He's not dead Jim.
Posted on 01/14/2019 2:20:58 PM PST by kathsua
Where have we heard this story before?
On December 12, T. Scott Marr is found in his bed, unresponsive but breathing, and rushed to Methodist Hospital where he is placed on a breathing machine. He is diagnosed as having suffered a stroke.
The family returns the next day and doctors tell them there has been no neurological improvement. “Brain swelling — primarily in the back of the brain — concerned his doctors,” according to Kelsey Stewart of the Omaha World-Herald.
“We were worried in this case that this was not a reversible process and that it was going to proceed to brain death,” Dr. Rebecca Runge told Stewart. Preston Marr, his daughter, and the rest of family said they “faced a harsh reality: Scott Marr was not expected to recover.”
And, as if on cue, we learn that Scott Marr had always told the family, “’I never want you guys to see me lying in a hospital bed, lying in a nursing home,” Preston Marr told the World-Herald.
“They [the doctors] told us he was on his way to brain death, so we said our goodbyes before extubating him, all the monitors were shut off and we waited by his side,” Preston Marr informed Stewart.
Preston and her three sibling held their father’s hands, “said their goodbyes and cried,” Stewart wrote. “The next morning, the Marr family wasn’t quite ready to make funeral arrangements.”
Meanwhile Marr did not die. He rallied. Coincidence that the children went to the hospital instead of meeting with a funeral home? Stewart wrote
On their way, Preston took a call from her aunt, who said Marr seemed to be responding.
It was probably just a reflex, thought Preston, who’s a nurse.
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“Hi, Dad,” she said as she walked into the room. Eyes still closed, her dad cracked a smile.
“I literally thought I was dreaming,” Preston said. “It was the craziest moment ever.”
“I asked him to move his thumbs, and he slowly moved his thumbs, and I asked him to wiggle his toes, and he wiggled all his toes really slightly,” Preston Marr said.
The explanation came following a subsequent test. It turned out that Scott Marr “was suffering from a rare condition called posterior reversible encephalopathy syndrome,” Stewart explained.
“It’s commonly caused by high blood pressure, but there are many things that can cause it,” Dr. Runge said. They initially diagnosed a devastating stroke because such severe swelling is not typical of the posterior reversible encephalopathy syndrome, she said.
Scott Marr has his own explanation.
“I’m not an extremely religious person. I don’t go to church every Sunday,” the former announcer for the Creighton University Men’s basketball team told Stewart. “But I do believe in God. I believe with all my heart. And now this is just proof for me that everything I’ve ever heard is true. That he loves me. That he’s right there for me. … It was pretty much a miracle.”
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The brain is the most mysterious organ in our bodies.
A lot of the Doctors I work with are left wing atheists so this is impossible in their book.
Wonder if he is an organ donor?
God continues to show us He has the power to show us He is God.
The brain is a prime place where spirit meets body. Anyhow, we have ethical dilemmas today that we didn’t have back when life support systems, such as they were, were more primitive and people who would have survived now, instead perished.
He's not dead Jim.
I’m not sure how they would call it impossible, because nothing theistic was invoked. They’d call it a rare misdiagnosed case, misdiagnosed due to unusual factors.
What they might call impossible is any way that God could be reached by prayer and brought to bear thereby in a healing way on the patient.
Thanksgiving is either gonna be really cool or awkward. Depends on if they rushed to his house and sold all his guns, threw out his favorite chair...etc.
No the “heart” is, if you know what I mean.
The brain would be the logical physical seat of what we metaphorically call heart.
“My brain? That’s my second favorite organ!”—Woody Allen, Sleeper
To be correct, the soul is not a spot in our body, it is the essence of ourselves and if it could be measured it would be the same size of our bodies, with necessary mysterious connections to the heart and the brain. I think I got that from Aquinas.
‘Almost’ counts only in horseshoes and nuclear weapons.................
There’s no particular need to argue with such a view — it’s plausible. It’s one of those things that only God, and perhaps the angels, truly understand(s). To get a physical heart transplant, which modern medicine makes possible, does not show any evidence, as far as I know, of bestowing characteristics of a different soul.
“Fearfully & wonderfully made”
The body is part of the soul, the soul is not contained by the body. As a mere part, the soul does not cease when the body does.
Miracle Max: He probably owes you money huh? I’ll ask him.
Inigo Montoya: He’s dead. He can’t talk.
Miracle Max: Whoo-hoo-hoo, look who knows so much. It just so happens that your friend here is only MOSTLY dead. There’s a big difference between mostly dead and all dead. Mostly dead is slightly alive. With all dead, well, with all dead there’s usually only one thing you can do.
Inigo Montoya: What’s that?
Miracle Max: Go through his clothes and look for loose change.
A similar brain problem happened to me last year. I checked into one hospital with headaches and a bad brain scan. After four days at the hospital, the doctors sent me home hoping the blood in my brain case would absorb. (It wouldn't have and I would probably have passed away.)
My primary care physician did not accept the diagnosis. He had the personal cell of a neurologist from Barrows Clinic on his phone. He called her and arranged to get me seen the next day. The neurologist immediately had me checked into their hospital, St. Joseph's in Phoenix. Surgery occurred the next day after a completely different diagnosis.
Along the way, I had several events of drifting in and out of conscienceness. They pounded on my chest to get a response. Two different hospital personnel informed my wife that they thought they had "lost me".
After several surgeries and a month in the hospital, my primary care physician informed my wife and I that: "Anyone who doesn't believe that God intervened just doesn't understand!"
My athiest doctor brother-in-law wrote it off as good doctoring.
We found out later through a different source that my primary had had a patient with the same condition during the prior year. That is why he had the neurologist's cell number, why he was familiar with my condition, and why he was able to get me into Barrows in time.
Good thing he didn’t die because he’d have had to register as a Democrat.
*APPLAUSE* I love a Happy Ending!
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