Next Time

The following sentence is part of the last paragraph from my August 25th post. "Next time, it may be me, standing in the need of prayer".  Little did I know how soon that "next time" would be. 

On ,September 3, 2021 my baby sister, KK was diagnosed with c0vid* pneumonia. It was the beginning of Labor Day weekend. The Convenient Care Clinic where she was seen, sent her home in the same shape that she was in when she entered their door. She was told to use her home oxygen and go to the Emergency Room if her symptoms became unmanageable. Additionally, they told her that she qualified for the monoclonal antibody infusion, but couldn't get it until after the holiday.

In the days that followed, her symptoms worsened. She had to increase her oxygen usage from 1 liter  to 3 liters. She experienced head ache, nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea. Yet, she insisted that she would be alright; her hope pinned on prayer and the infusion that had been scheduled for September 8, 2021.

Weak, but unwilling to call an ambulance, she gathered enough strength to get into the car to go for the infusion. Once we made it to the Infusion Clinic, she was taken inside via wheel chair. I had to remain outside of the building.  For the next two hours, I waited, worried, prayed, texted, and drank coffee. Time passed. I could only wonder what was taking so long. When I was finally able to talk to a person who actually knew her whereabouts; I found out that she had been taken to the Emergency Room. Fortunately, it was in the same building complex as the Infusion Clinic.

Another hour went by and then two. By this time, she & I had exchanged a few texts. The last of which read, "I'm going to the big house**, bra-less and with only one flip flop". Despite the gravity of the situation, she had retained her sense of humor. At this point, I scrambled to gather a few personal items for her; phone charger, toothbrush, tooth paste, deodorant, etc. Next hurdle; how was I to get these items to her when I wasn't allowed inside the building?

God smiled on me & helped me to arrive in the correct ambulance bay, at the right time, to get her stuff to the ambulance driver. He would not confirm that she was the patient in his care. However, when he did not deny it, I took that as a sign that she was, in fact, in his ambulance. I will forever be grateful to have made that connection in time. Due to c0vid restrictions, it would be nearly three weeks before I would see my sister again. 

Text messages were our only means of communication with baby sis. First she was on high flow oxygen, but soon after, was placed on a Bi-Pap, We tried talking on the phone, but she could barely talk and breathe at the same time. On September 12, 2021, she was intubated and placed on a ventilator.

Then the roller coaster ride of day to day health changes, ensued. She was fully sedated into coma to tolerate being on the ventilator, so she could no longer text. No visitors allowed, due to  C0vid restrictions that would not be lifted until September 24th.

At some point we got word that we could set up a Zoom sessions with her. We were allowed one, ten minute session each day. While she was unconscious, there was little to do but talk to her and hope that she was hearing us. We closed each session with prayer for her and for her caretakers. Once they doctors started decreasing the sedation, she was able to interact with us with nods, smiles, and hand gestures. We had some good visits, but we longed to see her for longer than 10 minutes at a time, and we wanted to see her in person.

On the 19th day of her admission, we were allowed to visit face to face. But restrictions only allowed one visitor per twenty-four hours. Those visits were like pure gold to us ( middle sister & me). Some days, she was able to interact freely and we could see that she was improving. Then at times, there would be set backs and the sedation would be increased. And once again, she would not be able to communicate with us.

On the home front, we cried, we prayed, we leaned on our family and  friends, and we set our eyes on the miracle that we fully expected to take place. We proclaimed our faith to all that we met. We shared the testimony of her previous illness and recovery.*** We held on to God's unchanging hand. And even in all of that, we felt utterly helpless.

The days and nights seemed to run together. We basically pieced together the reports each day. Sometimes a nurse or doctor would call me with an update. Sometimes I would call the night nurse and get a report. And then, there were times while I was visiting her, that I actually was able to talk directly to a doctor. She had some very good ones and one or two that were just "okay". Same with the nurses; two of them ranked very high in our esteem and yet others barely made an impression at all. But we were thankful to know that she was receiving good care.

In general, the longer a person is on a ventilator, the less likely are they to recover. Yet, we held on to our hope that KK would be miraculously healed. All in all, she was on the ventilator for 35 days. In that stretch of time, she endured the following procedures; urinary catheter, central line placement, arterial line placement, tracheotomy, chest tube placements, feeding tube, and an untold number of peripheral sticks for blood tests. She suffered from anxiety, fevers, infections, frustrations with trying to communicate, body aches from being bed-ridden, and pain from procedures. Yet, she remained strong in the assurance that God was working on her behalf. 

How do I know that she knew this? On the day before she passed away, I was able to sit with her for about 4 hours. In that time, I held her hand, I talked to her, prayed with her, and at some point, I said, "God's got you, baby girl and He is working for you. Do you know that?" And she responded with a smile and a nodding of her head. On that positive note, I said my good byes and headed home. Little did I know that would be the last time that we would be together.

On the following morning @ 7:40 AM, my sister entered into the joys of heaven; never to experience pain again. She had completed forty days in the wilderness of a critical care unit. Did we cry? YES. Did we mourn? YES. Yet, we rejoiced in the miracle of her full recovery. It did not happen in the way that we wanted, but it happened in God's timing and in His way. Are we still crying? Yes, at times. Are we still grieving? Yes, each in our own way. Are we still rejoicing? Yes, for we know that we will be reunited with her one day.

KK's wilderness trial helped me to re-evaluate my purpose, realm of influence,  faith, relationships, testimony, and ministry. I discovered areas in my life that needed some attention. And I found great strength as I prayed for others who were going through the ordeal of C0vid and its devastation.

Dear reader, be encouraged today. Nothing is too hard for God. There is no sickness that He can not heal. No broken heart that He can not mend. No grief so deep that He can not ease it. And when the answers to our prayers are delayed or come in an unexpected way, He will be there to help us to rejoice in the aftermath.

* I refuse to spell it correctly. When spelled correctly, it shows up in search engines and then it is flagged for review by the Internet police. I'm not a conspiracy nut; but I have seen first hand censorship on other social media sites.

** refers to the flag ship hospital, Jackson Madison County General Hospital which has 600+ beds

*** In 2017, she was diagnosed with Dematomyositis, DVT, Pulmonary Emboli, CHF, Pulmonary Hypertension, and other related conditions. She was told that she would be permanently disabled and that she would be on oxygen the rest of her life. In November 2018 at CrossRoads A/G, she testified of God's healing power. Then she sang, "God is My Refuge" with the same gusto that she had enjoyed prior to the string of illnesses that she had endured. She went back to work part-time in 2019 and full-time in 2020. And was working full-time when she contracted C0vid.  - https://youtu.be/PlgRMJXcgtc