.
I wasn't ready for what was about to happen.
While scrolling down his Facebook page wall, the lanky stranger stopped and began watching a vlog of some preacher unknown to me. My spiritual ears immediately kept to the ground. My heart received a prompt to listen to what the man in the clip was saying. I tried my best to not give my busybody game away and listened intuitively, ready to hear from God.
After uttering many words over a two minute period, the man began to say the following: "I don't know how you came to hear my voice today and I don't know where you might be from. You might be from another country or even another continent. But hear me today. GOD wants you to know something today. He told me to tell you ... and I don't know who this is for but, He told me to tell you that HE heard your prayer. AND HE IS TAKING YOU TO THE NEXT LEVEL!!!"
I burst in to tears and tried my best to contain my reaction to the Word. It hit me so hard. I had forgotten what I had asked God a few weeks before. But He didn't. The overwhelming sensation was too much for me. My comprehension crashed! I could not gather myself and understand the crazy way that God had spoken to me. The timing, the logistical setup, the people and all the parties involved, the flights, the Facebook account, the preacher, the unruly man...the kidney stone that brought me here! The dove, the eagle, the Holy Spirit telling me whole day not to be afraid, the songs. I mean, the timing!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Just to tell me that HE heard me and to answer me. Me? Who am I? That the God who made the heavens and earth would be mindful of me. And reveal an answer to my prayer in such a way??
I look back on this and even now I'm deeply moved by God's love for me. And let me end by telling you that this is personal. This was difficult and painful. I was alone and only told my wife and family three days later. The awe for God still lingers and grows evermore. I know God hears when I pray. Even the smallest, softest call.
Make it personal. He loves you just as much as He loves me. He hears you. He heard you. Likewise; I don't know who this is for but hear me tell you that God want's you to know something today. HE HAS HEARD YOUR PRAYER.
Grace be unto you, and peace from God our Father, and from our Lord Jesus Christ.