Blessing In Disguise
I couldn’t comprehend it. I was on my way to the hospital in the middle of blizzard-like weather, on what should have been a normal morning.
It was a couple of hours ago when my family’s life was normal. My Dad was busy at the hospital working, and the rest of us were home from Sunday church. How could our lives have changed this dramatically in only a couple of hours?
We got a phone call from the hospital saying that my Dad’s head was hurting and that he wanted Mom there, but I didn’t think it was that serious.
I sat in the back seat, staring out the window and watching the heavy snow. I was bargaining with God. I really needed my dad, and He couldn’t take him away from my family yet. My naive mind searched for answers, as we ventured to my father’s room in the ICU where he was undeservingly suffering.
When we arrived, I lifted my head to see the building. I knew that in the huge hospital, there were others who were going through the same thing my Dad was; if not better or worse. Inside that busy building were sufferers, supporters, the mourning, and the few who were overjoyed in that they or their family member would survive. I knew there had to be a reason behind all this suffering.
We were finally on the ICU floor. My family and I were called into a small room where two neurosurgeons sat. One explained to us that Dad had a Subarachnoid Hemorrhage in his lower head. A hemorrhage is when the blood vessel pops and bleeds. He was fortunate that it stopped itself. The results of SAH, statistically, were not very promising.
We were led to see my dad in the ICU. There he was: my strong, funny, loving father, lying helpless in a hospital bed. His eyes were mostly closed, but I could feel the happiness he had of us being with him. He went through so much in those past hours, but he wanted to know how we were doing. I touched his soft hand and he squeezed mine back. We all were crying but he wanted to let us know it would be all right.
We spent only ten minutes in the room with Dad, and then we had to leave. It was so hard and so much to take in all at once. There was nothing I could do but pray; pray for my father’s health, his happiness, and his laugh; pray to God and thank Him that he didn’t take my dad away from us that day.
My Dad’s life changed in an instant; one minute laughing with his co-workers; the next minute running in sweat and pain down to the E.R., wondering what was happening to him. But in all hard times there is much to learn. My Dad is a medical miracle. His Subarachnoid Hemorrhage, oddly enough, was a blessing in disguise. This, I believe.
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