Ben Myers, RN

I had aortic valve replacement surgery. They call it TAVR for short. The surgical procedure itself went great, but the anesthesia made me quite sick for over 18 hours. I couldn't open my eyes without being so dizzy, totally nauseous, and miserable. It is motion sickness and seasickness on dry land.

I knew the only cure was to live through it until all the meds had cleared my body. However, in the throes of it all, that seemed like a lot of suffering. I was in the cardiac ICU. They have strict rules there, but they were already breaking them for me. My husband was taking care of my constant nausea while the nurse was flitting in and out like a little hummingbird, checking my vitals and trying to get the perfect combination of meds to control my blood pressure. My granddaughter was there helping my husband to see to my other needs. It was a miserable time.

Before shift change, the nurse told my family they would have to leave. That was the rule. No visitors overnight. I was already praying between episodes of sickness. I really began to cry out for God to help me, as they all left. I was scared. I was alone. I couldn't move. I wasn't allowed to bend either of my legs. I wasn't allowed to sit up. I wasn't allowed anything to eat or drink, and they were sending my one sure helper home.

I began to pray, "Jesus, please come close. I know you are here with me. I know you have me and my life in Your hands, but please come close, tangibly close. I am so sick. I need You to make it through these next hours."

I knew I needed to sleep the effects of the medicine off, but if I even slightly slipped into drowsy sleepiness, the gagging would be triggered again. Any movement, even to move my eyes, would activate the motion sickness. So, I prayed again. I was looking for the Presence of God feeling that I had experienced many times during worship and prayer. That didn't happen. I just kept waiting and praying.

The room was now dark and empty except for me and all my machines. My prayer became a constant whisper, a one-sided conversation. Me pleading for Jesus to come close enough that I could tangibly feel Him in my trouble.

My nurse for the night was a sweet, kind, soft-spoken young man named Ben. I guess my blood pressure had settled down because he was calm and calming for me. It seemed he was constantly coming to my bedside asking if he could do anything for me.