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"Saved by the Skin of Your Teeth!" When You Don't Die in Surgery, You Must Be Thankful to the Redeemer.

Christofer has been a counselor, contract administrator and has studied astrology with his mother since the 70s. He has eight grandchildren.

The Guillotine Took Little Time for Marie Antoinette, But Appendicitis Comes with no Fanfare.


Appendicitis Can Be a Killer; And With Little Warning.

In my 70 plus years, I had been treated for Psoriatic Arthritis, Diabetes, High Blood Pressure, examinations for Hip Replacement and was administered a variety of Prescription meds. No doctor had said a word about "Appendicitis". After reviewing facts and research, I learned that this was not surprising.

It can kill you quick with little warning. In the table, it shows that the most fatal group is Age 10 to 30. There is not a "one definitive indicator" reading. Many have said that the lack pf "Definitive Warning" signs is one of the key factors that adds to its mystery. Since I am more of an Historian than a Medical authority, I thought of a Winston Churchill quote, about Russia being a "riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma". But of course, its not that "mysterious", when I was unconscious in the ambulance, professionals quickly got their readings and headed right for Swedish and Surgery.

Later, I was able to conclude that Sepsis and Appendicitis may not be a "riddle, mystery or enigma", but when I cast my eyes over my naked middle it reminded me of a horror movie I had seen when I was a kid.

Five Tubes Rising From My Belly and Pelvis, Feeding Little White Bags.

After I was in recovery and being treated by a wonderful array of true professionals, one of the surgeons explained why I had 5 tubes rising from my belly and pelvis. And, oh yes, "little white bags" (what I chose to call them) at the end of those bags filling up periodically with putrid gray fluids.

Sepsis - 5 Red Dots Remain.

Part of the mystery of the body is in fighting Sepsis (systemic poisoning), it will form "little gloves" that encapsulate poison to protect the system. (Please forgive the lack of correct medial jargon). After all, this is a patient's description of a shocking experience and the subsequent happenings after this event.

As the days went on, the bags would fill; be replaced, and then stop producing the gray fluid. The bags would be removed along with the tubes This was a sign I was improving. I am omitting other details, and the things I learned for the first time.

Finally, five red dots remained. They are the road map of the extruded poisons that were drained from my body. That story continues to intrigue me, and treatments, tests and procedures still loom. But there is other good news that still remains to be told.

Appendicitis - Historical and Current

Appendix not useless after all

Old = "served no purpose"

New medical info reveals much

Surgery is NOT always necessary

Old = surgery must occur

Chris' Appendix not yet removed

Appendicitis afflicts the aged.

Most occur in ages 10 to 30

Chris is 70 plus

No remaining Pain, you're better.

No Pain, you still see Doctor.

Chris no discomfort antibiotics

"Maybe I'm Not Dead, But Then, Maybe I Am."

I have no memory of the medical /surgical whirlwind that visited me from Friday AM (8/24/19) to Monday PM (8/27/19). I have been told about it and instructed about it. But I have only black emptiness upon which to draw. I think it's called unconsciousness.

However, I do have memories. The Movie that has no film. When you find yourself looking down on yourself, the first thing you think is: "Oh man. Maybe I'm not dead". but then, "Oh man, maybe I am!"

Besides being suspended about what felt like 10 feet above the table, the conversation started inside my head. I could tell by looking down at my physical head that I was not talking. And the resounding male voice inside me was not coming from the 2 busy female nurses below.

And so, I was trapped inside what I figured was a psychological phenomenon. I thought maybe my system, inside this "unconsciousness", was producing a dream-like cascade of neural firings as an "explanation" to my being. I would have to live with that. That's all I could come up with.

"You Escaped by The Skin of Your Teeth."

"You escaped by the skin of your teeth." The voice was round and reassuring, but authoritative. A baritone. An authentic baritone. Not a real bass. "Yeah, Thornton Wilder, 1942. Hit play on Broadway, then a movie."

"Don't be such a "Smartie Pants! Try being quiet unless you really have a question. "Job 19:20. Probably about 1500 BC. Egypt. Teeth don't have skin, but somehow the phrase communicates an unbelievable margin. No margin really, but still you escape."

To keep quiet, I "nodded my head". Then I looked down hard and my head was not nodding. I concluded that I was nodding the head up 10 feet above.

"Down to Verse 27, he marvels and rejoices and declares, because of not being killed, he knows that his Redeemer lives."

"So you, you very nice voice inside me are telling me to be thankful to God for saving my life. I mean I am going to live my way out of this, right? I'm deeply thankful; but aren't you just a voice in my head?"

"You're not a Smartie Pants, you're a "Smartie..."

I kept myself quiet.

"I'm your Guardian Angel. It's a multi-life assignment. It's not all I do, Heaven knows. You are not going to die this weekend. But I am here to deliver a Bon Mot for something coming just around the corner. Uh, there's going to be a ..."

"What's a Bon Mot?" It's a Message, right?"

"If you read the scripture-----Job wanted it inscribed on stone. See, he was a guy called "Cheops" in Egypt. The idea of a ("Redeemer"). Messiah went back far. But here's the "Bon Mot". (See the Callout)

You can still call yourself a Guardian Angel and also be a figment of a weird Dream State, right? I mean isn't this still just a dream?

He answered happily. "My mission is to deliver safety and occasionally wisdom. You will live. Look below. You are even stirring a little. The Nurses are getting busier. Look at that one nurse there, standing there. She slipped a note under your pillow. Anyway, I know you're living into April of 2020. But I think you are going to be on a large list of "Electives".

When I saved you on Omaha Beach, you still saved three guys by being a sniper's target in the Battle of the Bulge. I knew you weren't going to make it out of the Ardennes. You know why? You had to be born in 1949."

P.S. Later that day, with a vague memory, I pulled the note with a Bon Mot from under my pillow. I did not see that nurse again.

Disease Can Swim in a Watery Morass in great Depths Or Lie Frozen in the Arctic.


© 2020 Christofer French