The only time you can get safely off the roller coaster after it starts moving is at the end of the ride. If you quit the ride before then, it will cause pain or death.
Bob Murphy 3/2012
Ps 77:14 “Thou art the God that doest wonders: thou hast declared thy strength among the people.”
“I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith:”
2 Tim 4:7
Do some of the hospital departments address you by your first name? Have you ever been sick of being sick, and tired of being tired? Have you ever begun to shake at the sight of a syringe or the thought of going to the hospital or doctor? Have you ever looked at a handful of pills and thought, “Oh God, not again?” If you have, then you are most likely part of the world of the chronically ill. I think Charles Dickens put it best when he penned the words “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times… It was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness…”[1] That quote from his classic book A Tale of Two Cities describes very aptly the Christian lives of my wife (Pam) and me in the years 2010-2012. After thirty years of being saved and living the best Christian lives we could, the greatest trial of our faith hit us quite unexpectedly in February of 2011. Do the tests of God ever end? Unfortunately they do not! As long as we are still turning oxygen into carbon dioxide, and looking at the daisies instead of pushing them up, the trials will continue. Is it worth it to go on, even when there appears to be no hope or reason why we should? Absolutely. That is the reason for this book: not for us to glory in our infirmities for our glory’s sake, but to glory in our infirmities for the glory of the Lord Jesus Christ for what He has done for us, and with us, through it all. This is a testimony of His grace, growth, peace that passes all understanding, and miracles in our lives. The Apostle Simon Peter tells us:
1 Pet 1:6-8 Wherein ye greatly rejoice, though now for a season, if need be, ye are in heaviness through manifold temptations: {7} That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ: {8} Whom having not seen, ye love; in whom, though now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory…
My hope in writing this book is that it might encourage all who read it to not be afraid of the Lord’s trials no matter how severe they may be, or how hopeless they appear. They are orchestrated and sent to us, with all the love in the universe, for the dual purpose of making us better Christians, and for glorifying the Lord.
(Phil 1:6) Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.
The letter was from the American Red Cross, twenty-three years ago, and read something like this:
Dear Mr. Murphy:
This letter is to inform you that you are no longer eligible to donate blood. Tests show that you are a carrier of non-A, non-B Hepatitis, (now designated Hepatitis-C) a contagious disease. We recommend that you see your doctor in the near future to discuss this finding and explore your options. Thank you for your past participation in the blood donation program, and good luck in the future.
Sincerely…
Non-A, non-B Hepatitis? What is that? They didn’t even have a real name for it back then, kind of like movie stars whose name we know as whatever Hollywood has decided to name them. What is their real name? Who knows?
A trip to the doctor was about as enlightening as trying to hold a conversation with “Stitch,” my dachshund. It entailed lots of head-cocking and puzzled expressions. It went something like this:
Me: So Doctor, exactly what is non-A, non-B Hepatitis?
Doc: We don’t exactly know (head cocked).
Me: How did I get it?
Doc: We don’t know how anyone gets it.
Me: What is the treatment for it?
Doc: At this time we’re not sure (head cocked in other direction).
Me: Is it life threatening?
Doc: Possibly.
Me: How long would you guess I have?
Doc: Perhaps a few years, perhaps you’ll die of old age.
Me: What do I do now?
Doc: Have yearly blood tests done and keep an eye on it.
Wow, and I’m actually paying him for this? But please don’t think I am against the medical profession. After all these years of dealing with this problem, this past year has brought me a new-found, and tremendous respect, for what the medical profession can accomplish. But you could never have convinced me of that when I left his office that day. In all fairness, however, it was a new type of Hepatitis, and there just wasn’t much information available.
After blood tests by a lab in Pensacola, Florida I was told that I had a mild case of Hep-C and that there was nothing to do about it. It was there but wasn’t causing any real problems. That was the worst health advice I had ever been given, but the same advice was repeated many times over the next twenty-one years. So nothing was done except for occasional monitoring. Looking back now, I cannot help but think that if they had treated me for the disease back then, I would not be practically incurable now.
Then in the summer of 2008 while doing lawn care work, I started becoming very fatigued and sick. Not knowing what was going on, I weathered the storm the rest of the year. In the summer of 2009, I started having severe nose bleeds, bleeding gums, and wounds which took much longer to stop bleeding than normal. I went to see a Heptologist, and, in September, she sent me for a liver biopsy. It was determined I had fourth stage liver fibrosis; the next step was cirrhosis. I had gone from nothing to almost critical in one year! The doctor said it was an Auto- Immune Hepatitis, in addition to the Hep-C, and started me on massive doses of Prednisone (a strong steroid).
I ended up walking into bookshelves and apologizing to them for doing so! I didn’t even realize I had done it until my wife said: Did you just walk into the bookshelf and apologize to it? It was like the old drugs days; I was once again a “Starship Trooper.”
In February 2011, I contracted the flu and everything went to pieces. The flu lowered my immune system sufficiently to allow the Hep-C to proliferate. I was taken, by Pam, to the emergency room of the VA Hospital in Boise, Idaho, and went from the E.R. to the hospital’s “Step Down” center and was admitted. I was given blood transfusions and blood platelets to stop the bleeding. The doctors did the best they could, and I received excellent care, but not being liver specialists they really had no idea what to do. They contacted the Portland, Oregon, V.A. Medical Center, one of the best liver hospitals in the world. The doctors there said I needed to get to Portland immediately, and I was sent by Life Flight the next day. I needed a liver transplant, and I spent the next five months there. I won’t bore you with all the details, but I do feel it is necessary for you to understand the major parts of what Pam and I went through so that you know I am not writing this book as an “armchair warrior” but have been through what many of you have also experienced or will experience.
After arriving and going through more transfusions, blood tests, liver biopsies, x-rays, CT scan, MRI, and ultrasounds, my body started to swell up with fluid. My doctor came into my room, sat on my bed, and with tears in her eyes told us I had also contracted a disease called Spontaneous Bacterial Peritonitis (SBP), an acute bacterial infection you get from Ascites (fluid buildup, which had caused me to gain forty pounds). She told us to call the family because fifty percent of the people who get SBP don’t ever leave the hospital. This was the first of three life threatening things I faced in that five months in Portland. I was so swollen with fluid I could not even lift my legs, they were so heavy. My bodily functions all began to shut down, and there was nothing they could do about any of it. I was taken off the transplant waiting list because the doctors thought I was not going to live. But God is not limited by the medical profession, and people were praying. The worse I became, the more they prayed. After two weeks I started to improve and finally pulled out of it. You might say, “Well, fifty percent of people DO pull out of it so how can you say God was responsible?” Because I was not heading anywhere close to a normal recovery. I was dying, and everyone knew it. There was nothing the doctors or medicine could do. God brought me through it, and it is He who gets all the glory. Amen!
During this time, my liver continued to get worse. I was so yellow from jaundice one could almost turn out the lights and see me glow! My viral count was up to sixty-nine million instead of being zero like a normal person. My liver function dropped to ten percent, and I was once again facing death. But during this period I had the greatest spiritual experience of my life, and I would like to tell you about it for the purpose of bringing hope to those who may think they have none. Remember: It is always darkest before dawn.
It was the end of the day; the shift change had taken place, and my doctors and day nurses were all going home. I could tell from their actions that many of them did not expect to see me again. Indeed, I did not expect to see them either. I did not let the extent of my feelings be known to Pam, but she was not worried anyway. She went back to the lodge where she was staying and had a good night’s sleep. The Lord had given her comfort and peace before He had given it to me! That night I sat in a chair in my room unable to sleep, but I left the light off. There was just enough light coming through the windows from the lights of Portland that I could see the clock on my wall. I just sat there watching the clock and waiting for the Death Angel to strike, and the Lord to take me home. But sometime during the night I received the distinct impression that the Lord had come into my room and was standing over in a corner watching me. There was no sound, no lights flashing, no tongue talking or any other Charismatic nonsense, but there was a profound feeling of His presence. I wasn’t really comforted in any special way, I just waited for the inevitable and He just watched. Much to my surprise, morning came and I was alive! The Lord’s presence left, and now, after months of thinking about it, I think He came that night to do two things: (1) to keep the Death Angel from taking me, and (2) to let me know that no matter what happened, He was always with me and loves me. As a Christian I have always believed what the Lord said in the scripture - that He would never leave nor forsake me (Hebrews 13:5), but here I came face to face with that truth. What a great blessing the realization was, and it is one I will never forget.
I found out later that at the same time this was taking place, my home church, Treasure Valley Baptist, was holding special meetings with an evangelist. During his preaching that same night that I was waiting to die, the Lord spoke to Pastor DeMichele’s heart and told him that I was not going to make it through the night if the church did not pray for me that night. So after the preaching, he announced a prayer meeting for me and several hundred people stayed to pray. The Lord gave the same message to some other friends of mine, including an inmate I had dealt with in my prison ministry. He got fifty men together (a violation of prison rules) and they also had a prayer meeting for me. I know I am alive today because of their prayers and God’s love and mercy!
Jer 32:27 “Behold, I am the LORD, the God of all flesh: is there any thing too hard for me?”
The obvious answer is, no! There is nothing too hard for the Lord. Life and death are in His hands alone. A great preacher once said, “I am immortal until God is finished with me.” I believe that statement with all my heart. Even death and the Devil are subject to God’s will, and nothing can overcome me except my own stubborn will.
Almost a week passed. I was tired of waiting for something to happen, and my health was fading fast. Another sleepless night came and I sat in my chair once again praying. I told the Lord that whatever His will was for me, whether to live or die, it was fine with me; but could we do it NOW? I was so tired and worn out I just wanted it over one way or another.
I was so tired and worn out I just wanted it over one way or another. I had barely finished my prayer when my room door opened and two of my nurses entered. I had witnessed to all my nurses at some point and also to many of my doctors, and I had a great rapport with them. One nurse was jumping up and down a little and said, “They have a liver for you, and we’re going to get you ready for surgery.” We were all overjoyed!
My name is Bob Murphy. I am an Independent Baptist Christian, am chronically ill, and possibly terminal,with liver failure due to Hepatitis-C; the details of which you will read in subsequent blogs. I received a liver transplant in March 2011, but the medical community could not cure the Hepatitis. In consequence, my liver is once again failing. After being a Christian ( a preacher and missionary) for 31 years, the Lord has opened my eyes to some aspects of life of which I was unaware of before I became ill.
There were many things I have gone through, both physically and, more importantly, spiritually,which caught me totally off guard. Things I never expected to happen as a Christian. The purpose of this blog is to help others be prepared for the same things, and to help them as much as I can to survive the onslaught of spiritual oppression which they will fight in the battle. I have written a book about the subject called "The Fight For Light," which is available at Amazon. To those that are ill, or know of someone who is, please write. God bless you in your own spiritual battle with disease.
This is one of the last things Bob wrote. He passed away February 2, 2013.
May God grant you the joy that He has given us through this experience, and prepare you for a profoundly new, and blessed way of Christian living.”
