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John Shore Christian Blog and Commentary

When Trumpeting Angels Sound Just Like Passing Gas

  • John Shore
    Besides here on Crosswalk, John blogs on JohnShore.com.
  • 2009 Nov 28
  • Comments

After a frighteningly long operation and three days in the hospital my wife Cat and I have returned to our cozy and safe home. From the bottom of my heart let me again thank you for the prayers and love so many of you sent our way.

Cat's well. She's so well it's almost bizarre. I'm actually jealous of how much energy she has. We returned home Thanksgiving night, and yesterday she spent hours in the kitchen cooking, took two long walks, accompanied me to Trader Joe's and Staples, began decorating for Christmas, and did a bunch of other stuff I get exhausted just trying to remember.

Cat had to stay in the hospital an extra night because the doctors were concerned that she hadn't yet shot around the room like a released balloon from all the gas passing out of her.

Hey. No one said being beautiful was pretty.

When they do major abdominal-area surgery on you, they fill you with carbon dioxide gas, which helps keeps your organs nice and fresh while they operate, or something. I dunno. But when they're done playing the Organ Requiem on you, the doctors leave a bunch of that gas trapped inside your body. If you're not a politician and so used to it, so much gas inside of you presents serious problems. It floats up to cause pain in your shoulders; it inhibits your breathing by pressing up hard against your lungs. Now you know why politicians always seem to be panting and shrugging.

Cat recycles; she takes reusable bags with her shopping. This is someone who cares about the environment.

"But what about my carbon footprint?" she said between gritted teeth. "What about the glaciers?"

"Just let 'er rip, baby," said the nurses. "Seriously. Or we'll start putting a bunch of tubes in you."

"But my husband's right here in the room with me," said Cat.

"I don't mind!" I said. "I wanna see you shoot around the room!"

Finally Cat gave in. I believe several coastal communities along the Eastern Seaboard were flooded later that night.

As I peeled Cat off the ceiling, I said, "See? That wasn't so bad."

Ha, ha, ha.

Oh, but what a glorious sound it is, when the angels trump their tribute to the designs of God.

Now Cat's home and healing. I only hope I can keep up with her while she convalesces.

(Photo of angel trumpeting God's victory over death snagged off the completely interesting-looking site Curios Expeditions.)

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