Notes from a Doctor’s Pocket by Robert D. Lesslie MD

Author:Robert D. Lesslie, MD
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harvest House Publishers

26

MAKE ME AN INSTRUMENT

Lori Davidson walked out of room 4, shaking her head with a troubled look on her face.

“What’s going on?” I asked her, curious.

She walked up beside me at the nurses’ station and just stood there for a moment, silent.

Then she looked up at me and said, “The man in room 4, Mr. Nelson.”

I glanced down at the chart in front of me, the one belonging to room 4—Brian Nelson.

“This guy?” I asked, tapping the clipboard. “With the sore throat?”

I was a little confused about him. He had come into the ER with several vague complaints, finally settling on a painful throat. His exam had been completely normal, and I had recommended some over-the-counter medication.

“Is there a problem?” I glanced down at his chart again, studying his vital signs, second-guessing myself. What had I missed?

“No, there’s not a problem,” Lori reassured me. “At least not a medical one.”

What did that mean?

She took a deep breath as if trying to collect her thoughts.

“Every morning on the drive into work,” she began, “I say a little prayer. Something very simple, and it’s always the same thing. I pray for patience and a cool head. And then sometimes I pray for someone to cross my path who needs more than just medical care. I’ll ask the Lord for that discernment and to give me a chance to share my faith, and to reach out to someone who really needs a word, or maybe just a smile and a pat on the shoulder. I guess it’s a chance to be an instrument that I pray for.”

She chuckled a little, and seemed to blush.

“I’ve learned not to pray that prayer unless I mean business,” she explained. “Unless I’m ready to step up, ’cause the Lord will always send someone. He’s going to put someone right in front of me and see if I was serious.”

I glanced over at the closed curtain of room 4. “So, tell me about Brian Nelson,” I said to her, sliding his chart to one side and leaning against the countertop. “It wasn’t just a sore throat, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t,” she answered quietly. “I had gone into the room with his discharge instructions and was about to lead him out when I noticed something. It was just a little thing really, but as I had been talking with him, his shoulders seemed to slump a little and he looked down at the floor. But only for a second. Then he was standing up as if nothing had happened.”

“You thought that was unusual?” I asked her. I probably wouldn’t have noticed such a small thing, and would have been focused on sending him out to the waiting room and taking care of our next patient. That realization suddenly made me feel uncomfortable—and a little guilty.

“It was unusual for him,” she said without hesitation. “He was in control the whole time he was here, upbeat and everything. Even though he wasn’t exactly clear on what had brought him to the ER.

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