Shades of Light

I was 14 and in unbearable pain. I remember my dad cradling me in his arms as he carried me to the car in back of our home. I clearly remember, the sense of urgency in his stride, and the thought that he would make the pain stop. I don't remember the drive to the hospital.

The doctor that was called in to examine me was the head of the medical board, an excellent doctor, one my parent's knew and trusted. He concluded that I was having an appendicitis and immediately performed surgery...the appendics, though healthy, were removed. He told my parents I would be fine.

When the unbearable pain continued...Dr. Holly, (who we later found was struggling with alcoholism), justified his lack of findings, by suggesting that something real and unimaginable had happened to me, and that the pain was a symptom of not being able to accept the assault on my being. There was no question what he was implying...my father became the source of his accusations, and was banned from the hospital....an investigation ensued...

My condition worsened.

I'm told that my father, knowing that I was dying, openly wept. Not being a particularly religious man, he then did something that stunned my older sister...he knelt by his bed and prayed for direction. She said that sometime later, he walked into the living room and announced that we would be changing doctors.

The new doctor took one look at me and told my parents that the only option was to perform a second exploratory surgery in hopes of discovering the source of the pain. There were no guarantees, but without the surgery I wouldn't make it through the night.

This doctor, the one my father was guided to... was a religious man. My parents were later told, that he prayed before the surgery. Through the grace of God, he found a blockage in my lower intestine. It was the size of a man's shirt pocket, full of infection, and successfully blocking all passage of anything that entered my body.

My recovery was slow...but I did recover. A year later, I was able to return to my normal activities.

I can only imagine the agony that my father endured...being accused of what to him would be an unthinkable act, and being kept from seeing his child...yet, he did something for me, that he wouldn't do for himself...he prayed.

My memories of my father, are colored in varying shades... from light to dark...but that evening, as he carried me to the car, the light shone bright.


MKC