Lucky Man

Although I’ve tasted the peaceful lure of near death, I’ve seen and heard angels walking on earth.  They don’t have wings and they are human: doctors, nurses, respiratory therapists, technicians and many others.  Unfortunately, the peace and calm I experienced sometimes eludes me during the speeding essence of everyday life, but I try to take the time to sit back, think, and realize that despite my frequent inadequacies, God has chosen to give me a second chance, by demonstrating the miraculous once again.  My fear is that I will forget his gift and the underlying reason for his choice, so I sit back and think, pray in thanks and once again realize how lucky I am.

I am lucky because:

I Hear:

Talkative crickets in the serenity of a dusky night reminding me of my camping days as an Eagle Scout; The cheerful chirping birds filling the sweet morning air with an inspiring message that I’ve been given at least another day to jump out of bed and try to make a difference despite my aches and pains; My wheezing after I complete an intense circuit training workout, knowing the pleasure in the pain, confidence that it is possible, after all; The recent words of a smiling patient who said, “Carson, I know that God sent you to me in my time of need when others walked away.  Thank you.”; The annoying ringing in my left ear following me ever since, but yet a reminder that I’m still alive with a souvenir to stay with me; And those three words, “I love you.”

I Feel:

The wind ravaging my hair when I roll all the windows down and sunroof, driving way too fast down the highway; The tender lusciousness of a woman’s full lips against mine as I hold her close and feel her heartbeat close to my chest, while my lucky fingers gently caress the oh – so feminine small of her back; The life –giving rain cleansing me naturally, my soaked clothes stuck to me, the salt in my eyes and my shoes slogging through the innocent mud; the rhythm of the dance; The radiance of the bright sun scalding my skin that begs for just a little more, then I jump into the cool blueness of the ocean, deep as I dare; the evil that at one time I couldn’t fathom or detect, now causes me no concern for nothing can defeat the power of almighty love.

Touch:

The hands of someone who desperately needs my strength or guidance, even when I am inwardly unsure of my strength; The handshake of a hero who asks for nothing; The reverent symbolism of the communion plate at church, passed down the pew; The soft furry coat of a dog or cat who simply needs love; The feel of the yoke of a glider airplane, pulling back farther and farther until she stalls, then it drops, dead in the air, stomach up in the ceiling, then she catches the lift and we’re flying again in an exhilaration that few understand; The smallness of a woman’s waist.

Taste

Sampling the silky smoothness of Bordeaux wine from a woman’s soft mouth; A tender, juicy steak cooked on the grill in the summer, or winter for that matter; The exhilaration of downhill skiing, partially out of control; hot coffee in the morning, steam rising filling my ravenous lungs with desire; French Fries from McDonalds, oven hot, although only once or twice a year of course; Stone crab dipped in drippy butter.

Sight

Though my vision isn’t very good, I can see as much as I need to – I can still read a book, flip the pages and leap to imaginary places, living vicariously with the hero’s adventures; I can see the stress in people’s eyes that I never took the time to notice before; Bright smiles of people who I don’t even know because I apparently smiled at them and didn’t realize I did; The beauty of sleek airplanes and jets streaking through the wispy air; A woman’s walk and the rhythm of her hips gliding her down the sidewalk; The inviting blue of the endless sky, allowing for a short time, wisps of cirrus clouds, endearing my eyes to the beyond we all search for; The breathtaking sight of a patient who was close to death, now months later walking back into the hospital to thank the staff.

Smell

It’s that coffee again, can’t get enough of that smell, especially after it is fresh ground; The perfume of a woman, light, not overwhelming but enough to erase any chance of intellectual thought; Bacon freshly cooked, and heck, why not every now and then; The salty ocean breeze and stinging spray as the waves crash to the seashore; Old leather-bound books and that august smell of printed knowledge in a library; The cool cleanness of your pillow case ready for your head after a long day at work.

You see I have lost much in life that is difficult to describe, but hope and prayer is the only way to survive. And yet, I have also experienced overwhelming joy at the same time, and my joy begins anew, every time I wake up in the morning and start my day.

Thank you God

SRC