Why we're here...

Love and marriage are the greatest adventures in life, and they point they way to our relationship with the Almighty.

We're honored to be a member of the Christian Marriage Bloggers Association...click on their logo to visit them.


Monday, August 19, 2013

Last Rites

Last Rites, or Extreme Unction, is the sacrament a Catholic priest delivers if a person is in imminent danger of death.

I've had Last Rites. Several times.

Several years ago, I was newly married, and had a problem...hemorrhoids. Bad ones. They were limiting life to the point that I finally agreed to go under the knife, for what is widely regarded as a very painful procedure.

And it was, even though the surgeon used a new technique, 'stapling' the prolapsed blood vessels. He said the post-operative pain would be reduced - somewhat.

Not having anything to compare it to, I agreed, and the morning after the surgery I woke up feeling not too bad. It was kind of like a healing gunshot wound. Sore but bearable. They let me go home at noon, and suggested I take it easy. That was no problem.

Except that when I went to the bathroom, I passed blood. I was told to expect some bleeding, but it seemed a bit extreme.

Barbara called the doctor, and was told, if it happens again, bring me to the hospital.

Barbara does not listen to dumb advice anymore.

She helped me to the living room, and I watched television for a bit, but it was getting harder to stay upright, and I thought I'd better get to bed. I tried to stand, and the room started spinning. So I told Barbara, "I'll crawl."

"No," she said. "You'll walk."

She helped me up, and three steps later the floor rotated up in front of me. I dimly remember the paramedics arriving, and the trip to the ER.

"He's bleeding out!" I remember a doctor yelling that. Not something one forgets.

And then there was Father Vic, bending over me. I don't remember what he said, or how I responded, if indeed I did.

But he was there.

And so was Jesus.

They replaced 150% of my blood, and I spent a week in hospital. Father Vic turned up again when things went very wrong, but I don';t remember what happened, and Barbara will never tell me.

Just as well.

(The surgeon was horrified, and very contrite. We didn't sue. Surgery's a risk, and he did the best he could. I survived, and the hemorrhoids are gone. We won.)

No comments:

Post a Comment