My Experiment in Faith and Healing

It was just after supper in early July of 2009, I had just gone upstairs to change into my pajama's when I heard my eldest daughter screaming " Oh my God, Mom Mema fell and she's really hurt" she was hysterical and appeared at my bedroom door just seconds later visibly shaken, tears streaming down her face.

I called out to my brother and son who blew past me, down the stairs. I was thinking to myself I didn't know how this could happen so fast. I entered the kitchen and saw my Mom lying on the floor, crying in pain. I looked into her eyes and asked very pointedly "What happened?" She shook her head from side to side. "My knees gave out"

I could see a small pool of blood forming under her twisted ankle. At that moment I realized this was a bad injury. Between my mom's cries and everyone's nervous banter, I was starting to feel panicky myself. I just remember asking the operator to send an ambulance quickly. The 911 operator could hear the panic in my voice and was asking me to calm down, she told me to apply light pressure to my mom's ankle to try and stop the bleeding.

My son took over applying pressure to Mom's leg and, as I repeated the instructions, he executed them with precision. I was in shock at how this all happened so fast. I was also overwhelmed, feeling so sorry to see my Mom in such incredible pain. It seemed to take the paramedics forever. My Brother went with Mom in the ambulance. I told him to keep me updated. A little after Midnight he called and said she was admitted to the hospital - they put on a temporary cast and surgery was scheduled for next morning. The break was a compound fracture, where the bone not only breaks, but pokes out through the skin.

It was two am before I actually drifted off to sleep. Early the next morning I got a call from the nurse in charge on Mom's ward - my mom was having trouble breathing and they had to put her on oxygen. The report from the nurse sounded dire - the ankle repair surgery was put off indefinitely. Even more surprising was the news that if the oxygen did not help increase her oxygen levels in the next few hours they were considering putting her on a ventilator. I thought to myself - Life support? The nurse went on to say that I should delay coming to see Mom until her condition stabilized.

By now I was very concerned, wondering how a broken ankle can lead to respiratory problems. An hour later the hospital called again - my Mom had really taken a turn for the worse and they needed my consent for a central line insertion. The Doctor explained that due to the difficulty breathing, my mom had a change in cognition and they did not feel she was of a capable state of mind to make the decision on her own. I agreed to the Central Line if it would help her improve. As I hung up, the gravity of the situation began to sink in. I needed to get to the hospital that evening and figure out what was going-on.

When my brother came home from work at 3:30 I filled him in on all the latest developments. I let him know we had to get down there that evening and figure out what to do next. Mom's health was rapidly deteriorating. At five-thirty as we were getting ready to leave for the hospital I received another call from the doctor, Mom's health had deteriorated further and her oxygen Saturday had dropped below normal levels, they were asking for permission to put her on the ventilator. Of course I agreed. The doctor informed me that she would have to be kept sedated after the ventilator hook-up and that we could visit her but she would be asleep due to the effects of the drugs. He felt the only way to get her oxygen levels up to normal was to hook her up to the ventilator. I was told we should give it another hour before coming to the hospital to allow them time to perform the procedure. It just seemed to keep getting worse.

The waiting room for the ICU was pretty crowded. We needed to wait to be called in order to go see Mom. We were chatting about how quickly the situation turned from bad to worse; I looked up and saw my Godmother, Auntie Judy, Mom's only sister and only remaining living sibling. "What happened? She asked as she hugged me. I filled her in on the fall, the injury, and the series of rapid deteriorations Mom was taking since entering the hospital. I could see the sadness in her eyes and the worry. I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Mom was really all that was left of her immediate family. Both grandparents are gone, as was their only brother, my uncle, who passed suddenly of a heart attack at the age of 57.

As we waited we talked about the family, my cousin, her son was getting married at the end of the month and she was having trouble with her knee's which required surgery, she now walked with a cane. Now here she was in the ICU waiting to see her sister who may or may not live. A bit much to take for someone going through a lot of her own stuff. It seemed like hours by the time we were finally called to be let in. As I walked down the sterile halls, I could barely shake the smell of the hand sanitizer, dispensers were mounted every few feet and we were required to use them before entering.

The sight of Mom made us all gasp. I was immediately thrown back to the memory of my Dad, before the machines were shut down. It made me immediately sad. I felt like a child again, we all surrounded Moms bed and began talking to her. I remember feeling that she could recover, just wake up and be fine. The feeling was strong and it gave me hope. My brother and aunt were crying. I think the sight was too shocking for them. Images of a person on life support make you imagine death. I was sure, at least in my brother’s case, he was remembering Dad too.

The doctor and the pulmonary specialist came in while we were there. I asked lots of questions. I found the answers startling, being told that my Mom was in the advanced stages of COPD and that her lungs were badly damaged. The prognosis was bleak, even if she recovered from this incident. Wouldn't there have been any other indicators? I questioned. I found their conclusions a little hard to believe. The next revelation was dire; Mom was unable to breathe on her own. If her lung function did not indicate drastic improvement in the next few days, they were looking at performing a tracheotomy.

Having worked as a nurse's aide in my younger years, I knew what a tracheotomy was. I also knew how difficult it would be for my mother to recover from. As soon as I heard those words, I knew, I was not agreeing to that. Knowing my Mom, how everything was negative in her perspective, I knew how difficult it would be for her to recover from such a drastic procedure. Without considering surgery on her leg at the same time.

When we got home my brother and I discussed the topic of a tracheotomy at length and we were in agreement. We knew our Mom and how she thought. We would not put her through having to recover from two traumas at the same time. The risks outweighed the benefits. We both felt that Mom was going to recover and once she did, we knew with a trachea her life would be that much more difficult. Neither of us wanted to put her through that kind of suffering. I had frequent discussions with Mom about quality of life, she made her wishes abundantly clear on feeding tubes and life support. I felt the tracheotomy fell into the same category. I already had some guilt about the ventilator.

July 8th was Mom's 55th Birthday, I felt so bad that she was in the hospital on life support and didn't even know it was her birthday. The ICU had strict rules about flowers and such so I opted for a balloon and a card to bring her. At least if she woke up - she would know we had remembered. During my visit, the nurse who was assigned to take care of Mom told me that I should brush her hair, because it would make her feel better. It did look a little matted but with the tubes and central line poking out of her - I was terrified to move her head too much. I brushed her hair in the front, wetting it a little and then I washed her face and applied a little scented lotion. I remember thinking the light scent may even contribute to healing - like aromatherapy and work unconsciously on the brain.

Each day when I visited, I asked her nurses and doctors if there was any improvement, and each day, the response was no change. Although I usually talked to Mom during my visits, this time I decided to talk to her about the procedure and why she needed to fight to get better. The deadline for recovery was approaching and if she did not show improvement, I may not be able to prevent them from doing the tracheotomy.

A meeting with the doctors was scheduled for Monday and we were all to be present, I, my brother, my aunt and my sister on the phone. We were divided on the issue at hand. My brother and I were willing to accept and allow my Mom to pass away if that was God's will, as long as she had dignity and did not suffer in pain. My aunt and sister would prefer to use any life saving measure as long as she did not die and cause them pain. Even though I understood these feelings, I knew we did not share the same views on death. I knew that if Mom passed she was going to a better place, would no longer suffer in body or spirit.

Sitting in that conference room surrounded by doctors who were urging me to opt for the surgery, I felt the need to make my position abundantly clear. The surgeon did not impress me, nor did he convince me that this procedure was the best decision for Mom at the time. In fact, I was more convinced than ever of the reasons it should not be allowed. I felt no need to make an absolute decision on that day to allow the procedure, just the opposite. I pressed my point - "My absolute first priority here is Mom and her future, this procedure puts another obstacle in front of her on the road to recovery, there is a substantial risk of infection and it is something that will cause her more pain."

I uncovered from the surgeon that he wanted to do the tracheotomy so her could operate on her leg. I knew there were three options for the recovery one was surgery, the other two were less invasive. The hospital was pushing for the quickest way they could get her out of the bed - do the surgery and send her off to rehab.

I got an immediate impression of that from the surgeon as he stated that if she wasn't going to have surgery his time was better spent on someone else. This infuriated me. I let him know in no uncertain terms that I was not going to allow my Mom to be his guinea pig just because he has more important cases. I didn't care if Katherine Zeta-Jones had the same surgery - My mom is not Katherine Zeta Jones and she would have a much more difficult time recovering than Katherine-Zeta- Jones. He was going to have to find a much stronger argument. I pressed him for a definitive answer that she would absolutely benefit from the surgery long-term. He could not convince me. His arguments just sounded too weak to take such a huge risk with life-altering consequences for Mom. I found his arrogance obnoxious. It made me question his motives.

I spoke out that my primary concern was my Mom, her recovery, and her future and that I was prepared to execute what I knew her wishes were period. I ended this by stating affirmatively that I knew Mom could recover on her own and that we needed to allow time for that to happen. At that point I felt calm, I felt Mom would recover, without the operation, and that she would have to have therapy for the leg but she would be OK. I just knew I had the vision of it in my mind; I was at peace with the decision. I imagined telling her the story when she woke up. I left the hospital confident I would be telling her the story soon. The next morning I received a call from the hospital; Mom was off the ventilator and was awake. She was being transferred out of the ICU and into a normal room on a recovery floor.

It was such a relief to see Mom awake. She was still coming off of the drugs so she was a little disoriented - and she had two black eyes’ ~ the whites of her eyes were blood red, as if all the capillaries burst and bleed into the white. It made her look a little evil actually - like a character in a horror movie. I demanded to know what the heck happened. The doctor said it was a side-effect from one of the drugs she was given.

In a few days she was transferred to a rehab facility in Boston. She would need both respiratory and physical therapy. It was projected she would be there about a month. She needed to get her strength back in both her lungs and her legs. She had been on life support for almost two weeks. It remains hard for me to describe how I knew she would recover without the need for the trachea or surgery - I just knew.

I like to call it Divine Guidance. I had an overwhelming feeling of what the right decision would be and I could envision the outcome. All I had to do was oversee that the right thing be done. It is a heavy responsibility when you are making decisions that impact someone's life, particularly if it is someone you love and know well. I prayed for and received guidance for the best outcome. We found out much later, the bone break caused blood clots to travel up to Moms lungs. There was evidence that maybe the bone break happened spontaneously, and caused the fall. I guess we will never know for sure what happened we are just all glad that she recovered.