Last week, on consecutive days, I received hospital visits from three United Brethren bishops, all of whom have been or currently are my boss. They’ve each racked up hundreds of hospital visits, maybe thousands, during their ministerial careers. I imagine it’s always a bit of a trick to “read” the patient and know how long to stay. These three visits were just right, but all different.

First came Ron Ramsey, last Monday morning. He was my boss (as bishop) 2005-2009, and now works on staff at Emmanuel Community Church. He learned that I was in Lutheran Hospital, so while checking on another parishioner, he stopped in to see me.

I was really pleased to see Ron. I was feeling okay that day, and by then knew they’d be removing my gall bladder that afternoon. I was happy that things were finally moving.

We talked some about my condition and a few other things. Ron affirmed me in various ways, and then prayed for me. I doubt that the visit lasted more than 10 minutes.

Bishop Phil Whipple, my current boss, came the next day around 12:20. The operation was done, and I felt great–so much pain was gone. I was very talkative, and no doubt kept Phil much longer than he planned to stay. In fact, we talked for 45 minutes. In two days, Phil would begin a five-week trip to the West, so this would be my last chance to see him in a long while.

We talked about my condition, but also about various work-related issues (though that was my initiative; he was just coming for a brief hospital visit). He, too, prayed with me before leaving. I really, really enjoyed the visit.

The next day, Wednesday, was not a good day for me. I felt pain much of the day. Amidst that, Bishop C. Ray Miller, the senior bishop when I started at the national office in 1978, appeared at my bedside. It was great to see him, but I think he quickly read my discomfort.

We talked for just a little bit. Twice he said, “I’m not going to make you talk.” He affirmed me and my work, then put his hand on my arm and prayed for me. Then he left.

Sweaty and hurting, I lay back on that hospital bed and thought to myself, “That was the perfect hospital visit.”

Pam and I had been walking at least 30 minutes a night for 25 straight days. We entered the 4-mile-walk of the Fort4Fitness event in late September. You’re supposed to be able to walk the four miles in at least 80 minutes.

On Thursday night, July 15, we did walk four miles–our longest jaunt yet–and did it in 76 minutes.

Back at the house, I drank a Gatorade on the back screen-in porch and was watching Jordi in the yard. Around 10:00, I felt a tightening sensation start around my belly and begin working itself up. It reminded me exactly of what I experienced last September, when I woke in the middle of the night with a tightness around my chest, and assumed I was having a heart attack. The pain dissipated in about 15 minutes, but I was still taken to the ER and checked out. Everything about my heart was fine. It was probably just acid.

So this time, I figured the acid was returning. I writhed on the bed for a bit, then on the floor, but it wouldn’t go away. Nothing would stop the intense pain. Finally, Pam insisted she drive me to the Lutheran ER, and I was in no state to protest.

They put me in a room, did an EKG, took a blood sample, took my vitals…and left me there, writing in pain. Somebody would be along, they said.

The intense pain, the cramping, finally stopped after an hour. Things felt better for a bit. And then began what I can only describe as the worst-ever case of indigestion. I writhed in agony until about 3 a.m. “Someone will be along,” I kept hearing, then that person would disappear and nobody would come for an hour.

Finally, I just insisted, “I MUST get out of here. I’m dead serious!”

So finally, a doctor from the hospital showed up, said she was finally able to shake free (after only five hours, how nice). Suddenly, things started happening. Other people were around me, an IV was inserted, pain drugs were given, and I was wheeled to a room on the third floor. Relief had come at last.

My experience in the ER was terrible, just terrible. But in that third-floor ward, I have zero complaints. The nurses and staff were fabulous. They know how to take care of patients at Lutheran. I’ve heard that from many people who have been patients there.

I was diagnosed with acute pancreatitis. The best treatment: let the pancreas rest. No food, no liquids. So from Friday morning until Monday night, I was fed only an IV drip. There was also strong suspicion that my gall bladder might need to be removed. A scan and an ultrasound showed “sludge” (as opposed to gallstones) in the gall bladder. This could be pouring across the pancreas, causing inflammation.

On Monday morning, they were going to run one more test, but a surgeon showed up and said, basically, “This test won’t show us anything we don’t already know. We need to just remove the gall bladder, and I can do it this afternoon.” That sounded great to me.

Ever four hours, they would pump new painkillers into me. By Monday night, the painkillers (Zophan) wore off after three hours, and that last hour could be tough. Before the surgery, I went an extra 45 minutes beyond the four hours without any painkillers; that time in pre-op was reminiscent of the ER–writhing in agony. But finally they wheeled me into the OR, and I woke up without a gall bladder…and with a definite feeling that a center of pain was gone. I also had four holes in my abdomen. (The gall bladder was removed from a hole just below my belly button.) 

Tuesday morning they started me on a “clear liquid” diet, which meant I had three containers of Jello and a grape popsicle. I had a lot of gas. Wednesday they bumped me up to “full liquid,” which provided a few more options, including a vanilla milkshake which really hit the spot (twice). Today, Thursday, I was on the “transitional” diet, which allowed me to order scrambled eggs, oatmeal, and a slab of turkey for lunch. Plus another milkshake.

After lunch, I was released. Pam was already on her way to the hospital. I gathered up my stuff, and around 3 pm was home.

Right now, Pam is making some Spaghettios. That’s about all I can eat right now. Ironic, that this will be my anniversary meal for 2010. Pam and I were married 21 years ago. I couldn’t be happier to have her at my side.