Weathering Storms: A Handbook for Surviving Crisis

By Larry G. Warkentin

In the Crucible of Crisis. . .

Weathering Storms is a book born out of the author’s personal experience and his witness of the crisis experiences of others. Some have faced unimaginable stressors in life that seem meaningless and cruel. Consequently, one’s psychology and theology may bend to the breaking point. Further to this, life’s storms seem to amplify God’s silence. Yet there is never a time when the Master of the wind and waves is more attentive. Weathering Storms probes these dynamics in depth.

Your crisis experience will end. And when it does you will never be the same. But the person you become after arriving on the other side of the storm is reborn with new strength, insight, and wisdom. You will never want to go back to the person you once were, that is, if you walk the journey and weather the storm.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Mar 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664213326

Larry G. Warkentin

Larry Warkentin is a Canadian born pastor and counselor and has served in ministry for over 30 years. He has pastored a variety of churches and denominations in several provinces across Canada. He received his doctorate from Carey Theological College in Vancouver Canada where he has researched crisis management and approaches to pastoral care for those facing critical life experiences. He has been married to his wife Barbara for 42 years and has two sons and one grandchild.

Book preview

Copyright © 2021 Larry G. Warkentin.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means,

graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by

any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author

except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher

make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book

and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

844-714-3454

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in

this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views

expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the

views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Scripture quotations taken from The Holy Bible, New International

Version® NIV® Copyright © 1973 1978 1984 2011 by Biblica, Inc.

TM. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Scripture taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

ISBN: 978-1-6642-1331-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6642-1330-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6642-1332-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020923130

WestBow Press rev. date: 03/10/2021

To my wife, Barbara, who has taught me to laugh and

not take life so seriously; my companion, who has faced

suffering with dignity and grace, and made rainbows out

of gray skies; and to my sons, who have given me joy and

insight that have made the journey a great adventure.

CONTENTS

Introduction

1. Weathering Storms

2. Forewarned Is Forearmed—Crisis Is Structured

3. When Crisis Requires Medical Help

4. The Perplexing Question—Why?

5. Do Our Beliefs Hurt Us or Help Us? Healthy Religion

6. Walking the Journey: Coping Is Structured

7. When Our Wounds Become Windows: Reframing Our Experiences

8. When the Going Gets Tough: Resilience

9. Recovering Hope

10. Arriving on Shore: The Other Side of Crisis

11. Conclusion

12. Some Final Thoughts

Bibliography

INTRODUCTION

Most people, at some point in their lives, will experience an event that they would call a crisis. Few people ever run the course of their natural lives unscathed by the bumps and bruises of everyday living. Yet others will face the unfortunate experience of a devastating event that will transform their entire equilibrium and perhaps even their belief system. The unexpected telephone call, a sudden unanticipated diagnosis, the state police at the front door, and the note on the kitchen table with the unwelcome and even the out-of-the-blue announcement can be the precursors that may throw individuals into a life-shattering storm. Not only are such crises never forgotten, but they have the potential to alter the way a person views and experiences life thereafter. For some, their experience bends their lives into new directions permanently. A crisis can become a powerful agent of change, altering one’s life story in profound ways.

A crisis event is a solitary journey. Regardless of the number of well-meaning and caring supporters and allies one has, there is a silence and a darkness that can be felt amid the noise and well-intentioned counsel of others. For anyone who has experienced the dark night of the soul, these are familiar impressions.

One of the most neglected instructions in the church today is the notion that suffering is part of our spiritual formation. Our conformity into the image of Christ depends upon it and even demands it. Scripture states that Jesus learned obedience to his heavenly Father through his sufferings (Hebrews 5:8). If this is the case, Christ’s followers cannot expect to be spared a similar means of learning obedience. The Christian church today seems to have adopted a theology that finds suffering vile and abhorrent. Yet our call is to be like Jesus, a man of sorrows who is acquainted with grief. Are we to believe that the tough times in our lives are just random misfortunes that disrupt our serenity and otherwise peaceful routines, or might there be a more significant purpose?

This book was written for several purposes. First, it is a catharsis. It is intended to provide relief and reassurance. For those who are experiencing anguish and upset to life’s equilibrium, it is intended to provide some element of structure for the purpose of understanding life’s greatest difficulties. Second, it is intended to provide similar structure to those who are witness to another’s calamity, feeling that insidious helplessness on the sidelines of life’s cruelest game. But most of all, this book is intended to serve as a source of encouragement and exhortation. The sun will rise again. The darkness of night turns to day, welcoming the dawn of new perspectives—a new and sharper reality. The adults who emerge will have put away childish things. They will be stronger and more mature, possessing new depth of insight, awareness, and discernment. They will be more experienced and knowledgeable. They will have become veterans of the journey and will be better qualified to offer advice to their fellow sojourners. Old things will have passed away, and all things will have become new. They will be able to confidently say that they have passed through the flame—the crucible of testing—and emerged on the other side as a new creation.

The crucible of suffering is not to be shunned or considered repulsive. It is not to be run from or rejected with aversion or horror. It is to be faced boldly and with determination. The challenge of suffering feels like a threat—an unwelcome enemy intent on robbing one of the joy and fullness of life. Suffering has the potential to transform without apology or explanation. It is neither for the faint of heart nor for cowards. It leaves no back door for escape and offers no compromises.

Many people who have walked the journey of suffering reflect back on their experiences with a posture or demeanor of gratitude. They cannot return to their previous selves; nor would most want to. It can be said that their story has become them. Their suffering has become a gift. Personal experience and the lessons learned along the way not only benefit them individually; they also become life lessons to be shared with others.

This book has yet another purpose. Many people who face life’s most daunting storms never make it back to shore whole. They defect from their faith or leave their faith-based community, never to return. This is a common response for those who simply do not understand the painful trial they have gone through or are going through. Some of life’s crises can have that level of impact. Suffering can appear to be unfair and senseless. This book strives to spare its readers from that conclusion. A change of faith community might be needed to accommodate new growth and insights gained from a season of suffering. New wine just doesn’t work in old wineskins. But the trials in our lives are intended to increase faith, not deplete it. Our suffering will fortify resilience and cultivate maturity.

My intention in this book is to reveal a union between the fields of psychology and theology regarding crisis. This book combines both the technical and analytical with the personal. We are inclined to separate these fields and compartmentalize our lives because doing so is neat and tidy, as well as comfortable. Then there are times when that simply doesn’t work, and this is especially true during times of crisis. This book is a close examination of how crisis happens and how we cope with it.

This book also includes a narrative of my own journey, as well as the journeys of others whom I have come to know over the years, many of whom are caregivers and first responders. It is a book about perspectives followed by new perspectives. This book is about weathering storms, facing the wind headlong, and arriving on the other side whole. It is about coping with crisis and about taking a good, hard, long look at it with objectivity after the dust settles. The most courageous thing any of us can ever do is own our stories. It is my hope that this book will provide affirmation to your story and help you regain your footing as you continue on your journey.

Larry Warkentin, 2021

40607.png

CHAPTER ONE

Weathering Storms

Some went out on the sea in ships;

they were merchants on the mighty waters.

They saw the works of the Lord,

his wonderful deeds in the deep.

For he spoke and stirred up a tempest

that lifted high the waves.

They mounted up to the heavens and went down to the depths;

in their peril their courage melted away.

They reeled and staggered like drunkards;

they were at their wits’ end.

Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble,

and he brought them out of their distress.

He stilled the storm to a whisper;

the waves of the sea were hushed.

They were glad when it grew calm,

and he guided them to their desired haven.

—PSALM 107:23–30

The wise pilot knows one rule that is obvious and basic: to ignore the weather is to do so at one’s peril. The pilot must file a flight plan, preview the latest weather reports, cautiously plan for emergencies, and determine which alternate airports will be used, if necessary. Some thunderheads can measure seventy-five to eighty thousand feet high and can be four hundred miles long. If a pilot determines that it is necessary to fly around a thunderstorm, he or she must be sure that there is adequate fuel on board to do so. The pilot must check the weather radar system on the aircraft if a safe flight is expected.

An automobile trip through the mountains is best preceded by consulting snowfall reports and purchasing snow tires from a local automotive center, if seasonally required. The car needs to be properly serviced, and emergency road equipment needs to be accessibly packed away in the trunk to accommodate any contingency. Mountains are no place to be caught unprepared.

A weather report and thorough perusal of the sky are necessary for the boating enthusiast. Rain gear and other emergency equipment must also be in good repair and carefully stowed before an outing. Weather can change quickly, so the voyager must be prepared. A wise traveler pays attention to the wind and clouds, rain, snow, and ice. A successful journey demands it.

Some years ago, my family went through an experience that illustrates this very point. We had arranged to go fishing at a pristine lake in the north country with some of our close friends. My youngest son was excitable and passionate about whatever he put his hand to, and the advantage he saw in the boat with the sonar-equipped fish finder did not escape his keen eight-year-old eye. So, of course, the selection between which boat he was going to ride in was made much easier.

After traveling across the lake for about a half hour, we stopped at a quiet inlet and enjoyed several hours of successful fishing, complete with jabs about who caught the smallest fish and who was responsible for scaring that big one away. The late afternoon began to show some changing cloud formations, and a slight breeze began to blow on this otherwise calm inlet. Our prime fishing spot was neatly nestled behind hills and trees that obscured our view of the weather conditions that were occurring on the lake. Nevertheless, pending bad weather had announced its forecast.

The captain of the fine sonar-equipped fourteen-foot boat, who was neither inexperienced nor unwise as to the limits of his own equipment, announced his intention to head back before the weather blew in. We assured him we would be right behind them, since we had a sleeker and faster boat and could easily catch up to them on the open lake. So off they went—Nathan and his son, and my son, Paul. In about fifteen or twenty minutes, we left the inlet with our generous catch and headed back to the dock for a shore lunch. It was the perfect way to conclude our spectacular afternoon outing.

I recall thinking on our way back, I’m glad Nathan, to whom I entrusted my son, had the foresight and good sense to return when he did. Here we are in an eighteen-foot speedboat, hitting three- and four-foot waves with foaming whitecaps. It was rough. I do remember being concerned that we had not caught up to them on our return trip, but at the time, I dismissed it. I felt that Nathan’s boat was probably faster than I had imagined, and we would arrive to see them already docked and safely on dry land.

When we returned to shore, I scanned our docking posts and noted the absence of the fourteen-foot boat that carried my son and our friends. I went and inquired at our campsite, where our wives were visiting and preparing lunch. Haven’t they returned? I asked. Their negative responses were arresting and alarming. Terror gripped me like the unexpected pounce of a bandit. The lake’s tempestuous appearance made it clear that the situation could not be remedied by soothing words like Relax; they’ll be along soon.

My companion Derrick—or Rick, as I always called him—was in our boat, unloading our equipment, and made it clear we were going to look for them. After we had lightened the boat of unnecessary equipment and cargo, we headed back out on the large lake to look for our lost companions and my son. We resolutely scouted the turbulent waters of the south shore of the lake for over an hour and a half. We saw a couple on the beach folding up their lawn chairs in front of their summer cottage, and we went ashore and asked if they had seen our companions and their boat. They had not. However, they immediately recognized the seriousness of the situation and called a search-and-rescue unit. The ante had just gone up.

The weather was now even more ominous. The driving winds, the pelting rain, and the lightning strikes made the search dangerous. After more than a couple of hours on the lake, we returned to our camp again, hoping to find them docked, safe and sound. But this was not the case. Instead, we found a group of worried and frightened families. Nathan’s wife, I was to learn, had stood at the edge of the dock for over two hours in the pouring rain, staring at the open water, knowing that her husband and son were out there somewhere. She feared that she might be staring at their very grave. To make matters worse, Nathan could not swim. Under the rain and the dark sky, I was beginning to feel panic, and desperation was starting to sink in.

My wife and I, along with our eldest son, were now quite emotionally overcome. My son’s ten-year-old expression of desperation at the thought of losing his only brother was very telling indeed. Through tears of fear, he said, "But mom, this is what always happens to other people. My wife’s response was equally telling: But David, this time we are the other people."

Grouped together in our SUV, we took a moment’s reprieve from the rain. As a family, we held a hasty but intensely desperate prayer meeting. We begged the Lord in unity for God to return Paul to us and to reunite our family again. Then I announced, Barb, I have to go out on that lake and try again; I can’t stay here and not try to find him. My wife later confided to me that her concern was the lightning strikes on the lake. She feared she could lose both her son and husband that day. Fear seemed to have taken on a life of its own.

When I returned to the dock, Nathan’s wife was still standing alone on the dock in the pouring rain, oblivious to the fact that her clothes were drenched, and she was soaked to the skin. Or perhaps that was irrelevant to her. She just stood there and prayed while staring at the lake. By this time, our loved ones were now more than three hours overdue. That was far too long for the news to be good.

Rick and I decided to scout the northern shore. Finally, the rain began to subside. As our boat began to pass a collection of islands on the east side of the massive lake, I said excitedly, Rick, look! There, in the distant trees, was an orange dot. I wiped the rain off of my glasses, to be certain my eyes were not deceiving me. As we turned the boat toward the promising sight and sped in that direction, hope began to fill my heart. Soon a second and a third bright orange dot appeared larger and larger on the horizon as the distance closed between the island and us. I recall doubting myself and even double-checking. Was I really seeing what I had been hoping for, or was it merely my imagination? As we motored closer, I saw a sight that both terrified me and excited me. I felt excitement because I was sure we had found them and terror because I saw what looked like a sunken boat, only a wedge partially visible above the waterline.

As the separation narrowed and we drew closer, it became clear that the boat had indeed been overcome by the waves. The shoreline revealed three small orange dots—life preservers that had been hung in the trees to make them easier to see. Soon the sight of three stranded sailors frantically waving their arms sent a wave of relief, praise, and joy through my entire body. The distance closed, and we arrived at the island. I jumped into the water, slipping on a few rounded rocks in my haste to get to my son. But I wasn’t ready for the next thing that occurred. As I embraced my son in a warm hug, a hug that I never thought we would ever have again, his first words startled me: I knew you’d come.

When we arrived back on shore and both boats were docked and secured, I saw the search-and-rescue team suiting up in their wetsuits and preparing to launch their boat. I informed them that we had found our lost companions. I apologized. Suddenly I realized the stupidity of an apology, and I thanked them instead, while coming to terms with my incoherence and post trauma condition. One emergency medical technician (EMT) commented on how good it was to hear of a happy ending for a change. He noted that many such situations did not end well and wound up as body-recovery incidents for them. I quit trying to talk with my dry mouth and impaired thoughts. I made my way over to a lawn chair, collapsing into it from the sheer exhaustion of the five-hour-long ordeal. Our family had just survived a crisis.

This was an unforgettable and life-altering event for our family. It caused us to grow to appreciate each other more and take each other for granted less. And we came to the stark realization that as a family, we are merely on loan to each other by God’s own grace. Several families faced a common crisis that day, but each of us faced an individual and solitary event. The only one in our family not to experience crisis that day was my eight-year-old son. To him, this was an exciting wilderness survival experience.

Definition of Crisis

A crisis is any life event or experience that surpasses an individual’s resources, capacity, or competence to cope with a given situation. It is an intense emotional response to a critical life event. The word crisis is often confused with the word stress, but these words are not synonymous. Stress applies to the typical pressures that most of us face in our everyday lives. Crisis pertains to more than that. I’ve got to get to the kindergarten on time to pick up the kids. That’s stress. My child has gone missing on a field trip this afternoon. That’s crisis.

Crisis creates psychological disequilibrium as a result of a perilous situation that usually applies to relevant life purposes and goals that cannot be fixed by familiar coping approaches or tactics. If an individual does not find relief, coping mechanisms continue to deteriorate. Such deterioration may manifest itself in behaviors such as panic or inadequate thought patterns that can potentially harm the individual. When people face barriers to valued life objectives and their routine problem-solving methods consistently fail or are no longer effective, they find themselves in crisis. The result is their inability to intentionally or proactively control their own lives. Loss of self-control or self-determination is characteristic of how we experience crisis events.

Crisis usually involves fear, distress, and shock, which can exacerbate the situation, often requiring outside help or intervention. Crisis is never a passive event. It is a serious life event or collection of circumstances that must be faced. There is no turning back. Whatever has happened is now a new reality and must be confronted.

Crisis consistently follows a process of four stages, all of which must occur. First, the individual faces some significant life event or circumstance. Second, the individual perceives this situation to be critical. We all perceive crisis differently. I perceived the loss of my son on the lake very differently than my son did. His eight-year-old mind experienced it as a great adventure. He felt safe because he had a survival knife with a compass in the hilt of it. A crisis to one individual may not be perceived as a crisis to another. The perception that my son had of this event was not that of a crisis. However, this did not make his situation any less perilous. The perception we, as a family, gave to it made it critical and potentially lethal. The perception that one gives to the event is the imperative factor in determining whether the event is a crisis or not.

Third, in a crisis the perception of the event is followed by maladaptive or inadequate coping strategies. The event renders individuals vulnerable and susceptible. They perceive themselves to be in a position in which they are unable to alter or control their circumstance. They feel overwhelmed and out of their depth. They have reached their breaking point, and the situation has compounded to the point that it has exceeded their manageable limits. They feel helpless and defenseless.

Finally, the conditions of experiential or full-blown crisis transpire. When this occurs, there are symptoms of psychological and physiological distress; a sense of confusion, panic, or defeat; a preoccupation with relief; and a lowered capacity to cope. The situation has now become quite serious for the individual in crisis.

Interestingly, some linguists and motivational speakers have shown that the Chinese character that represents crisis is the very same character used for both danger and opportunity. And this is no accident. Crisis is generally an impetus for change. It is an opportunity for new relationships and an opportunity for self-discovery and personal insight. Crisis can bring new opportunities for growth, new coping skills, and a more mature level of functioning and insight. It can be an opportunity for development in our relationship with the world around us. Our growth and social development are often slow in life’s journey. With the exception of crisis, we don’t often experience momentous periods of significant growth. The intrusion of a substantial trauma can result in rapid growth and development that could not have otherwise been accomplished or foreseen. Crisis, optimistically, should enrich. It should formulate a new sense of self and the world we live in.

But the converse is also true. Crisis can be dangerous. If we do not get the help that we need during a time of crisis and become overwhelmed, we may lose functionality altogether. Sadly, this can lead to psychosis, suicidal ideations, and possibly homicidal thoughts and actions in the worst-case scenarios. A car accident, for example, is an opportunity to recognize that automotive safety is important. An accident can turn a daring teen into a responsible and conscientious driver. It can change one’s view of driving and road safety. But it can also debilitate and render one afraid to venture out and drive again. There may be a loss of confidence in one’s driving skills. In such cases, intervention is necessary in order for confidence to be restored.

All growth is preceded by disequilibrium of some kind. This state of imbalance serves as the foundation for all future development and maturity. Crisis can be the very vehicle that delivers the impetus for quality growth into maturity. During a critical life event, one’s coping strategies, or lack thereof, causes one to migrate to a different level of stability. This may be a higher level of function or a lower level of function, but change is inevitable.

Because crisis forces an individual to a pivotal point, it should not always be considered a bad thing. Here is where an individual may discover new coping skills that he or she may not have known before. Furthermore, because crisis is not determined by the nature of the precipitating event, it is highly subjective.

Barbara’s Story

About nineteen years ago, just before Christmas, my wife, Barbara, and I were in a T-bone collision. We were driving one evening down the highway following a recent snowfall. A car in the oncoming lane went into a skid and veered into our lane. We struck the car broadside while going at least forty miles per hour. My airbag deployed, and I was knocked unconscious. Unfortunately, this was prior to the days of the passenger-side airbag, and Barbara suffered internal injuries caused by her seatbelt.

Over the following months, Barbara was not responding very well to her rehabilitation therapy, and her recovery did not progress as was expected. This mystified her doctors, who began a broader inquiry into her medical condition. Some fifteen months after the accident, the reason for her lack of response to treatment became evident. My wife, Barbara, was among the ranks of the many thousands of North Americans with multiple sclerosis.

Even though Barbara had a positive diagnosis of MS, her health continued to decline for obscure reasons even after she was prescribed some high dosages of steroid medications. Her medical practitioners thought she may have a serious neurological disorder that could end her life within six months. This was such a rare form of MS that it is not included in the general literature on MS. It is a rapid form of MS that simply deteriorates the body in a short period of time, leaving the patient completely debilitated. On one of Barbara’s monthly follow-up appointments, I asked her doctor, How do you know she doesn’t have this rare form of MS that you spoke about? His terse reply was Because she’s still here.

With Barbara’s continued deterioration, her specialist advised that she be put on chemotherapy. Some treatments for cancer have produced some positive results in arresting the progression of multiple sclerosis, and Barbara was considered a candidate for such a treatment. Unfortunately, the side effects of this therapy are heart disease and leukemia. For this reason, a screening process for any preexisting heart disease was one of the prerequisites before the administration of this medication. In screening, it was discovered that she had a rare congenital heart malformation, which disqualified her from the treatment. Her advancing disability meant that Barbara had to learn to live life in a wheelchair and within the confines of her disabilities.

In only a matter of months, I watched my wife go from a healthy, vibrant woman to one dependent on a wheelchair. Her rapid deterioration baffled her doctors. What made things even more difficult was the question of which of her symptoms were a result of the car accident trauma, which were symptoms of MS, and which were symptoms of heart disease. In the process of sorting out Barbara’s health issues, the challenges of a whole new lifestyle changed both of our lives considerably. Soon we were faced with the prospect of another fatal disease that was untreatable and terminal within five years. After further tests ruled that out, she received a diagnosis of Ebstein’s anomaly—an uncommon congenital malformation of the tricuspid valve. With Ebstein’s anomaly, she was experiencing tricuspid regurgitation (a leaking heart valve) and enlargement of the right atrium of her heart. Her doctor determined that she needed surgery.

Barbara underwent open-heart surgery for the repair of her tricuspid valve. The success rate for the repair of this heart valve was only in the thirtieth percentile. However, a successful repair would mean that she would never need open-heart surgery again. With one-in-three odds, an effort to repair her heart seemed to be a worthwhile attempt.

When individuals face such critical events in their lives, their judgments and decision-making practices are not always very sensible. I was no exception. I was a caregiver, both by profession and for my wife, Barbara. I was convinced that I was up to the task—an occupational hazard from the ministry. When Barbara went in for her surgery, I decided that I didn’t really need the support of anyone during that time. After all, I had done this for others on many occasions. I waited alone with no family, friends, or relatives. This was a bad choice.

On the morning of her heart surgery, we went to the hospital together, and we said our good-byes. I watched her disappear behind a pair of automatic doors over which hung a sign that read Hospital Personnel Only. I was alone, and I felt it for four and a half long hours. The only contact I had with hospital personnel was by a telephone to the operating room desk. I called to ask for periodic progress reports after the allotted time for the surgery had passed. I was told that Barbara was out of surgery and I could see her in about thirty minutes. After forty-five minutes, I called again to inquire whether they were ready for me to see her. That was when they told me they had taken her back into the operating room. No explanation. Just the facts.

The possibilities of what could be happening sent my mind racing. I watched as other surgeons came to talk to families, noting the relief on their faces. Groups of people spoke in hushed tones, and soon the waiting room became emptier. My helplessness and anxiety became increasingly intense. My mind raced with thoughts of what could possibly be the reasons they had to take Barbara back into the OR. I paced, sat down, and then stood up to pace again.

After the surgery was completed, the operating room doors opened, and Barbara’s surgeon came into the waiting room and introduced himself. He told me that the surgery had gone well, and that Barbara had come off of bypass easily. However, there was a concern with the amount of blood she was passing in drainage. This had required that she be reopened in order to stop the bleeding from some sources where it had been missed.

After our conversation about the surgery, I proceeded to the recovery area to see my wife. I was shaken and frightened by the sight of her condition. I had worked in hospitals before, including an emergency department. But when you and yours are in it, somehow it is different. I entered the ICU to see Barbara hooked up to every conceivable hose, tube, monitor, and apparatus imaginable. While it was expected, it was nonetheless traumatic. It wasn’t the IV pumps, the drainage bags, or even the respiratory apparatus that startled me. It was the sight of my dear wife, near lifeless, ashen and limp. Then something very settling for me happened. An astute young nurse, one of three or four present, perceived my distress over what I saw and, after a pensive moment, made a consoling and thoughtful remark. She said, "I know that what