But I could not speak because not only was I exhausted; I was awestruck by her.
I was discharged about a week later and was scheduled for return follow-up oppointments in two weeks, one month, and then in three months. My son maneuvered me around in a wheelchair for my first two appointments. On my third appointment, just as Dr. Wilkinson had told me, I had the energy to not only walk, but to drive myself to my appointment.
I talked to Dr. Beatty alone during my second follow-up appointment. She told me during that talk what had happened that fateful night she saved my life. She told me she was on her way home when a Voice said to her, ‘Go to the hospital.’ And she obeyed. When she got to the hospital she said the Voice said, ‘Go to the patient room.’ How she knew I was the patient whose room she was instructed to go to, I did not ask and Dr. Beatty did not say. But when she reached my room, Dr. Beatty told me the Voice said, …show more content…
Beatty, softly. “Yes, I do,” she said and sat up tall and straight. “It was the Voice of God.” My only response to that, to her was, “Yes.” And although I had thanked Dr. Beatty many times for saving my life, I felt I had not thanked her enough. The day of my third follow-up appointment, it was my sincere intent to thank her again, adequately, this time. I waited in the examining room for her and my doctors to come in. When the Three Amigos entered and Dr. Beatty did not, I knew something was wrong. My head swam. “Where-where is-Dr. Dr. Beatty?” I stumbled over the words.
“She is no longer with the hospital,” Dr. King replied before I could hardly finish getting all my words out. “You’ll have to call the Hospital Administrator to get any other information.” Dr. King said coldly, looking not at me but at the wall past me.
Suddenly I wanted to behave really badly. “Where did she go? I puffed,