The Spiritual Whirlwind is about the first “real prayer” of my life. It was a life-or-death prayer.
In Early February 2013, my husband dropped me and three of our young boys off at the doctor’s office. I was having another high-risk pregnancy, and just was getting checked out to make sure everything was going well. After my appointment was over, my husband wasn’t there to pick us up. I knew he had to start work at a certain time and I thought maybe he forgot about us. He wasn’t answering his phone, I grew anxious after being in the waiting room with the little ones for such a long time-even with snacks and plenty of books to keep them occupied.
After about an hour to an hour and a half, he finally showed up. I was so glad to see him, I told him I thought he forgot about us. He shared with me that he was on his way to pick us up and had fallen ill and had to return home. He had called off of work and upon us all arriving home, he went straight to bed. Later that day he told me he had to go to the hospital. He never got more than allergies or the common cold, so his saying he had to go to the hospital was a bit concerning to me. My parents watch the children while we went to the hospital-which he drove, even as sick as he was.
We didn’t even park the car, we left it by the ER doors, as soon as the nurse saw him she got him a wheelchair and raced him straight back. The nurse was experienced enough to know he was extremely sick. They got him right into a room and began running a battery of tests on him, hooked him up to IVs, and gave him strong pain meds. While all that was going on, I was asked to go move our vehicle to a parking spot. It wasn’t long after I got back to the room, the doctor told me they were admitting him. I clearly remember her words as she looked at my belly saying, “…I know this isn’t a good time…”. I didn’t understand at the time exactly what she was telling us, and exactly how sick my husband was.
After he was settled in a room, he was on the phone with our oldest, who was in high school at the time, to tell him how much he loved him. I had to hold the phone for my husband, he was in so much pain and could hardly even speak. Not long after he spoke with our son, we decided to try and rest. I went to sleep as comfortably as a, nearly third-trimester woman could on a hospital chair.
In the middle of the night, I awoke to the doctor and nurses all around my husband, working in a panic. My husband looked like he was still asleep, but trying to sit up, one of the nurses ushered me out of the room, taking me to the “Serenity Room”. She informed me that my husband was unable to breathe on his own and they had to intubate him. So I sat in the Serenity Room sipping some tea and trying to digest what was going on. When they came back for me, I was informed of my husband’s heart rate at a consistent 150 bpm and his fever was 106 degrees Fahrenheit. The doctor told me they needed to bring his heart rate down or “his heart will poop out”-those were her exact words…words I will never forget.
Over the next few hours, everyone worked diligently to bring my husband’s fever and heart rate down. They managed to get his fever down to 105 degrees, but the heart rate was the same. My husband’s body was swelling up and the doctor told me she would call the hospital over 50 miles away in the city to see if she could get him a bed, otherwise, they would have to cut him open and he would have a Bogata bag. This meant his skin would never be able to be closed shut…instead there would be a bag there.
Thankfully she knew the doctor in the ICU at the other hospital and they had a bed. This meant as soon as they could get the flight crew there, he was going to be flown flight-for-life. By this time dawn was breaking and I hurried and called my pastor, at the time, to come and Anoint him. My pastor lived about an hour away and he got there just as the flight crew was prepping him for the helicopter ride, they waited for our pastor to get there and Anoint him. Obviously, they wouldn’t let me fly with them, nor did I want to, I was afraid of helicopters, and I didn’t even want my husband in one. However, I knew they could get there much quicker. The trip by car was about an hour and the flight crew said they would have him there in about 10 minutes. I was so scared at this point, everything was happening so fast..too fast for me really to even process. I asked them to please talk to him, as I knew in my heart he could hear us, and they had a headset on him, saying they will let him know everything they are doing. As they rushed him out of the room to the helicopter, which was right outside the door, my instinct was to run as fast as I could to my car and drive as fast as I could to get to the hospital as fast as I could! But my eyes were fixed on him, and the helicopter. I had one hand on the glass when the hospital door closed, and one hand on my belly, rubbing our unborn baby girl. I stood there until I couldn’t see the helicopter any longer. My pastor offered to drive me, and I’m glad he did…I was so busy making phone calls and praying…lots of praying. I prayed to God to keep the helicopter in the air…the whole way I prayed, even while I made call after call to our family. I felt almost like I couldn’t breathe..like everything was a whirlwind and up in the air…everything seemed so chaotic and I was trying to understand the sheer gravity of the situation…I couldn’t really even think or do anything…I couldn’t process what was going on…
(To be continued…)