The Waiting Room

The family waiting room on the surgical floor was near capacity when I entered it to begin my own vigil about 5 PM. Some people seemed to be waiting as a family group, some as friends, and some as single spouses, like me. It struck me how many people must be having surgery. And this was just one hour of the day, in one waiting room on one floor of one hospital in the world.

I had just kissed my husband before he was rolled into the O.R. for major surgery. After four years of dealing with bladder cancer, exhausting every treatment and out-patient procedure available, he was now having the bladder removed. Serious stuff. I knew it was going to take several hours, so I settled in for an evening of reading, Sudoku, and a dinner break in the cafeteria. You may notice that I left out the word "worrying". That's because my most important activity during this waiting period was praying. I prayed. It was not desperate praying, but confident praying. I gave my husband's well being to God, and prayed for the doctors, nurses, and electrical equipment. (We live in Florida, and my first answered prayer was that there were no hurricanes yet in sight to threaten electrical power, or require evacuation at a most in-opportune time.)
A few friends had offered to stay with me through this, and I had declined. Something told me it would be better this way. I was able to be still, and know that God is God. The first miracle was that I wasn't fearful. My husband and I had been praying about this for quite some time. He had already put himself in God's hands, and faced this life-changing event with all the grace anyone could ask for. And that was perhaps the biggest miracle of all, and also what allowed me the strength to stay steady.

Time passed, and the waiting room thinned out, as one by one, surgeons came to speak with families about the outcome of their loved ones' surgeries. After three hours, I got a progress report from the operating room, saying things were going well, but they didn't have an estimate of how much longer it would be. There was lots of work to be done. I was grateful for the report. It was kind and considerate of the staff to let me know. After a few more hours, it was down to me and one family left. It was getting late by now, almost 10 o'clock. The wife and two beautiful daughters now sharing the room with me were beginning to frazzle. The husband had been in surgery all day. Another cancer patient. Just when the wife's considerable strength had been almost completely spent, their surgeon arrived to speak with them in the conference room. Mostly good news. I was glad for them. And I prayed for them too.

Another hour, and a few people came and went. The hospital volunteer at the desk outside had long since gone home. The halls were quiet, the night was dark, the TV murmered across the room at low volume. After six hours of surgery, at 11 o'clock, when our surgeon finally walked in to speak with me, there were just the four of us left in the room; me, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. The doctor saw me sitting alone, but I wasn't.

The report was good. My husband came through it well. It went according to plan, and I was able to go and see him shortly afterward in recovery. He was groggy, drifting in and out of conciousness. I smoothed his hair and smiled at him. His first barely audible words were, "You wanna dance?" I couldn't believe that even now, he made me laugh. After another brief lapse into sleep, he opened his eyes again and said, "Thank you Jesus." Amen, my Love, Amen.