Sunset at Prien Lake Park

Sunset at Prien Lake Park

Saturday, February 21, 2009


Stop the ride, we want to get off!

First of all, I want to thank all of you for your kind words of encouragement, your thoughts and concerns, and most of all, your prayers. All the medicine and medical interventions can not match the healing touch of our Father. So it is divine healing for which we're all praying.

Eric had a relatively stable night last night. I felt somewhat encouraged and hopeful first thing in the morning. Then just after 7:00 AM, after shift change, the nurse and respiratory therapist come in the clean Eric up, which involves a lot of turning in the bed. Immediately after they did this, Eric's oxygen saturations (the amount of O2 in his blood) began dropping. Why? We couldn't imagine what had happened. The doctor was called. The doctor came in. He shook his head. "There's not much more I can do," he said, apologetically. Bob and I were beside ourselves. This couldn't be happening. Imagine the scene . . . Bob and I, my mom and our pastor surrounding Eric's bed and praying furiously for a miracle but preparing ourselves to say goodbye at the same time. For 2 1/2 hours we watched his condition decline, life fading from his face. I imagined him talking to Jesus already. I called several of my most ardent prayer warriors and asked they spread the word. We need a miracle . . . now! Then in comes the X-ray machine. His doctor had ordered a chest X-ray. When the film returned, we saw his right lung had completely collapsed. The doctor knew he had to get a new chest tube in, and fast. When he pulled up Eric's gown to prep a site, we couldn't believe what we saw. "Well, this could be the problem," he said. Eric's existing chest tube (which holds the lungs open) was folded upon itself, kinked, and he was laying on it. In other words, it wasn't working. The doctor attempted to get it to work to no avail, so he immediately put in a new chest tube. And it was as if my son was resurrected. His O2 sat returned to something survivable. And he has been stable ever since. For now, anyway. But we received our miracle, that being the doctor ordering the x-ray and discovering the kinked tube. I've come to realize that I never know what's around the corner. I live moment to moment. I have a knot in my stomach 24/7, unsure of what will come next. And I can barely tear my eyes off Eric's monitor, constantly watching his O2 sat. Anything above 90% is acceptable, and right now it's 93%. Yay! Here's hoping for an eventful night.


jess said...

Praying Eric has a peaceful night and morning, and that tomorrow you all will REALLY be able to see a difference and know without a doubt that he's on the mend. I'm ready for all of us to be off this roller coaster. My hair is getting grayer and grayer! My stomach is in knots too. Sometimes I feel I could throw up and if I feel this way, I know you're all feeling 20 times worse. I'm so ready for your sweet family to be back home, healthy and happy and exploring Louisiana again.

Father God, watch over them tonight, keep them safe, and give them rest. Amen and Amen

Love you all--jess

Kimberly said...

Although we don't know each other very well, I have been praying earnestly for you and your son. Having a daughter his age and knowing how I would feel makes it very real to me.

I was praying just this morning while preparing for my day that the Lord would intervene on Eric's behalf. I will continue that prayer.

Kimberly Kane

Anonymous said...

Hi cousin, Denise Prunty, sent me your blog with the prayer request, which I will continue without fail until your sweet fella is safely home again in his own bed. Which, I'm sure, we'll still find Mom sitting by, just to be sure.
I'm an RN in a neonatal ICU in North Carolina, and I've found your blog truly informative. I always wonder what my little angels must be going through with intubation tubes and all the regalia they have attached and go through. It breaks my heart to watch them try to cry with no sound to hear.... I'm grateful to know that Eric is able to communicate his needs, and is not in such pain as to prevent that.
Thank you for using your gift of writing to not only convey your own information but to inform and be a voice for patients like your son whose own families may not be able to fully understand how to say what they need to say. If I may suggest, I hope you might consider writing a little booklet of your blogs that can be given to the families in the peds ICU so that they can see that they are not alone in their setbacks, heartaches, frustrations and fear.
I pray God's blessings fill the hearts of you and your precious family as you continue your vigil with Eric. I will keep Eric's strength and heart in my prayers.