In my experiences with walking in the Lord's Presence, I have often found that much like the Israelites journey to the Promised Land, there is a wilderness on the other side of every Red Sea (Exodus 15:22). It's as if God uses the experience of the miraculous to prepare you to travel through what lies ahead. People often wonder why a good God would allow his children to walk through a wilderness time; why He would need to "test our faith". I like to correlate wilderness times to the purification of metals (Proverbs 17:3). I believe the Lord uses these times not to see if we will succeed or fail, but to remove the dross that we often ignore in times of plenty. Following their journey through the wilderness, Moses told the Israelites that the Lord used the wilderness "to humble you and to test you in order to know what was in your heart, whether or not you would keep his commands... so that in the end it might go well with you" (Deuteronomy 8:2, 16). The Israelites took only three days in the wilderness following the parting of the Red Sea before they began to grumble (Exodus 15:22-24). I have often heard teachings belittling the Israelites lack of faith, but I think many of us would be hard pressed to have made it three days.
The first three days following Christopher's arrival at Wilford Hall went extremely well. He was showing wonderful signs of improvement. The oxygen levels and ventilator pressure which had made a steady climb at Santa Rosa, were both coming down. Woody was home and recuperating well from her surgery and had begun accompanying me to visit Christopher. We were both thankful for all we were experiencing. David was slowly educating us about all of the medical devices that were being used to aid Christopher's recovery. As Resident-in-charge, he was responsible for the care of nearly all of the babies in both the NICU and the immediate care nursery. It was wonderful knowing that he was watching over the care of Christopher when we were unable to be there in the nursery.
Everyone who has had a very sick relative or friend in the hospital has probably experienced the fear of receiving a phone call in the middle of the night that their loved one has passed away or was not going to live through the night. Though that thought had crossed our minds, we never really believed it would happen to us. Not now, after watching all of the miraculous things that had transpired. In fact, when David and the other doctors would give their prognosis of a three to four month stay for Christopher, we would reply that Christopher's recovery was going to amaze them.
On Wednesday night, three nights following Christopher's arrival at Wilford Hall, we made the trip out to visit Christopher. Christopher had improved greatly since the previous day. Following a brief but joyous visit, we made the nearly hour long drive home. Exhausted from our new schedule of longer days and nights, we both fell right to sleep. Shortly before midnight, we were awakened by a ringing telephone.
"Hello?" I muttered as I tried to make words come out of my mouth.
"Rick, this is David," came the reply. "Christopher had two pnemos and you need to get to the hospital right now," he continued as I began to feel my heart pound by the tone of his voice.
"A what?" I replied not knowing what a "pnemo" was.
"He has holes in both lungs," he continued as he began to cry. "I don't think he's going live long enough for you to even get here! His lungs have collapsed and we can't re-expand them! Just hurry and get here as fast as you can!!" he continued through his sobbing.
"What's wrong?" Woody gasped before I even had a chance to hang up the phone.
"Christopher's real sick and they want us to come right now. They don't think he's going to make it before we get there," I replied as I dialed the phone to call my parents. After making the call and throwing on some clothes, we got in the car and began speeding down the expressway to the hospital. At the speed limit, the drive there was nearly forty-five minutes away which gave us lots of time to think. My thoughts were running wild. "How could he get holes in his lungs?" "Why do we live so far from this hospital?" "Please let him live long enough for Woody to be able to be there." But maybe the most telling thought of my inner struggle was the question, "Why would God miraculously overcome all of these seemingly impossible obstacles only to let him die?" The immediate circumstances threatened to crush the glimmer of faith that the Lord had given me. I was about to be counted with the Israelites who cried, "Why did you bring us up out of Egypt to make us and our children and livestock die of thirst?"
After a few minutes of driving, the peace that only God can bring settled over me. I turned to Woody and whispered, "Even if God should allow Christopher to live or die right now, it doesn't make any difference. We need to be thankful for the few days that we've been able to spend with him". And with that, we began to pray, "Father, we thank you for these few days that we've been able to spend with our son, Your beloved, Christ-bearer. We don't really understand what's going on right now but we trust in You and ask You to watch over him. Amen".
We talked very little the rest of the way to the hospital. I slowed down to the speed limit believing that if God could make him live or die at any minute, driving slower or faster surely wasn't going to make any difference. We calmly parked the car in the now nearly empty parking lot and made our way through the doors, up the elevator, and down the long corridor leading to the NICU. My heart was pounding as we entered the doors to the nurse’s station. Dr. Null was standing in civilian clothes and greeted us as we walked in. He had apparently given instructions to call him if any major developments occurred during the night. "Christopher gave us a little scare," he started as my spirit jumped now knowing that he was still alive.
"Is he going to be all right?" Woody shyly asked as both of us peered through the glass windows toward the several nurses and doctors surrounding his bed.
"He's stable for right now," came his calm reply that we grew to really appreciate over Christopher's stay. "We had to insert a couple of chest tubes but he should be all right. You can go in and see him as soon as we clean him up a little bit."
"What happened?" I asked not knowing how you can get holes in your lungs. "He was doing so well".
Dr. Null began explaining how the pressure from the ventilator can sometimes cause tiny tears in the lungs; especially those lungs that are scarred and fragile like Christopher's. The tear isn't what's bad. It's that the air gets into the chest cavity and collapses the lung so that the lung cannot function properly. Generally, creating a hole through the chest wall will allow the air to pass out of the chest cavity so that the lung can re-expand. But because a premature baby lacks surfactant, the lung collapses and sticks together.
It was then that Dr. Null informed us that Christopher went for a long period of time without oxygen as they attempted to re-expand his lungs. The next few days they were scheduling a sonogram to be performed on his brain as they were convinced that Christopher would bleed into his brain cavity. This type of bleeding is almost certain for premature infants who go for a period of time without oxygen and, depending upon where and the extent of the bleed, can lead to cerebral palsy, mental retardation, vision or hearing loss impairment.
Just being thankful that Christopher was alive, we were anxious to go in and see him. David was nowhere in sight. Liz had gotten to the hospital before we did and told us that David was in the back. Shortly thereafter, David came from the area behind the nursery shaken from the evening’s developments. It was obvious that he was shouldering part of the responsibility for Christopher's near-death episode and, still weeping, came and embraced both Woody and I. Inwardly, we were rejoicing in the extra time the Lord had granted Christopher to live and were unaware of David's ongoing concerns. To us, Christopher had just come through another miracle. But to David, his medical knowledge and experience of seeing babies go through less serious episodes made him confident that Christopher had experienced at least a minor hemorrhage in his brain. This was amplified by a beloved niece who had developed cerebral palsy following an episode in which she went without oxygen as a premature baby.
Once inside the nursery things looked pretty much the same. They had added an additional IV and we got our first introduction to chest tubes. The chest tubes were a quarter of an inch in diameter, clear plastic tubes that were inserted through the skin between the ribs and into the chest cavity. Thick, black thread was used to sew the incision and to help hold the tubes in place. The tubes extended out of the chest, around the sides of the bed, and into some water filled, plastic chambers attached to the base of the bed. Small droplets of dried blood were spattered around the bed as the air escaping the chest cavity had apparently propelled the blood from the incision. A nurse was busy cleaning the area up as we made our visit.
There was a sense of apprehension among all of the nursing staff and technicians. Many of them were veterans of the neonatal nursery and although nothing is ever certain in medicine, there are definite patterns that they learn to recognize. Christopher had just fallen into one of those patterns. Through our ignorance, Woody and I remained unconcerned. To us, we had just received a gift of time from the Lord. All of the medical staff's concerns were just going to have to wait.
Several days later, a radiological specialist came up to the neonatal unit with a portable sonogram machine. His findings showed that Christopher did not bleed into his brain! He would come back several times over the next few days only to obtain the same result. In fact, besides the chest tubes extending from his chest, there were few signs that Christopher had ever undergone a period without oxygen. In the two days following the episode, his oxygen requirement had come down over thirty percent. The one change that had occurred because of Christopher's episode was the removal of David as his attending physician. Dr. Null decided that David just needed to fulfill his role as "Uncle" and not be burdened with the responsibility of being Christopher's caregiver as well. His replacement was a petite Army captain who was working on her fellowship in neonatology at Wilford Hall along with five Air Force officers. Her name was Dr. Carter.
Scripture quotations taken from the NASB.
© Copyright 1987, 2016 by Rick Murata. All Rights Reserved.
The first three days following Christopher's arrival at Wilford Hall went extremely well. He was showing wonderful signs of improvement. The oxygen levels and ventilator pressure which had made a steady climb at Santa Rosa, were both coming down. Woody was home and recuperating well from her surgery and had begun accompanying me to visit Christopher. We were both thankful for all we were experiencing. David was slowly educating us about all of the medical devices that were being used to aid Christopher's recovery. As Resident-in-charge, he was responsible for the care of nearly all of the babies in both the NICU and the immediate care nursery. It was wonderful knowing that he was watching over the care of Christopher when we were unable to be there in the nursery.
Everyone who has had a very sick relative or friend in the hospital has probably experienced the fear of receiving a phone call in the middle of the night that their loved one has passed away or was not going to live through the night. Though that thought had crossed our minds, we never really believed it would happen to us. Not now, after watching all of the miraculous things that had transpired. In fact, when David and the other doctors would give their prognosis of a three to four month stay for Christopher, we would reply that Christopher's recovery was going to amaze them.
On Wednesday night, three nights following Christopher's arrival at Wilford Hall, we made the trip out to visit Christopher. Christopher had improved greatly since the previous day. Following a brief but joyous visit, we made the nearly hour long drive home. Exhausted from our new schedule of longer days and nights, we both fell right to sleep. Shortly before midnight, we were awakened by a ringing telephone.
"Hello?" I muttered as I tried to make words come out of my mouth.
"Rick, this is David," came the reply. "Christopher had two pnemos and you need to get to the hospital right now," he continued as I began to feel my heart pound by the tone of his voice.
"A what?" I replied not knowing what a "pnemo" was.
"He has holes in both lungs," he continued as he began to cry. "I don't think he's going live long enough for you to even get here! His lungs have collapsed and we can't re-expand them! Just hurry and get here as fast as you can!!" he continued through his sobbing.
"What's wrong?" Woody gasped before I even had a chance to hang up the phone.
"Christopher's real sick and they want us to come right now. They don't think he's going to make it before we get there," I replied as I dialed the phone to call my parents. After making the call and throwing on some clothes, we got in the car and began speeding down the expressway to the hospital. At the speed limit, the drive there was nearly forty-five minutes away which gave us lots of time to think. My thoughts were running wild. "How could he get holes in his lungs?" "Why do we live so far from this hospital?" "Please let him live long enough for Woody to be able to be there." But maybe the most telling thought of my inner struggle was the question, "Why would God miraculously overcome all of these seemingly impossible obstacles only to let him die?" The immediate circumstances threatened to crush the glimmer of faith that the Lord had given me. I was about to be counted with the Israelites who cried, "Why did you bring us up out of Egypt to make us and our children and livestock die of thirst?"
After a few minutes of driving, the peace that only God can bring settled over me. I turned to Woody and whispered, "Even if God should allow Christopher to live or die right now, it doesn't make any difference. We need to be thankful for the few days that we've been able to spend with him". And with that, we began to pray, "Father, we thank you for these few days that we've been able to spend with our son, Your beloved, Christ-bearer. We don't really understand what's going on right now but we trust in You and ask You to watch over him. Amen".
We talked very little the rest of the way to the hospital. I slowed down to the speed limit believing that if God could make him live or die at any minute, driving slower or faster surely wasn't going to make any difference. We calmly parked the car in the now nearly empty parking lot and made our way through the doors, up the elevator, and down the long corridor leading to the NICU. My heart was pounding as we entered the doors to the nurse’s station. Dr. Null was standing in civilian clothes and greeted us as we walked in. He had apparently given instructions to call him if any major developments occurred during the night. "Christopher gave us a little scare," he started as my spirit jumped now knowing that he was still alive.
"Is he going to be all right?" Woody shyly asked as both of us peered through the glass windows toward the several nurses and doctors surrounding his bed.
"He's stable for right now," came his calm reply that we grew to really appreciate over Christopher's stay. "We had to insert a couple of chest tubes but he should be all right. You can go in and see him as soon as we clean him up a little bit."
"What happened?" I asked not knowing how you can get holes in your lungs. "He was doing so well".
Dr. Null began explaining how the pressure from the ventilator can sometimes cause tiny tears in the lungs; especially those lungs that are scarred and fragile like Christopher's. The tear isn't what's bad. It's that the air gets into the chest cavity and collapses the lung so that the lung cannot function properly. Generally, creating a hole through the chest wall will allow the air to pass out of the chest cavity so that the lung can re-expand. But because a premature baby lacks surfactant, the lung collapses and sticks together.
It was then that Dr. Null informed us that Christopher went for a long period of time without oxygen as they attempted to re-expand his lungs. The next few days they were scheduling a sonogram to be performed on his brain as they were convinced that Christopher would bleed into his brain cavity. This type of bleeding is almost certain for premature infants who go for a period of time without oxygen and, depending upon where and the extent of the bleed, can lead to cerebral palsy, mental retardation, vision or hearing loss impairment.
Just being thankful that Christopher was alive, we were anxious to go in and see him. David was nowhere in sight. Liz had gotten to the hospital before we did and told us that David was in the back. Shortly thereafter, David came from the area behind the nursery shaken from the evening’s developments. It was obvious that he was shouldering part of the responsibility for Christopher's near-death episode and, still weeping, came and embraced both Woody and I. Inwardly, we were rejoicing in the extra time the Lord had granted Christopher to live and were unaware of David's ongoing concerns. To us, Christopher had just come through another miracle. But to David, his medical knowledge and experience of seeing babies go through less serious episodes made him confident that Christopher had experienced at least a minor hemorrhage in his brain. This was amplified by a beloved niece who had developed cerebral palsy following an episode in which she went without oxygen as a premature baby.
Once inside the nursery things looked pretty much the same. They had added an additional IV and we got our first introduction to chest tubes. The chest tubes were a quarter of an inch in diameter, clear plastic tubes that were inserted through the skin between the ribs and into the chest cavity. Thick, black thread was used to sew the incision and to help hold the tubes in place. The tubes extended out of the chest, around the sides of the bed, and into some water filled, plastic chambers attached to the base of the bed. Small droplets of dried blood were spattered around the bed as the air escaping the chest cavity had apparently propelled the blood from the incision. A nurse was busy cleaning the area up as we made our visit.
There was a sense of apprehension among all of the nursing staff and technicians. Many of them were veterans of the neonatal nursery and although nothing is ever certain in medicine, there are definite patterns that they learn to recognize. Christopher had just fallen into one of those patterns. Through our ignorance, Woody and I remained unconcerned. To us, we had just received a gift of time from the Lord. All of the medical staff's concerns were just going to have to wait.
Several days later, a radiological specialist came up to the neonatal unit with a portable sonogram machine. His findings showed that Christopher did not bleed into his brain! He would come back several times over the next few days only to obtain the same result. In fact, besides the chest tubes extending from his chest, there were few signs that Christopher had ever undergone a period without oxygen. In the two days following the episode, his oxygen requirement had come down over thirty percent. The one change that had occurred because of Christopher's episode was the removal of David as his attending physician. Dr. Null decided that David just needed to fulfill his role as "Uncle" and not be burdened with the responsibility of being Christopher's caregiver as well. His replacement was a petite Army captain who was working on her fellowship in neonatology at Wilford Hall along with five Air Force officers. Her name was Dr. Carter.
Scripture quotations taken from the NASB.
© Copyright 1987, 2016 by Rick Murata. All Rights Reserved.