Gods Not Finished With Me Yet

I knew I would eventually have to tell you about my buddy Selby. He’s been gone for several years now. Our goal in Hospice is to reflect to our patients how inherently special they are, that their hearts, minds and souls are holy ground. But there have been a hand full of patients who have made me feel special. Until Selby’s death I didn’t realize how much my sense of worth was reflected in the eyes of another.

Selby was 72 when referred to Hospice for lung cancer. He was a retired electronics technician and had owned three TV repair shops in Columbus. He and his wife, Alma, were free spirited and had moved several times “in a day’s notice”, which was no simple task with 10 children.

When we first met, Selby was bedfast and it took two people to transfer him to a bedside commode. And he’d lost 70 pounds, leaving him extremely weak. I asked Selby about his medical history and he replied, “I’ve been blessed with pretty good health”. Then I asked if he’d had any medical problems, and he replied, “Well, I’ve had a broken back, a light stroke, emphysema, heart problems and now lung cancer.” I suggested,

“For someone with good health you’ve sure had a lot of problems.”

Weeks earlier Selby had been in the Intensive Care Unit at Southern Ohio Medical Center. He reflected, “My doctor asked me, ‘Selby, are you ready to go (die)?’, and I asked him, ‘Go where? I’m ready but I’m not going anywhere doc. God’s not finished with me yet. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ And I did. They had called all my family in, but you know, doctors don’t know everything. God’s not finished with me yet. I’m not finished yet either. I’m gonna walk again. I’d like to drive again.” Secretly I thought, “Boy, this fellow is in denial”, but I went along with him and asked, “Where would you want to go if you could drive?” He replied, “Captain D’s”. So I promised Selby, “ If you get strong enough to get out of the house I’ll take you and buy your lunch”. About three months later Selby and I went to Captain D’s. In retrospect, I guess I was the one in denial.

Selby, his wife Alma, and I met every Wednesday afternoon for almost two years. When we finished talking business Selby would look at me with a big grin, raise his hand, forming an “Okay” with his fingers and say, “Are you ready”. It was the signal to move to the kitchen table for a game of “Farkle”. Few people are familiar with the game but I had learned it from a friend in California. When Selby discovered that I could play, it became mandatory and the central focus of our visits. I felt a little guilty being paid to play dice and eat Alma’s homemade bread, but not too guilty. Alma was so burned out on Farkle that I believe she would have paid me herself. We had a lot of fun but we also worked, talked seriously and took care of business. It’s amazing what you talk about sitting at a kitchen table playing a game.

After Selby had been a Hospice patient for over a year, we reviewed his progress. And I realized that it wasn’t by chance that he was still around. He had a precise strategy, which he shared. “I consider every thing I eat as power. So I make myself eat even if I don’t feel like it. I’ve also found something to occupy myself with”. Selby began by painting ceramics, planted a garden and even repaired an old Chevy Caprice. He continued, “I try to push myself a little more each day. And the main thing, the number one thing, is I keep looking to the man above.”

Selby died about two years after being admitted to Hospice, two years after being given one day. I’m convinced Selby’s attitude and determination contributed to his longevity. For Selby decided to live until he died. I’m reminded of a quote from a book written by Howard Hendricks titled, Coloring Outside the Lines: “Don’t let it be written on your tombstone, ‘Died age 40, buried age 70”.

“For as he (a man) thinks in his heart, so is he” (Proverbs 23:7)