“You, O Lord, are a shield around me.” ~ Psalm 3:3
The water-stained ceiling tiles
above Barry’s hospital bed never looked so beautiful. He was still alive. There
were surely no ceiling tiles in heaven, he reasoned.
Until yesterday, he’d come through the worst battle of his
life, completing the last of his chemo treatments for acute myeloid leukemia. His
latest test results seemed encouraging. He’d even been able to briefly dance
with his wife, Adele, in the hospital room before the relief that had
invigorated them turned into a raging storm. Barry’s appendix burst.
His white blood cells, depleted from chemo, couldn’t fight the
infection. A low platelet count meant his blood wouldn’t clot sufficiently either.
Surgery wasn’t an option. Without it, the poison flooding his body would be
fatal.
The G-tube into his belly to
drain off some of the toxins would only buy a few hours, not the weeks needed
to stabilize him enough for an appendectomy. Adele urgently called everyone
they knew to come quickly.
Everyone except
Franny. “The Lord will be a shield around you’” she whispered. “That’s somewhere
in the Bible. He wanted me to tell you that.”
Shield me, Lord,” Barry repeatedly until fitful sleep came.
He woke up the next day staring at the spotted ceiling
tiles. The day after that too. The medical staff knew of only one case where
anyone with cancer like his survived a burst appendix for so long.
After 7 consecutive days of
waking to those ceiling tiles, he went home. They tested his blood every few
days to determine if he was strong enough for surgery. There were no guarantees.
After six more weeks at home, his blood counts normalized. They
prepared him for an exploratory procedure to assess his internal damage. Through
the fog of anesthesia, Barry recalled David’s reassuring words: “You are a
shield around me.” Franny wasn’t sure what they meant; nor was he. But that
passage sustained him, like provisions during a desolate winter.
Immediately after surgery, an astonished surgeon entered the
recovery room. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he said, showing a photo
of what was left of Barry’s appendix. “Surrounding it is a kind of shell,
composed of scar tissue.” He circled it. “These adhesions serve as the body's
repair mechanism.”
“What does that mean?” Barry asked.
He fumbled for the right words.
“The adhesions acted like… tiny shields, tightly packed together… forming an
impenetrable structure that contained the poison within it.”
Barry never questioned why his life was spared. That’s what
heaven is for. For now, he’ll enjoy his family, his friends, and the blue skies,
not ready to see beyond the ceiling tiles quite yet.
Holy Father, shield me from wickedness and help
me to cast all my cares on You. Let me rest in Your love, knowing that You have
promised to supply sufficient grace in all the trials I may face. Amen
