I’ve been out of my comfort zone and out of commission for two weeks. As a result, they have become two of the most God-focused weeks of my entire prison life. Never before have I had a reason to be so still and truly experience God’s amazing graces. I’ve also learned some important lessons in patience and healing.
The reason is: I’m recovering from ear surgery. I began this journey on New Year’s Day 2024 when my hearing loss had become drastic and unmanageable. An unfortunate truth is that medical care in prison is categorically bad, so I was scared to seek help. However, I promised God I would do whatever it takes to hear well again if He would keep me safe me through it all. Three days later, I had an unexpected appointment with the doctor. That was God saying, “I promise too!”
My first road trip to Columbus for a hearing test was in May 2024, the day before my birthday. That beautiful, sunny day was the first time I saw the Jesus billboard that proclaimed “Who the Son sets free is free indeed.” I remember thinking, “What a perfect message. Amen!” That billboard became my favorite landmark through six more road trips over the next six months for various tests and consultations.
Eventually, the stars aligned and surgery was scheduled. I wasn’t allowed to know the date because of security policies, but I signed a consent/transport form in February that designated a 30-day timeframe. I was so excited, I practically levitated to and from the scheduler’s office!
God’s timing was so perfect that I received the Anointing of the Sick exactly one week before surgery (although didn’t know it at the time). After our regular Thursday Mass, with the entire congregation surrounding us, Father Joseph Trapp, the Ohio Reformatory for Women’s chaplain, administered the sacrament, placing holy oil on my head and hands. We all prayed together and I could feel warmth and healing power coursing through me. I was now completely ready. And incredibly grateful.
At 4 a.m. the next Thursday, I was awakened by the transportation officer telling me, “Get ready, we’re leaving at 4:30.” I sprang into action! Fueled by the Holy Spirit’s adrenaline, I was ready by 4:12.
All that was left to do was get chained and shackled — a necessary evil of prison travel — and shuffle out to the van.
I’ve not been outside at 4:30 a.m. in decades, and it was shockingly dark. But stars were shining so brightly, I could see a gazillion of them. On the highway, it was way too dark to see the Jesus billboard, yet I knew it was there and I could read the message in my mind’s eye. What a stunning start to this long-awaited day!
The rest of the drive to the Ohio State University Wexner Medical Center was peaceful, with the radio on my favorite Christian music station, The River 104.9. My officer escorts enjoy Christian music too, and it helped me settle down a little.
When we pulled on to W. 12th Avenue, my focus was on The Horseshoe, which was on the left, and the hospital was on the right. The brilliantly beautiful, scarlet and gray “Ohio Stadium” sign lit up my whole world. Incidentally, when I was a student in 1988, my dorm was farther east on West 12th Avenue, so I felt like I was almost coming home.
My feet physically touched the ground on the Ohio State University campus. What a feeling! I didn’t care that inmates and deliveries use the same back loading area; the steps I took, walking to the doors, were among the slowest and best of my incarceration. I was overwhelmed and my officers just let me have that special moment.
The intake process probably took longer than usual because, never having had surgery before, I had many, many questions. God bless each and every doctor, nurse, intern, student, and orderly who answered them — sometimes twice — and calmed my anxiety. What shined through most was their dedication and compassion. I am just an inmate, but they treated me like a real person. They ignored my shackled feet and concentrated on the rest of me.
At last, I was in the operating room! Dr. Schoo and his team were assembled and, oh, Lord, the time had come! As the anesthetic was swallowing my consciousness, the last coherent thought I had was: “Wow, I wonder if Heaven is this bright and shiny, because this is REALLY bright and shiny!” I may have said it out loud because I remember laughter, but I don’t know from who — me or them.
When I woke up three hours later, Dr. Schoo was talking to me and I could hear him clearly! I almost wept with relief. He said the surgery took much longer than expected, but it was a success. I didn’t want to know the details. He added that my hearing would get worse before it got better; swelling, bandages, bleeding and other icky post-surgery components were in my immediate future, so go slow and trust the process.
A friend of mine had warned me to not sneeze, cough or blow my nose for as long as possible because of the pressure it puts on the inner ear. And I’ve seen enough Tom and Jerry cartoons to know exactly what would happen. My eardrum would fly out of my ear followed by an entire marching band (in this case, TBDBITL, of course). Well, I certainly didn’t want that, so the Holy Spirit squashed every urge for four days. On the fifth day, I sneezed, but everything stayed in place, thank God.
He has continued to keep His promise and helped me become an uncharacteristically patient patient!
Robin, my roommate, was ecstatic to get me settled back in our room. Simon, my cat, didn’t leave my side. Robin fixed my coffee and snacks; Simon meowed for an hour, telling me how much he missed me.
For a week, the only exercise I got was walking a quarter mile to and from the infirmary for meds twice a day. I was dizzy and disoriented, and I slept more than a toddler.
As part of the recovery process, my daily life is now completely opposite to my normal active, chatty and stubbornly independent existence. This has been quite an adjustment — slowing down and being still. On the other hand, I have had more time to read the Bible and reflect, which is perfect timing for Lent!
I made it to Mass on Thursday (for our Ash Wednesday) and used music I’d prerecorded for just such an occasion. During Fr. Trapp’s homily, I realized what my Lenten sacrifice would be this year. I would offer up the pain, discomfort and control of my recovery to Jesus. I would be patient and forgiving of my temporary weakness. I would trust Him like never before.
This is the third Sunday of Lent, and it’s getting easier to “let go and let God,” which I didn’t expect was completely possible of myself.
God has His own timelines, so by infinitesimal increments, my hearing is being restored and it is truly miraculous. I believe I will hear our Easter music better than ever before and Easter Mass will have blessings beyond imagination. I have HOPE, and as we all know, hope does not disappoint!
Michele Williams is incarcerated at the Ohio Reformatory for Women.