Circle of Trust

Below is the extended version of the story I told.  Its a 10 minute read.  I wrote this on 5/20/2011, the day after.

When I walked into the room, there were two tables. Steve and Ken Ceynow and others were at one table. Marty Davis and others were at the other table. I chose to sit at Marty’s table. Steve and Ken scare me a little. They are intense, type A kind of people. When I see Steve’s phone number on my caller ID, I am uneasy. Steve has always had very high expectations. He loves the challenge of getting 10 lbs of what not into the 5 lb bag. You’d better not say that it can’t be done, because he would challenge you to get it done anyway. He requested me to apply for a job for which he was the hiring manager. I was honored by the request and applied for it. One other person applied for the same position and the other guy got the job. He said it was because the other guy had some other experiences that he felt would add to the team. I felt like it could have also been because I mentioned that I really enjoy being able to work 6am-230pm. Steve was more of a 7am-7pm kind of guy. He worked really hard. He knew A LOT. He could probably be accused of being a micro manager. I think that is probably the tendency for someone who has such extensive knowledge and a deep concern for the product. I certainly don’t fault him for it. His passion was somewhat contagious. When he would get fired up about a goal, it would get me more fired up about the opportunity to achieve said goal.

So I sat at the “other” table. The meeting was scheduled from 1-2. We spent the first 20 mins being told what the goal of the meeting was. It seemed like a large percentage of the time, but I guess it is critical that everyone understands the desired outcome if you expect to get the desired outcome. We spent the next few minutes talking about the questions each of the 2 groups was supposed to answer. And then about 10 more mins of group discussion at each table. Our group reported first on our discussion. The facilitator seemed to be transitioning to get the report from Steve’s table when the commotion started. At first it sounded like they were arguing or something. I turned to see Steve beginning to slump to the left side of his chair. He had is left elbow on the left arm rest and his chin on his left fist. He just had an eerie blank stare on his face. Someone was shouting “he’s having a stroke”.

I recalled getting a forward a few months back about the things you are supposed to do when someone was having a stroke. The only one I could remember at the time was something about getting them to speak. I went over to Steve and asked him to say his name. I put my hand on his arm and pleaded with him to say his name. He didn’t respond at all. It was like I wasn’t even there. Someone said to get him on the floor and elevate his legs. We lifted him out of his chair and to the floor. As we were laying him down, I was concerned that his head would hit the floor, so I held up the back of his head to prevent that from happening. I stayed near his head. Nick lifted his legs up and put them on another chair. I took Steve’s glasses off and set them on the table. I gently set his head on the floor but placed my hands back under his head, not sure of what to do. I felt like I should pray for him. It was awkward, but I prayed anyhow. My prayer was lame, and I wish I had time to prepare something a little better. It was something to the effect of “God, we don’t know what’s wrong with Steve, but You do. Please comfort him, and help him to be ok. Please send the right people in here that will be able to do the right things.” Something like that. On my way home I prayed that God might use my lame prayer for some purpose. I don’t claim to understand how prayer works or what it does. But I know we are supposed to pray and it is for some purpose. I had my hands underneath his head. He was warm, not hot, and sweaty. I said “he’s hot” and then realized he didn’t feel hot, just sweaty. I wiped the sweat off his forehead. An hour later or so, verse 3 of “My Jesus, I love thee” would come to mind. (And when the death dew lies cold on my brow, if ever I loved Thee, my Jesus tis now.)

I was crouched down, maybe on my knees, I don’t recall, and holding his head in my hands. This man, who was big and tall physically, mentally, and emotionally. This man who would give orders to people and they would listen. This man who directed several multimillion dollar programs, directed designs over several decades. This man was now unresponsive and vulnerable. I recall thinking what a humbling experience this was. He was not the kind of guy to back down from a challenge. He did not have an “it’s ok to fail” thought in his brain. He was now in need of help, help that no one could provide.

The meeting facilitator was on the phone with 911 and was calling out questions. I tried to respond as well as I could. Everything felt like it was going slower than it should. The answering of the questions did not seem to be getting us anywhere. I thought that after answering the questions would enable them to give us some direction what we should be doing. We never received any direction, no way to help.

Steve started moving a little. He blinked is eyes, and started trying to talk. The onsite nurse was now with him. I ran to the phone with the update that he was coming to. I thought for sure they’d have something to tell us now, but no. Someone said they needed people up at Gate 6 to show the EMTs where to come in. I was happy to volunteer and distance myself from the situation where I was of no help. The fire truck pulled in, the EMT jumped out and followed our direction to Steve’s location. The ambulance pulled in a minute later. The EMTs on the ambulance were anything but impressive. They pushed the gurney through the door. When they realized they were going to have to carry it down the stairs, they decided to “just leave it up here and come back for it if we need it”. Nick and I volunteered to help carry it down, but they were uninterested. There laid back attitude and lack of hustle was highly disappointing.

At that point, Nick and I decided there was little more we could do. We made our way back to our offices, stunned by the unexpected events. Later in the day, I mentioned to my dad that it was like a bad dream. In dreams you sometimes have emotions, activities, and feelings that are in the completely wrong place at the wrong time. The whole thing happened so fast and was so overwhelming it didn’t feel like reality.

All the way home and prayed for Steve. I was under the impression, based on his coming to, that everything was going to be fine and that he would recover to at least some level of normalcy. Later, I would receive phone calls and text messages informing me otherwise.

It’s a reminder to me, that this life is oh so temporary. 40 more years, or 40 more minutes. In the end, you die no matter what. I am confident that there is no other answer to the real questions in life than those provided by Jesus via the Bible. There is only one logical conclusion by which to live life. All others do not satisfy. Is the Truth easy? Yes and no. I think it gets muddied by human sin (greed, pride). Some may say that this belief is merely a way to cope with the finality of death. I don’t think so. And, if it were, If I were fooling myself just so I could be at ease with dyeing, would that really put me at ease? Am I at ease? I believe I am. Only time will tell.

The wise man built his house upon the Rock. The rains came down and the floods came up and the house upon the Rock stood firm. The foolish man built his house upon the sand. The rains came down and the floods came up and the house upon the sand was destroyed.