Lines by Lee

Just about everyone has had experience with at least one hospital if not multiple ones in their lifetime. It all began the moment most of us were born. Of course, we cannot recall the moment of birth or leaving the hospital a few days later with our proud parents. Other hospital times are very memorable, whether it was a trip to the emergency room or an admission. You were either the patient or with the patient.

I have extensive hospital experience as a child, grandson, son, husband, son-in-law, pastor and father. As a young boy I was in and out of hospitals several times with mysterious ear pain. I can remember the fear of all the doctors and nurses in and out as they probed, examined, and interviewed me. I recall a moment of feeling better and going into the hospital hallway and imitating my favorite Pittsburgh Pirate pitchers. No doubt I threw a strike every time.

Late in her life my paternal grandmother was hospitalized with various issues. I cried as she called me Raymond when I visited her. Everybody may love Raymond, but my name is Lee. Years before that, I accompanied my Mom to the hospital ER on my 16th birthday and still recall the doctor announcing that my maternal grandmother "has expired" after a massive heart attack.

Both of my sons had emergency appendectomies. My older son was in grave condition as his had ruptured. They must have inherited my bad appendix. When home from college I was to preach in my home church one Sunday. Instead I was rushed to the hospital to have the tiny but problematic organ removed. I could go on about those past experiences but will spare my readers. I am sure you also have hospital stories to tell.

I want to reflect on veryrecent hospital experiences and how they impacted me emotionally and spiritually. Several days after playing well in his football game and being named homecoming king, my son woke up earlier than usual on Sunday morning. I could tell by his face that something was wrong. He mentioned how sore he was and how hard it was to walk. We chalked it up to the extra running he did and the hits he took as he played quarterback for the first time. A few hours later my wife and I decided we should go the ER to have him checked out. His parents began to pray as I assisted him into the car as he writhed in pain.

He was seen right away. For the next seven hours he was questioned, tested, poked, probed, scanned, x-rayed and medicated. My son was sent home without a diagnosis but with a high temperature. The caring staff did their best to figure out what was happening but could not. Neither could they admit him for what seemed to amount to severe muscle pain. A few scary possibilities were suggested but it was all a blur, and nothing was conclusive. We had a lot of questions but trusted the Lord that another day would bring improvement. We got word out to various family members and church friends who joined us in prayer. I got him to the bathroom and back to bed using furniture sliders.

After less than 48 hours and a fever that came and went and came again, we knew it was time to return to the ER. The same physician's assistant was waiting for us. He had consulted with doctors and asked us more and examined him further. They realized that it was time for him to be seen at a bigger hospital with more resources and specialists. The concern grew along with his pain and inability to walk. With my wife following in the car, I rode along in the ambulance. I looked back often, even while the driver engaged in small talk that seemed utterly unimportant to me in light of what was happening.

We arrived late in the evening at the ER of the Children's Hospital of Pittsburgh. I had visited children there in the past. I had a nephew spend time at their previous location many years before. Friends had very positive experiences at that fine facility. But now my wife and I were soberly thrust into the hospital with our very sick son. It was unlike any other hospital visit.

Again we were grateful for quickly being seen and cared for. Healthcare in America has its critics. I admit I have been one of them. But if you talk with people who have been to hospitals in other countries you know how fortunate we are. The quality of the care and facilities far exceed most places in the world. We knew that more people were praying. What we did not know was what was going on with my son's body. The ER staff seems as perplexed as in the smaller hospital. After a few hours he was admitted and settled into a room where a team of specialists would get involved. I reminded myself that Scripture repeatedly tells us "do not fear." However, his parents were definitely dealing with fear. I am sure he was too but was in too much pain to think about what was going on. Thankfully we were able to sleep (a little) in the room with him in a drawer-like split level bed.

The next day, doctors had a theory but some bloodwork and an MRI would be needed to confirm their suspicions. They were using words like "serious" and "significant." I was beginning to run out of ways to pray but kept on doing it anyway. As parents we did our best to not seem too worried. We knew we had to stay strong for him. He caught me crying several times. At one point he assured me that he will be alright. Through many ups and downs and constant pain medications we eventually got a grasp on the situation. He had a staph infection that had entered his tissue, muscle and bone. The location was what was causing so much pain and immobility. Delicate surgery seemed likely because of multiple abscesses. Now we knew how to pray specifically. Numerous people and churches joined us in going before the throne of God. Our will was that the strong antibiotic could work quickly and powerfully so that he would not need the operation. For three nights he fasted, as they anticipated needing to operate the next morning. Our faithful Father provided! The inflammation was decreasing, and pain being managed. A week later he was back home, continuing with an IV antibiotic. With each passing day he is walking better and in less pain. God is good!

A few observations from my view from the hospital... God was in control all along. He just wanted us to be still and know that he was. To pray without ceasing is somehow exhausting and energizing at the same time. Encouragement from others is extremely valuable (1 Thessalonians 5:11; Hebrews 3:13). We received numerous hospital cafeteria gift vouchers from friends who spent way more time with their young child at that hospital than we did. There were hundreds of encouraging texts and emails inquiring about how we were doing. He got ecards and balloons and gift baskets that helped brighten our mundane and scary days. No one in my family cared what the spiritual or political views were of the doctors and nurses. We were just glad that they were smart, caring experts who knew what they were doing. We always tried to show gratitude and a good testimony to others. The Lord has a way of giving small graces besides the big miracles. I was watching the Steeler game on TV that was being played a few miles away from the hospital. They showed an aerial view of the stadium. I looked out the window and saw the blimp! Small graces. There was a really good Mexican restaurant two blocks away that gave us all a break from hospital cuisine. People from our church sent money to help with extra expenses and tacos. Small graces. I had been hoping to spend more time with my son. For over a week I was with him 24/7 and he seemed to want me to be. One staff person said there were 240 children in that hospital. As I walked down the hall, I recognized that many were worse off than my son. There truly is always something to be grateful for.

Psalm 6:2 states, "Have mercy on me, Lord, for I am faint; heal me, Lord, for my bones are in agony." For weeks my child's muscles and bones were in agony. God had mercy and is healing him. That is not always the Lord's will for a person's life. I will always praise him that in his sovereign will and timing he allowed healing. Great is his faithfulness!