I just read with great disgust an article from the London Times Online.
It seems that the medical establishment and the legal system has just decided that they know better than God Almighty who should live, who should die and whose life has value in society.
How kind.
The blasphemy of interposing their self-will against the will of God is appalling.
The case involves a seriously ill baby who deserved the right to have all the help he could have had to support his life until God chose to bring him home.
Instead, the talking heads have now decided they can determine how to value a life and have the right to remove life when it is inconvenient or expensive.
We could all be next.
Although I understand that money is expended, there is also a great deal of personal greed in the world that works only to the benefit of the one. Because we as humans are not known for our personal philanthropy on a large scale, we tend to be more remembered for our self will and inherent selfishness, particularly when it comes to dealing with things, people, and circumstances that are uncomfortable.
How convenient we make things.
Responsibility is only allowed for things, people and circumstances that enrich whomever is 'large and in charge' for that moment.
Our world decries the killing of a spotted owl yet doesn't blink an eye at the massacre of millions of babies every year on the altar of convenience at the expense of personal integrity and responsibility.
I have known of many people who have found themselves faced with the daunting task of caring for, loving and providing a decent life for family members with significant and long term care issues. Instead of whining and pouting about their own convenience, they set an example of true Christ like behavior that I am desperately trying to emulate.
Although it would be 'easier' to say that life is valued based on what people do FOR us, the fact is that our lives mean NOTHING if we give or do nothing for others.
In the parable of the Good Samaritan, we read about how the actions of those who were given choice of how to care for someone who was greviously injured and in need of long term care was graded and judged by the Lord.
Those who were his countrymen shunned the responsibility because of their own sense of propriety, safety or convenience and allowed the one in need to continue to suffer and bleed and languish because they only valued life in selfish and personal terms. If the life meant nothing to them, then it must be worth nothing. So they withheld the very help that could have saved the wounded man and hurried along their way justifying their actions.
Then, along came the Samaritan who looked with pity and compassion on the circumstances of the wounded and needy man. The Samaritan didn't consider his purse, or indeed if the wounded man had a hidden coin after the robbers had done their worst to him, but instead bound up his wounds and administered the emergency relief that would allow him to get him into the city where he then provided for his future need with the promise to also pay the bill if the money he left with the innkeeper was expended fully yet care was still required.
What I am seeing now is a society bent on labeling, categorizing and determining who should be allowed to live and when people should be condemned to die for the convenience of the society.
It is no different than Hitler's final solution. It's no different than what is going on in Darfur. It is no different than what is going on in any place where the greed and evil of the Adversary is allowed to rule and reign. Once Satan convinces people that life is cheap, he also convinces people that others are expendible and worthless when they can't 'contribute' to society anymore.
Eventually, our time of being 'non-productive' will arrive and someone will take the decision upon themselves to pull our plug and let us breathe our last in order to 'save the plantet', 'save the spotted owl', 'save the rain forest' or whatever rallying cry is used to justify sin.
There is no amount of money that can replace a beating heart and a tiny soul that deserved to live a life of dignity even if that life's heartbeat is fleeting.
We all matter and the lessons of compassion we can learn from caring for those who need us most can make us more like The One who cared enough for us selfish and selfwilled children to take our sins upon his sinless Self and bleed out His last drop of blood in our behalf.
I have no doubt that those who have been killed for the convenience of those in power are welcomed into the loving embrace of the Savior who values us all no matter what our earthly health conditions have been.
Remember that when you are tempted to think that maybe the plug should be pulled on someone else. Eventually our time will come when someone will be at a crossroads in our behalf...
I leave you with this story:
The Old Grandfather and His Grandson
by: Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm
Once upon a time there was a very, very old man. His eyes had grown dim, his ears deaf, and his knees shook. When he sat at the table, he could scarcely hold a spoon. He spilled soup on the tablecloth, and, beside that, some of his soup would run back out of his mouth.
His son and his son's wife were disgusted with this, so finally they made the old grandfather sit in the corner behind the stove, where they gave him his food in an earthenware bowl, and not enough at that. He sat there looking sadly at the table, and his eyes grew moist. One day his shaking hands could not hold the bowl, and it fell to the ground and broke. The young woman scolded, but he said not a word. He only sobbed. Then for a few hellers they bought him a wooden bowl and made him eat from it.
Once when they were all sitting there, the little grandson of four years pushed some pieces of wood together on the floor.
"What are you making?" asked his father.
"Oh, I'm making a little trough for you and mother to eat from when I'm big."
The man and the woman looked at one another and then began to cry. They immediately brought the old grandfather to the table, and always let him eat there from then on. And if he spilled a little, they did not say a thing.
March 21, 2009
March 18, 2009
Resting in the Hospital
After returning home triumphantly from a 15-day stint in the hospital, Jared is doing much better. Although there is a road ahead involving convalescence at home for quite some time, the fact that we are home is enough to make our dog dance and sing with joy.
Now, you might well remember the days when people used to 'check into the hospital for a rest'. I recall hearing older people say that when I was just a kid. Now that I am an adult, I think they were either kidding or hospitals have changed a great deal since then.
During Jared's tenure in the hospital, sleep was at a premium. Between the caregivers and nursing staff coming in to ensure the healing and maintain the wound for a very sick boy, there was a 24-hour hum of activity that would have rivaled the nearest beehive.
That level of sustained interest in his behalf is important to a critically needy patient. That is why we have trained professionals who can intervene in a crisis and help the body to begin the process of healing and repair.
But I have to tell you, it can take a toll on the participants, both the patient and those who only stand and wait.
I recall at another juncture when Jared was in the hospital following another major surgical procedure. The nurses would cheerfully perform their tasks at all hours of the day and night to ensure that our little man was doing well and keeping all of the important numbers critical to his improvement heading in the right direction.
We had been up and down so many times during the intervening nights, that not only were we seeing ourself coming and going, but we were beginning to talk to the passing selves as if it were a routine matter.
A chipper young nurse, who looked like a teenager in Snoopy scrubs, came in to collect a blood sample for the vampires in the lab. Flipping on the room's lights to apparently guide a 747 in for a landing near Jared's bed, she happily announced that she was there for a blood sample.
Only people who have 'enjoyed' their restful stay in a hospital will be able to appreciate this...
I groggily raised up from the chair/bed in the room and said, "Take his blood, take my blood, take all the blood in the room, but PLEASE do it quietly and turn OFF THE LIGHTS!"
She looked stunned as if the mode of her work had been assaulted.
After that, I noticed the other nurses didn't turn on the runway lights when they came in anymore. It didn't shorten his stay, but it made the night time a little less brilliantly lit.
This time, the room he was in following the latest procedure had been renovated to include special 'night time' lights. Less bright than the L-4 runway lights, it still allows the workers to do what they need to do without roasting the retinas of any unsuspecting patient or parent who might be trying to catch 40 winks between the incessant beeping of the pulse oximeter or the IV pump.
I honestly believe the IV pump Jared had this time was haunted. As soon as the nurses would set it up, get all required medicines flowing and leave the room, the tender beckoning beeping would begin. Trust me, had I known how to operate the myriad layers of instruction that are required for this pump, I would have silenced the beep.
As it was, that particular skill is best left to the professionals who know what to do without employing a baseball bat to accomplish it.
I cannot express the joy that accompanied the announcement that Jared no longer needed continuous IV's. It was like Christmas arriving early! Though he still had to maintain a line for the antibiotics, they were only given a couple of times a day.
The very last day in the hospital, one of the über-efficient nurses came in and saw that we were down to our last little sack of antibiotics and hooked up the lines to dribble the medicine in with a normal saline flush to accompany the medicine. She cheerfully commented that 'this will only take about 30 minutes or so to complete'.
The machine beeped for 29 of those minutes...
Thankfully we are home.
And though I was awakened several times during the night for phantom beeping that is most certainly a remnant of our haunting... we are home.
Thank God for hospitals when we need them and the caring people who make sure we can receive the help we need when we need it.
But thank God also for a quiet home where rest can happen. Because phantom beep or not, you just can't rest in a hospital - there are too dang many sick people and too much interruption to get any sleep at all.
Now, you might well remember the days when people used to 'check into the hospital for a rest'. I recall hearing older people say that when I was just a kid. Now that I am an adult, I think they were either kidding or hospitals have changed a great deal since then.
During Jared's tenure in the hospital, sleep was at a premium. Between the caregivers and nursing staff coming in to ensure the healing and maintain the wound for a very sick boy, there was a 24-hour hum of activity that would have rivaled the nearest beehive.
That level of sustained interest in his behalf is important to a critically needy patient. That is why we have trained professionals who can intervene in a crisis and help the body to begin the process of healing and repair.
But I have to tell you, it can take a toll on the participants, both the patient and those who only stand and wait.
I recall at another juncture when Jared was in the hospital following another major surgical procedure. The nurses would cheerfully perform their tasks at all hours of the day and night to ensure that our little man was doing well and keeping all of the important numbers critical to his improvement heading in the right direction.
We had been up and down so many times during the intervening nights, that not only were we seeing ourself coming and going, but we were beginning to talk to the passing selves as if it were a routine matter.
A chipper young nurse, who looked like a teenager in Snoopy scrubs, came in to collect a blood sample for the vampires in the lab. Flipping on the room's lights to apparently guide a 747 in for a landing near Jared's bed, she happily announced that she was there for a blood sample.
Only people who have 'enjoyed' their restful stay in a hospital will be able to appreciate this...
I groggily raised up from the chair/bed in the room and said, "Take his blood, take my blood, take all the blood in the room, but PLEASE do it quietly and turn OFF THE LIGHTS!"
She looked stunned as if the mode of her work had been assaulted.
After that, I noticed the other nurses didn't turn on the runway lights when they came in anymore. It didn't shorten his stay, but it made the night time a little less brilliantly lit.
This time, the room he was in following the latest procedure had been renovated to include special 'night time' lights. Less bright than the L-4 runway lights, it still allows the workers to do what they need to do without roasting the retinas of any unsuspecting patient or parent who might be trying to catch 40 winks between the incessant beeping of the pulse oximeter or the IV pump.
I honestly believe the IV pump Jared had this time was haunted. As soon as the nurses would set it up, get all required medicines flowing and leave the room, the tender beckoning beeping would begin. Trust me, had I known how to operate the myriad layers of instruction that are required for this pump, I would have silenced the beep.
As it was, that particular skill is best left to the professionals who know what to do without employing a baseball bat to accomplish it.
I cannot express the joy that accompanied the announcement that Jared no longer needed continuous IV's. It was like Christmas arriving early! Though he still had to maintain a line for the antibiotics, they were only given a couple of times a day.
The very last day in the hospital, one of the über-efficient nurses came in and saw that we were down to our last little sack of antibiotics and hooked up the lines to dribble the medicine in with a normal saline flush to accompany the medicine. She cheerfully commented that 'this will only take about 30 minutes or so to complete'.
The machine beeped for 29 of those minutes...
Thankfully we are home.
And though I was awakened several times during the night for phantom beeping that is most certainly a remnant of our haunting... we are home.
Thank God for hospitals when we need them and the caring people who make sure we can receive the help we need when we need it.
But thank God also for a quiet home where rest can happen. Because phantom beep or not, you just can't rest in a hospital - there are too dang many sick people and too much interruption to get any sleep at all.
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