Posted on 05/10/2002 7:11:40 AM PDT by truthandlife
Under normal conditions, this column would be about Colin Powell and his implacable indifference to the intentions of Yasser Arafat.
But these are not ordinary times in our household. On Friday, May 3, at 5:15 p.m., our oldest son, Jonathan, was riding his bike in our driveway. For reasons that we do not now know, he lost control of his bike and rode directly into the street, where he was hit by a passing car.
I did not see the accident, but something looked wrong out the front window. Cars were stopping. I walked outside to investigate, and then I saw Jonathan on the street. He had fallen from his bike. Might be broken bones. But then I saw the car. Its side-view mirror was hanging by a wire. Oh dear G-d.
Jon lay next to the broken bicycle, unconscious and bleeding. If my neighbor and friend, Dr. Bruce Werness, had not been on the spot, I think I
would instinctively have done the wrong thing. I would have scooped him up. The emergency team arrived within 5 minutes, bless them. They cut the clothes off my 11-year-old's body and the helmet off his head (that helmet, without any doubt, saved his life). There wasn't terribly much blood after all -- a cut on his chin. He was crying a bit, which everyone said was a good sign. But it was a strange sounding cry.
We got into the ambulance and headed for the nearest hospital. I told the driver that it felt to me that we were moving in slow motion. She understood. The nurse at the hospital explained that the doctors would examine him, and if they didn't like what they saw, they would helicopter him to a trauma center. Jonathan's eyes were moving rhythmically left to right in their sockets. The medical personnel whispered, careful not to let us hear whatever awful things they were seeing with their trained eyes. Within minutes, we heard (my husband had arrived) that he was being helicoptered to the trauma center.
Next came the worst two hours of the ordeal thus far. When we arrived at the emergency room, the nurse took us to a private waiting room and said a social worker would be in to talk to us. You never want to hear that in an ER. After her gentle but uninformative explanation of CT scans and evaluations, the trauma surgeon arrived to say that it looked "serious." Jon was in a coma.
"Will he die tonight?" I asked. "I don't think so," came the reply. Hardly the ringing negative one hoped for. Several centuries later, when they were moving Jon to the pediatric intensive care unit, we got better news. There didn't seem to be much blood in his brain after all, maybe just a small subdural bleed.
But our son was in a coma, on a respirator. The first night, I attempted to sleep in his room in the PICU (pediatric intensive care unit). Fat chance. Exhausted, I slept the next day at home for several hours, as Bob took up the bedside post. My 8- and 6-year olds behaved as perfect angels, and our surpassingly wonderful friends descended with food, outings for the other boys and moral support. Family members phoned. And so, while desperate, we were never desolate.
It has now been six days since the accident. On the second day, his fever began to rise. On the third day, he was diagnosed with pneumonia. "We can treat that," they reassured us. But beneath that confidence was the unspoken reality -- they can't do much for rattled brains. We must simply wait and see. He'll wake up soon, they predicted. On Sunday evening, they finally removed the miserable tracheal tube. We kept talking to Jonathan. At night, he would manage to pull his feeding tube out of his nose as many as four times. But the coma persisted.
On Tuesday, Jon finally opened one eye. The following day, he opened the other. But his moments of consciousness are still intermittent. He can squeeze your hand in response to questions, but cannot yet speak. And after just a few seconds of interaction, his eyes roll down, a signal that his brain is tired and we need to back off.
He will probably have to go to a rehabilitation hospital, and there are none in our area. So you may not be hearing from me for a while. Prayers are appreciated.
47 When this man heard that Jesus had arrived in Galilee from Judea, he went to him and begged him to come and heal his son, who was close to death. 48 "Unless you people see miraculous signs and wonders," Jesus told him, "you will never believe." 49 The royal official said, "Sir, come down before my child dies." 50 Jesus replied, "You may go. Your son will live." The man took Jesus at his word and departed. 51 While he was still on the way, his servants met him with the news that his boy was living. 52 When he inquired as to the time when his son got better, they said to him, "The fever left him yesterday at the seventh hour." 53 Then the father realized that this was the exact time at which Jesus had said to him, "Your son will live." So he and all his household believed.
BLESSINGS, PEACE, HOPE IN HE WHO IS OUR ETERNAL HOPE, OUR SALVATION, OUR HEALER, OUR SOON COMING KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS!
I too was struck by a car while riding a bike, at about Jonathan's age. No helmet, though, and I landed on my head on the street. Fortunately I have a very hard head, and awoke after only a few hours, with no permanent damage. BTW, I broke off the car's side mirror, too.
May God heal him as He did me.
I'll pray for Mona. And I'll pray for you too.
In the name of Jesus, I pray dear Lord that Your healing power be at work in Jonathan's life and that his recovery be swift and sure. Grant Your guidance and wisdom to the physicians caring for him and to those ministering to Jonathan's family. Cause the peace and comfort of Your presence to flow through the lives of the family and sustain them during this difficult time. Show Your power and might and bring forth a miracle of healing in this situation, all for Your glory and honor. Thank You, Lord. Amen.
Omnipotent and eternal God, the everlasting Salvation of those who believe, hear us on behalf of Thy sick servant, N., for whom we beg the aid of Thy pitying mercy, that, with his bodily health restored, he may give thanks to Thee in Thy church. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Amen.
I told Mona many people were praying for her here at FR and she wrote back today:
You are so kind to write. My whole family appreciates the support and prayers. Jonathan is doing incredibly well. We are truly blessed.
Sincerely,
Mona Charen
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