Last night I visited the hospital. A nurse, efficient and distant, prepped me. Those cardiac sensations – so familiar and dreaded – shook my insides. I’d been to this clinic before; the insertion of an IV and heart monitor was standard. This was the first time, though, that they would hook me up while my wonky heart beat erratically.

You might think the whole thing was traumatic. In some ways it was. But as the nurse prepared to hook me up, I felt relief. And I woke up. I needed to use the bathroom. Which I did, quickly. Then I crawled back in bed and tried to get back into the dream. I felt gypped. I wanted to be hooked up. I wanted her to see, as clearly as I felt, what was going on inside me.

I didn’t really go to the hospital last night (except in my dreams) but I’ve been there before. That feeling of relief is real.

So often we suffer in silence. Or we complain loudly. The point is that no one else lives in our bodies or minds. Symptoms shake us up and we can describe what we feel to others, but no one feels it with us, so we’re alone in our suffering.

My dream and groggy desire to get back on the gurney, hooked up to monitors, reveals the secret longing of my heart to be fully known and understood. To go through an episode without being the one who worries about it. To release my symptoms, my decisions and my future to someone else. Like the nurse.

The truth is that hospital staff have many patients and although technological devices may give them a notion of what’s going on inside, they aren’t in there with you. They can’t be.

I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again – for you as well as for sleepy me: There’s an Inside Man. It’s God.

He feels what you feel. He’s in there with you. He knows what rouses you and what depresses you. He goes through every sensation and thought with you. He knows and He cares.

You and I can release our symptoms, decisions and future to Him. Not just when we’re on a gurney. Every moment of each day.

Quiet your spirit and listen to this song for a few moments.