Update 3/30/10 Day 141

Dear friends,

I was working at Albany Med tonite, when Nurse Joyce approached me. I had known her a little bit, but tonite I got to know her alot better when she told me a story you all know from a different point of view.


On November 8, Joyce was shadowing in the Emergency Room. The hospital does this sometimes to give nurses who work on other floors a feel for what goes on down there. Joyce got more experience than she ever bargained for that particular Sunday night. Her emotions while detailing what she saw were plain to see. She was shaken. She was moved by scenes of love and mercy. And she was relieved to know that almost 5 months later, Stephen and Hannah are recovering well.


From her perspective, a father of three was rocketed into trauma room A2, and his little girl was already next door in room A1. She recalled to me some of her memories. The ER nurse told her that Steve couldn't take the preferred painkillers, because they impacted blood pressure and his was already in the danger zone. She told Joyce they would give him a certain opiate that would be less dangerous, but would make him feel like he was having a "bad trip". She recollected the nurses squeezing the blood units to get blood in faster than it drained out. She herself kept fetching more and more pads, which soaked through with blood as soon as they were put on Smitty's legs. When he was put in the CT scanner, there was a great fear he wouldn't make it out because his pressure was so tenuous. She said he was just a "mass of broken, exposed bones". And she recalled how his feet had begun to turn black from lack of circulation, putting him in danger of gangrene and amputation.


Unbelievable, isn't it? Let's face it, we have all witnessed a miracle. The Great One simply put up His hand and said, "this far and no farther". She reminded me of some things I said which I didn't remember. And then she said the sweetest thing: "I remember your older son coming in to sing to Hannah". And I told her," that wasn't my son, that was our Youth Pastor. But I would be happy to call him my son..." Pastor Greg, those moments were a true picture of love to nurse Joyce. And even though Hannah's mind doesn't remember, I truly believe those songs are forever anchored as medicine in her precious soul. Thank you.

And when Joyce told me how "strong" I was, I inwardly laughed. I told her about the supernatural grace that I experienced. Strong, that's a laugh. Only the Great One and I know the reality of my weakness. If anyone saw anything strong, it's because the Rock I was standing on is immovable. I'm not trying to sound modest here. Think about it. Anyone going through this kind of thing would crumble without Someone truly strong to hold them up. "God is the strength of my heart, and my portion forever..."

Thank you Joyce, and all you dedicated, wonderful, compassionate folks who worked the ER trauma rooms on that surreal night. He lost alot of blood, but he didn't die. His feet turned black, but he didn't lose a single limb. He made it out of that CT scanner, out of a bed, out of a wheelchair, out of a walker, and into his home, his car, his office. We'll be standing with our mouths open before the Great One as long as we live. Remarkable, stunning Savior.

Time for bed. Can't wait to talk to you all again tomorrow. You bless my heart.

Your friend on the pilgrim road,

Loriann

P.S. Remember Judy W!