Remembering One Year Ago, Part 1

When I got home from AiG this evening, I decided to clean up some very old emails. I found many that were pointless and worthy of "File 13," but I also found many others that spurred memories; some pleasant, and others painful. But remembering these, especially from just last year, brings great joy and comfort in seeing the Lord's leading. God has given us a wonderful mind to store memories of sights, sounds, events, and emotions. Scripture seems filled with uses of our mental faculties—meditation on God's Word, reflection on God's works and His promises, and remembering consequences, to name just a few. Particularly tonight, I was remembering the time around July 2004. As many know, I spoke at AiG's first Creation College in West Harrison Indiana. The day after my presentation, I experienced more physical pain than ever before when my left lung spontaneously collapsed by 80%. After my personal Nikon Coolpix 995 had started having problems, I was shooting photos with AiG's Canon G2. During the conference, I helped with the book sales, so I kept my personal notebook computer under the table. The Canon's CompactFlash card was full, so I decided to transfer that batch of digital photos to my computer. The process took a while because I left the card reader in my room, so I had to use my PDA's CF card reader. After starting the file transfer process, I noticed a weird pain in my back, so I sat straight up and attempted to work it out by rolling my shoulders. That did no good, and the pain increased, so I stood to walk around in the back of the large hall. About my second long pace back and forth, my breath shortened and my chest felt like someone reached in with a vise and started squeezing everything. I thought that maybe this was something just stuck, but the pain did not leave, but increased in intensity. I had to get out. I needed fresh air. I walked through the lobby, not saying anything to the AiG staff at the information desk as I headed out the door. AiG had three fifteen-passenger vans parked directly in front of the building—I drove one of these each morning and evening to transport some guests to and from their nearby hotels. I saw my supervisor, Dan, slowly pacing in the parking lot as he talked on his wireless phone. I didn't think anything was seriously wrong, so I didn't want to bother him. I walked around in a small area of the lot as the pain grew more intense and my breathing shortened. I stopped between two of the vans as I doubled-over in extreme pain. I could barely breathe, and no amount of pressure was relieving the pain now filling my entire chest. By now, I figured that something was definitely wrong. I re-entered the building and approached the staff at the information table. My face must have been twisted in pain because they stopped their conversation and looked at me. "Do you know if there's a doctor here?" I asked. "I'm not sure. Probably. Why?" Dan asked me. "Dan ... I'm having problems breathing and my chest hurts really bad." They sat me at a nearby table and went to find a doctor from inside the meeting hall. As I sat there, trying to breathe, Richard, from AiG-Canada, looked at me and said, "Man, you need to slow down!" I just barely smiled at him and thought, "You don't realize how right you are." Stephanie, AiG staff member, brought a doctor out. I don't remember his name, but I do remember the terrible look of worry when I described my symptoms. He suspected a lung clot, which is fatal, so he insisted that I be rushed to a hospital. While my coworkers tried to coordinate someone to take me, I sat barely breathing, with the doctor holding my right arm in reassurance. At this point, something funny happened. I'm visibly in pain, people are rushing around me, a doctor is next to me, and one of the conference attendees approaches asking about one of AiG's presentation resource CD-ROMs. I inwardly chuckled because I had the thought, "Sir, I may be dying here, can you ask someone else?" But I really was the most knowledgeable of that CD-ROM, so in very short phrases separated by labored breaths, I started answering his questions, all trying to remain composed. Dan saw this and rushed to "rescue" me. I think he said, "Sir, I can help you with that. Daniel is in a bad condition right now." At which point, the Indian gentleman sounded like he would have given his life for me as he suddenly realized the situation. AiG speaker, Ryan, drove me from Higher Ground Conference & Retreat Center looking for an emergency room. At first, I was said, "Thanks, Ryan, but I'll probably be fine I—" and my breath was cut off with extreme pain. It finally hit me that I was in deep trouble and needed help. I gave my wireless phone to Ryan to call my parents. It was about 10:20 at night. Ryan explained the situation to my dad. There was a brief moment of less pain, so Ryan gave me the phone as I talked to my dad. "You probably don't need to come," I tried to convince him, but he insisted. After returning the phone to Ryan, I tried my best to endure a long series of pains so intense, that I could no longer hold back the tears and silent cries of anguish. For a couple minutes, I started to seriously wonder if my life was about to end. But I kept repeating in mind my, "It's not over. God has more for me to do. He's not finished yet. It's not over!" We found the local emergency room where I was admitted for x-rays. While lying in their hospital bed breathing 100% oxygen through a mask, my humorous side came out as I started making some rather hilarious remarks between strained breaths. The doctor returned with news that I had a collapsed lung and that I needed to be transported to a different hospital. My dad arrived shortly thereafter as we waited for approval to be transferred. Around 11 or so, I was surprised by a visit from Dan and Jeremy L. (one of my closer friends from AiG, also working the conference with me). There was some conversation, more jokes from me, and they actually snapped a photo with my Verizon camera phone. That sideways look was my expression of unbelief that my friends wanted to shoot a photo. Now, I'm glad that they did. I was taken by ambulance to a western-Cincinnati hospital. By now, I was in completely good spirits and humor. I had the thought, "Hey! I'm in an ambulance! I wonder if they'd turn the lights on for me." But then I realized that it would cause unnecessary alarm for my father, who was driving behind us. It took about an hour before the hospital could begin the procedure. I remember the lively female doctor explaining that they would operate that very night, but it really wasn't until about 2 AM. Obviously quite tired and drugged on top of that, I was completely asleep for the chest tube insertion. The pain medication must have worn off a couple hours later because I remember writhing in terrible pain and agony. My dad stood nearby crying to see his otherwise-healthy son in such torment, and he did everything that he could to prevent me from pulling out the chest tube or the IVs. All the while, he prayed and prayed hard. God answered the prayers of my father and countless others as news spread of my condition. I eventually relaxed and sleep through morning. More to come in "Remembering One Year Ago."