I don’t know how it happened. Certainly, it was unexpected. For most of my life, I’ve been in charge. From the beginning, I had to prove myself. See, I am the youngest of four. All my other siblings are high achievers. They all became doctors and professors. To make matters even more difficult, I had to prove myself to my father. He was the mosaic of all four of us. To me, he was superman, an unattainable goal. I tried, then gave up, settling on mediocrity. My father wouldn’t have it. There was no chance for failure in any of his children. An opportunity occurred and I was jettisoned to Mexico for medical school. Alone, afraid, with little Spanish to defend me, I excelled. It was fight or drown. I turned complacency into ambition and graduated in the top 2% of my class. I scratched and scraped my way back into the United States where I trained in Chicago. From there, I went to do an interventional fellowship in cardiology with one of the pioneers in the field. This lift gave me the drive to pursue excellence in my field. When I returned to Chicago, I ended up in Joliet, a distant suburb. I started my climb. From the start, it was frightening and difficult but I was in survival mode as I had to prove it to my family and ultimately, to myself. In time, I became respected and revered. I was able to wear many “hats” in the arena of the hospital. Sure, there were chips in the armor, but I pressed on. In my mind, I could not be defeated. There was a cost for my pride and insubordination, yet I had not tasted it. My drive was equaled with my pride and those who got in the way, well, they were stymied. I had learned from the best, my father, my siblings, and my mentors. For years, I pursued my goals, to be the best doctor and to make no excuses. I had many failures, yet I pressed on, overcoming whatever obstacle was in my path. I was an interventional cardiologist, the doctor of doctors. I was invincible. I was the rainmaker.
Last year, something happened that changed everything: COVID-19. At first, I had paid no attention to the virus. There had been many come before this one. I’ve had the flu a couple of times and had survived it. No big deal. Then, COVID-19 came to Joliet. We had to wear protective gear. It seemed like we looked like astronauts going into space. It was ridiculous or so it I thought. One by one, I started seeing my patients get sicker and sicker. It didn’t matter the age. Some were in their thirties, forties, and so on. Some were pregnant. The virus didn’t care. Slowly, I began to see agony and fear in their faces. They couldn’t breathe. From there, they turned into ventilated patients with medications to help them cope and sleep. Multiple drugs were tried, negative pressure rooms, and all the while, no family member was allowed to visit them. I was present when I saw some of them die, as nothing we did could help their lungs, heart, and brain. They waste away from the virus. It was devastating to all involved, for the patient, the family, the health care providers and me. Day after day, week after week, month after month, I climbed out of bed to put my scrubs on and go to the hospital to see my patients die.
Fear for them turned into fear for me and my family. What if I got the virus or more importantly, what if I brought it home? There was protection gear, but was it enough? I would come home, only to be exiled to strip off my clothes and go straight into the shower. Only then could I converse and be with my family. The incessant pounding and drumming of that fear into my head, waiting for the shoe to drop, left an indelible imprint in my mind. Eventually, I would be exposed, give it to my family and maybe, someone would die. As it turns out, the first was my son and his girlfriend. My wife was beside herself and I, well, I needed to be strong for all of us. Inside, I was screaming with worry and fear. They survived and back to work I went. One day, my wife didn’t feel well. She had fever, malaise, lost her sense of smell and taste. Off we went to the emergency room. I prayed. Please God, not her. She tested positive and later, so did I. The worst nightmare had come to reality. COVID-19. By the grace of God, we came through it alright. I had essentially no symptoms. My wife, she had a harder time but came through it alright. I thanked God for that.
For me, that was not the unexpected change in my life. Sure, COVID-19 had rocked my world. Fear and anxiety, mixed with worry, governed my daily, if not, my moment-by-moment existence. Yet, God had a bigger challenge for me. In the summer, I contracted a fulminant infection in my prostate. For months, I urinated blood despite weeks of antibiotics. I went through diagnostic procedures and surgery. I had seen all of this before in my father. He had had cancer there; I believe in his bladder as well. The thought had crossed my mind. Well, after the successful surgery, no cancer I was told. Yet, the symptoms pursued. Foley catheters, multiple trips to the bathroom at night and an insomnia that spanned months of my life. I laid awake for hours on end with pain and fear. During the day, I was tired and cranky. I couldn’t concentrate except on urinating and thinking there was going to be another sleepless night coming up. I prayed incessantly. Please God, take this away. I need to sleep. I can’t keep on urinating seven times a night, twenty times a day. How long? I started to doubt, to question, and be disappointed in God. I wasn’t mad at Him. I just didn’t have anywhere else to go. I was in despair. No answers came.
Then one day in November, it was like turning on a light switch, the symptoms got better. Less trips to the bathroom and I could sleep some. A miracle. I started to have more faith and thanked Him. There were set backs, of course, but there was steady progress. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. I read tons of books on anxiety, insomnia, cognitive behavioral therapy. I took gobs of different sleeping aids, vitamins, holistic meds, essential oils, you name it. I read for hours on end about every kind of treatment for anxiety and insomnia, read all the side effects to medications and, got all of them. I was an absolute mess in my mind. All the while, He was waiting. Yes, I prayed, read Scripture, listened to sermons, talked to doctors, friends, pastors, family, and such. Yet, He waited. Recently, in the aftermath, I finally got it. The relationship I had with God had been broken, by me. I had not waited on Him. See, I tried to control the situation my way. I was the doctor. I knew all the medical answers. I was going to solve it my way. And, He waited.
This new year, I came to a revelation. All that my patients, my family, and I had been through was a lesson. With all the bad, came an awakening. God loves us so much that He waits on us to come to Him. He will not impose. See, He’s a much better driver than I am, yet I wanted to take the wheel and drive myself into safety. That’s not how it works with God. He’s sovereign. He’s in control. What He was patiently trying to teach me is to trust and surrender to Him. He will do all the heavy lifting. He will solve the problem perfectly for my benefit. I just didn’t see it. As I told you, I was the rainmaker (in my mind). What I found out, that God’s job, not mine. He gave me the gifts to be the person that I am for His glory, not mine. So, I learned how to surrender and trust a loving God that loves me more than I can ever love myself.
This year, there’s another lesson afoot. God placed the word steadfast in my heart. Steadfast means to be unshakeable, unmoving, but it also means to be loyal. This time He told me to wait. Yes, wait. For what, I have no idea. See, I just finished my Master’s degree in Christian Apologetics (defense of Christianity). It took me several years to finish while I was practicing cardiology and trying to be a family member while going through my trials. So, I thought of a waiting room, like if I were a patient waiting for the great Physician to see me. In the waiting room, there are a myriad of books to choose from, but the one book that drew my attention was the Bible. I think, that while I’m waiting on God, He would like me to stay in the Word. The waiting room is hard because I have no plans ahead. I’m not in control. I can’t see the road ahead. It’s a room, one way in and one way out. I may wait a long time to see the Doctor. I know one thing though, from last year, I know to trust and surrender to His will. In the waiting room, one has to be patient. One has to rest in God. Gods wants us to slow down and wait for His move for us. One thing I learned from God; He is a very patient Person. See, He’s outside of space and time and what would seem endless for me is an instant for Him. In the waiting room, I have time to think about my relationship with Him, what He wants from me, how to learn more about Him, how to pray. I don’t know what happened last year. It was unexpected. What I do know is that God have me a lesson that I will never forget. See, He had to bring me down to ground zero for me to listen to what He had to say: “I love you. I have a better way. Please trust me.” So now, I’m waiting.