Miracle in Oklahoma

Nothing sends chills up my arms than hearing about a miracle. We have heard several since we have been in orientation here at Christian Medical and Dental Association and Samaritan's Purse. But miracles don't happen only to missionaries that go overseas or to people long ago who are written about in the Bible. Two weeks ago, I was visiting a medical school classmate of mine, study partner, and dear friend. She is in Family Practice in rural Oklahoma and finished her residency last year. She relayed this story to me. 

The baby was stuck. Really stuck. Though the head was out, the shoulders were not budging under the pelvic bones of the mother. We call it shoulder dystocia, and it is one of the few times when we struggle not to panic as minutes can make a difference in outcome. The baby's head was turning blue and no maneuvering was changing the situation. But adrenaline does some amazing things. With an outstretched arm and wrist bent around the shoulder, the doctor pushed on it with all of her might, ignoring the loud cracking noise and ripping of tissue, knowing this was the baby's only chance. And then the shoulders gave in and rotated and the baby was delivered. Blue and limp, but delivered. Babies have amazing resilience. Still, this wasn't a standard delivery. The doctor told the team working with the baby to check an X ray, because with the cracking noise, there was sure to have been an injury. (Broken bones heal easily; the alternative- brain injuries- do not). Remarkably, the baby did very well. There was no injury found. So the doctor turned her attention to the mother. Surely pelvic bones would not be broken, would they? She did a thorough examination and found nothing. The doctor sewed up the tear in the mother, vaguely feeling a pain in her right hand. It is not uncommon to be sore after exerting effort in a difficult surgery or delivery, so she tried to shrug it off. In fact, she did several other procedures that day and the next. But she knew something was not right. Her hand wasn't working anymore. She had an Xray and MRI. It was one of the worst hand injuries her doctors had seen- so rare, in fact, that they wanted to write it up as a case report. But the hand injury was devastating to my friend, the delivering physician. They told her she would never perform another procedure again. A bone had detached completely and one of her nerves (the Ulnar nerve) was nearly obliterated completely with the force of her hand at that odd angle. 

She didn't believe them. Even as she went about her work, unable to use her right hand, she knew that God was going to heal her. She felt like a surgery was going to put the bone back in place and somehow that nerve would regrow in the right place and she would be able to use her hand again. God would heal her through the hands of a surgeon. 

She was in church one Sunday when a recent college graduate asked if he could pray for her. Of course, she agreed. When they had finished, he looked into her eyes and said, matter-of-factly, "You are going to be healed." She replied, "I know. I have been praying about it and I believe that too. I get another MRI this week and hopefully I'll be able to have surgery." He looked at her and shook his head. "No. You are not going to need surgery. You are going to be healed."

Oh no, she thought. I am going to ruin this young man's faith. There is no way that bone can be fixed while floating in my arm.  She even told her husband the same sentiment. Her husband looked at her and asked, "Well, does your hand feel better?" She shook it a bit. In fact, it did feel a bit better, but she dismissed it. She went for her MRI the next day, and then to the surgeon to see about surgery. He apologized profusely. They had the wrong images and he couldn't tell her anything yet. The surgeon called the hospital to see about the mistake but then gave up. He suggested just getting an Xray in the office so that he could tell her something that visit. When the Xray images were given to him, he sighed. "These are the wrong images too. Can you please give me her images?" The technician looked at the surgeon and said, "But I just took the pictures and walked them over to you. They have to be the right ones." The surgeon shook his head, comparing the prior MRI and prior Xrays with the ones he had in his possession now. It was impossible. There was no fragment of bone floating around that needed to be pinned. There was no nerve injury. There was no need for surgery. He didn't know what to say.

My friend started to smile. Indeed, they were the right images. She was completely healed, just like the young man at church had said. She could hardly wait to tell him the next week. "You were right. I am healed, and I don't need surgery." He looked at her, eyes sparkling. "That's my sign! I thought maybe the Lord was calling me to be a missionary, but I didn't think I had enough faith. Now I know that the Lord answered my prayer. I do have enough faith!" 

Her surgeon was a bit disappointed at not getting to write that case report, unable to explain the healing. He asked my friend, "So what do you think healed your hand?" She smiled. "The power of prayer." He smiled reflexively. "Yeah I believe in that too. But really, what do you think healed your hand?" 

So often we believe in the theory of prayer, but when an actual miracle comes from our prayers, we are caught in our disbelief.

She continues to do procedures, with only a twinge of pain at her elbow every once in a while. She is an excellent physician, and if you are ever in the area and need a doctor, I highly recommend her. Her name is Dr. Laci Waner. Praise the Great Physician, Jesus Christ. 

Fear

The timing was terrible. A family member had just asked me to promise them that we would leave/not go into a situation like where the Ebola outbreak is taking place, we finalized our legal will (important prior to leaving the country), and then there came the news. It hit me like a rock. Dr. Kent Brantly, working with the Post Residency Program and World Medical Mission in Liberia had contracted Ebola from his patients. For the first time since we have been planning to go to Congo, fear rushed in, pervading my thoughts. I couldn't help but think about what his wife must be going through. It is so contagious that patients have to stay isolated, even while dying. There is no comfort there. His wife and 2 young children had left the country for a wedding the week before, thankfully. But I could not imagine being across the ocean, knowing my spouse had a 60-90% chance of dying, alone. Maybe that is what is so heartbreaking for me. I imagined him being utterly alone, bleeding internally. What an awful way to die. And his wife would not even be able to see him, touch him, talk with him. I was imagining the worst. And as a new mom myself, the emotion intensifies as I think about not being able to see Sydney again or hold her hand while she goes to sleep or kiss her still chubby cheeks as she giggles. I did not know if I could/would make that sacrifice if it had been me. I was afraid.

We traveled the next day to orientation with CMDA (Christian Medical and Dental Associations) and Samaritan's Purse/World Medical Mission, the very orientation that Kent had gone through exactly a year ago. Again, this was just hitting a little close to home. I anxiously watched the news to see if there were updates. Ryan and I prayed together a lot, and yet I still felt that fear. Vanga hospital was adjacent to the epicenter of a prior outbreak of Ebola.

At orientation, the first question we were asked to share after our names and where we came from was 'What do you fear?' That's easy! Ebola. But no, it was not Ebola necessarily that I feared. It was being ALONE and SUFFERING and sacrificing my life, my dreams, my daughter, my husband, my medical education. Our first session was on Addressing Fears. How appropriate. They started it by giving us a letter. 

Here is an excerpt:

To those preparing for the field:

By now, you know that Kent Brantly, a 2013 post resident in Liberia, has congracted Ebola from his patients. We hurt with him and his family as a body; when one part hurts, we all hurt. But this is not the first time that those called to serve God have suffered. 

We have buried our own children

We have lost friends and coworkers to violence

We have faced death, all around us, on a daily basis...

This is not a Mary Poppins life you have chosen.

But we want you to know that we would choose this life again. We would choose obedience to Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us... We would choose to see Christ's power made perfect in our weakness rather than be known for our own wisdom.

You see, the person of Jesust Christ and the abiding presence of the Holy Spirit are worth more than anything or anyone we have lost. And there is nothing--NOTHING- that can separate us from His love...

He is...

The Wonderful Counselor... Prince of Peace

There is no price that is too high. 

Welcome to the fellowship of suffering.

He is worth it.

Then we were reminded that whenever the words of the Bible tell us not to fear, there is an attribute of God which is attached. Fear not, for I am with you. Don't be afraid; I am your God and will strengthen and help you. 

It has been very encouraging to see Dr. Brantly seem to be making some improvements, and very comforting to know that he was evacuated to the US and his wife can now talk with him and be with him. But I was wrong. He was never alone. God was with him the whole time. And whether he lives or dies, NOTHING will separate him from God's love. Jesus suffered so much for us, and we did not deserve it at all. Dr. Brantly is an example of self sacrifice. I still don't know if I'm that brave, nor honestly whether I would have done the same thing. (Given, I don't treat Ebola in my specialty. However, the exposure to blood is very high and risks of blood borne diseases not to be dismissed lightly) I am grateful that we have a year of language school between now and the time we go to Congo. Maybe that is cowardice. But that is an emotion I feel at this time. We need to keep Kent and his family in our prayers. And we need to keep those still suffering in the three countries who are fighting the outbreak. The patients are all sons, daughters, wives, husbands, and so many have died already. Let them not be statistics as we pray, but let us hurt for them as we hurt for Kent and pray for a cure or at least a stop to the outbreak. Amen.