FRIDAY
by Ian Ebler
I want to share a story about the most brutal night of my life. This story begins a couple nights into my SECOND hospital stay in my extended hospitalization that I had two years ago.
I had a terrible respiratory illnesses that year that eventually earned me a stay in the hospital. My diagnosis was something called an empyema—an infection pocket in your chest/lung cavity. Mine was about the size and shape of half a grapefruit and was collapsing my left lung. I had been at Burlington hospital for several procedures and treatments that had all failed. So this time I was being sent to St. Lukes in Milwaukee for more specialized treatment.
St. Lukes had a different overnight spouse policy which meant that Jess was no longer allowed to stay with me through the night and had to stay at a nearby hotel. It’s crazy how different it was to be alone in a hospital room. But, at this point we had been doing this for several days and had found a routine. That night Jess left around 10:00 pm and could come back at around 8:00 am. When Jess left, my pain meds were just wearing off and I was looking to get a fresh dose to try to sleep as best I could.
I still do not understand why… but NOBODY came for me that night for anything—no pain meds, no refills, no check-ins, nothing. Pretty quickly I went to reach for the remote to call a nurse to ask for a refill, but then realized the remote for this was left across the room from me with NO chance of me reaching it. Unfortunately, my phone was also left across the room from me and I was unable to get to it. The night suddenly was very different. Nobody was coming for me and I had no way to call for help. What I was left with was 8-10 hours of no relief and no distractions. I had not yet realized how much I was avoiding processing and praying through what was happening to me up until now. But now there was nothing to hide from.
What proceeded was the most intense, raw night of prayer I have ever had in my life. It’s not that hard to explain or picture; it was just me going from blood red mad to weeping over and over the whole night. Ultimately, I realized I had been angry about many things for months before this. I was deep in bitterness whether I wanted to admit it or not.
By the time morning had come I had CHANGED. I get over-exposed to these terms sometimes, but I truly experienced the “peace beyond understanding” in a way I had never experienced before.
It seems contradictory, but my resilience for the rest of my recovery came from that breaking point. I think that's the part that sticks out to me, looking back. I wouldn’t wish the same situation on anybody, but the lesson of resilience I plan to take with me is to be ready to carve out an intense night like that if it’s needed again. Maybe not 8-10 hours, but I can’t imagine having to survive the rest of that experience without that night of prayer I had. I know this is not some breakthrough advice, but I think the real breakthrough is for God and us to have those moments with each other.