At 9:00 PM on a peaceful Sunday night, my spleen blew up.
In a surprise attack, my body’s defenses were overwhelmed by an unseen internal infection, suddenly rupturing the wall of the spleen. Blood flowed out like angry waters from a breached dike and began to flood the abdomen and chest cavity.
My world was abruptly plunged into darkness by a crimson curtain of indescribable, sudden, sharp, stabbing pain. It jammed me from waist to neck. In that hour, I lost 40% of my lifeblood to internal bleeding.
It was night 34 of a hospital stay, and until that moment I had been scheduled for discharge the following morning.
Maybe not.
A common ordeal
A month earlier, I had been diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia — AML — was admitted to the hospital on an emergency basis, and had already worked through the first round of chemotherapy. Like most chemo patients, I had suffered all the nasty side effects of a drug regimen designed to kill the parasite before it kills the host.
That was fairly unpleasant, but I survived the ordeal. Now, after nearly 5 weeks lashed to an expensive bed by tubes, wires and monitors, I was going home. I would be out for two weeks, then return for another week of inpatient chemo treatment.
There are lots of risks in a hospital, and the superb patient care I received was focused on protection. Nurses, doctors and staff were scrupulous in personal hygiene. I noted that nurses never picked up anything dropped on the floor; they left it there, awaiting the highly competent cleaning crew.
Nevertheless, I had managed to contract a fungus. This one was a fast-moving blood-borne infection that roamed my bloodstream at will. Like most things that don’t belong in the blood, it eventually found its way to the spleen, that 5-inch-long structure that filters out intruders.
The spleen was blessedly removed the following morning, after a night of agony at the edge of death. In the Intensive Care Unit, after the surgery, calm set in among the staff.
And then my kidneys quit.
Kidneys require constant blood pressure, and the loss of blood volume from the internal bleeding had crashed the BP from a normal 120/70 to a likely fatal 60/30.
My wife, close family and friends held a death watch for me. The kidney specialist tearfully counselled my wife that the matter would be over before sundown that day.
I remained blissfully unconscious as the next hours unfolded. A fresh regimen of drugs and a new dialysis machine were deployed, but the passionate, heartfelt prayer of a humble hospital housekeeper — one familiar with the ways of her God — turned the corner. I began a slow climb from the valley of death as the kidneys came back to life.
How does one deal with an event like that?
An uncommon disaster
Two months later, on my way out of the hospital for real, I was able to speak at length with the nurse who had been on duty that night in the cancer unit.
“Your blood pressure had fallen, but stabilized at 80/40,” she said. “That was bad, but as long as it held, it was a good sign. My charge nurse and I were in your room, trying to decide what was wrong with you. You were obviously in great pain.”
The nurse, whom I shall call Jaye, was 24 years old. This was her first night back from maternity leave, and she had been assigned to me because I would need little care, being scheduled for dismissal in a few hours. Jaye had never dealt with a situation like this before.
“Your BP suddenly fell off the cliff,” she continued, “and I called for a Rapid. In less than a minute your room was crowded with people.” A Rapid Response is hitting the panic button. From her hospital-issue cell phone, Jaye had sent out the emergency alert, summoning nurses, ICU staff, doctors, the chaplain and other specialists. I don’t think she had ever used this feature before; it will no doubt be a career highlight for her.
“A BP of 60 over 30 is a complete disaster,” she said. “NOBODY comes back from 60 over 30. In the nurse squad room, we call that ‘60 over dead.’”
As we talked, I asked Jaye if she had worked other areas in the hospital outside of the oncology unit. Yes, she had, but she much preferred the cancer unit.
“And why is that?” I asked.
“On the other floors of the hospital,” she said, “a lot of the problems are self-inflicted. People have done things to themselves that caused their issue: Alcohol, drugs, obesity, driving too fast, working unsafe. But up here,” she gestured in a way that took in the cancer ward on an upper floor of the hospital, “the attitude of the patients is entirely different.”
“A problem to be solved”
Jaye paused and smiled. I briefly wondered how she was coping with a new baby at home, and who was caring for it.
“It’s like,” Jaye continued, “you guys see cancer as a problem to be solved instead of something to be ashamed of. And I think that’s why,” she looked directly into my eyes, “you treat us better. On the other floors, the patients are ashamed and take it out on the nurses.”
A problem to be solved.
That phrase stuck with me. It suddenly brought into focus the previous 3 months I had spent under the daily care of Jaye and the other nurses. Each doctor (38 of them in all) had approached my rare and diabolical variant of AML in exactly that way: We have here an intriguing problem, and we can’t wait to jump in and find a solution.
There was an undeniable sense of adventure, even excitement, among the doctors. They were like kids with a new toy, unexpected and captivating.
As I said, my version of AML was quite rare.
Resilience rests on optimism
Dr. Martin Seligman, former president of the American Psychological Association and professor at the University of Pennsylvania, popularized the phrase “Explanatory Style” to illustrate how we perceive our life situations.
Basically, Explanatory Style helps us see whether we are pessimists or optimists: Can my life’s problems be solved or not? Seligman explains there are three dimensions to understanding our approach:
Internal vs. External: Is the cause of the event a result of my actions, or due to situational factors?
Stable vs. Unstable: Is the cause of the event temporary, or permanent?
Global vs. Specific: Will the cause of the event permeate my entire life, or is it restricted to one area of my life?
I confess I am no fan of psychology: I love the term “psycho-babble,” which accurately characterizes much of the shallow thinking rampant in popular psychology. Survey any airport bookstore’s self-help section to see what I mean.
However, Seligman has identified fundamental truths with the three elements of his Explanatory Style. I know from my personal experience — as Jaye so succinctly captured in our conversation — that how I perceive my circumstances dictates my actions and my feelings. The way I see my circumstances is a choice, and that choice controls whether I move toward solutions or continue to wallow in problems.
Altering my view of the problems I face will change my attitude. The more I interpret my situation with the optimist’s approach — that my challenges are external rather than internal, unstable rather than fixed, and specific rather than general — the better equipped I am to find solutions.
Solutions to problems of life do not come about through bingeing the latest murder/soap opera. Rome fell in love with bread and circuses, while the foundations of empire crumbled around them.
* * * * *
I have unfortunately lost touch with Jaye, the young lady who saved my life when she called in overwhelming force to meet sudden medical disaster. Like any smart, personable, competent and attentive twenty-something, she probably moved on to more responsibility and higher pay.
We could do with more like her.
Let’s Review
Last week’s challenge question was this: What is it that you're hoping for, and how are you living for it?
That is a worthwhile question, but building on that aim can be jeopardized by your circumstances. There may be obstacles holding you back. To remove, or at least to chip away at, the boulders in your path, here is this week’s:
Challenge Question
Name one issue in your life that you currently see as your biggest on-going challenge. What actions can you take, starting this week, to alter the path of that trouble?
Download the Challenge Tracker below to record your thoughts.
What does the Scripture say?
1 Chronicles 12:32 (NLT)
…these men understood the signs of the times and knew the best course…
These were the Sons of Issachar, who joined the newly coronated King David at Hebron, to help him establish his kingdom: Men who understood the times and knew what to do.
In like manner, we must understand our own times, know what to do, and take action.
* * * * *
I urge you to Download the Challenge Tracker (from your laptop or desktop, not from a smartphone) and save the page or print it. Make your own notes; save the copy and add it to the other Challenge Trackers we distribute. (If you need previous issues, make that comment below and we will email them to you.) As we continue to explore Your Best Retirement, we will revisit these challenge questions frequently. Keeping up with the challenges, and recording your answers, will help you gain the most from this experience.
Your Best Retirement is more about getting results than absorbing knowledge. Engagement brings results.
And incidentally, if you would like to hear more about the Night of the Exploding Spleen, and my friend Marva, who knows how to offer effective, fervent prayer in the midst of terror, get a signed copy of Alligator Wrestling in the Cancer Ward by clicking the link below.
Or pick up the paperback, audio or eBook version wherever books are sold.
But first, please download the Challenge Tracker.
When Problems Persist, Perseverance Prevails