Good Luck

Robert didn't need to tell me he was frightened. I could tell the moment I walked into his hospital room and saw him staring at the ceiling. Fear had written itself across his face. Of course, he had good reason to be frightened. He may have suffered a small stroke, what the neurologist called a transient ischemic attack. Though his slurred speech and blurred vision had passed, was the passage only temporary? Would it recur? Would he be left permanently paralyzed, blind, or worse?

His physician had scheduled him for a cerebral angiogram to aid in the diagnosis. From speaking with the radiologist, Robert knew a long plastic catheter would be inserted into his femoral artery and then threaded up toward his brain. The radiologist would then inject a special dye in order to outline the vessels on a monitor screen. He was warned of the risks inherent in the procedure, such as hemorrhage, nerve injury, and sudden death. If the findings revealed blocked blood vessels feeding the brain, his career as a pilot would be over. It would also mean further medical treatment. Perhaps even surgery. Not a happy prospect for a 35 year old man.

As I completed some last minute nursing details before sending him downstairs for his exam, he turned to face me. "What do you think they'll find?" It was more a plea than a question, and a sense of compassion swept over me. It was easy to empathize with him. I am only a few years older than he. "Lord, what do I say?" I breathed.

"Do you believe in God?" I asked, anticipating joining with him in request to God for healing, for wisdom for the physicians, for God's guidance for the future. But I never got the chance to pray. Without hesitation he shook his head. "No," he answered. "But I believe in luck." I glanced at him for a moment, unsure if I had properly understood him. "You believe in luck?" I tried not to sound incredulous. I debated within my heart if I ought to press the issue, but decided it would prove fruitless at the moment. The orderly was already waiting outside the door. I finished my nursing chores and turned to leave. "Good luck," I said as I left the room.

The angiogram proved negative, and Robert survived the exam without much more than some mild discomfort. "Luck" was on his side...though I squirm at the term, knowing God's grace is more the reality. But as often as I am drawn back to that incident, I find myself ever startled afresh. Not startled by Robert's rejection of the Divine, but rather of the Divine's patience with...with...me.

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