Let God Be Magnified

Leaving ICU.

Yesterday morning (Wednesday) less than 24 hours after surgery, Ed was able to walk slowly down the hall and was booted out of ICU. ICU had taken great care of Ed, but he didn't mind being detached from the wires and tubes and be sent back to 7th floor. 

My lovely accommodations in the family lodge.

After two nights of very little sleep both Ed and I were exhausted. Ed was given a quiet room with no roommate last night though the nurses made sure he didn't sleep too long. I collapsed into bed and didn't hear or move for seven hours. I felt like a new person this morning.

Beautiful stitching.

When I saw Ed's incision I wondered why Ed was having no pain. His nurse has to convince him to take an occasional Tylenol as a precaution. He is practicing walking the hall and taking the stairs with naps in between. This morning (Thursday) he had the drain in his incision removed. They will watch the incision for another 24 hours, but if his recovery continues this well we'll be home before I consume all the snacks in my bag.

My parents brought our children to visit this afternoon. A friend whose husband had brain surgery here in January sent along a wonderful lunch to share. 

If you know me in real life you know that I like conversations, but in this huge hospital I feel like a country mouse prepared to dart to the nearest hole. But I've been trying to pretend I'm bolder than I feel and initiate conversations this week. 

Because this is a research hospital every patient has a story to share. Many come here with serious medical conditions to volunteer to take part in experimental research. I have found that most are eager to chat. 

Yesterday Ed had another MRI scheduled for 3:00, but because of an earlier opening they asked him to come at 1:00 instead. I considered waiting for Ed in his room since the nurse was pushing him in the wheelchair, but I decided to walk down with Ed and sit in the MRI waiting room for a change of scenery. A man and his wife came and sat beside me. I knew instantly that I had seen them before. 

When researching immunotherapy I had watched an interview of this man. Before I could lose my courage I introduced myself. He and his wife were back for a follow-up visit after three years of being cancer free. Soon the lady seated on the other side of me joined our conversation. She is involved in an immunotherapy program as well, taking part in the same protocol that Ed is considering. 

Only God could have arranged that the four of us were sitting in the waiting room at the same moment. I was able to ask specific questions about their treatment, but even better, these were believers who shared their testimony of God's faithfulness in their lives. Though they are viewed as part of medical breakthroughs, both were quick to glorify God for their healing.

I've been looking up verses on joy this week and liked Psalm 70. The plea for help turns into praise to God.

"Make haste, O God, to deliver me; make haste to help me, O LORD...Let all those that seek Thee rejoice and be glad in Thee: and let such as love Thy salvation say continually, Let God be magnified. But I am poor and needy: make haste unto me, O God: Thou art my help and my deliverer; O LORD, make no tarrying." (Psalm 70:1,4-5)

I don't have to be strong and capable; I have a capable God. A God who can orchestrate details as insignificant as MRI appointments and a wife who needs encouragement. A God whose name can be magnified from hospital beds.