It’s been a long and tiring day.  First, I thank The Lord, to the best of my knowledge,  the United States of America was not attacked today by terrorist.  I believe it could have happened, but by Gods grace it did not.

I saw my oncologist this morning.  According to their scales, I have lost eight pounds.  I thought maybe three or four, but not eight.  You know I have a bit of “white coat” syndrome, manifested in my blood pressure being “jacked” up.  I took my blood pressure, in my car, before going in the building.  It was 151/65.  I go to the fourth floor and sign in.  I was early, so I knew I would waited for a little while.  After fifteen minutes, I’m called back for stats,  He weighs me, has me sit down in the orange chair and hooks me up to the ox-pluse and BP machine.  Oxygen is good.  Pulse rate is good.  Blood pressure is 174/76!!!  I say to Henry, “Look, I know I get jacked up, but I’m not THAT jacked up!”  Henry says, “Oh, OK, let’s use the Bigger cup then.”  BIGGER CUP!  You mean you’ve been trying to blow my fingertips out using a SMALL cup?  Bigger cup measures 154/84.  Did you notice my lower number shot up?  Now they have me jacked up!  I see the doctor and he adds some BP medicine and orders blood test.  He wants to make sure the Avastin has not scarred my kidneys.  I go downstairs to the lab and wait until I’m called back.  My past experience has been. It only takes six or seven minutes and I’m gone.  Today it took about fifteen to eighteen minutes.  The tech had a hard time finding a vein, ending up sticking me three times.  The morning is almost over and I head north to Edmond.

At work, they have me pulling the oar without stopping.  I keep hearing the metronome of the drum beat, as first his left hand, then the right hand strikes the well worn skin of the drum.  Finally at the end of the day, they unlock the handcuffs and leg shackles and I’m allowed to come from below and into the sunshine.

I drove home and picked up Terrie.  I was going to make a hospital visit in Norman and then have some supper.  We drive the seven miles south to Norman with Terrie talking with me about her day.  We arrive at the south entrance of Norman Regional Hospital.  Terrie waited in the van as I went in to see the man I was going to visit.  I saw the sign to call the operator for room numbers since the counter was unattended.  I punched “0” and ask for the mans room number.  The nice lady tells me the number and says I would need to take the northeast elevators.  I said, “I’m at the south entrance, right?”  Cheerfully she replied that I was and would have to walk to the opposite side of the hospital.  I see a stand that has a hospital floor layout.  I picked up one of the pads of paper. Studied it and if I scaled it correctly, the room was about three blocks away from my house in Oklahoma City!  I looked at the layout again and thought to myself, that it looked familiar to me.  Then I got it!  It was the same configuration as the ant farm kit they sold at TG & Y, years ago!  As I got to the northeast elevators (Tulsa campus), my hip joints had just started singing the third verse of “Just As I Am”. ‘ …Just as I am, tho’ tossed about, with many a conflict, many a doubt’.  I find the room, introduce myself, had a short visit, prayed for him and his wife, left some verses on how to become a Christian and left.  I remembered the ant farm layout and started for the south entrance.  After a while, I came upon a older man walking in the same direction I was going.  His pant waist was higher than what I prefer, his was about three and a half inches below his armpits.  As I examined him, it struck me that he knows the way out of the ant farm!  I get in behind him and begin a NASCAR draft on him.  In just a short time, I begin to recognize my surroundings.  I can now see the south entrance.  It’s time to make my move!  I pass him on the right as I go by a guy in a sleeveless tee shirt, who was playing the grand piano in the lobby.  He was pretty good, I thought, he was bobbing his head  around, like he was really into it. I crossed the finish line called ‘the revolving door’ and headed toward the van.  As I got there, my hip joints had finished “Just As I Am”, “Softly and Tenderly”, and had just started “Art Thou Weary”.  I sat in the drivers seat and admitted that I was tired.

I turned the van back toward Oklahoma City.  We stopped and had supper.  We enjoyed being together more than we enjoyed the food, but that was fine with us, we were together.   Driving home, it started to get quite.  The tension on the main spring of life was now less than at the beginning of the day.  But isn’t that normal?  The rewind of the spring inside of me would be accomplished overnight, as I slept.  Only God can do that.  As I lay on the bed, I began to review the day that was coming to a close.  It had been a tiring , but good day.  The Lord had been gracious to me and to America.  We were blessed more than we deserved.  He provided all that we needed.  I sensed His Hand upon me and I felt safe and secure.  It was good to be home.




  1. September 11, 2014, wasn’t taken lightly at our house, either. Prayers were graciously answered.
    The way Steve describes his job in “September 11” is funny, but we hope not really that tedious! Surely, too, everyone who reads this can relate to the comfort of a demanding day that ends in a peaceful dinner with someone we love. Not all have that luxury. ‘Hope this comment ends up in the right place!


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