Truly Thankful
There are Thanksgivings when we rattle off things we are thankful for without too much thought. . . family, friends, shelter, food, , , this will not be one of them.
My son Brock had elective surgery on his belly button on the Monday before the week of Thanksgiving; as a result he ended up with a collapsed lung. My poor boy has asthma so between that and the sore belly from the surgery we went 4 days before figuring out what the problem was.
By Friday I knew I needed to get him to the doctor. His symptoms changed from the normal asthma issues to soreness in his back and ribs. He couldn’t get comfortable or walk at all. I had a busy day with school conferences and other appointments but I squeezed in an appointment for him. His pediatrician sent us for a chest x-ray and I was thinking maybe he would need a steroid or antibiotic to kick this out of him. When she called telling me the ER was waiting for us, I was more annoyed than anything. I tried reasoning with her, “He has that open wound on his belly. I don’t want it exposed to more germs.” She cut me off in the sweetest way possible and told me to get in the car and get to the ER.
I knew he was in trouble when we arrived and on saying his name, they whisked us away to the pediatric ER unit. The doctor showed me his x-ray of his collapsed lung. I was now convinced he needed to be there but since Brock was hooked up to oxygen he began to feel much better and decided he could go home now. If only we could bring the oxygen with us.
Ken came and brought a tennis ball for him to hold. When he had to leave to get the other kids I saw Brock’s lip quiver ever so slightly and instantly the adrenaline that brought me to that moment drained from my body and I knew I was about to cry. I took a few deep breaths and tried to think positively but the sight of my athletic little boy pathetically sucking in air was all that I could register. The surgeon came and talked to us. He was awesome with Brock, talking to him about Lou Brock a famous baseball player who stole 900 bases. He explained what he thought happened and how he was going to try to fix it.
As we walked through the doors to the Operating Room, Brock’s eyes were brimming with tears. I held him and we both cried, but as I heard him gasp for breathe I realized this can’t be good for him, so I quickly pulled it together and told him he was going to be fine. We prayed and I promised him I would never take watching football away from him when he was naughty again. I’m sure Ken is rejoicing over my rash commitment.
As they wheeling him away from me, I felt my heart go with him. I sat in the waiting room finally releasing the emotion that had been building, and opened my brother’s Bible. It was the only thing I had time to grab before leaving my sister-in-law’s house on the way to the hospital, and proved to be the only thing I really needed. I flipped to the Psalms and the Bible landed on Psalms 34.
I started reading and the words poured into my soul, filling the low parts and truly comforted me. “I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears” . . . my throat was less tight. “Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him” . . . my eyes were less filled. “Fear the Lord, you his holy people, for those who fear him lack nothing”. . . . my breathing was less anxious. “The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and his ears are attentive to their cry” . . . my mind was calm. “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” . . . my spirit was comforted.
Post op – feeling awful!
Ken arrived back and we waited for the surgeon. Having him there, made it so much easier to wait. The procedure took longer than the surgeon predicted and when he came up he said he was awake, but not breathing well on his own and the respiratory team was with him, so we had to wait, again. They were deciding whether they needed to intubate him again for the night. I felt my anxious thoughts kicking around in my mind, but the surgeon sat with us and engaged in conversation about things much worst that this that he pulled out of people’s lungs, and before long we could see our boy.
He was in pretty bad shape but he eyes were open and he held the ball Ken gave him in his hand. The surgeon put his hand up and Brock threw it to him. Then the surgeon threw it back to Brock and he caught it. We laughed. He can’t breathe but he can still play ball. We talked with both doctors, two men I will forever be grateful for, and they presented their plan of attack.
After surgery, I figured Brock would sleep, but he only slept two hours that first night. Between the treatments, his restlessness and CABLE (ESPN, Disney Channel, food network), he was entertained.
The x-ray the next morning showed great improvement. I heard rejoicing in the hallway as the doctor and nurses looked at it and allowed myself to rejoice as well. If they were excited, that must be good news. Brock was excited that he could finally eat and drink something, and let me tell you, he did. He thoroughly enjoyed picking out items from the hospital menu. Every food commercial had him talking about going to that restaurant, and everything he saw on the food network looked fabulous. He watched a show on BLTs and that was his one request. We were in the clear. My little boy was gradually returning to normal, though he still looked like a little old man when walking. His only question for the doctor upon release was when he could go to PE and recess.
During our 
journey through this valley (at Valley hospital) the comfort of God came through so many channels. . . the care of the nurses to motivate him to do things that hurt, but helped heal his lungs; the bedside manner of his doctors; the smile of Carmen, the woman who cleaned his room, who now feels like a lifelong friend; Brock’s teachers and principal came to see him and his classmates sent him cards; the love and support of family and friends who knew our needs even before we did; who made us meals and watched the other kids and most importantly covered us in prayer. When you are praying for something, it is so comforting to know that you are not alone. We knew there were hundreds if not thousands of people praying for our son, and that brings with it so much comfort.
The Bible tells us there will be troubles. It’s not if, it’s when. But there is also a promise that we will not be alone. One of Brock’s classmates write this verse on a card for Brock: Deuteronomy 31:6 “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified, for the Lord your God goes with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you.”
Truth from a child. The valleys will be there, but so will the Shepherd. He will carry us through them and comforts us with His love.
As I reflect back on this valley in my life (as short as it was), I see the hand of God going before me in so many ways. Some would call them coincidences but I know better. God never promises there won’t be pain, we live in a broken world, but he promises to be there every step of the broken way . . . and for that I am truly thankful.