Weapons of the Righteous – Delighting in the Lord

When I started doing ministry in Downtown Kingston, I was introduced to a food spot where I tried their chicken back, and after that, there was no turning back (no pun intended).  I loved it.  I would be home and suddenly realize that my mind had drifted off into dreaming about chicken back, whether curried or brown stewed, it didn’t matter.  I delighted in this delectable delicacy. Okay, so maybe chicken back is not a delicacy as it is one of the cheapest meals in Jamaica, and some folks may not want to say they eat it because there may be some shame associated with it. But, to the chagrin of those with refined palates, I must state that I have no shame, because it sure was delicious.  When I think about how much I have loved chicken back and dreamt about it, it brings me to a Psalm of David that says, taste and see that the Lord is good.  Please excuse me if you feel that I have somehow gone astray to draw an analogy of delighting in the Lord to chicken back, because there is seriously no comparison. Yet, how many of us delight in what seems inconsequential instead of our Lord? 

 

Psalm 37:4 has been one of my favorite verses as it says, delight yourself in the Lord; and He will give you the desires of your heart.  Actually, this has also been a popular verse amongst some of the spiritually nefarious who have twisted this passage to make it seem that God will give us any and all of our desires, missing that our desires will be met after we delight in the Lord and when we are in His will.  It is conditional.  If I were to cook up some chicken back and do it my way, it would not have tasted as good as the Downtown Kingston chicken back.  Similarly, if we are to live our lives our way, then we may not be in the Lord’s will and are not truly delighting in Him.  Look at how we are supposed to delight in the Lord.

Yet they seek Me day by day and delight to know My ways,
As a nation that has done righteousness
And has not forsaken the ordinance of their God.
They ask Me for just decisions,
They delight in the nearness of God. Isaiah 58:2

When we delight in the Lord, we seek Him first above anything else in order to have a deeper relationship with Him and to know His ways.  We will do what is right and it will be our joy to follow His commands because we love Him, even though what He tells us to do may be difficult and the circumstances we face may be challenging.  We will endure hardship to please God and to give Him the glory, and His joy will be our strength (Nehemiah 8:10).  Like Paul, we will rejoice in suffering for the sake of His people.  Praying His will comes automatically for us when we delight in Him and we will trust Him in whatever He does, while we bask in His presence and savor His word.

Your words were found and I ate them,
And Your words became for me a joy and the delight of my heart;
For I have been called by Your name,
O Lord God of hosts. Jeremiah 15:16

The word of God will always be in our hearts and out of the abundance of our hearts our mouths will speak His words.  We will also delight in what delights Him – His Word, which we will meditate on day and night, so that we will be like a tree firmly planted by streams of water, yielding fruit in due season with leaves that do not wither, and whatever we do for the Lord will prosper (Psalm 1:2-3).  And, let us not forget that the Word is Jesus, and the streams of water is symbolic of the Holy Spirit flowing out of us to refresh others.  

I looked up the word delight on Blue Letter Bible and it comes from the Hebrew word ʻânag, which also means to be soft or pliable.  We are to be like putty in the Master Potter’s hands as He shapes us into the vessel He purposes us to be.  Sometimes He may have to pound us into shape because we are not surrendering to His will in certain areas of our lives, but He has a beautiful plan for us in all this pain. He wants us to understand that our desires are to come from Him and when our desires are aligned with His, He will give us the desires of our heart.  Nothing is supposed to come between us and our Lord.  Our desires should not become our idols that keep us away from the Father, for in Him there is fullness of joy and in His right hand there are pleasures forever (Psalm 16:11). 

When we delight in the Lord we can’t help but tell of His goodness to all who we encounter.  We praise Him knowing that He inhabits the praises of His people, not focusing on His benefits, but on Him. The shortest chapter in the Bible expresses the benevolent nature of our God.

Praise the Lord, all nations;
Laud Him, all peoples!
For His lovingkindness is great toward us,
And the truth of the Lord is everlasting.
Praise the Lord! Psalm 117

We praise Him for who He is – love, truth, the way, light and life itself.  This is why we should without reservation, praise the Lord and delight in Him, no matter how crazy we may look to others, we should leap and dance like David, even though it drew the contempt of His wife Michal.  Are you willing to become undignified and foolish for the Lord, and even humiliated in your own eyes?  That is truly delighting in the Lord.  How could we not delight in our God, who when we praise Him, sets up an ambush that makes our enemies flee?

We should delight in the Almighty and lift up or faces to God, longing to do His will, and our steps will be established by Him as He delights in our ways, because they are His ways.   The Lord should be magnified as He brings us into a spacious place and rescues us from our enemies because He delights in us. We love because God loved us first, and we delight in Him because He delighted in us first when He created man and said His creation was very good.  Also, Jesus chose us to go and bear fruit, so that the Father will give us whatever we ask using His name.  Why then do we spend money on things that do not sustain our souls and labor for what does not satisfy?  Let us feast in the abundance of God’s house, and drink from His river of delights for when we feed on His word, we will delight in His abundance, which is so much better than what the world could ever offer us.  Praise the Lord!!!  

Facing Lizards

On New Year's Eve, a lovely lady wished me a lizard free 2016.  That was one of the best New Year's wishes I could ever have.  Anyone who knows me well, knows that I am not fond of lizards.

An intense dislike for lizards have passed on from generation to generation in my family.  Years ago, my grandmother locked the one handed gardener in one of the bedrooms and told him he could not get out until he had killed a green lizard that was somewhere by her hat boxes.  Years later, my uncle camped out on our sofa for three days as a lizard took up residence in his clothes closet.  Now, as I think about it, all he had to do was move to another room.  But, the sheer terror of this 6 inch reptile kept him far away.

I keep a broom nearby to run off lizards, if they are around me in the house.  Unless, I think they are too big, then I will run.  I have no shame in my game.  People wonder why my windows are closed.  They often surmise that I am locking out robbers.  However, this is done to keep other intruders out.  The reptilian kind.  I nearly had a heart attack when a lizard fell on my head once.  They are dangerous.

Many Jamaicans male and female are very afraid of lizards, especially the croaking lizard. 

They make this sinister croaking noise and they have bulging eyes that follow you wherever you go.  They are creepy looking.  There is even an article on this creature on Jamaicans.com. 

Croaking lizard from Jamaicans.com

My friend has suggested that I am being held in bondage by the fear of lizards, and I should pray to get rid of this herpetophobia.  I have prayed.  But, it is usually for the lizards to leave.  And, I have been know to tell a lizard or two to "get out in the name of Jesus."  Let me tell you, there is power in the name of Jesus.  

This friend who lives in Australia has also invited me over there to speak about my ministry in Jamaica.  I am not quite sure about this though, as she told me about the lace monitor that she encountered in her backyard.  I don't try to go places where there are crocodiles, so I am not sure why I should go to visit the habitat of this baby dragon. She told me that these lace monitors don't like heat.  So, I asked her to have a circle of fire around her house, if I should visit.

Now, since this is the beginning of the year, maybe I should make a resolution to face my fear of lizards.  However, at this time, I have no such resolve. I am not quite sure what is the purpose of lizards.  My animal lover friend's remind me that they eat flies.  But, that's why they invented zappers.

Maybe next year I will enter 2017, ready to face my fears.  However, this year, I will continue praying for a lizard free 2016. 

Valuing Our Inner-city Residents

I haven't blogged in a while, but tonight I just felt I should.  I logged into my account and saw a friend's blog about some folks bleaching their skin in a country in South America.

In inner-city Jamaica, skin bleaching is quite common also.  But, I have come to realize that the problem is not wanting to be lighter, but wanting to be more accepted.  Many people grow up feeling unloved and unwanted.  I have heard stories where the darker child stays home and does housework, while the lighter child goes to school as the parent believes the child who is more brown has the greater chance of succeeding.

People want to succeed, so they do what they feel is necessary to make this happen. It seems the lighter the skin, the brighter the future.  They also want to be accepted and many have said when they are "brown" they are more sought after.  Therefore, they also bleach to please others.

Our society gives us a lower self esteem.  Lighter skin models sell the most products and they seem to have better lives.  Many feel lesser because they are darker.  Missing the truth that they are fearfully and wonderfully made.

I want to help to change minds and consequently change lives.  Marcus Garvey implored people of African descent to "Emancipate yourself from mental slavery."  However, many are still trapped by self-deprecating thoughts that lead to self destructive behavior.  Many children have been told that they are "worthless" and "good for nothing" by their parents and teachers.  They grow up believing this and often don't even realize how gifted they are and that they are created for a special purpose.

I got an idea to show the positive side of the inner-city community where I am a missionary in a documentary TV series.  I knew it had to be God's idea.  The residents need to recognize that they are His treasures - diamonds in the rough. They are special with talents and gifts unique to them. They should have a chance to shine, and that is what Parade Gardens:Diamond in the Rough will allow them to do.

Plus, others in Jamaica need to understand that the folks from our inner-city communities are special.  Inner-city communities are the pulse of Jamaican culture.  People come from throughout the world to experience this culture.   We cannot deny the impact of these neighborhoods on our society.  We need to encourage the residents of these communities to use their talents, to build themselves, their community and their nation.  It is time for us to stop denying their value because they of where they come from.  And, where they live is NOT JUST A GHETTO.  

Gold St. in Parade Gardens, Kingston, Jamaica

Please visit our crowdfunding page, if you would like to get more information, or you would to support this effort.

The Power of Love

"...the greatest of these is love." 1 Corinthians 13:13

I met Kalia over a year and a half ago, and I truly believe it is the love of her parents and her extended family that not only makes her survive, but thrive under the circumstances she has had to endure since birth.

Kalia in the hospital

Kalia's first surgery was the very day she was born as she had no anus. The skin on her stomach was cut and her intestines were put on the outside through the incision so that she would be able to pass her feces. However, her battle had only just begun.  At just three days old she had her next surgery. This time it was on her esophagus, which her parents described as being attached to her lungs. When she was swallowing, air and food were going down the same passage.

These conditions would be taxing on an adult, nevertheless, Kalia's afflictions do not end there.  Compounding her situation are issues with her heart and kidney, along with an arm with no radius bone. She also has asthma, and is often admitted to the hospital for wheezing and shortness of breath.  With all these ailments, undoubtedly, she is susceptible to infections.

Kalia and her cousins

It is hard for her young parents to see their little daughter suffering, but they have learned to cope with the many emergency room visits and long hospital stays.  Thankfully, Kalia lives with a loving extended family who are there to help her and her parents lighten their burden. Unfortunately, she and her family live in an inner-city community in Jamaica and they cannot afford all her medical expenses.  

Expecting miracles, Kalia's grandmother often brings her to visiting missionaries and church groups for them to pray for her.  I too believe that amazing things can happen through prayer, but I also understand that we are to be Jesus' hands and feet here on Earth.  We have been positioned to help Kalia in whatever way we can. Learn more about how you can play your part.

Visiting missionaries pray for Kalia as she is being held by her grandmother

Kalia's story has made it to one of the nation's leading newspapers and now many persons are aware of all the challenges she has faced at such a young age and have fallen in love with her.  However, love is an action word, so now we must act and help Kalia have the best life she possibly can.  Love Now...Act Now!!!

NOT JUST ANOTHER DAY AT THE BEACH (Part 3)

As I sat in my wheelchair pondering why God would have me going through all that drama, my friend finally returned.  She had received information that there were two shootings and one person succumbed to his injuries.  This was not a surprise occurrence at this hospital and gunshot wounds were at the top of every other injury, red card or not.  I was actually shocked to see that not long after, I was called into see my second doctor for the evening.

To my amazement, I was been examined by another foreign doctor. Since I had a bit more pain relief than my first earlier encounter with the other Asian physician, I asked this medical practitioner where he was from.  He responded Burma and apparently there are more Burmese doctors on the island. Wow!!! I was starting to feeling like I was at a United Nations hospital. He also said that he enjoyed working in Jamaica.    

My doctor from far over the seas asked for the paper with my vital signs.  There was none.  The nurses must have been so put off by my excruciating pain that they forgot to check my blood pressure.  This amiable doctor sought to rectify the situation by then taking my blood pressure. He held a large needle in between his fingers and positioned it to target one of my veins. I protested, but he said he had to put the needle in if they were going to give me medicine to knock me out.  I quickly gave him my hand and told him to stick on as he smiled.  He took my blood, so I tried to get him to do every test possible on it.  Since I was at the hospital, I figured I would get everything done all at once and kill two birds with one stone.  Unfortunately, he said it was not necessary and escorted me in the direction of the x-ray room as my friend pushed me forward to meet the orthopedic doctor. On the way over I passed by one of the shooting victims. He was also in a wheelchair covered in blood with his head wrapped in a bandage.

The third doctor did not take long to come.  This time I had a Jamaican doctor, but I was skeptical as he had a weird sounding last name.  He told me, however, that his grandfather was a Maroon from St. Mary.  We followed him into another examination room, but the bed was without a clean sheet. I offered him my beach towel, but he said that would not work. 

My new Canadian friend's wrap was my makeshift sling
as I sat in  the wheelchair with my beach towel

He asked me to stand up, but that just didn’t feel right.  That meant more pain.  Gingerly, I tapped the floor with my feet, as if I were checking to feel if it were quicksand, knowing I had to cross it.  But, at that point, I couldn’t cross it.  I winced in pain, the doctor asked, “What’s wrong with your feet?”  I responded that each move was agony and that I needed help.  He came over to my right side and put his hand under my arms, as he attempted to raise me off the wheelchair.  “Ow!!! Ow!!! Ow!!!”  was the only sound that spurted out my lips.  My poor Jamaican doctor thought that I was giving him canine calls and backed off as that was the same manner in which his daughter called the dog. I inquired if there was another sounding yelp he would prefer, but he responded in the negative, then commanded me to get on my feet by the time he came from his search for the scarce clean sheet.

My faithful friend came over and helped me up.  It was quite a task. However, I did it before the doctor returned with sheet in hand.  Laboriously, I was helped onto the now covered bed by my friend and the doctor. Mission accomplished, but where were the pillows?  No pillows…Ugggh…I was hoping for a pillow to prop my arm.  The bed was made out of what seemed like a wooden box with a sponge wrapped in a synthetic type material. It was a bit old – at least a couple decades.

My new physician tried to calm me down in order to get my shoulder back in place without administering more drugs. He advised me to drink tap water to get calcium rather than taking tablets. He also asked if I ate greens. Greens... yuk!!! Nevertheless, if greens would keep my shoulders in place, no matter the color, I would eat it.  And, he also stated that mustard greens were really good.  Now, my faith as small as a mustard seed was dwindling and I wasn’t worried about any mountains moving as I just wanted my shoulder back where it was when I first went to the beach earlier that day.

  

Knowing I was still not relaxed, my persistent, yet patient doctor told me God would still love me if I had a child out of wedlock. What? I guess he, along with many others, feel I am running out of time.  The thought was not very comforting.  It may just be me, but somehow, I prefer to be married first. Although, it may just be me or I may be in the minority as nearly 90% of babies are born out of wedlock in Jamaica.

Okay, so my Jamaican doctor tried many more techniques in attempts to make me relax.  It was too late.  I was beyond relaxation, after enduring all that pain from being injured on the beach, I just wanted to be knocked out.  He reasoned with me that later on in life I would be affected from the drugs that would put me to sleep.  My friend agreed, but what they both seemed to forget is that none of us is promised tomorrow and I needed to go under that day so that my shoulders could be put back together again.

At last, my doctor acquiesced, and he was about to give me the much needed shot to put me to sleep.  I looked in his hand and knew from experience that what he was about to give me was not enough to knock me out. I may be little, but I tallawah. I told him that was less than the amount necessary and he inquired how much I would prescribe for myself.  I detected a smidgeon of a sarcastic tone, but I was serious, that wasn’t going to do it and it didn’t. 

Not long after, the doctor brought in reinforcement.  Another doctor came in and I think he too was Jamaican.  This new doctor proceeded to drag my body in one direction, while the other yanked my arm in the other. Usually, I try not to scream when I am in pain to create a façade of dignity. However, with more pain than I could bear, I became undignified and I screamed, not caring who would hear. I may have raised the dead. My legs pushed off and somehow I separated the bed. I heard pain from a dislocated shoulder is worse than the pain mothers undergo during childbirth. I begged the doctor to let go of my arm.  I believe not wanting to cause me more pain, he brought in another doctor with what seemed to be a Spanish accent.  This fifth doctor dressed in calming blue said I needed to be administered another dose of medicine.  Yes, the wisdom of the doctor in blue won out and the next thing I knew I was sitting groggily in my wheelchair as my Jamaican orthopedic specialist examined my x-rays taken after they had put my shoulder back in its socket. I didn’t remember taking x-rays or getting my shoulder in place.  My arm was being supported by what looked like a gauze bandage. I guess they had no slings.

My friend called our angelic lifeguard who came back for us and drove us to the hotel. The trauma was over.

However, as I eat my greens and drink tap water, I know this experience was not just about me.  I know that God wanted me to be exposed to what many underprivileged Jamaicans deal with in public hospitals. Although I was in agony, I can still remember the looks of frustration and hopelessness on many faces.

I was blessed to have a friend who stood by me through it all, a new Canadian friend who was so kind to me, an amazing lifeguard along with his colleague and a helpful medic.  But, what about those who are not so fortunate? Although the medical personnel is there to help, they still feel alone. 

The nurses and doctors do their best with what they have, but they are working with little. They too must feel frustrated and hopeless at times.

I have learned from this situation that medicine administered today, could affect me later on. Please pray about this with me, so that I do not have the predicted bad side effects.  I believe there is power in prayer. The Jamaican healthcare system also needs a lot of prayer, along with some action, as it is already feeling the effects of our trained nurses going abroad to find better opportunities for theirs and their family’s future, which in turn leaves the future of our health sector in uncertainty. The lack of resources is another big problem.  If one part of the body is dislocated, other parts of the body hurt as well.  Until we get healthcare where it should be in Jamaica, other sectors in the nation will also feel the consequences. 

If we all put our heads, hands and hearts together we can make a change for Cornwall Regional Hospital and other public hospitals in Jamaica. This will subsequently be of great advantage to the lives of our needy brothers and sisters who are being treated at these facilities, along with those who treat them.

I am thankful for the many who helped to put my shoulder back in place, now I can stretch my arm to lend a helping hand.  Will you?

NOT JUST ANOTHER DAY AT THE BEACH (Part 2)

The lifeguard who came to my rescue, after I dislocated my shoulder at the beach, drove my friend and I to the Cornwall Regional Hospital free of charge. I was grateful not to pay the exorbitant cost proposed by the rasta taxi man.  After pulling up to the entrance of the emergency room, my friend decided to go ahead to prepare the hospital staff for my coming. At least John the Baptist got to get his message out before he was stopped, my friend stood no chance, as she was blocked from entering because she was “inappropriately dressed.”

She angrily came back to the car, while the lifeguard was cautiously helping me out of the car and into a wheelchair provided by a porter.  Although born in Jamaica, she lives in the United States where she is a nurse and she could not understand how she was not allowed to enter as this was an emergency and the incident happened on a beach, which would account for being dressed in a wrap over her swimsuit. I was happy they let me in.  I too was in a swimsuit and only had my Canadian friend’s warp as a sling.  Oh yes, and I did have my shorts on since the lifeguards and my friend was able to get it on back at the beach.  You would be surprised how many persons it takes to put on the shorts of someone with a dislocated shoulder. 

Well, again our lifeguard, who was seeming more and more like an angel, saved the day.  He literally gave her the shirt off his back.  Now, my friend, decked out in a lifeguard shirt could make her way into the hospital and be what I felt was my life support. 

The porter wheeled me slowly in front of a large door that said “Triage.” The lady who was sitting waiting by the door smiled at me.  I inquired of her how long I would have to wait and she said a while, but my go-getter friend came back and I was next up.   The lady who may have been waiting a while watched me go through. She was a veteran of the hospital system and she had a green card, which she knew was the symbol of a long wait as the two other colors took priority.

When I was brought into the small triage room a female Asian doctor sat at the desk. If I were not in so much pain, I would have asked her what country she was from, but my spasms kept on kicking and I was taking a licking. She asked what was wrong and I explained by injury. She told me once I had a dislocation, it was easy for my shoulder to get out of place. Those weren’t the words I wanted to hear, but I had no time for self-pity. 

The doctor determined the severity of my injury and awarded me a red card.  If I were playing football, seeing this card would have meant that I would have been kicked out, but this card in the ER meant I was on the top of the list to go through as I had a “real” emergency.  Next stop – the vital signs and pain relief room.

My friend wheeled me through a packed waiting area and actually bounced into a couple people to my dismay as every sudden move delivered a sharp jab in my arm.  There was a bit of confusion about whether to go to registration or to go get my vital signs. My friend deemed it fit to register later.  She pushed our way through another crowded waiting area and parked me in a corner. 

On arriving outside this other examination room, she handed the red card to a nurse who came out of the room.  She looked at it and gave it back to the annoyance of my friend, then without saying a word went back in the room. Not long after, another lady, who we later found out was a nursing student, came out and my friend gave her the papers from the triage and pointed out that I had a red card.  Success!!! I was brought in and to my horror was told to get up and bend over as I had to get an injection in my butt.  Being injury prone, I have frequented many emergency rooms and doctors, but I think the last time I got a shot in the buttocks I was about six years old.  Needless to say, I was not happy as I had to make movements that I did not want to make as they would leave me hurting even more. But, I kept hope alive as this injection was to assuage my pain. 

Unfortunately, the relief was not as much as I hoped for, but I had to continue on my journey to wellness.  Now, on to the x-ray room.  The student nurse directed us and my friendly friend asked her if she wanted to keep on practicing in Jamaica.  She replied “no.”  She was not looking forward to the long hours, little resources and low pay.  My friend said she couldn’t blame her. 

Oh I forgot to mention, by this time on my other emergency room visits I would have been given a bed, but no bed was forthcoming as there were no beds to be had.  Babies on drips lay in their mothers’ arms in the waiting rooms among patients who had to patiently wait in blood stained clothes. Many folks with green cards were waiting since morning and it was now early evening.   

As we waited for my x-rays to be done my friend expressed the desire to help the healthcare system in Jamaica.  Being a nurse, she wanted to come back and volunteer her services, but she considered her frustration at not having the necessary resources.

My friend garbed in the borrowed lifeguard shirt over her wrap
just outside the x-ray room 

My red card was very helpful. I was up next and again, I had to get up from my wheelchair, which was one of the few semi-comforts I had in my situation. Then, it was back to the waiting room where I went to registration.  Since I was in a public hospital, I would be the recipient of free healthcare.  However, I along with many of the others who waited, soon recognized that there was nothing free in life. After all, most of us know the saying, “time is money.”  And, judging from the long waiting time, wealth was being amassed, but I am quite not sure who was getting it though.

As I sat in the waiting room, hoping that no one would brush against my chair, there was a commotion.  Many individuals ran to look out the windows and doors as news spread that shooting victims were arriving.  Curiosity got the best of my friend, so she too dashed to see what was going down.

*Please note:  If you ever hear gunshots and you are around Jamaicans, never go in the direction where they sprint towards.  They are not running to safety, but rather they are scurrying to see who is shooting who. 

I was positioned near a gentleman who also had a red card.  He saw me looking down at my feet still covered in sand, and asked if I got hurt at the beach.  I told him yes and that I suffered a dislocated shoulder while attempting to swim.  He followed up with an explanation, “It was the devil.”  Being, a Christian who has the strong belief that God is always in charge and that He allows us to go through good and bad for a purpose, and no matter what it will all work out for good, I tried to tell him that God was in control.  He refused to believe this and said that God wouldn’t allow bad to happen to me.  

But, could this dislocated shoulder be what God would use to show me something more about life?

My answer came as my drama continued…                                                                                                                                 

NOT JUST ANOTHER DAY AT THE BEACH (Part 1)

Finally! I got a chance to take a break and go to the beach in Montego Bay.  Living on an island doesn’t mean you have the opportunity to visit the beach regularly.  On the contrary, many Jamaicans cannot afford a trip to the beach as this, for many, is a luxury.   I was happy to go hang with my friends and just bask in the sun whilst listening to the waves roll up against the shore.

One of the many beautiful beaches in Jamaica

Unfortunately, my relaxation came to an abrupt end with a dislocation.  Yep, yet again, I dislocated my shoulder.  This time it came from one not so smooth stroke.  Seriously, no joke, one breast stroke and it was out.

The last time that I had dislocated my shoulder I was cheering for the Jamaican 4x100 meters team in the 2012 London Olympics.  What can I say?  I am a proud Jamaican and I have gone through excruciating pain to prove it.  I felt like Humpty Dumpty, without having that great of a fall, but unlike the unfortunate Humpty, I was put back together again by the UWI hospital medical team in Kingston.

Now, I faced a similar situation on the opposite end of the island. Needless to say, I became quite a spectacle at this highly frequented tourist spot.  However, many people came to my aid.  There are definitely many good people still living in this world.  My friend who was at the hotel with me is a nurse, and she did not panic but simply told the amazing lifeguards  how they could be of assistance.  And, a newly found friend from Canada who is a masseuse massaged my neck while insisting that I smell eucalyptus oil.  A fantastic beach, a soothing massage and two good looking strong men lifting me. This would have been the life, if it weren’t for the gentle sea breeze pounding against my upper left arm like Mohammed Ali - everything made my shoulder hurt.

A rasta taxi driver came and cordially offered to take me to the hospital for US $30. Definitely a problem mon. I would have rather walked the less than three mile journey in my state rather than pay that amount.  Everyone else tried to figure out what to do.  The consensus was to get my shoulder back in its socket without going to the hospital as the private hospital would have been way too expensive (they charge United States prices) and the public hospital would have been way too much drama along with a long wait time.  So, one lifeguard tried to put a bottle of water under my shoulder to move it out, back up and in.  Good idea in theory, but practically it didn’t go so well.  A medic came, but same result.  Alas, the public hospital would be the answer to my old friend’s and new Canadian friend’s prayers to get my shoulders back in place.

The lifeguard who failed at the attempt to relocate my shoulder with a water bottle succeeded at driving me and my friend to the Cornwall Regional Hospital.  Finally, relief was in sight.  Or was it?

Actually, that is where my drama really started . . . all over again.