A Snowy Motorcycle Ride

We are in a deep freeze. For a stretch of a few days our temperature here in Iowa have not wandered above zero degrees Fahrenheit. I know my friends in California boast of warm weather there still. Plus recreational marijuana is now legal there too. It’s not fair!

There was even one day last week, that our actual temperature in Des Moines was colder (-18 F or -27.8 C) than that same day in Antarctica (-5 F or -20.6 C). This is not considering the wind chill factor that can be as cold as -30 to -50 F. I’m expecting Emperor Penguins to arrive in my front yard anytime now.

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Yet few days ago, there was somebody who rode a motorcycle on the road in this dangerously frigid condition. Not a snowmobile, but a motorcycle. I know that seems all madness. But if I tell you the reason why he did it, you will be convinced that it was rather a valiant and selfless act.

We have somebody in our church who likes to ride motorcycles. What he owns is a big maroon Harley-Davidson trike. We were told that he rode it to many places, far and near. He even goes to work on it, and I have seen him come to church on this trike.

Recently his health declined and he became more sickly. His kidneys failed, and he started dialysis three times a week. Yet he continued to ride his trike despite all of his illness, and he even rode it to go to his dialysis treatments.

Few days before Christmas, he got hospitalized. Then with one complication after another, sadly to say, he died a few days later.

So earlier this week, we attended his memorial service that was held in our church. The temperature that day was negative 12 degrees Fahrenheit with wind chill factor of 30 below zero. It snowed the night before and into early morning, so there’s freshly fallen snow on the ground. Even though it was bitterly cold that morning, what was more palpable was the love and warmth of the family and friends who attended that memorial.

To honor this fallen brother, they brought his trike to his memorial service. And yes, somebody rode it from this departed brother’s home and into the church, in this Antarctica-like condition!

So there it was, the Harley-Davidson trike, parked at the entrance of the church. It was positioned near the door, waiting like a sentinel. Perhaps it’s waiting for its rider for a final ride into the sunset.

I’m Free

I was on-call last weekend, and it was busy. The ICU was full. Our patients list was quite long. I only got about 8 hours of sleep from Friday to Sunday, that by the end of my 58 hours shift, I was really exhausted. I felt deflated and defeated.

Days like those, I even wonder, “Why am I doing this?”

After having Monday off, I came to the office the next morning and found this on my table:

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flowers and a memorial service program

The flowers came from a patient, or should I say from his relatives. My patient passed away. I should be the one sending flowers. But in this occasion, it was the dead and the grieving who gave the flowers.

I guess the family was just grateful and appreciative of the care I gave their loved one. Even if the end result was death.

Day like this, reaffirms why I am doing this.

I have taken care of this patient for almost 10 years. And over the years I saw his constant struggle to breathe, and his progressive decline. By the past year or so I have been seeing him so often in the clinic or in the hospital, that I have come to know him very well. Yet, despite our efforts he continued to get worse.

At the end I knew I have nothing left to offer him, and so we have agreed to place him under hospice care.

He had Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease or COPD.

Damn cigarettes! If there’s any young people here reading this article and are smoking and feels that you’re indestructible, I am pleading to you, please stop smoking. I am a constant witness of the destructive effects of cigarettes and the utter suffering they cause. Whatever pleasure smoking gives, it is not worth it.

Though I would admit, some of the nicest people I came to know were smokers. And that includes my patient. They are just slaves of a bad habit that may not be their own doing.

In the funeral program of my patient that they also sent to me, was a poem by Ann Davidson, printed on it. A poem so apt for my patient. It was entitled “I’m Free.”

Free from the pain. Free from suffering. Free from the disease that tormented him. He was indeed free.

I’m Free

Don’t grieve for me, for now I’m free

I’m following the path God laid for me.

I took His hand when I heard Him call

I turned my back and left it all.

I could not stay another day

To laugh, to love, to work or play.

Tasks left undone must stay that way.

I’ve found that peace at the close of the day.

If my parting has left a void

Then fill it with remembered joy.

A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss,

Ah, yes, these things I too will miss.

Be not burdened with times of sorrow

I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow,

My life’s been full, I’ve savored much

Good friends, good times, my loved one’s touch.

Perhaps my time seemed all too brief

Don’t lengthen it now with undue grief.

Lift up your heart and share with me.

God wanted me now; He set me free!