|
|
 |
December 13, 2001— It's been almost two weeks since the most dramatic parts of our miracle occurred and my memory is already fading. So I decided to preserve it now while it is still fresh in my mind.
November 17
I had taken Carli to spend the night with a friend. I chatted for a few
hours before heading home. When I got in my car I saw that I had missed
6 calls. My stomach sank. I called Chris and I knew he had bad news for
me. He always takes a deep breath and chooses his words wisely before
he tells me bad news. He told me Levi was unconscious and had to be rushed
to Gwinnett Medical and then Life-flighted to Egleston. LIFE-FLIGHTED!!!??
I never knew how far Carli's friend lived from us. I felt like the drive
would never end. My brother, David and Belinda (his wife) picked me up
to go to the hospital. Throughout the 8 months we have driven to and from
the hospital together many times but it didn't seem like one of those
other times. Was this the time those doctors were telling us about? You
know, the one we didn't like to think about but now it was slapping us
in the face. Hard! The ride was torturous but I had time to coach myself
on "being strong" for Jami. After all, she has been nothing
but a pillar of strength through all of this. We walked into the ICU and
of course, the atmosphere was glum. As soon as I saw Jami, she was crying.
I fell apart. There went my self-motivational speech. Levi was lifeless.
He had wires and tubes coming out of his nose and mouth. And band aids
on his fingers and toes. I was thinking about the first time we were in
the hospital when he was diagnosed, how mad he got when they poked him.
Now he didn't seem to mind all of the "boo boos" he had. I longed
to see him fight and even cry.
November 18
He was stable and actually responding to questions and looking around.
He put his one good arm up to ask for a hug. What a sweet little guy.
He would pat the bed next to him to ask me to lay down with him. I was
honored. So I would squeeze my body up under all of the tubes and wires
and just lay with him. Every minute is so precious. I love this little
guy as if he were my own. He practically is. Between Jami and I we have
7 children and they are like brothers and sisters. I've always thought
"cousins" doesn't do their relationships justice. How could
this be??? We can't go on without one of our babies. Dark thoughts, I
know, but we were being fed too many doses of reality to be anything but
dark!
I went home to spend the night with Jami. She needed to get some more clothes and take a bath. Walking into the house for her was difficult. There was a tell tale sign of what had happened the last time she was there. It smelled like Levi when we walked in. Then she went through and told me everything that had happened that Saturday. The bowl of soup was still sitting there. The orange juice, he didn't even get a chance to take a sip. The bathwater was still in the tub where he was taking a bath. Then, the bed skirt with the blood dripping from it where the EMT's worked on him before they took him away to leave nothing but a silent reminder of his last "so called" normal day. She took a bath and we got in bed. I can't remember the last time we slept in the same bed. We've both been married for 11 years and haven't had much time for "sleep overs". Being twins, we had a spend-the-night party every night. Whichever bed wasn't made, we'd just sleep in the other one. As I lay next to her I was taken back to a thought when we were about 10. "How can I ever get married? Then I won't be able to lay in bed with Jami and just talk until we fall asleep." I remember when we were older (18 or 19) when she was out of town. I couldn't rest easy without her by my side. Now, 16 years later: We lay in bed together again. We talked and even laughed. Then the silence. We knew what/who each other was thinking about. In a broken voice she said "This is the first time Levi has slept without me." I didn't know what to say other than "I love you" in the same broken voice. When we woke up, there was a newness about it. We needed a rest and now we were better prepared for the battles ahead. I recalled the dream I had that night. "I was in a trolley car and I sensed someone behind me. When I turned to look, it was Levi. He was beautiful. I asked him if his mom knew where he was and he said "Yes ma'am". I was completely struck by the sweetness of his voice. Just as I finished telling Jami about my dream, Carli walked in and told me about her dream she had that night. "Levi was in his bed sitting up and he was going to be fine. And his voice was sweet again!" she said.
November 19
Levi seemed to be gaining some strength, we were encouraged. We would
hear the results of his MRI today so we were also anxious. Sometime that
afternoon the doctors told us that the tumor had grown "significantly."
What a blow! Should this not have hit us so hard? All along, we know he
had a tumor. And they told us it would grow. How can you prepare yourself?
WHY?? Lots of question popped in my mind. I just kept thinking... I'm
ready to wake up now!
The next few days were a blur. Friends and family came in and out. Praying and just being there. I remember many rallied around to pray one night. For several hours we asked God to heal Levi, quoting scripture and crying. When we said "Amen" There was a lull . Jami said "Okay buddy, you can get up now!!" – hehe – it was a much needed comic relief. He seemed to be improving slightly. His legs were uncomfortable. Our time was spent massaging his legs, praying, rubbing his legs, praying and a few hugs in between. By Thursday the 22nd we needed to have non-stop rubs. Mom and I decided to stay up all night so Jami and Jeff could get some rest. At midnight Dicky walked in. He drove up from Macon. At about 1 a.m. Johnny Enlow (prayer warrior) arrived. He stayed until about 3:30 a.m. talking and praying. He told us that the word he was receiving from the Lord was "He yet shall live". At that point we claimed Psalm 118:17 – " I shall not die but live, to proclaim what the Lord has done." Wow!!
November 23
On Friday the doctors thought he might be strong enough for them to
extubate him (take the tubes out). So they did, but unfortunately they
were wrong. He did not do very well: he had to work hard for every breath.
He was terrified. For 2 hours we watched him struggle. Jami was panicking
and rightfully so. Finally, he settled down and was a little smoother
with his breathing. But he didn't open his eyes or respond from that point.
Dicky and I went home to get some rest. After about 3 hours of sleep I woke up to the sound of the phone. It was Jami. While we were gone they had a meeting with the doctors and had decided not to re-intubate. The picture was getting more grim. Levi had staff infection in his blood, pneumonia in both lungs, the upper left lobe of one of his lungs had already collapsed and he was getting weaker by the minute. Yet again, another long drive to the hospital. I was talking to Dicky, telling him all of the feelings I had been holding in until now. Wouldn't this be the prime time for God to heal Levi? Why won't he? I feel so vulnerable. If God won't heal Levi like I know he can, how can I trust him with my family, my children? Life as I know it can never be the same. My faith was being shaken and I was failing miserably. This was by far, the lowest point for me. Levi's death seemed imminent. My response to pain has always been anger. Why did I think it would be different now with the most pain I've ever felt? Hope left me. Which was more painful? My sister's heart being ripped out or the fact that I love Levi so much that my heart was also bleeding. Would my Sydney (2 days older than Levi) forever be a source of pain for Jami and Jeff? How will we go on??
November 24
When we walked into the ICU I saw Jami. She seemed okay – until
I hugged her. She just melted into my arms. How can I be strong enough
for her? She has always been the encourager and I really need her now.
I miss my sister. Who is this broken person before me? I wanted to punch
the one who had beaten her so badly and left her weak. Physical aggression
had no place here. I was out of my element. I could think of nothing else
to do but weep with her. That night I slept in the bed with Levi. Jami
slept on the makeshift couch, and Jan slept on the hard floor. The doctors
told us that he might not make it through the night. But he did!
November 25
The next morning we started making arrangements to get him home. Our doctors
had made it clear that they could do no more. They also told us he most
likely would not survive the ambulance ride home. Waiting for the transport
protocol to take place was torturous. Putting him in the ambulance seemed
like an execution. We just cried and prayed as we waited. Jami wrote in
her journal. Red ink was running on the pages as tears dripped from her
eyes. Jeff seemed fine and then he would drop into the chair and cry uncontrollably.
I just kept looking at Levi, thinking, why can't I remember more. I wanted
to have a picture in my mind of him playing and running. I couldn't remember.
Well, he made it home. We got him settled in the bed and hooked up to his oxygen, IV's and monitors. About that time Levi stopped breathing. His lifeless body started turning blue. Out of instinct, Jami shook his body, he started breathing. It was labored, but breathing nonetheless. The atmosphere was frantic. Nobody really knew what to do. We had already decided not to resuscitate. There was nothing else for us to do but pray. As I look back, we were right where we needed to be. Where God wanted us to be. We found ourselves gathering around him, touching his sweet little body, while the elders stood around us. We were begging God and weeping. Elizabeth Enlow must have recognized our frailty. She announced that this is not a time for sorrow and defeat but a time to wage war. There was a battle taking place and we could have no chinks in our armor. That was a definite turning point. From there, the prayers seemed to show authority and there wasn't as much grief and loss. We anointed him with oil and claimed James 5:14-15 – "Is any one of you sick? He should call the elders of the church to pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well, the Lord will raise him up."
We all prayed. It was the most incredible time. I remember one of Jami's most poignant prayers. "Lord, we come before you just as Abraham did with Isaac. Humble and obedient. Will you honor this by showing mercy on Levi?" Jami and I each had a hand on Levi's foot and dad had his hands on ours. I prayed: "Lord, here are 3 generations asking you to let him live. Please, let us see your power. All Glory can go only to you. Man has done nothing for us." At that point, I thought, how can I come before you God? And ask you for anything. Just 2 days ago I was ready to turn my back on you. How could I have been so foolish and weak? God, please forgive me for my flesh. Give the faith that I need. Take away any doubt that may hinder healing in Levi. I wanted to leave. I wasn't worthy to be in a room that God was present in. And He was. I could feel Him. People were speaking in tongues and quoting scripture. Then we would start singing praise music. It was amazingly rhythmic. Poetic praise in the midst of our most chilling moment. Minutes came and went. There were 24 hour intercessors coming in pairs. God carried us through the night.
November 26
When the sun came up, Levi seemed to be stable. People we didn't even
know came to the door. "We feel led to pray for Levi", they
would say. Of course, we would say, "Come on in!" Friends came
throughout the day praying and bringing food. Consistent and faithful
friends! Somehow we made it to Monday night. The dust had settled and
it was just Jami, Jeff, Levi and I in the room. We were admiring his peaceful,
beautiful face. His lips were no longer white. They were a soft pink.
Jami prayed a prayer that she felt led to pray on Levi's behalf…
Psalm 70: "Hasten, O God, to save me: O Lord, come quickly to
help me. May those who seek my life be put to shame and confusion: May
all who desire my ruin be turned back in disgrace. May those who say to
me "Aha! Aha!" turn back because of their shame. But may all
who seek you rejoice and be glad in you: may those who love your salvation
always say, "Let God be exalted!" Yet I am poor and needy? come
quickly to me, O God You are my help and my deliverer: O Lord, do not
delay." Five
minutes later he opened his eyes and reached up for a hug from Jami. Jeff
was running around the house with his hands in the air screaming "Thank
you Jesus!"
November 27
The next day Levi had even more energy. He actually pulled off his
oxygen mask. He was breathing just fine on his own. Yet again, another
praise. He was communicating to us just what he wanted or needed. By Thursday
(the 29th), he ripped out his NG tube and said "I'm hungry".
Jami called me on the phone to tell me and somehow we were disconnected.
When I called her back Levi answered "Hey Aunt Lori" in that
sweet voice I longed to hear. Praise Jesus.
December 1
On Sunday we had a true Thanksgiving (We had one in the hospital on Thanksgiving
day but I can barely recall. I just remember our good friends, Paige and
Kristen setting up the room for us, and what a comfort it was to see them).
As we sat down to eat we noticed it was 2:30 p.m. The same time, one week
earlier that Levi stopped breathing. Now he was sitting up eating roast
and carrots. Praise you God. You are worthy!
I know that I am such a small and insignificant part of this, but this is a huge part of me. And a mighty testament to God's faithfulness. It's true, "Life as I know it can never be the same" not because what I have always believed is wavering, but because what I have believed is firm and more steadfast than ever.
I look forward to seeing God work through you, Levi. He obviously has great plans for you in the years to come.
Love,
Aunt Lori