It was early evening when Woody made it into her room on the maternity ward. I had arranged for her to be in a private room and this turned out to be a wise decision. Outside in the hall was the hustle and bustle surrounding any maternity ward: parents and grandparents making trips to the term nursery to point out their baby; babies being carted to and from the nursery to their waiting mothers; ribbons pinned to doors exclaiming "It's a boy!" or "It's a girl!", flowers and stuffed animals being delivered to rooms. It’s difficult not feeling cheated when you see all of these healthy babies and think of how another 4000 unwanted babies had been aborted that day in our country. And all you want is one! What could God possibly be doing? Fortunately, being in the middle of a crisis, didn't give us very much time for this type of thinking. Our faith would have to carry us through.
My parents, sister, and brother-in-law had decided to wait around for the pediatric surgeon, who had come shortly after Woody's visit to insert the umbilical catheter.
While we were waiting, Liz began telling me about the Chief Neonatologist at Wilford Hall. His name was Dr. Null. "Dr. Null," my sister began, "is the most professional and compassionate doctor I have ever worked with". She had worked with many neonatologists as a neonatal nurse at hospitals in both San Antonio and Fort Worth. "I think if you ask him, he would be willing to come here and assess Christopher".
Admittedly I was already a little disappointed by Christopher's doctor's bedside manner but I couldn't think of why she was telling me this or what good it would do. Besides, I had just started a new job that provided health insurance through a Health Maintenance Organization (HMO) and I was only covered if I used their physicians. After relaying all of these concerns to her, she insisted that Dr. Null probably wouldn't charge us anything. But despite her nudging, I still wasn't convinced it would help. All I could think about was how our doctor would be insulted and how it would start the relationship with our doctor off on the wrong foot. I finally conceded into allowing David to at least ask Dr. Null if he would be willing to assess Christopher. But I told her I wasn't sure what I would do if he agreed.
What I didn't know was that David's and Liz's concerns were based upon the information I had relayed regarding Christopher's conditions. They recognized how sick Christopher was and they were disappointed that our doctor seemed indifferent and spent so little time at the hospital knowing that Christopher's condition could change at any moment.
Soon after the pediatric surgeon had successfully completed the surgery, our family members left to go home after a long and emotional day. I decided to stay overnight in the room with Woody so I could be close to her and to Christopher during what I was convinced would be a short and miraculous hospital stay. I would make the trip between the NICU and Woody's room several times during the evening, relaying Christopher's status back to Woody. She was extremely tired from the surgery and remained under heavy medication throughout the evening so I decided to stay in the NICU and let her sleep. In the NICU, I watched the continual hustle and bustle. It was difficult to tell the time of day due to the absence of windows and the never ceasing flurry of activity. The most obvious indication that it was night was the absence of doctors and parents.
Christopher's condition remained unchanged throughout the night. Earlier the doctor had ordered a drug for him called pavulon. Pavulon paralyzes all of the voluntary muscles in the body. This was done to stop Christopher from breathing on his own and fighting the respirator. We later learned that adults that have received this medicine adamantly disliked it because all your other senses continue to function but you can't move. So, if the drug takes effect and your eyes are left open, you can't close them or blink to rewet them. If you want to scratch or reposition yourself, you can't but are completely aware of any discomfort. As with Christopher, they generally combine this medication with a sedative to ease the tension caused be the paralysis. By around 3AM the nurse convinced me that I would probably be more help if I had gotten some sleep. She promised to call me if Christopher's condition changed. I returned to Woody's room and slept on some pillows next to her bed.
Early the next morning, a nurse who had come in to check on Woody awakened me. Realizing all that had happened wasn't a bad dream, I got up and went down to the nursery to see how Christopher was doing. Would this be the day that the Lord would perform his miracle and heal my son? I could hardly wait to see the nurses' and doctors' reactions. But when I got to the nursery, there was basically no change. In fact, they had to use higher pressure and more oxygen to keep Christopher's blood gases adequate.
I thought some more about my sister's request to have Dr. Null come by and assess Christopher. How would I even go about asking our doctor if he would be willing? It all seemed so foolish since Dr. Null wasn't going to be able to treat him anyway. I was convinced that my answer was just going to have to be "no" even if Dr. Null agreed to assess Christopher. After all, my insurance wouldn't cover it, and there was no way that we could possibly afford the cost of the care without the insurance. I called my insurance company and they informed me that Christopher's neonatologist was completely in charge of his care. That meant that all medical care that was to be covered by the insurance had to first be approved by him. I returned back to Woody's room so I could be there when she woke up. I informed her of Christopher's status and we remained optimistic and thankful that Christopher had made it through the night.
Shortly after I had returned, Christopher's neonatologist came into the room. He updated us on Christopher's condition and emphasized that the first 3 days were going to be critical. We asked him about a longer prognosis, but he told us it was much too early to speculate. After telling us that he would let us know about any changes, he headed out into the hallway. I waited a while before returning back to the nursery. When I had gotten there I learned that the doctor was gone for the day. I felt a little uneasy thinking what would happen if there was an emergency and they needed him. "How would they find him and how long would it take him to get back here?" I thought. Then I remembered that God was in control of the whole situation. I needed to learn to place my confidence in Him.
Later that morning, my sister and mother came out to the hospital. My mother was carrying a pot of bright pink azaleas in full bloom, which really cheered up the room. We went down to the nursery for a visit and back to Woody's room. My sister asked if we had seen the doctor and I told her about his comments. She was trying to fight back disgust at his indifference and absence, but her expression read clear to me. This doctor's care, or lack of, was obviously not typical of the doctor's she had worked with in the past. My mother insisted that I eat something so the three of us left Woody and went to get some lunch. After returning, my sister told me that David had spoken to Dr. Null and that he would be willing to assess Christopher if we wanted him to. I told Liz of my decision not to ask Dr. Null to assess him. "It will only complicate things," I told her and emphasized my problem with the insurance. She persisted for a while and then stopped while suggesting that the health of my child was far more important than whether it was covered by insurance.
Point made! Had I really placed money before my son? I could only think about how astronomical intensive care costs must be and that thought clouded the realization that I could choose to get my own doctors and pay for it myself. I walked out of the room and down the hall wrestling with this new thought. Then I wondered if it would really help. Could money really save my son? What made Dr. Null possess the ability to heal Christopher any better than Christopher's current doctor? There were no guarantees either way. God really was the only answer. But what would God want me to do in this situation? I had no idea. Something deep within me convinced me that God had allowed me to be in this situation with our current doctor and I decided that I was going to stay there. "If you want me to do something different, force me into making that decision," I prayed. With a newly established confidence, I went back to tell Liz of my decision. I told her how I felt as if God was in control, and how he placed us in this situation. Being a fellow believer and the person that led me to faith, she listened and agreed and gently replied that it wouldn't hurt to have Dr. Null come and give us his professional opinion.
Thinking that was the end of the discussion, I went on taking turns with my Mother spending time with Woody and Christopher. Later that afternoon, my Father came to the hospital. Over the course of the afternoon, everyone - Woody, my parents, and Liz re-asked me if we should have Dr. Null come and visit. I felt a greater and greater weight over me. To make matters worse, Christopher's condition had worsened. Finally, the weight was too much to bear. After Liz brought up Dr. Null's name again, I angrily replied, "Why do I feel like I'm being forced into making this decision?" as I stormed out into the hallway. After taking a few steps down the hallway, I suddenly remembered the prayer that I had said earlier that afternoon. And it became clear that this wasn't my family pressuring me, this was God!
Relieved to know what God wanted me to do, I had enough confidence to approach Christopher's doctor with the request for Dr. Null's visit. I headed down to the NICU to see if he had returned to the hospital. Not finding him there, I told Christopher's nurse that I would like to speak with him. When she asked "why" I told her about Dr. Null and how I wanted him to assess Christopher.
Back in Woody's room in the early part of the evening, there was an abrupt opening of the door. In walked Christopher's neonatologist not looking the least bit happy. He angrily began talking about our request to have Dr. Null assess Christopher. Apparently, the nurse had paged him and told him of our reason for wanting to see him. "I know Dr. Null. I don't know what you are trying to accomplish by asking him to visit. He doesn't have hospital privileges here. Furthermore, I am Christopher's doctor and I am in charge of his care. No action regarding his care will be taken unless instructed by me. You may ask him to visit if it would make you feel better, but I strongly discourage it and think that it will only lead to confusion."
Liz and David had told me about this experimental ventilator that Dr. Null was using at Wilford Hall that seemed to show promise for babies in Christopher's condition. When I tried asking Christopher's doctor about the ventilator, he seemed to become even angrier. "There is no proof that that ventilator is any better than the ventilators that we're using on Christopher. If you're thinking about having Christopher moved from this hospital, you can forget it. In the first place, his status has remained basically unchanged since he was born meaning that the care we are giving him is perfectly adequate. Therefore, there would be no substantial reason to have him moved. Secondly, he is too sick to make the transfer, and I would refuse to sign his release."
As he made a hasty exit from the room, the confidence that I had concerning God's will had been deflated. "Had I missed God and made a mistake? What about Christopher's care from here on out? I would find it difficult having this man as Christopher's doctor," I thought. "I knew that this was going to cause problems and I shouldn't have done this," I blurted out as I headed down to the NICU to see Christopher. Back in the NICU, the nurse informed me that Christopher's doctor was part of a group of doctors that serviced most of the hospitals in San Antonio. Even if I wanted to transfer Christopher to another hospital, I would receive a doctor that was part of the same practice. The only hospitals that had NICUs that they did not service were the military hospitals and the county hospital. Wilford Hall, where Dr. Null practiced, was out of the question since Woody and I were not serving in the military. And I knew nothing about the county hospital. Requesting Dr. Null's visit seemed even more foolish now.
The following morning, I headed down to the NICU from Woody's room. "No change," the nurse replied when I asked her about his status. "He's had a nice quiet evening". Christopher's doctor made a brief stop into Woody's room to give us a status and repeated the nurse’s report. He was even more terse in his conversation than before. As he was talking, I noticed he was wearing tennis clothing underneath the NICU gown. Thinking I could make a little conversation, I asked him if he was off to play tennis. He quickly looked down at his legs and tennis shoes to try to figure out how I knew. Looking embarrassed, he muttered "yes" and walked out.
Early in the afternoon, Liz came to wait with us for Dr. Null. And shortly thereafter, Dr. Null gently knocked on Woody's room and upon entering, gave a hug to Liz as he greeted us warmly. He was smartly dressed in his Air Force uniform. Being a former Air Force dependent myself, I noticed the emblems on his shoulders revealing his rank of colonel. He was obviously a highly respected doctor in the Air Force. As we began talking we could understand David and Liz's respect for Dr. Null. Despite his high military rank, he was humble and gentle and appeared genuinely concerned about Christopher. We told him of the events leading up to his visit including Christopher's doctor’s earlier outburst and he shrugged them off as if to say, "Let's not worry about those things now".
This was a characteristic that we would see in Dr. Null over and over. No matter how dire a situation appeared he would remain calm. As I saw this calmness in Dr. Null, I couldn't help but remember that this was one of Christ's characteristics. Remember the depiction of Jesus asleep in the boat on the turbulent sea surrounded by panicked disciples? Or his words, "Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow. Each day has enough troubles of its own. Let tomorrow worry about itself." (Matthew 6:34) Calmness reflects faith in something that is bigger than the situation or us. Whether Dr. Null's calmness was based upon a faith in God, fate, or something else, I don't know. All I know is when I saw it in him it forced me to ask myself where my faith lay. And it challenged me to take my sights off of the problem and to place my faith in God.
After spending some time with us, he asked me to escort him to the NICU. The whole time we were walking down there, I was holding my breath in anticipation for what I thought was going to be a confrontation between Dr. Null and Christopher's doctor. To my surprise, Christopher's doctor was not there, and I quickly realized he did not intend to see Dr. Null at all. Dr. Null and I scrubbed up, put on NICU gowns and headed over to see Christopher. Despite not having official hospital privileges at Santa Rosa, the nurses were wonderfully respectful and gracious to Dr. Null. They obtained Christopher's charts and X-rays and answered his questions.
After a brief observation, Dr. Null thanked the nurses and we headed back into the hallway. He began describing the experimental ventilator that they were using at Wilford Hall in cases similar to Christopher's. He felt as if this ventilator would give Christopher a chance and that his chances for surviving on the conventional ventilator were probably less. As I pressed him for some sort of guarantee, he gently reminded me that Christopher had severe lung disease and that either path would be a struggle. As he was talking, it became clear that he was offering us an opportunity to come to Wilford Hall. This seemed impossible to me since neither Woody nor I had military privileges. And of course there was the question of my insurance. They only covered their doctors at their hospitals. And foremost in my mind, there was Christopher's doctor. He just told us the day before that under no condition would he grant Christopher release. As we arrived back at Woody's room we discussed all of these problems. Dr. Null felt he could waive the restriction of military privileges but that the rest of the problems would have to resolve themselves. As he was speaking, I realized that his focus was on the well being of my son, while ashamedly, mine was on the problems.
Those who know of the historical exodus of the children of Israel from Egypt might see a parallel with our dilemma. Upon leaving Egypt, the Israelites were backed against the Red Sea with the Egyptian army in pursuit. The Israelites, despite witnessing the miracles of God, could only focus on the problems at hand. (Exodus 14:1-12)
As Dr. Null asked me to give him permission to ask for the release of Christopher so that he could transfer him to Wilford Hall, I knew deep down that this was God's will, and that my response was to answer "yes" and to pray. But I was scared. Looking back, I realize that this was a life lesson. God does not ask us to perform the impossible. He only asks us to be obedient and to have faith in Him. He did not tell Moses to run out into the waters and part the Red Sea. He told Moses to part the Red Sea by raising his staff and stretching forth his hand. (Exodus 14:16) My "staff", though simple and well within my power to lift up seemed so heavy because I saw the overwhelming odds against our situation. All I had to do was say "yes". But I couldn't help but remember that we had just been told earlier that under no circumstances would Christopher be released from the hospital. Wouldn't it be better to turn around, ask for forgiveness and return to Egypt, which we knew? In addition, I kept thinking about our health insurance. Even if our "Red Sea" would part, who would provide once we were on the other side? I was also wondering if Christopher would survive the transport to the other hospital. Was I jeopardizing the health of my son on this journey of faith?
After wrestling with the dilemma further, I responded "yes" and Dr. Null left to return to his office to call Christopher's doctor. Once he left, I realized the weight of the problem had gone. My feeble faith had lifted the problem to God who removed it. I was now to pray and trust God for the outcome.
Scripture quotations taken from the NASB.
© Copyright 1987, 2016 by Rick Murata. All Rights Reserved.
My parents, sister, and brother-in-law had decided to wait around for the pediatric surgeon, who had come shortly after Woody's visit to insert the umbilical catheter.
While we were waiting, Liz began telling me about the Chief Neonatologist at Wilford Hall. His name was Dr. Null. "Dr. Null," my sister began, "is the most professional and compassionate doctor I have ever worked with". She had worked with many neonatologists as a neonatal nurse at hospitals in both San Antonio and Fort Worth. "I think if you ask him, he would be willing to come here and assess Christopher".
Admittedly I was already a little disappointed by Christopher's doctor's bedside manner but I couldn't think of why she was telling me this or what good it would do. Besides, I had just started a new job that provided health insurance through a Health Maintenance Organization (HMO) and I was only covered if I used their physicians. After relaying all of these concerns to her, she insisted that Dr. Null probably wouldn't charge us anything. But despite her nudging, I still wasn't convinced it would help. All I could think about was how our doctor would be insulted and how it would start the relationship with our doctor off on the wrong foot. I finally conceded into allowing David to at least ask Dr. Null if he would be willing to assess Christopher. But I told her I wasn't sure what I would do if he agreed.
What I didn't know was that David's and Liz's concerns were based upon the information I had relayed regarding Christopher's conditions. They recognized how sick Christopher was and they were disappointed that our doctor seemed indifferent and spent so little time at the hospital knowing that Christopher's condition could change at any moment.
Soon after the pediatric surgeon had successfully completed the surgery, our family members left to go home after a long and emotional day. I decided to stay overnight in the room with Woody so I could be close to her and to Christopher during what I was convinced would be a short and miraculous hospital stay. I would make the trip between the NICU and Woody's room several times during the evening, relaying Christopher's status back to Woody. She was extremely tired from the surgery and remained under heavy medication throughout the evening so I decided to stay in the NICU and let her sleep. In the NICU, I watched the continual hustle and bustle. It was difficult to tell the time of day due to the absence of windows and the never ceasing flurry of activity. The most obvious indication that it was night was the absence of doctors and parents.
Christopher's condition remained unchanged throughout the night. Earlier the doctor had ordered a drug for him called pavulon. Pavulon paralyzes all of the voluntary muscles in the body. This was done to stop Christopher from breathing on his own and fighting the respirator. We later learned that adults that have received this medicine adamantly disliked it because all your other senses continue to function but you can't move. So, if the drug takes effect and your eyes are left open, you can't close them or blink to rewet them. If you want to scratch or reposition yourself, you can't but are completely aware of any discomfort. As with Christopher, they generally combine this medication with a sedative to ease the tension caused be the paralysis. By around 3AM the nurse convinced me that I would probably be more help if I had gotten some sleep. She promised to call me if Christopher's condition changed. I returned to Woody's room and slept on some pillows next to her bed.
Early the next morning, a nurse who had come in to check on Woody awakened me. Realizing all that had happened wasn't a bad dream, I got up and went down to the nursery to see how Christopher was doing. Would this be the day that the Lord would perform his miracle and heal my son? I could hardly wait to see the nurses' and doctors' reactions. But when I got to the nursery, there was basically no change. In fact, they had to use higher pressure and more oxygen to keep Christopher's blood gases adequate.
I thought some more about my sister's request to have Dr. Null come by and assess Christopher. How would I even go about asking our doctor if he would be willing? It all seemed so foolish since Dr. Null wasn't going to be able to treat him anyway. I was convinced that my answer was just going to have to be "no" even if Dr. Null agreed to assess Christopher. After all, my insurance wouldn't cover it, and there was no way that we could possibly afford the cost of the care without the insurance. I called my insurance company and they informed me that Christopher's neonatologist was completely in charge of his care. That meant that all medical care that was to be covered by the insurance had to first be approved by him. I returned back to Woody's room so I could be there when she woke up. I informed her of Christopher's status and we remained optimistic and thankful that Christopher had made it through the night.
Shortly after I had returned, Christopher's neonatologist came into the room. He updated us on Christopher's condition and emphasized that the first 3 days were going to be critical. We asked him about a longer prognosis, but he told us it was much too early to speculate. After telling us that he would let us know about any changes, he headed out into the hallway. I waited a while before returning back to the nursery. When I had gotten there I learned that the doctor was gone for the day. I felt a little uneasy thinking what would happen if there was an emergency and they needed him. "How would they find him and how long would it take him to get back here?" I thought. Then I remembered that God was in control of the whole situation. I needed to learn to place my confidence in Him.
Later that morning, my sister and mother came out to the hospital. My mother was carrying a pot of bright pink azaleas in full bloom, which really cheered up the room. We went down to the nursery for a visit and back to Woody's room. My sister asked if we had seen the doctor and I told her about his comments. She was trying to fight back disgust at his indifference and absence, but her expression read clear to me. This doctor's care, or lack of, was obviously not typical of the doctor's she had worked with in the past. My mother insisted that I eat something so the three of us left Woody and went to get some lunch. After returning, my sister told me that David had spoken to Dr. Null and that he would be willing to assess Christopher if we wanted him to. I told Liz of my decision not to ask Dr. Null to assess him. "It will only complicate things," I told her and emphasized my problem with the insurance. She persisted for a while and then stopped while suggesting that the health of my child was far more important than whether it was covered by insurance.
Point made! Had I really placed money before my son? I could only think about how astronomical intensive care costs must be and that thought clouded the realization that I could choose to get my own doctors and pay for it myself. I walked out of the room and down the hall wrestling with this new thought. Then I wondered if it would really help. Could money really save my son? What made Dr. Null possess the ability to heal Christopher any better than Christopher's current doctor? There were no guarantees either way. God really was the only answer. But what would God want me to do in this situation? I had no idea. Something deep within me convinced me that God had allowed me to be in this situation with our current doctor and I decided that I was going to stay there. "If you want me to do something different, force me into making that decision," I prayed. With a newly established confidence, I went back to tell Liz of my decision. I told her how I felt as if God was in control, and how he placed us in this situation. Being a fellow believer and the person that led me to faith, she listened and agreed and gently replied that it wouldn't hurt to have Dr. Null come and give us his professional opinion.
Thinking that was the end of the discussion, I went on taking turns with my Mother spending time with Woody and Christopher. Later that afternoon, my Father came to the hospital. Over the course of the afternoon, everyone - Woody, my parents, and Liz re-asked me if we should have Dr. Null come and visit. I felt a greater and greater weight over me. To make matters worse, Christopher's condition had worsened. Finally, the weight was too much to bear. After Liz brought up Dr. Null's name again, I angrily replied, "Why do I feel like I'm being forced into making this decision?" as I stormed out into the hallway. After taking a few steps down the hallway, I suddenly remembered the prayer that I had said earlier that afternoon. And it became clear that this wasn't my family pressuring me, this was God!
Relieved to know what God wanted me to do, I had enough confidence to approach Christopher's doctor with the request for Dr. Null's visit. I headed down to the NICU to see if he had returned to the hospital. Not finding him there, I told Christopher's nurse that I would like to speak with him. When she asked "why" I told her about Dr. Null and how I wanted him to assess Christopher.
Back in Woody's room in the early part of the evening, there was an abrupt opening of the door. In walked Christopher's neonatologist not looking the least bit happy. He angrily began talking about our request to have Dr. Null assess Christopher. Apparently, the nurse had paged him and told him of our reason for wanting to see him. "I know Dr. Null. I don't know what you are trying to accomplish by asking him to visit. He doesn't have hospital privileges here. Furthermore, I am Christopher's doctor and I am in charge of his care. No action regarding his care will be taken unless instructed by me. You may ask him to visit if it would make you feel better, but I strongly discourage it and think that it will only lead to confusion."
Liz and David had told me about this experimental ventilator that Dr. Null was using at Wilford Hall that seemed to show promise for babies in Christopher's condition. When I tried asking Christopher's doctor about the ventilator, he seemed to become even angrier. "There is no proof that that ventilator is any better than the ventilators that we're using on Christopher. If you're thinking about having Christopher moved from this hospital, you can forget it. In the first place, his status has remained basically unchanged since he was born meaning that the care we are giving him is perfectly adequate. Therefore, there would be no substantial reason to have him moved. Secondly, he is too sick to make the transfer, and I would refuse to sign his release."
As he made a hasty exit from the room, the confidence that I had concerning God's will had been deflated. "Had I missed God and made a mistake? What about Christopher's care from here on out? I would find it difficult having this man as Christopher's doctor," I thought. "I knew that this was going to cause problems and I shouldn't have done this," I blurted out as I headed down to the NICU to see Christopher. Back in the NICU, the nurse informed me that Christopher's doctor was part of a group of doctors that serviced most of the hospitals in San Antonio. Even if I wanted to transfer Christopher to another hospital, I would receive a doctor that was part of the same practice. The only hospitals that had NICUs that they did not service were the military hospitals and the county hospital. Wilford Hall, where Dr. Null practiced, was out of the question since Woody and I were not serving in the military. And I knew nothing about the county hospital. Requesting Dr. Null's visit seemed even more foolish now.
The following morning, I headed down to the NICU from Woody's room. "No change," the nurse replied when I asked her about his status. "He's had a nice quiet evening". Christopher's doctor made a brief stop into Woody's room to give us a status and repeated the nurse’s report. He was even more terse in his conversation than before. As he was talking, I noticed he was wearing tennis clothing underneath the NICU gown. Thinking I could make a little conversation, I asked him if he was off to play tennis. He quickly looked down at his legs and tennis shoes to try to figure out how I knew. Looking embarrassed, he muttered "yes" and walked out.
Early in the afternoon, Liz came to wait with us for Dr. Null. And shortly thereafter, Dr. Null gently knocked on Woody's room and upon entering, gave a hug to Liz as he greeted us warmly. He was smartly dressed in his Air Force uniform. Being a former Air Force dependent myself, I noticed the emblems on his shoulders revealing his rank of colonel. He was obviously a highly respected doctor in the Air Force. As we began talking we could understand David and Liz's respect for Dr. Null. Despite his high military rank, he was humble and gentle and appeared genuinely concerned about Christopher. We told him of the events leading up to his visit including Christopher's doctor’s earlier outburst and he shrugged them off as if to say, "Let's not worry about those things now".
This was a characteristic that we would see in Dr. Null over and over. No matter how dire a situation appeared he would remain calm. As I saw this calmness in Dr. Null, I couldn't help but remember that this was one of Christ's characteristics. Remember the depiction of Jesus asleep in the boat on the turbulent sea surrounded by panicked disciples? Or his words, "Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow. Each day has enough troubles of its own. Let tomorrow worry about itself." (Matthew 6:34) Calmness reflects faith in something that is bigger than the situation or us. Whether Dr. Null's calmness was based upon a faith in God, fate, or something else, I don't know. All I know is when I saw it in him it forced me to ask myself where my faith lay. And it challenged me to take my sights off of the problem and to place my faith in God.
After spending some time with us, he asked me to escort him to the NICU. The whole time we were walking down there, I was holding my breath in anticipation for what I thought was going to be a confrontation between Dr. Null and Christopher's doctor. To my surprise, Christopher's doctor was not there, and I quickly realized he did not intend to see Dr. Null at all. Dr. Null and I scrubbed up, put on NICU gowns and headed over to see Christopher. Despite not having official hospital privileges at Santa Rosa, the nurses were wonderfully respectful and gracious to Dr. Null. They obtained Christopher's charts and X-rays and answered his questions.
After a brief observation, Dr. Null thanked the nurses and we headed back into the hallway. He began describing the experimental ventilator that they were using at Wilford Hall in cases similar to Christopher's. He felt as if this ventilator would give Christopher a chance and that his chances for surviving on the conventional ventilator were probably less. As I pressed him for some sort of guarantee, he gently reminded me that Christopher had severe lung disease and that either path would be a struggle. As he was talking, it became clear that he was offering us an opportunity to come to Wilford Hall. This seemed impossible to me since neither Woody nor I had military privileges. And of course there was the question of my insurance. They only covered their doctors at their hospitals. And foremost in my mind, there was Christopher's doctor. He just told us the day before that under no condition would he grant Christopher release. As we arrived back at Woody's room we discussed all of these problems. Dr. Null felt he could waive the restriction of military privileges but that the rest of the problems would have to resolve themselves. As he was speaking, I realized that his focus was on the well being of my son, while ashamedly, mine was on the problems.
Those who know of the historical exodus of the children of Israel from Egypt might see a parallel with our dilemma. Upon leaving Egypt, the Israelites were backed against the Red Sea with the Egyptian army in pursuit. The Israelites, despite witnessing the miracles of God, could only focus on the problems at hand. (Exodus 14:1-12)
As Dr. Null asked me to give him permission to ask for the release of Christopher so that he could transfer him to Wilford Hall, I knew deep down that this was God's will, and that my response was to answer "yes" and to pray. But I was scared. Looking back, I realize that this was a life lesson. God does not ask us to perform the impossible. He only asks us to be obedient and to have faith in Him. He did not tell Moses to run out into the waters and part the Red Sea. He told Moses to part the Red Sea by raising his staff and stretching forth his hand. (Exodus 14:16) My "staff", though simple and well within my power to lift up seemed so heavy because I saw the overwhelming odds against our situation. All I had to do was say "yes". But I couldn't help but remember that we had just been told earlier that under no circumstances would Christopher be released from the hospital. Wouldn't it be better to turn around, ask for forgiveness and return to Egypt, which we knew? In addition, I kept thinking about our health insurance. Even if our "Red Sea" would part, who would provide once we were on the other side? I was also wondering if Christopher would survive the transport to the other hospital. Was I jeopardizing the health of my son on this journey of faith?
After wrestling with the dilemma further, I responded "yes" and Dr. Null left to return to his office to call Christopher's doctor. Once he left, I realized the weight of the problem had gone. My feeble faith had lifted the problem to God who removed it. I was now to pray and trust God for the outcome.
Scripture quotations taken from the NASB.
© Copyright 1987, 2016 by Rick Murata. All Rights Reserved.