The following is a first-hand account of the events of Pastor Smith’s last few weeks:
Those who lived through the 1960s and 1970s probably remember a classic British comedy troupe and its TV show, Monty Python’s Flying Circus. In a 1970 episode, there were several skits which utilized the catchphrase, “Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.”
Well, forget the Inquisition—nobody ever expects a quadruple bypass surgery.
Back on October 10th, I had mild pain in my left chest, which went away after about ten minutes. When the same happened the next day, it was time for action. A call to 911 swiftly brought the EMTs. They were able to administer an EKG, which revealed nothing amiss. Nevertheless, to be on the safe side, I went on an ambulance ride to the local hospital, where several more tests also revealed nothing alarming. The ER doctor was certain that this was a muscular-skeletal issue. But she also recommended that I call a cardiologist. Before doing so, I wanted to check with my primary physician, with whom I had a routine checkup scheduled a couple of weeks later. That doctor recommended a stress test, primarily because I had been experiencing slight shortness of breath.
So, Monday, November 13th, found me on a treadmill. Everything seemed fine. But, in point of fact, all was not well. The next day, the cardiologist’s office called, saying that he wanted to see me that day or the next. When I saw him on the Wednesday, he showed Penny and me the EKG from the stress test, and that there was an abnormality on it. So, a catheterization test was scheduled for Friday, the 17th. The expectation was that either it was a false positive on the EKG, or, at most, perhaps a stent or two would have to be placed right then and there. Instead, following the procedure, and while I was still lying on the table, the doctor doing the test was able to show me on a big monitor that I had several serious blockages. It turned out that there were five blockages: one at 100% (in which the artery was totally severed), two at 90-95%, and two at 50%. The situation was regarded as extremely urgent: some of the medical personnel made comments like “amazing” that I was still alive, and that I was “one lucky chap.” (Obviously, the word “lucky” was used in a Calvinistic sense.😊)
This development was a shock to the system. When we began the day, we never expected . . . open-heart, quadruple bypass surgery. Penny and I were taken that afternoon by ambulance to the hospital that does heart surgery. (I remember looking out the back of the ambulance, all strapped in, and commenting how it reminded me of being in an observation car on the back end of a train where one could watch the tracks as the miles clicked by, though in this case, the view was that of roads cluttered with cars during rush-hour traffic.)
We were put in an observation area of the hospital, which is used for patients arriving by ambulance. Being in the basement, there were no windows. As a matter of fact, I would not be able to look outside for the four days I was in that room, awaiting surgery. But there were no rooms available on the upper floors, and therefore we were stuck where we were.
By the way, the food was excellent! Kudos to the chef!
Over the next day or two, it was determined that, although it was urgent, it wasn’t the emergency that it was initially thought to be. That is because, over the course of years, as the blockages built up in the arteries, my body manufactured its own bypass by using veins around the heart! This is what kept me alive. Aren’t our bodies incredible? God’s magnificent design.
On Tuesday, November 21st, I was prepped and taken for surgery. The procedure started in the early afternoon and was finished by around 5 o’clock, at which point I was taken to Cardiac ICU. Coming out of the anesthesia, I experienced a nightmare. I felt so totally helpless, as I couldn’t do anything, being strapped in and all that, and I couldn’t even cry out for help. It was terrifying. In reflecting on the experience later, I deduced that it was like being in hell, where a person is always dying and yet never able to die.
The next day was the worst, in which I was totally miserable (and was making loved ones and nurses miserable, too), and I really thought I was going to die. Thankfully, things started to get better on Thanksgiving Day, as tubes and wires were beginning to be removed. On the Lord’s Day, November 26th, just five days post-op, I was discharged, and our son drove us home.
Overall, I have been doing very well, though there were a few hiccups here and there. But, to quote one of the doctors, I have made “excellent progress.”
I have also progressed spiritually, though, as in physical progression, that development does not come easily nor automatically. I have been reminded of various Scripture passages, particularly from the Psalms. King David laments: “I am weary with my groaning; all the night I make my bed to swim; I water my couch with my tears” (Psalm 6). He also confesses: “What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee” (Psalm 56). Asaph asked, “Will the Lord cast off for ever? And will he be favorable no more? Is his mercy clean gone for ever? Doth his promise fail for evermore? Hath God forgotten to be gracious? Hath he in anger shut up his tender mercies?” (Psalm 77). Heman the Ezrahite sinks into despair: “Thou hast laid me in the lowest pit, in darkness, in the deeps. Thy wrath lieth hard upon me, and thou hast afflicted me with all thy waves” (Psalm 88). And an anonymous songster says: “for my days are consumed like smoke, and my bones are burned as an hearth. My heart is smitten, and withered like grass; so that I forget to eat my bread. By reason of the voice of my groaning my bones cleave to my skin. I am like a pelican of the wilderness: I am like an owl of the desert. I watch, and am as a sparrow alone upon the house top.” Indeed, his distress has come about because of “thine indignation and thy wrath: for thou hast lifted me up, and cast me down” (Psalm 102).
As witnessed by these psalmists, the struggle is real; the salty tears can be tasted; the fear is palpable. At the same time, these men did not lose their faith in God, that He would never leave us nor forsake us and that He would use what may seem to be crushing providences to shape us, and ultimately to bring us home.
It is one thing to be able to affirm the promises of God. It is another to be forced to put those verities into practice. I know that many of you have likewise experienced those dark days of being overwhelmed by circumstances, including serious health issues—even to the extent of having to face the fact of your own mortality. Others of you perhaps have not been plunged into such depths. I am still alive and able to bear witness to the truth of Scripture that we who belong to Jesus really do have a Shepherd who walks with us in the valley of the shadow of death.
Going through this experience has led me to thanksgiving in several ways.
First, I recognize the hand of Providence. God’s timing was perfect—including the fact that the little chest pains I was having, which may or may not have had anything to do with my clogged arteries, nevertheless started me on a medical journey that discovered the danger I was in. His having ordained from all eternity that I would have to go to the other hospital for surgery was a blessing, in that our son and his family live only 15 minutes away from it. And I cannot say enough about the excellent care given me by doctors, P.A.’s, nurse practitioners, nurses, technicians, and others.
Second, I am grateful for the strength the Lord has given me and for the good progress in my recovery. Even though I gain a little more strength every day, I still have much internal healing to go and am restricted in my movements. I will not be back to normal until about six weeks after the surgery and I am not going to rush getting completely back in the saddle, so to speak, until I am really ready.
Third, we came across a number of other believers, including at least one from a Korean Presbyterian church, and another from a conservative Dutch Reformed background, who blessed and encouraged us both greatly during the most difficult times in the days following the surgery.
Fourth, there were opportunities to witness which I would not otherwise have had.
Fifth, I have discovered a truth that I really did already know, viz., that with regard to the church in Atlanta, I really am not indispensable. Indeed, the church folk have stepped up to the plate, taking on responsibilities that otherwise Penny and I would be doing. I must especially mention my assistant, Elder T.J. Pattillo, who has done a great job of coordinating various matters as well as preaching himself. Succor has also come from outside our little flock: a PCA minister filled the pulpit on December 3rd, while there has been the offer of help from an OPC congregation.
I believe that God has something more for me to do, and I look forward, Lord willing, to returning full time to the ministry, even though that will probably not materialize for several months.
So, please pray for us as I recover. Pray for the members and friends to continue to demonstrate their commitment to the congregation. Pray that the Lamb, through the manifestation of His tender mercies, would build His church in Atlanta, for He “shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes” (Revelation 7:17).