Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Prayer works.

I've spent the past two days doing battle with a kidney stone. Oy! During this mighty coup, staged by my renal organs, there came a point where I had to drop the martyr act ("No. I'm ok. I'll just take six percocet and go to bed.") and go see the doctor.

Now, I've long suspected, but never been able to prove, that I exude some pheremone that draws Christians to me. Never was this more evident than when I was waiting for my CT scan. There I was sitting in a chair, doing the mental math to figure out how much pain could be alleviated by throwing said chair out window (btw...the answer was: "not much"), when a lady sat down next to me. Anyone who's had a kidney stone knows that it's almost impossible to find a comfortable position. At one point during the wait, I stood up and stretched...and was, quite literally, floored by the spasm of pain that raced up my right flank. I swore a little. The lady, who had taken the chair next to me, reached out and...grabbed my hand. (WTF?!) She then states the obvious: "Oh. You look like you're in a lot of pain." (Yes. Yes I am. Was it the "Owwww, Shit!" that clued you in?) I checked my internal voice, though, and said, "Yes. I think I have a kidney stone."

I kid you not, this woman whipped out a pocket sized bible and said, "I'm going to ask the Lord to alleviate your pain." (Could you ask the Lord to serve up a syringe full of fentanyl or demoral while you're praying?) Mr. Possum, being the observant man he is, sees this exchange, from his piece of carpet in the kiddy area (where he was managing the lil' possums). He comes over and says, "Are you okay?" Christian Woman eyes Mr. Possum and says "I'm praying for her."

Now. I appreciate her concern. I appreciate her sentiment and her desire to try and relieve the suffering of another human being. So, I said, "thanks for trying to help." as I left the waiting room. I go back to the locker room, to change into an OH SO STUNNING gown and sit down to await CT tech. In comes Christian Woman with her Bible still out. She puts on the flimsy gown and sits next to me. It's all quite a blur, but the next thing I know, she's holding the Bible up to my head and asking the Lord to heal me. Held. The Bible. To. My. Head. *boggle* THEN, she kneels in front of me and puts her hands on my knees. (AAAAAHHHH!) "Let's pray together!", she if we're sisters on some groovy mission.

I have three thoughts going through my mind:
1. DON'T TOUCH! Seriously. I like my personal space. If you haven't been invited into my personal space, you are VIOLATING IT!
2. Juries won't convict you of killing people if you have a kidney stone. Right?
3. If we're going to pray, let's pray for painkillers to fall from the sky like a plague of locusts.

The problem with being ill, and in pain, is that one of those above thoughts is bound to come out of your mouth. So, I let fly with number three.
And,...guess what happened then? Prayer works! Ladies and gentlemen, a nurse came into the room with TWO syringes (Come to Butthead!). One full of demerol. The other full of phenergan. (Sweet, sweet, demerol.) And, the world became a fuzzier place, for about an hour.

So, I ask you- oh wise audience: Was this divine intervention? Or, did Mr. Possum get on the phone and call my primary physician to get an order for pain medication? You be the judge. ;) Either way, excuse me while I kiss the sky...


Virginia aka Ginny said...

You are quite patient I must say, especially in light of the fact you were in terrible pain.

Glad the almighty one came through and got you pain killers lol! I'm sure that lady's faith is even more sealed now! ;)

Anonymous said...

YOu have got to be freakin' kidding me! That lady did WHAT?? *boggle*

Anonymous said...

Oh, sorry, that above comment was from Sara (sassyat30)...:)

erin said...

Oh my goodness, PERSONAL SPACE. Years ago, when I worked at the hot dog cart, I had a woman pull up and tell me that she had a gift to give me. I thought, Oh shit. She then proceeded to tell me that she was going to save me and began to pray for me. Keep in mind that I was WORKING at the time. Nothing I said could get her to stop, until I finally just said, Listen, what kind of hot dog can I get you? She said, Oh, nothing for me. So you wasted five minutes of my time and you can't even spend $1.50 on a hot dog??