"Thou hast given a banner to them that fear thee, that it may be displayed because of truth." — (Psalm 60:4)
"Lift ye up a banner upon the high mountain, exalt the voice unto them." — (Isaiah 13:2)
Devoted To The Defense Of The Church Against All Errors And Innovations
Vol.X No.VIII Pg.14b-15a
August 1948

Purely Personal

Cled E. Wallace

It appears to be news when I become "seriously ill". And well it may be for there have been very few days during my whole life that I have not been hale and hearty. This escapade has been downright embarrassing to me. Right here at home rumor has had me in two hospitals and at least one undertaking parlor. Letters, cards, telegrams, phone calls and flowers from friends, enemies and neutrals from a wide area suggest to me that the public is entitled to the low-down on my case from an authoritative source. The genuine concern expressed is heart-warming to me.

To the best of my knowledge here are the facts in the case. Without much warning during the afternoon of June 28th I blacked out with what is commonly known as an acute heart attack. I was down town, fully dressed and had on my hat. Now think of a thing like that happening to me! An ambulance conveyed me to a hospital - just one - and not to an undertaking parlor. A doctor who either knew his business or is a mighty good actor located the cause of all the static in "a post-coronary occlusion." As near as I can understand it, that is a sort of traffic-jam in the arterial highway system of the heart. It often means a one-way ticket to whatever destination the ticket calls for.

Life looks and tastes good after what may be fairly considered a brush with death. They kept me in a bed a full six weeks. I speak advisedly. It was not angelic patience on my part. I was not sick, did not hurt anywhere and had a whale of an appetite considering the circumstances. A hard-boiled and efficient doctor, some good nurses and a solicitous wife kept me out of action and circulation. The doctor took my tobacco and coffee away from me and made a face like he might not ever give them back. I haven't quite figured out whether he is trying to make a well man of me, or merely a nice one. The chances are that if I can't use them, I'll be preaching and writing against them before long. In which case I hope that a longsuffering public will make due and charitable allowance for another of my faults. I used to know a fine old preacher who loved his pipe, except during rare periods when he was attacked by acute integrity and his conscience hurt him. Then he preached against tobacco until he recovered from his acute attack and went back to his pipe. I could always tell when he wasn't smoking. He was preaching against it. So if the public doesn't hear from me again on the question, the chances are I'll be sneaking a few draws between visits to the doctor. So far I haven't touched the "putrid" stuff.

What caused this blowup? Well, Id like to know. The doctor says it was caused by "tension" which is associated with worry or hard work, or both. Since I have neither worried nor worked much, I doubt it. Anyhow, about all I am able to do is pace under the shade of a tree until it gets cooler and I get stronger. I am up and about a bit and will be able to resume my preaching within a few weeks. According to the doctor book it will require a year for full recovery. Then I can do about all I ever could in the way of work and play, I hope, I hope, I hope, considering the limitations of my advanced age. I am fifty-six, going on fifty-seven. So by the grace of God I expect to be up and at 'em again off and on as the need may be. To you who have been so gracious in your expressions of good-will and friendship - I thank you.