This is one photo of Anna that was featured on Facebook by a relative asking for prayer.
Three years ago around
this time, my daughter Anna got very sick.
My husband was out of
town, and she and I found ourselves in urgent care Friday night, the emergency
room Saturday night, on the phone with the doctor Sunday night, and in the
office to visit our doctor first thing on Monday morning.
Anna was not improving. I
could do nothing to keep her fever down. Unbeknownst to me, she had already had
two wrong diagnoses. No one knew what was wrong.
Fortunately, my medical
caregiver is thorough. Jane Rice examined her, asked lots of questions, and
probably prayed for insight. Then she went to consult her supervising
physician.
Dr. Bridget Hilliard
entered the room with Jane and examined Anna as well. She informed Jane that
she agreed with her, and Jane informed me of their conclusion.
Kawasaki's Disease. (Read
more about that here: http://pennstatehershey.adam.com/content.aspx?productId=117&pid=1&gid=000989).
Jane scheduled Anna for an echo-cardiogram and told me to head to the Chambersburg Hospital that night if
Anna's fever did not go down. She said she'd call them to let them know we
would probably be arriving via the emergency room.
The next 24 hours were a
blur. They included lots of calls from my husband, arranging care for my pets
and other children, Anna continuing to get sicker, several hours in another
emergency room, and a midnight transfer to Hershey Medical Center by
ambulance.
Upon arriving at Hershey
Medical Center in the very early hours of the morning, things picked up the
pace, rather than slowing down. And they never seemed to slow down again.
Anna looked awful. She
was exhausted, feverish, her skin sometimes had a rash, but it was her mouth
that was the worst. Kawasaki patients have symptoms that reflect in the lips
and membranes of the mouth, but Anna's mouth was clearly dealing with some
secondary issues as well. Everyone who saw her visibly reacted, and the only
way she could receive nutritional input (aside from intravenously, which they
began immediately) was through a straw. The medical professionals seemingly
streamed through the room to see her.
Hershey Medical Center is
a wonderful place. Though its facilities for children were still in sore need
of upgrading at the time we were experiencing our week-long stay, the medical
staff is generally wonderful. Soon, Anna had an entire team working with her,
partially because Hershey is a teaching hospital, but also because Kawasaki's
is a somewhat mysterious, complicated disease.
My husband arrived from
his conference in North Carolina. My mother, step-father and mother-in-law
arrived from Minnesota. Even with their help, I was constantly talking with doctors,
nurses, and whoever else walked through our hospital room door. I was providing
Anna with a steady supply of chocolate milk (the doctors insisted they wanted
her to imbibe anything that would provide calories or any type of nutritional
benefit--chocolate milk included), calming her when she had to be poked and
prodded yet again, answering people's questions, trying to find something to
serve as a meal.
I am generally a praying
woman, but late one night, when I was sleeping on a foldout chair in between
blood pressure readings, I suddenly realized I had hardly prayed at all that
day--maybe for a couple days. My first response was mortification: how could I
possibly forget to pray when my precious daughter's very life could on the
line?!
But the next moment deeply
affected me.
I felt peace from God
rush over me. I sensed an almost audible voice: "It's OK. It's OK. People
are praying for you." And I don't mean that they were simply including us
in their prayers; I mean they were praying on our behalf.
I have teary eyes even
now as I reflect back on that moment, that experience.
My problem hadn't been
forgetfulness. My problem was that I was absolutely, 100% engaged in a crisis
that took every moment of my time and every morsel of my emotional, spiritual,
mental and physical strength. Fortunately, I am part of the Body of Christ, and
people all over the world were praying for Anna and for Anna's family.
I had not anticipated
being that mom whose daughter's picture becomes the Facebook profile photo for
people requesting their contacts to pray for this blond-haired, blue-eyed girl
who is so sick. I never anticipated a church taking a love offering for us to
cover our medical expenses. But that became us. That can become any of us--any
moment, any day.
But the only lesson here
is not that life can change in a moment. More comes to mind for me than Psalm
90:12: "So
teach us to number our days, That we may present to Thee a heart of wisdom."
The most poignant lesson
for me had to do with prayer. I will never again tune out when someone gives a
long explanation about the health of a second cousin who lives in a state far
away. I choose not to let my flesh judge someone as giving a
"cop-out" request when they choose to share about their Aunt Peggy's
hernia surgery rather than a matter closer to the heart.
Sure, sometimes people do
share the "easy" thing when they request prayer for someone they've
heard of who is sick, rather than confessing that they need prayer for their
own dark thing they face. But that person who is sick--herniated Aunt Peggy or whomever--does
need prayer--maybe much more than we can even imagine.
And, as part of the Body
of Christ, I will pray for Peggy (or whomever) in two ways: I will include her
in my prayers, and I will pray on her behalf.
