If you’re a history channel junkie, like me, Holy Week is chalked full of all kinds of interesting documentaries centering on the events of this week 2,000 odd years ago. I don’t typically have much time to watch TV – and this week was no exception – but I do listen to it in the background as I do other things.
One documentary (not sure if it was on the History Channel, the Discovery Channel, or the Science Channel) was a medical look at the crucifixion. This researcher had constructed a cross in his lab fully outfitted with sensors and he persuaded volunteers to endure a mock crucifixion on his cross (taking care that they weren’t actually physically injured.)
Apparently, there has been some debate over the years as to just how Jesus would have been nailed to the cross in order for events to have unfolded as they did. If the nails, for example, were driven through the palms of his hands, as opposed to his wrists, how would the force and weight have affected how he died, and how long would it have taken? What exactly would have killed him? Which organs would have gone first? While the roughly six to nine hours they estimate the biblical account took seems hard to imagine – apparently it was far more typical for poor souls to languish on for days. So why did Jesus die so relatively quickly?
So this researcher recorded certain physical responses to being dangled or attached to the cross in various ways (not pushing them to the extreme) and then he entered the data into a computer model that allowed him to estimate what those forces would do if applied at a constant rate etc.
Sounds morbid, I know.
And while Easter really ought to focus more on the hope offered to humanity, I couldn’t help but get sucked into this program. It made me think of Mel Gibson’s The Passion. I haven’t thought about Easter the same way since that movie. While I was aware of all the facts of the biblical account, my imagination could never have conjured up something as horrific as the images in that movie. The extreme torture and pain that Jesus would have endured is hard to wrap your head around. As much as we might try, we can only nibble at the edges of what he must have felt.
But, while watching this documentary and the debate about just where the nails would have been placed, I suddenly thought about one of my National Institutes of Health visits this past year.
If you’ve ever had blood gases taken, you know it hurts. It isn’t what I’d call extreme pain, it doesn’t last long, but still, I can think of a long list of things I’d rather do in life than blood gases.
It’s a test I’ve done many, many times over the years. It’s done thousands of times a day I’m sure – and typically nothing ever goes wrong besides maybe a few seconds of discomfort and a bruise.
But this year one of the vampires at NIH accidentally hit a nerve in my wrist while taking a blood gas. I’ve been through a lot of medical crap – and granted I’m a wimp – but that’s on my list of top five most painful things!
I screamed! As the vampire felt sure she was close to getting what she needed, she continued to poke around in my wrist hitting that nerve again. They had to peel me off the ceiling. The pain was so intense and so centered as it shot up my arm.
Typically I work really hard at never complaining about anything while at NIH. I’m so thankful that they are willing to spend the time investigating Hermansky-Pudlak Syndrome, that it’s my goal to be the best patient ever. You want fluid from my lungs, maybe some blood, some stool maybe or some urine? Perhaps you’d like to poke around inside my digestive track a bit? Have at it. If it will help find the cure, I’ll gladly grit my wimpy teeth and smile.
But, that day I’d had enough.
“Take it out! Stop it!” I screamed. Karen, who was in the hospital with me, shot across the room to comfort me.
“I’m almost there,” the vampire said as she tried to retrieve what she was after so I wouldn’t have to do it again.
“TAKE IT OUT! I DON’T CARE. NOW!” I think I yelled.
My arm hurt quite a bit for hours. I couldn’t move my fingers right for about half a day. For at least two days it remained sore.
Now, thinking about those nails – they must have surely hit a nerve or two as they went straight through Jesus’ body. No one pulled them out. They were there for hours, supporting the weight of his body.
I have no inkling what Jesus must have endured that day. Just the small taste of a little needle slip leaves me in awe.
One documentary (not sure if it was on the History Channel, the Discovery Channel, or the Science Channel) was a medical look at the crucifixion. This researcher had constructed a cross in his lab fully outfitted with sensors and he persuaded volunteers to endure a mock crucifixion on his cross (taking care that they weren’t actually physically injured.)
Apparently, there has been some debate over the years as to just how Jesus would have been nailed to the cross in order for events to have unfolded as they did. If the nails, for example, were driven through the palms of his hands, as opposed to his wrists, how would the force and weight have affected how he died, and how long would it have taken? What exactly would have killed him? Which organs would have gone first? While the roughly six to nine hours they estimate the biblical account took seems hard to imagine – apparently it was far more typical for poor souls to languish on for days. So why did Jesus die so relatively quickly?
So this researcher recorded certain physical responses to being dangled or attached to the cross in various ways (not pushing them to the extreme) and then he entered the data into a computer model that allowed him to estimate what those forces would do if applied at a constant rate etc.
Sounds morbid, I know.
And while Easter really ought to focus more on the hope offered to humanity, I couldn’t help but get sucked into this program. It made me think of Mel Gibson’s The Passion. I haven’t thought about Easter the same way since that movie. While I was aware of all the facts of the biblical account, my imagination could never have conjured up something as horrific as the images in that movie. The extreme torture and pain that Jesus would have endured is hard to wrap your head around. As much as we might try, we can only nibble at the edges of what he must have felt.
But, while watching this documentary and the debate about just where the nails would have been placed, I suddenly thought about one of my National Institutes of Health visits this past year.
If you’ve ever had blood gases taken, you know it hurts. It isn’t what I’d call extreme pain, it doesn’t last long, but still, I can think of a long list of things I’d rather do in life than blood gases.
It’s a test I’ve done many, many times over the years. It’s done thousands of times a day I’m sure – and typically nothing ever goes wrong besides maybe a few seconds of discomfort and a bruise.
But this year one of the vampires at NIH accidentally hit a nerve in my wrist while taking a blood gas. I’ve been through a lot of medical crap – and granted I’m a wimp – but that’s on my list of top five most painful things!
I screamed! As the vampire felt sure she was close to getting what she needed, she continued to poke around in my wrist hitting that nerve again. They had to peel me off the ceiling. The pain was so intense and so centered as it shot up my arm.
Typically I work really hard at never complaining about anything while at NIH. I’m so thankful that they are willing to spend the time investigating Hermansky-Pudlak Syndrome, that it’s my goal to be the best patient ever. You want fluid from my lungs, maybe some blood, some stool maybe or some urine? Perhaps you’d like to poke around inside my digestive track a bit? Have at it. If it will help find the cure, I’ll gladly grit my wimpy teeth and smile.
But, that day I’d had enough.
“Take it out! Stop it!” I screamed. Karen, who was in the hospital with me, shot across the room to comfort me.
“I’m almost there,” the vampire said as she tried to retrieve what she was after so I wouldn’t have to do it again.
“TAKE IT OUT! I DON’T CARE. NOW!” I think I yelled.
My arm hurt quite a bit for hours. I couldn’t move my fingers right for about half a day. For at least two days it remained sore.
Now, thinking about those nails – they must have surely hit a nerve or two as they went straight through Jesus’ body. No one pulled them out. They were there for hours, supporting the weight of his body.
I have no inkling what Jesus must have endured that day. Just the small taste of a little needle slip leaves me in awe.
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