Back in August, I wrote about discovering the Tiny Jesus figurines in my wife’s doctor’s office and how they seem to be everywhere. I also noted how important this little bit of hope was at critical times. Well, I learned several more uses for the figurines, and they all proved essential in the days to come.
The Follow-up at the Doctor’s Office
The doctor’s report produced hopeful results, but also the need for heart surgery. We have since learned that heart surgery comes in many flavors and specialties, and what was once considered fatal is now manageable with proper care.
But what we understand now was not obvious then. Ablations, devices to block blood clots to the brain, and valve replacements were not in our vocabulary six months ago, much less our minds. Today, they occupy just about every waking moment.
Doctors like to make the distinction when they crack open your chest for a full-blown bypass, which is considered invasive surgery. But when they access your heart through an artery, that is a procedure, not real surgery. We like to make the distinction that when your neighbor is having heart work done, it is a procedure, but when you go under the knife, it is surgery. Whether or not they crack open your chest is a level of severity, but to us, any heart procedure is surgery, just less invasive surgery.
Surgeries One and Two
When my wife had operations one and two, she wound up in the ICU and then cardiac observation for nine days. It seems that her outpatient “procedure” went well, but the days that followed did not. Regulating her blood pressure and heart rhythm proved a little more difficult than planned. Her outpatient procedure was anything but routine.
Her follow-up included an ambulance ride to the hospital, and once there, a visit with a crash cart as she waited for a room assignment. Her situation had gone from “something just is not right” to very serious.
Toward the middle of that stay, she became so weak that even the slightest exertion proved difficult. She had been poked and prodded so many times that her arms were blue. Just having a nurse come in brought tears in anticipation of drawing blood again. I have heard others describe this state, and it seems to be universal among patients on extended stays.
It was at this time that I learned that there was another value to the small Jesus figures.
“You may never know that Jesus is all you need, until Jesus is all you have.”
Tiny Jesus In Action
After our first encounter with the Tiny or Pocket Jesus, we discovered that this is quite a movement. In the days leading up to surgery, she enjoyed passing them out to friends and acquaintances, so we came armed with dozens for this stay.
At the low point of my wife’s recovery, when she could do nothing else, there was always one in her hand to give to the next nurse, technician, or doctor. No one refused one, and most smiled as if they knew this brought her comfort and hope. Many would say something like, “I have one with a blue sash but not a red one, thank you.”
During her stay, only one nurse did not know who he was and said, “Thank you, what a cute little man.” But the next time she came into the room, someone had explained to her who Tiny Jesus is, and she proclaimed, “Thank you for the little Jesus.” Maybe, just maybe, it got through to her and gave her a better day.
Surgery Three
As can happen with surgery, one thing leads to another. The correction of her heart rhythm led to the discovery of a faulty tricuspid valve. Faced with the choice of repair or replacement, we chose replacement to avoid future surgeries.
Given five weeks to recover from the first two surgeries, just as she was finally feeling better, it was time for surgery three. She and I were nervous, hoping she would not have a repeat and wind up in the ICU for days.
As surgeries go, this was also a success, but it took twice as long as planned. The last hour saw several of us in the chapel for some quiet contemplation and prayer. We left a half dozen Tiny Jesus on the alter, others will need and appreciate them.
Finally, the doctors came out and explained what had happened, and it was a procedural delay, nothing else. The surgery had gone well, and she had received a new bovine valve.
But doubt began to creep in when we were told, for precaution and because of her earlier struggles, they had placed her on a ventilator. It took another hour for her to be moved to her ICU room, and her condition was shocking to us. It was the first time we had ever seen her in such a hopeless state, and I feel for others who have loved ones on a ventilator, even if for a short time. Realizing that she could not breathe on her own was a shock.
But twenty-four hours later, she began to recover and could start to breathe again. Her recovery seemed to progress, and after a few hours, they removed the ventilator. To our surprise, hours later, she had no memory of the ventilator. Even a picture of her with the ventilator brought no memory of it. What a blessing!
Within an hour or so, Tiny Jesus appeared again, and she began passing them out to nurses and doctors. As before, they thanked her and offered words of encouragement. We have a feeling that they see and receive more than a few of them and understand the meaning and hope they bring. They know that the healing process is physical, mental, and spiritual.
Back Home
The next day, she was discharged, and we started the journey home. There is a long way to go to full recovery, but a pocket full of Tiny Jesus to accompany every step. The physical therapist also seemed to know about the movement, and, to our surprise, she said, “Thank you, I will add this one to my collection.”
On our way home from physical therapy, I was reminded of a placard I had seen in the restroom of a local restaurant.
“Wash your hands and say your prayers, because germs and Jesus are everywhere.”
This is a long road and we are sure there will be bumps and ruts along the way. Doubt and depression seem to creep in every day, but Tiny Jesus is never far away.
Amen!
