French Quarter Ghost Tour, Bloody Forehead, No Extra Charge!


Sometimes circumstance does not allow an opportunity to get a signature or ask for a prayer concern. Sometimes the restaurant or business is just too busy, and it would be inconsiderate for me to interrupt work or place a job in jeopardy. When the family and I participated in an evening Ghost Tour of the New Orleans French quarter no signatures were gotten and the prayers offered were for myself!

The Ghost Tour was a theatrical production. Our guide dressed in period clothing combined legend and lore with fact. His impromptu ability to handle both skeptical participants and odd situations along the streets of the French Quarter were impressive. Without him the tour would have simply been a stroll among historic buildings.

We were well into the tour. It was past dusk, dark enough to make the walk uneasy in places not illuminated by street lights. The well-worn sidewalks of the French Quarter are uneven making it mandatory to be very watchful even in the light of day. As I was trying to divide my powers of concentration between the pitfalls of the sidewalk and the robust story our guide was sharing, I stumbled and fell! As I was falling I was both totally embarrassed and very concerned about my well being. Then I face planted on the sidewalk!

The first thing I remember is our guide was speechless. Then Meggan was by my side. Why was she screaming “MOM! MOM!”? I couldn’t find my glasses! I became aware of something warm trickling down my face! At about the same time I heard someone say it’s blood! Confusion and questions swirled in my head. I am still a little fuzzy about what happened next.

My family was concerned about my bloody forehead. The concern was valid because I have a bleeding disorder that is hereditary. A man stepped into my circle of confusion, he said “I am a Doctor.”  Those three words and his confident attitude immediately brought peace and calm to the situation.  It seemed as though the entire French Quarter breathed a sigh of relief. Using his phone flashlight, he began to examine my obvious head wound. Others offered their phone flashlights to help determine the extent of my injuries. Someone offered a bottle of water. Another found ice and made a cold compress. I am sure my family offered prayers. Looking back on that experience it makes me smile. To see folks who didn’t know each other wanting to help each other. Stepping in with whatever they had that might be helpful. Even going out of their way to purchase bottled water and ice.

Once the drama was over. And it was determined I would survive. We spoke calmly with the doctor. It seems he was a trauma physician at a local hospital. He and some family members were actually part of our group! He was intrigued by my hereditary bleeding disorder and looked it up on his phone, both to be diligent in his diagnosis, and I think a little bit out of curiosity. We cautiously completed the tour with the good doctor never many steps away and checking my wound periodically.

The full impact of what happened did not really sink in until I was back at our hotel. The fact that a physician was at the very place at the very time I needed one is amazing! I regret not getting him to sign my quilt. The thought of getting his signature did not even occur to me until that moment hours later. I honestly can’t remember his name. But I pray for him often and thank God for him. More than that I’m thankful that God provides for my every need.

I have not stopped giving thanks to God for you. I remember you in my prayers. Ephesians 1:16 GNB

Written by Susan

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