guts

In the weeks after a meeting with the "guy" doctor, I suppressed that old feeling that has managed to remain hidden within me all these years-fear of undergoing medical procedures. I remember being strapped to the operating table at age 4 and seeing the huge needle and catheter they inserted into the main artery on the inside of my upper thigh. I remember the pain that went on and on, the nurses reassuring me it was almost over. Yeah, right. I remember being held down by hospital staff routinely taking blood out of my fingers and toes, pushing and pulling tubes and wires in and out of my chest and abdomen, and performing other necessary medical procedures during my 10 days in the intensive care unit at the Children's Hospital in New Orleans, Louisiana in 1974. And more than the pain and helplessness, I remember the fear. That fear pomeled me then, and has continued to be a lifelong adversary. It has also proved to be one of my most effective teachers.

Having grappled with death (losing my father) and with fear (open heart surgeries and witnessing domestic abuse) at such a young age, I knew I could at least survive anything else. I had been strapped down and invaded repeatedly by the doctor's syringe and scalpel, so I had no problem taking a well aimed swing at a bully twice my size when my tolerance of his torment ran short. My senses had been hardened from being in such helpless situations. Growing up, I simply refused to be pushed around by anyone. I did anything I could to convince those big dumb junior high-ers that picking on this small guy would yield less enjoyment than their trouble was worth. I was beaten many times by guys larger than me. But I could always manage to walk away. Except for one time on a California beach when I was found lying in the sand by a friend who "happened" by, put me in the bed of his pick-up, and took me home. But I survived, and no one held me down. In all those fights, I was simply never afraid. But going through any kind of medical procedures, even dental work, evokes that dark, foggy emotion.

A few days ago I underwent a very menial medical procedure, the "guy doctor" at the... helm. Fearing the matter, my whole demeanor was sullen and I became irritable. It took all the guts I could muster to walk myself into the clinic, lie down on the table and allow a doctor to perform the work we agreed was beneficial. Before the doctor walked in, I lay there thinking, "I don't have to do this, I don't need this, I can leave right now..." How ironic that I have never been afraid of taking a beating, but the smell of alcohol and the sight of a needle stops me in my tracks.

In observing the things that happen in my life and those around me, I see the same irony in play. We are fearless against some of the most terrible trials of life, not whincing in the face of death, divorce, disability, injustices, etc. But somehow, the smallest, seemingly most insignificant offenses alert the darkest fears within us, and we're frozen by them, rendering us helpless, more accurately, useless for the challenges ahead. One of my brothers-in-arms, who's iron sharpens me, lives by his motto: Embrace Everything. This is quite useful in one of these fear-frozen situations. You never know who is watching you. Though it always feels like it, you're never going through anything alone. The way we react, our courage or lack of it, ministers to that person watching. It strengthens or clouds their resolve in facing their own circumstances. When we don't have the courage, if we can embrace the One Who embraced all the pain and sufferring there will ever be, we can tap into Him, the source of courage. My friend says "Embrace Everything." The Perfect One said, "Perfect love casts out all fear."

We exchanged the normal small talk-weather, work, etc., the "guy doctor" and me. I told him of my fear, the pain increased, he began to work. I pressed through, continuing in conversation. Family came up. We talked about our children. Then he told me his wife left him and divorce was imminent because she didn't love him anymore. Somewhere in me my guts rose up, and I quoted the scripture about husbands loving their wives the way Christ loved the church and gave Himself for her. I told him he had to get through to her, that he had to do everything in his power to make her know of his love in order to keep their family together. I told him it was his task to accomplish, that he couldn't allow his family to fall apart. He was quiet for a while. I felt his congeniality turn to brevity. I pressed on through to the end of the procedure, feeling more alone than ever. He gave me recovery instructions. I thanked him, and he left me. I walked out of that clinic knowing that there was a purpose that was greater than the fear I had to conquer in myself and the little pain I endured. It was to deliver a Life-giving message to a man about to be overcome by his fear. I hope I helped him find his guts.