Before we continue with the less-than-satisfactory hospital experiences about which I am still rather angry, I’d like to think about the positive things I took away from that first hospital.
My brothers cared about me: I didn’t know how much they cared until I got into a state that scared us all. My husband could cope with it all: how wise was God’s choice of someone who had trained in clinical psychology and done his placement in a trauma ward!
And I came face-to-face with the question of what really matters in life. I was people on that ward who had serious brain damage and who were going to be in a worse state than I was for a long time, if they survived. I didn’t know what was happening to me, or whether I would get better or worse. I realized that I might never be able to read or write or teach again. I could hardly even feed myself!
But I thought, ‘We here are all still human beings, made in the image of God, however dysfunctional our brains may be.’ This was a BIG think for someone who has always been pretty near the top academically, and who believed that God had now called her into full time academic work!
Prayer was difficult, because words were difficult, and concentration was difficult, but somehow I knew that God was there. And I thought, ‘However bad I get, as long as I’m human and as long as I’m alive, I can do THREE THINGS. I can somehow turn my heart towards God in worship. I can somehow turn my heart towards other people in love. And, even if I become completely helpless and unconscious, God can use me to bless other people.’
Does anything else really matter?