Fatigue and exhaustion overwhelm my senses. I want to curl up in a ball and cry my eyes out. Why must I continue to be so sick? Why is it so hard to get antibiotics for an infection? My body is so low on energy. Day after day, I struggle with difficulty breathing, coughing, headaches, aching joints, etc.
When I think I cannot take it any more, I login to Facebook. I scroll through posts and then remember to check for an update on a little 2.5 month old baby, who was born with a congenital diaphragmic hernia. He has had complication after complication...and yet God has performed miracle after miracle for this baby and his family. I look for an update. My heart breaks.
The little boy was supposed to have a simple surgery in which a feeding tube was to be inserted into his intestines. Instead, there were major complications. There was massive bleeding. The child had to endure several more surgeries including having his spleen removed. Praise be to God, he pulled through it all.
As I am reading this little boy’s update, I suddenly realize what a child I have been. Although I feel miserable and very tired, I am not clinging to life. I am not in the intensive care unit and do not have a zillion machines hooked up to me monitoring every move I make.
I suddenly am overcome with gratitude. Instantly I start praying for this infant and showering God with abundant thanksgivings for my own health. Oh how easy it is to allow this life to lead one into great anguish and sorrow. But what a joy it is when God opens one’s eyes to see all His mercies and loving kindnesses.
“Bless the LORD, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless His holy name. Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget none of His benefits, who forgives all your iniquities, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from destruction, who crowns you with loving kindness and tender mercies” (Psalm 103:1-4).
Tuesday, November 20, 2018
Wednesday, November 14, 2018
Homebound
For the last two years, fatigue, respiratory issues and other medical conditions have kept me at home and in bed. I rarely leave the house except to go to medical appointments, the emergency department or religious services. I have always thought of my situation as self imposed prison. I could leave the house if I wanted to; however, by the time I gather up all my respiratory equipment and load myself into the car, I am overwhelmed with exhaustion. The last thing I want to do is to have to endure the motion of riding in a car. I have decided it is best to remain at home and stay in bed most of the day.
With all this being said, I never thought of myself as “homebound”. I always thought of myself as just being inconvenienced with having severe fatigue and other medical conditions which impede my ability to freely travel. However, a recent visit from a home health nurse changed all this.
When my nurse arrives to begin services, she asks me a series of questions. “Do you use an assistive device to leave the house? Do you have fatigue which prevents you from leaving the house? Do you have pain in one or more joints? Have you fallen in the last year?” To all these questions, I am able to answer “yes”. I use a wheelchair, I am always tired and rarely stray far from my bed, I have pain in many of my joints and recently I have fallen three times. The nurse tells me, “Great. You qualify through your insurance for home health care. You have to be able to answer “yes” to just one of the questions to be considered homebound. You can only receive my services if you are considered homebound.”
I sit a bit stunned at the nurse’s words. “Am I really homebound? Do I really have an inability to leave my residence?” As I think about my life, I realize, yes, I am homebound. If the nurse was not here administering services to me, I would not venture out of my home every week to receive her services. As it was prior to this nurse coming to my home, I did not get the dressing for my PICC line changed every week. I would wait until I was hospitalized and then would ask the nursing staff to change the dressing. I was putting myself at great risk for infection; however, I did not have the energy to leave my house for this task.
So, perhaps I am homebound. What a bummer to have this title, but I am grateful if it means I qualify for home health services. Sometimes you just have to endure having another label added to your chart and ignore its common every day meaning. I choose instead to believe the definition of my label “homebound” means I trust in Jesus as my Lord and Savior, and one day I shall leave this world and go to my true Home...oh what a glorious day that will be!
With all this being said, I never thought of myself as “homebound”. I always thought of myself as just being inconvenienced with having severe fatigue and other medical conditions which impede my ability to freely travel. However, a recent visit from a home health nurse changed all this.
When my nurse arrives to begin services, she asks me a series of questions. “Do you use an assistive device to leave the house? Do you have fatigue which prevents you from leaving the house? Do you have pain in one or more joints? Have you fallen in the last year?” To all these questions, I am able to answer “yes”. I use a wheelchair, I am always tired and rarely stray far from my bed, I have pain in many of my joints and recently I have fallen three times. The nurse tells me, “Great. You qualify through your insurance for home health care. You have to be able to answer “yes” to just one of the questions to be considered homebound. You can only receive my services if you are considered homebound.”
I sit a bit stunned at the nurse’s words. “Am I really homebound? Do I really have an inability to leave my residence?” As I think about my life, I realize, yes, I am homebound. If the nurse was not here administering services to me, I would not venture out of my home every week to receive her services. As it was prior to this nurse coming to my home, I did not get the dressing for my PICC line changed every week. I would wait until I was hospitalized and then would ask the nursing staff to change the dressing. I was putting myself at great risk for infection; however, I did not have the energy to leave my house for this task.
So, perhaps I am homebound. What a bummer to have this title, but I am grateful if it means I qualify for home health services. Sometimes you just have to endure having another label added to your chart and ignore its common every day meaning. I choose instead to believe the definition of my label “homebound” means I trust in Jesus as my Lord and Savior, and one day I shall leave this world and go to my true Home...oh what a glorious day that will be!
Thursday, November 8, 2018
Mission field warning
Many years ago, I attended a beautiful church. It had huge stain glass windows and a massive organ which took up most of the back of the church. Upon exiting the parking lot, there was a large, prominent sign which read, “Warning: You are now entering the mission field.”
The words on the sign struck a deep cord within me. I though, “What a great reminder as we leave church that we should continue to be upright Christians, following in Jesus’ footsteps, even after leaving a house of worship.”
As I pondered the words on this sign for the next week, I discovered the sign was all wrong. No, there are unbelievers in the church. We need not only be Christians in the world, but we need to be believers at church. I then decided to move this sign to the entrance of my home. I needed to be on the mission field any time I left my house.
As the weeks rolled by, I realized my sign was all wrong. There were friends, family and health care workers who entered my home. I needed to show them what it was like to be a Christian. I needed to be always on guard to share the message of Jesus’ salvation. I then moved the sign to the door of my room. Yes, any time I left the confines of my room, I needed to be actively on the mission field.
Again, a few weeks passed and I understood that the message on the mission field sign was all wrong. Although I may never leave my room, there were always opportunities via phone calls, emails and Facebook to be on the mission field. I then changed the message on my mission field sign to read: “Warning, you are ALWAYS on the mission field!”
Although I no longer attend this pretty house of worship, I keep the mission field message alive and well in my heart. No matter where I am, I know I am on the mission field, and God can use me wherever I am to spread His word to the world.
The words on the sign struck a deep cord within me. I though, “What a great reminder as we leave church that we should continue to be upright Christians, following in Jesus’ footsteps, even after leaving a house of worship.”
As I pondered the words on this sign for the next week, I discovered the sign was all wrong. No, there are unbelievers in the church. We need not only be Christians in the world, but we need to be believers at church. I then decided to move this sign to the entrance of my home. I needed to be on the mission field any time I left my house.
As the weeks rolled by, I realized my sign was all wrong. There were friends, family and health care workers who entered my home. I needed to show them what it was like to be a Christian. I needed to be always on guard to share the message of Jesus’ salvation. I then moved the sign to the door of my room. Yes, any time I left the confines of my room, I needed to be actively on the mission field.
Again, a few weeks passed and I understood that the message on the mission field sign was all wrong. Although I may never leave my room, there were always opportunities via phone calls, emails and Facebook to be on the mission field. I then changed the message on my mission field sign to read: “Warning, you are ALWAYS on the mission field!”
Although I no longer attend this pretty house of worship, I keep the mission field message alive and well in my heart. No matter where I am, I know I am on the mission field, and God can use me wherever I am to spread His word to the world.
Monday, November 5, 2018
To the Olson Family—Peace and comfort
Oh now my heart breaks as I learn about the passing of a very dear woman, Mrs. Olson. She was a woman of strength, a mother of five precious children, a wife to a very dear man and a woman of faith to the very end. Her long battle with beast cancer was one not plagued with grief but with endurance, glory and determination. Mrs. Olson was a beacon of light to those around her. No matter how hard her body was suffering the ill effects of a devastating disease, she continued on with comforting words and with the Lord Jesus in her heart.
As I reflect back on Mrs. Olson’s life, Proverbs 31 comes to mind. Eschet chayil is the Hebrew title for Proverbs 31 verses 10-31. Eschet chayil translates into English as a woman of valor, warfare and victory. She is a warrior. In the eastern culture, to be a moral woman was to be expected. However, to be a warrior was a choice. This seems so fitting for Mrs. Olson. She was a woman of great morals, but even more, she was a victorious soldier, fighting to the very end to be the best mother, daughter, wife and friend. She glorified the LORD in all that she did.
Although my heart weeps, my soul rejoices. I know Mrs. Olson is out of pain and is now Home in the loving arms of her Lord and Savior. May peace and comfort encompass her family and friends. The loss left by Mrs. Olson is enormous but her legacy remains forever in the hearts and minds of all those who knew her and loved her.
May the grace and peace of our Lord and Savior surround us and carry us through this difficult time. Amen.
“Strength and honor are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in the time to come. She opens her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness. She looks well to the ways of her household, and eats not the bread of idleness. Her children rise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her. Many daughters have done virtuously, but you have excellest them all. Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain; but a woman that fears the LORD, she shall be praised.” (Proverbs 31:25-30)
As I reflect back on Mrs. Olson’s life, Proverbs 31 comes to mind. Eschet chayil is the Hebrew title for Proverbs 31 verses 10-31. Eschet chayil translates into English as a woman of valor, warfare and victory. She is a warrior. In the eastern culture, to be a moral woman was to be expected. However, to be a warrior was a choice. This seems so fitting for Mrs. Olson. She was a woman of great morals, but even more, she was a victorious soldier, fighting to the very end to be the best mother, daughter, wife and friend. She glorified the LORD in all that she did.
Although my heart weeps, my soul rejoices. I know Mrs. Olson is out of pain and is now Home in the loving arms of her Lord and Savior. May peace and comfort encompass her family and friends. The loss left by Mrs. Olson is enormous but her legacy remains forever in the hearts and minds of all those who knew her and loved her.
May the grace and peace of our Lord and Savior surround us and carry us through this difficult time. Amen.
“Strength and honor are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in the time to come. She opens her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness. She looks well to the ways of her household, and eats not the bread of idleness. Her children rise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her. Many daughters have done virtuously, but you have excellest them all. Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain; but a woman that fears the LORD, she shall be praised.” (Proverbs 31:25-30)
Thursday, November 1, 2018
When God says no
It is 6 a.m. I force myself to roll out of bed and finish packing. This afternoon, I have an appointment to see my pulmonologist at the medical facility 400 miles away from my house. I need to quickly throw a few last minute items into my suitcase and then load up the car. As I meander my way to my closet, I take off my pajamas and slip into comfortable travel clothes. As I am about to put my pajamas back on my shelf, I ask God, “Will I be hospitalized today?” (I have been very sick, and despite receiving IV antibiotics through my peripherally inserted central catheter (PICC) line for many weeks, I am still very ill. I am convinced my pulmonologist will admit me to the hospital during today’s appointment. I find no need to take along pajamas since I will be going to the hospital.) Although I am determined I am going to be admitted to the hospital, God gives me a very firm, stern reply. “NO!”
I stop in my tracks. “What!? What do you mean ‘No’? I am sure my pulmonologist will take one look at me and send me straight to the hospital.” Again, the word, “no” echoes in my head. Although no words are said, I am given an impression that I will be sleeping overnight at the hotel. I will need to take my pajamas if I want something to sleep in besides my street clothes. I decide this is God’s will. I place the pajamas into my suitcase. I then pick up my belongings and start packing the car.
Many hours later, my mom and I arrive at my appointment. As always, I am grateful we are able to make it to my appointment on time; I am grateful the car did not break down or have a flat tire; I am grateful we did not have an accident. Very soon, I am called back to the examination room. First up is the pulmonology fellow.
The fellow seems very concerned about my coughing fits and shortness of breath. The look on his face seems to say, “I am sending you straight to the emergency department! You need immediate medical treatment!” The fellow leaves my room and waits for his attending (my doctor) to finish up with another patient. When my doctor enters the hallway, the fellow gives his report. Shortly thereafter, the pulmonology fellow and my doctor enter my room.
My doctor seems rather unconcerned about my current state of health. She goes on and on about how it is going to take many weeks for my infection to clear. I need to be patient. (I can immediately tell she is not going to admit me to the hospital.) My mom is quite upset. She is tired of having me sick and constantly struggling to get through each day. She wants me healed. She wants me healed now! The passion which burns in my mom overwhelms me with love. I can see tears welling up in my mom’s eyes. My pulmonologist insists I just need more time on the antibiotics. If I do not improve in a week, I should then perhaps be hospitalized. My mom fights the pulmonologist. My mom turns and looks at me. I sit patiently, not saying anything. I gaze into my mom’s face and try to convey to her that this is not God’s will. I am not to be hospitalized today. She should stop arguing with the doctor. She should just give up and let God leads us. We should not struggle against God. My mom, seeing that I am not saying anything, decides to stop battling the physician. She allows the doctor to send me home despite being quite ill.
After the appointment, my mom inquires why I did not oppose my physician. Why did I not say anything? I reply, “When I was talking to God this morning, He made it abundantly clear I was not going to be hospitalized today. I needed to take along my pajamas because I was going to be spending the night at the hotel. Being hospitalized today was not God’s will. I was not going to oppose God and force His hand.” In amazement, my mom responds, “What!? You were talking to God!?” In a shocked voice, I reply, “Yes!” and I think, “Don’t you talk to Him?” I realize my mom does not often communicate with God. I, however, speak to Him all the time. I always ask for His guidance and protection. I am constantly trying to discern His will and act accordingly. And I am grateful for my relationship with Him. As hard as it was to allow my doctor to send me home without further medical intervention, I knew if I tried to force my physician to admit me to the hospital, a bad outcome would occur. It was best to just allow God to direct my path...even if that meant I was going home to continue suffering with a raging infection in my lungs.
I stop in my tracks. “What!? What do you mean ‘No’? I am sure my pulmonologist will take one look at me and send me straight to the hospital.” Again, the word, “no” echoes in my head. Although no words are said, I am given an impression that I will be sleeping overnight at the hotel. I will need to take my pajamas if I want something to sleep in besides my street clothes. I decide this is God’s will. I place the pajamas into my suitcase. I then pick up my belongings and start packing the car.
Many hours later, my mom and I arrive at my appointment. As always, I am grateful we are able to make it to my appointment on time; I am grateful the car did not break down or have a flat tire; I am grateful we did not have an accident. Very soon, I am called back to the examination room. First up is the pulmonology fellow.
The fellow seems very concerned about my coughing fits and shortness of breath. The look on his face seems to say, “I am sending you straight to the emergency department! You need immediate medical treatment!” The fellow leaves my room and waits for his attending (my doctor) to finish up with another patient. When my doctor enters the hallway, the fellow gives his report. Shortly thereafter, the pulmonology fellow and my doctor enter my room.
My doctor seems rather unconcerned about my current state of health. She goes on and on about how it is going to take many weeks for my infection to clear. I need to be patient. (I can immediately tell she is not going to admit me to the hospital.) My mom is quite upset. She is tired of having me sick and constantly struggling to get through each day. She wants me healed. She wants me healed now! The passion which burns in my mom overwhelms me with love. I can see tears welling up in my mom’s eyes. My pulmonologist insists I just need more time on the antibiotics. If I do not improve in a week, I should then perhaps be hospitalized. My mom fights the pulmonologist. My mom turns and looks at me. I sit patiently, not saying anything. I gaze into my mom’s face and try to convey to her that this is not God’s will. I am not to be hospitalized today. She should stop arguing with the doctor. She should just give up and let God leads us. We should not struggle against God. My mom, seeing that I am not saying anything, decides to stop battling the physician. She allows the doctor to send me home despite being quite ill.
After the appointment, my mom inquires why I did not oppose my physician. Why did I not say anything? I reply, “When I was talking to God this morning, He made it abundantly clear I was not going to be hospitalized today. I needed to take along my pajamas because I was going to be spending the night at the hotel. Being hospitalized today was not God’s will. I was not going to oppose God and force His hand.” In amazement, my mom responds, “What!? You were talking to God!?” In a shocked voice, I reply, “Yes!” and I think, “Don’t you talk to Him?” I realize my mom does not often communicate with God. I, however, speak to Him all the time. I always ask for His guidance and protection. I am constantly trying to discern His will and act accordingly. And I am grateful for my relationship with Him. As hard as it was to allow my doctor to send me home without further medical intervention, I knew if I tried to force my physician to admit me to the hospital, a bad outcome would occur. It was best to just allow God to direct my path...even if that meant I was going home to continue suffering with a raging infection in my lungs.
Tuesday, October 30, 2018
Sorrowful Shabbat
As I scroll through Facebook, I know I will see post after post about the great shock and sadness it is that a man came into a synagogue and heinously shot and killed so many innocent people. I scroll. Nothing. I scroll some more. Nothing. Finally, I see a post from a Jewish friend expressing the great sorrow and hatred of this act. One post. That’s it. As time has progressed, a few more of my Jewish friends have posted a picture frame around their Facebook profile photo stating they are standing against antisemitism. I think to myself, “Where is the outrage? Where are the doleful posts lamenting this incredible act of evil?” My Facebook feed remains silent.
As I was pondering today why there is little outcry about this act of terrorism, I realize the answer is simple—it was commited against God’s chosen people. No one cares much if a bunch of Jews are shot while in the midst of observing God’s holy day. No one much cares about the growing hatred toward the children of Israel. We have grown apathetic. Has the Holocaust made us blind to the growing number of ethnic crimes against the Jews? Are our hearts hardened? Do we just think, “Well, it’s just a few more Jews killed. What does that bring the number to? Over 6 million?”
As God works all things, today some friends of mine are visiting Dachau concentration camp in Germany. Vivid images swirl through my head as I recall to mind this place of intense evil I visited so many years ago. Despite being a beautiful day, a dark coldness lingered in the air. I wondered how many people died here. I wondered how anyone could forget the wicked astrocities which were committed here.
As time distances us from the Holocaust, our memories fade; our emotions wane. We are told to never forget the Holocaust. Despite the efforts by many around the world, our hearts have grown cold. We have become a nation more interested in what we will be wearing for Halloween than for the growing hatred and hostility toward our friends and neighbors. My soul grieves. The next Holocaust is but a heart beat away. Will anyone care?
I lift my hands and heart toward heaven. “Oh LORD. I pray for Your people. I pray for Israel. Please comfort those involved in this horrific act of violence. Please never forget Your people. How blessed are those who trust in You. Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha’olam (Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe). Amen.”
As I was pondering today why there is little outcry about this act of terrorism, I realize the answer is simple—it was commited against God’s chosen people. No one cares much if a bunch of Jews are shot while in the midst of observing God’s holy day. No one much cares about the growing hatred toward the children of Israel. We have grown apathetic. Has the Holocaust made us blind to the growing number of ethnic crimes against the Jews? Are our hearts hardened? Do we just think, “Well, it’s just a few more Jews killed. What does that bring the number to? Over 6 million?”
As God works all things, today some friends of mine are visiting Dachau concentration camp in Germany. Vivid images swirl through my head as I recall to mind this place of intense evil I visited so many years ago. Despite being a beautiful day, a dark coldness lingered in the air. I wondered how many people died here. I wondered how anyone could forget the wicked astrocities which were committed here.
As time distances us from the Holocaust, our memories fade; our emotions wane. We are told to never forget the Holocaust. Despite the efforts by many around the world, our hearts have grown cold. We have become a nation more interested in what we will be wearing for Halloween than for the growing hatred and hostility toward our friends and neighbors. My soul grieves. The next Holocaust is but a heart beat away. Will anyone care?
I lift my hands and heart toward heaven. “Oh LORD. I pray for Your people. I pray for Israel. Please comfort those involved in this horrific act of violence. Please never forget Your people. How blessed are those who trust in You. Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha’olam (Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe). Amen.”
Thursday, October 25, 2018
Part Three: Blessing upon blessing
As I approach the emergency department (ED) check-in counter, the cold hospital air causes me to be seized with a non-stop coughing spell. Immediately, the triage nurse hears my coughs and gasps. Her face instantly shows great concern and panic for my situation. The nurse hurries the current patient through triage. She then quickly summons me back to her station, which is located behind the check-in desk.
As my mom wheels me to the triage area, my dear friend, Bonnie, an ED respiratory therapist who has taken care of me several times, happens to be walking to the triage area. In an instant, she recognizes me. She tells the triage nurse she is taking me back to room number 4 in the trauma center. (For what it is worth, this emergency department is HUGE! There are numerous areas for different levels of care. The trauma center is the highest level of care and has the fastest treatment times.) When I hear Bonnie wants to take me to the trauma center, I nearly start crying. I know I will get medical care extremely fast. ("Thank You Lord, for all these blessings!”)
When we arrive in the trauma center, I again almost cry. I am given an actual room with walls and a door, which is located at the end of the hall. Despite the roaring noise of the trauma center, the room is quiet. As soon as I am rolled into the room, several nurses appear. They assist me into the bed. Then, I have a nurse on each arm inserting an IV. They quickly draw blood for blood cultures and blood tests. As soon as they are finished, a physician walks into the room. She reads the list of symptoms I have typed up on my iPad. She orders IV fluids, IV antibiotics and an X-ray. Shortly after the doctor leaves, a nurse returns to my room. She pushes 2 grams of Cefepime through my IV and hooks up two bags of IV fluids--one bag for each arm. The radiology technician appears only a few minutes later. He quickly takes a picture of my lungs and disappears.
I have a roommate who needs to leave the room to be taken to CT. When she leaves, I hear my physician tell the nurse wheeling my roommate out the door, "When you come back, go to room 6. This is going to be an isolation room." I think to myself, "Hooray! Something must be wrong with me. But surely, an isolation room!? That cannot be correct. I must have misheard the doctor."
A few minutes after my roommate leaves, a nurse posts a sign on my door and closes the doors to my room. My ventilator makes its usual racket, but the noise from the trauma center vanishes. Calm fills the room. My body instantly falls into a relaxed state. I curl up beneath a pile of blankets and rest my head on the bed railing. I soon fall asleep.
Three and a half hours after arriving at the ED, I am given a bed in the medical intensive care unit (MICU). (This truly is a miracle! I usually have to wait 8-24 hours for a bed at this medical facility.) I am overjoyed when I find out I am going to this unit as it has the best nurses and doctors in the entire hospital. If I have to be hospitalized, there is no place I would rather be than at this medical center and in the MICU. I again send up praises and thanks to God for His continued blessings.
When I arrive in the MICU, I am thrilled to see my room is located at the end of the hallway away from the busy and noisy nurses' stations. Additionally, my room is almost twice the size of the regular MICU rooms. (Most of the MICU rooms are just large enough to squeeze in a bed, a chair and a tiny sink. My room, however, has room for two beds! Yes, I got the deluxe suite on this visit!) Moreover, because my room is an isolation room, the sliding door has to be kept closed at all times. This means that the nurses, doctors and medical staff are religious in making sure they close the door when exiting my room. Furthermore, my room is equipped with an air scrubber. The machine cleanses the air to prevent any air-borne bacteria from spreading to other parts of the hospital. Although the contraption is loud, it blocks out all the hallway noise. Oh, how I love peace and quiet! (Thank You Lord!!!)
Before I drift off to sleep for the night, a physician visits me. He informs me that my pulmonologist has filled him in on my medical case. (I am overwhelmed with this news. How wonderful it is to have a doctor know some of my medical background! This information helps tremendously in guiding my treatment plan.)
As my eyelids grow heavy, I cannot help but think about the day. Despite being gravely ill, every place I turned, God showered upon me blessing upon blessing. When I was in such dire straights, God moved mountain after mountain to ensure I got the urgent medical care I so desperately needed. Praises and words of thanksgiving continually spill forth from my lips as my body tugs me into dream world. God's comfort and love surround me as I slip into sleep. How awesome is the God we serve!
“They that trust in the LORD shall be as Mount Zion which cannot be moved, but abides forever. As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the LORD is round about His people, from this time forth forever more.” (Psalm 125:1-2)
(Link to Part One click here)
As my mom wheels me to the triage area, my dear friend, Bonnie, an ED respiratory therapist who has taken care of me several times, happens to be walking to the triage area. In an instant, she recognizes me. She tells the triage nurse she is taking me back to room number 4 in the trauma center. (For what it is worth, this emergency department is HUGE! There are numerous areas for different levels of care. The trauma center is the highest level of care and has the fastest treatment times.) When I hear Bonnie wants to take me to the trauma center, I nearly start crying. I know I will get medical care extremely fast. ("Thank You Lord, for all these blessings!”)
When we arrive in the trauma center, I again almost cry. I am given an actual room with walls and a door, which is located at the end of the hall. Despite the roaring noise of the trauma center, the room is quiet. As soon as I am rolled into the room, several nurses appear. They assist me into the bed. Then, I have a nurse on each arm inserting an IV. They quickly draw blood for blood cultures and blood tests. As soon as they are finished, a physician walks into the room. She reads the list of symptoms I have typed up on my iPad. She orders IV fluids, IV antibiotics and an X-ray. Shortly after the doctor leaves, a nurse returns to my room. She pushes 2 grams of Cefepime through my IV and hooks up two bags of IV fluids--one bag for each arm. The radiology technician appears only a few minutes later. He quickly takes a picture of my lungs and disappears.
I have a roommate who needs to leave the room to be taken to CT. When she leaves, I hear my physician tell the nurse wheeling my roommate out the door, "When you come back, go to room 6. This is going to be an isolation room." I think to myself, "Hooray! Something must be wrong with me. But surely, an isolation room!? That cannot be correct. I must have misheard the doctor."
A few minutes after my roommate leaves, a nurse posts a sign on my door and closes the doors to my room. My ventilator makes its usual racket, but the noise from the trauma center vanishes. Calm fills the room. My body instantly falls into a relaxed state. I curl up beneath a pile of blankets and rest my head on the bed railing. I soon fall asleep.
Three and a half hours after arriving at the ED, I am given a bed in the medical intensive care unit (MICU). (This truly is a miracle! I usually have to wait 8-24 hours for a bed at this medical facility.) I am overjoyed when I find out I am going to this unit as it has the best nurses and doctors in the entire hospital. If I have to be hospitalized, there is no place I would rather be than at this medical center and in the MICU. I again send up praises and thanks to God for His continued blessings.
When I arrive in the MICU, I am thrilled to see my room is located at the end of the hallway away from the busy and noisy nurses' stations. Additionally, my room is almost twice the size of the regular MICU rooms. (Most of the MICU rooms are just large enough to squeeze in a bed, a chair and a tiny sink. My room, however, has room for two beds! Yes, I got the deluxe suite on this visit!) Moreover, because my room is an isolation room, the sliding door has to be kept closed at all times. This means that the nurses, doctors and medical staff are religious in making sure they close the door when exiting my room. Furthermore, my room is equipped with an air scrubber. The machine cleanses the air to prevent any air-borne bacteria from spreading to other parts of the hospital. Although the contraption is loud, it blocks out all the hallway noise. Oh, how I love peace and quiet! (Thank You Lord!!!)
Before I drift off to sleep for the night, a physician visits me. He informs me that my pulmonologist has filled him in on my medical case. (I am overwhelmed with this news. How wonderful it is to have a doctor know some of my medical background! This information helps tremendously in guiding my treatment plan.)
As my eyelids grow heavy, I cannot help but think about the day. Despite being gravely ill, every place I turned, God showered upon me blessing upon blessing. When I was in such dire straights, God moved mountain after mountain to ensure I got the urgent medical care I so desperately needed. Praises and words of thanksgiving continually spill forth from my lips as my body tugs me into dream world. God's comfort and love surround me as I slip into sleep. How awesome is the God we serve!
“They that trust in the LORD shall be as Mount Zion which cannot be moved, but abides forever. As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the LORD is round about His people, from this time forth forever more.” (Psalm 125:1-2)
(Link to Part One click here)
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