When Life Gives You a Watermelon...

Most people have heard of the proverbial phrase, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade." It's a creative way of teaching us about optimism. When life presents us with sour "lemons," or challenges, we can use them to make "lemonade," turning those difficulties into something sweet and desirable. But, these lemons can't become lemonade by themselves; one has to add water and sugar in an active effort of optimism. Indeed, life tossed our world a few "lemons" this week on a global scale, and it can be difficult to find the ingredients necessary to make "lemonade" amidst the great suffering that is a consequence of war and man's sense of entitlement. However, this week also gave me watermelons- and no, I didn't make watermelon-ade. 

It had been a long ten days for one of my patients this past week. Ten days of fast, labored breathing and incessant, chest-burning coughing, ten days of not eating well, ten days of lying in bed too weak to take a step, ten days of oxygen forcefully blowing into his mouth and nose through a mask, ten days of a multitude of medications and breathing treatments, ten days of not knowing if he would survive. Finally, ten days ended in one more death from COVID-19. 

Though we ultimately could not provide enough medical interventions to help him survive his severe illness, the patient was immensely grateful and his family appreciative of what we could do with what we have available. As I walked into his room every morning witnessing him struggling to breathe with oxygen saturations in the high 70s and low 80s (normal is in the 90s), the first words out of his and his family's mouths were always words of gratitude. I often felt that the immensity of their gratitude did not match the dearth of progress we were making in his path to healing. 

We all had been fighting for days- he more than the rest of us- trying to find the water and sugar that would turn this sour "lemon" into "lemonade." It eventually became clear that we could not find the recipe for the "lemonade" we sought; the patient's bodily survival was not a part of God's cookbook.

One day, my patient and his family's words of gratitude took the form of two giant watermelons lying on the floor outside of his room. They gifted me these watermelons as a token of appreciation for my efforts. Shortly after, the patient, his family, and I recognized the burden of continued aggressive medical treatment and the limits of our power as human beings. The patient removed his oxygen mask and gathered all of the physical strength left in his body to stand up and sit in his wheelchair one last time. His family wheeled him outside of the hospital where he spent the final moments of his life surrounded by his family and radiant beams of sunshine welcoming him to partake in the "fruit" that God has prepared for all of us. 

My patient and his family reminded me that hope is a gift, and we only need to do so much as receive it. Sometimes we just can't make lemonade from the lemons we've been given- either because we don't know the recipe or we don't have the necessary ingredients. Thankfully, God gave us fruits other than lemons so that we can more easily and readily enjoy the gift of hope when water and sugar are nowhere to be found. And the good thing about life giving us watermelons is that we don't have to turn them into something sweeter or more desirable. Rather, one only has to open the hard, impermeable rind that is the only barrier separating one from the sweet, refreshing, and satisfying fruit that lies inside.

I am reminded to live by a new proverbial phrase, "When life gives you a watermelon...open it."

"Death is swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?"

~ 1 Corinthians 15:54-58