:balloons: :Melody: :balloons: :Melody: :balloons: :Melody:
After 34 years in nursing I've witnessed lots of "miraculous" outcomes. There's one in particular that has stood out, and remains vivid to this day. I'm defining a "miracle" as that unexpected good outcome after all else has been attempted, and failed. Your "miracle" can be something you witnessed as a student, or within your own family, or even yourself for that matter. But what medical miracle stays with you today? (And thanks in advance, for sharing it.)
My story took place in 1971. I was a Senior Nursing Student and we were only a few short months away from graduation. Our last clinical rotation was Pediatrics which we took at Good Samaritan Hospital, in Phoenix, AZ.
I was assigned to care for a seven month old baby in the intensive care unit. For confidentiality reasons I'll refer to the baby as "Elijah", and his mother as "Sharon" - not their real names.
When my instructor informed me of my assignment my heart fell into my feet. A baby in intensive care!! Even as a student, I had known that Pediatrics would NOT be my speciality after graduation. Don't get me wrong, I love children, but I knew I did not have what it takes to be a Peds Nurse! I would be too much of a wreck all the time to be effective. Peds Nurses are a separated breed as far as I'm concerned. God has anointed them with gifts and talents beyond my comprehension. And that was not who I was.
My first day of caring for Elijah was filled with apprehension. It was only after meeting his mother that I was able to calm my jangled nerves. She was a quiet, unassuming woman, whose faith in God was gargantuous compared to mine. Elijah was not only her only son, but her only child as well. His father was no longer in the picture. Sharon was of Latino extraction so she and Elijah were well supported by extended family during this crucible time.
Elijah's medical history, in his short life so far, had been relatively un-
eventful with the exception of multiple, stubborn, "upper respiratory" infections that grew increasingly "resistant to treatment" with each successive episode. This time, when he developed the all too common symptoms of URI, he had gone into a respiratory arrest at home and thank God Sharon was there to call an ambulance!
Elijah had been hospitalized for one week when I came upon the scene. To see him lying supine in that hospital bed attached to mechanical devices that were bigger than he was seemed sci-fi to me. He was on a ventilator, he had three IV pumps, a feeding pump, and of course the leads to a cardiac monitor. Infrequently he opened his eyes. He had these huge, dark brown, doe-like eyes that pleaded for "help" whenever he made eye contact. I had all I could do to give his care each day, just because of those pleading eyes! And he had a head full of thick, angel soft, brown hair as well. The worst moments of all were when I had to suction secretions and Elijah would cough and fret, - then the baby tears would trickle down from the corners of each eye. And of course he couldn't howl with rage to protest these uncomfortable procedures, so the tears sufficed for him. And I wanted to hold him and comfort him desperately but could not under the circumstances.
He had been poked and prodded by specialists galore. Tests of every kind had been done. Finally the doctors had informed Sharon that: "We don't know why, but Elijah has lost the rigid quality of his bronchial cartilege so that whenever he would take a breath, and exhale, his bronchial tree collapses." They called it a "bronchial atresia", for which there was no known "cure" or treatment and the prognosis was grim. That was the "why" of his respiratory arrest. Elijah would die without the vent now.
Our rotation was only a two week period of time. My heart was attached to Sharon and Elijah and it was HER faith in God that kept ME coming back! She did not know that, I never shared that with her. When the final day came and our rotation ended, I was an emotional basket case. I knew I was leaving and it would be the last time I would ever see little Elijah and his mother, -and that Elijah's short life would end soon.
After I hugged Sharon and we cried together, I kissed Elijah on his baby cheek, stroked his thick brown hair one more time and walked out of the unit. I barely got outside the door when I just lost it. I knew I was going to be a heaping, sobbing, mess so I ran for the nearest solitude which I found behind a supply cart in the corner of a hallway. I sat on the floor and cried, and cried, and cried, for Elijah and his mother.
After the fact, I checked the "Obituary" column of the newspaper every day for months. I never did see Elijah's name and picture. But I never forgot about the two of them. Life went on for me. I graduated from nursing school, and my career was in gear.
It was seven years later that I had decided to give Psychiatric Nursing a try and accepted a position at Maricopa Co. Hospital in Phoenix, AZ. I was in my orientation period of that new job when one day I showed up on the unit and we had hired a new Nursing Technician. Her name was Sharon. Name tags did not have last names on them. I introduced myself to Sharon and felt a strange "familiarity" about her but just passed it off in the moment. Later that day we took our lunchbreak together in the Nurse's Lounge on the unit. We started chatting and swapping the usual..."where are you from", "how long have you lived here", etc. etc. stories. Then Sharon began sharing "why" she took a job in the nursing field. The longer I was with her the more convinced I became that I "knew her from somewhere" - I just couldn't put my finger on it yet. Then the floodgates opened. She said: "I have a son, named Elijah, who the doctors gave up on when he was a baby. He had a respiratory condition for which there was no cure at the time. But I never gave up. I trusted God would heal him somehow and HE DID!! To the amazement of everyone, including the doctors, the problem Elijah had reversed itself, and he is seven years old today!" (as she reached in her pocket and pulled out a picture of the most beautiful, smiling, big-brown-eyed , seven year old boy I had ever seen in my life!!) By this time I was screaming at her....."Sharon, Sharon, Sharon...it's ME, Bonnie, the student nurse who took care of Elijah back then!!"
Well, it was quite a scene in that Nurse's Lounge! We hugged and cried and hugged and cried together for what seemed like an eternity. But sure enough....Elijah never did die. Sharon said that "the doctors had no explanation for why Elijah improved. They weaned him off the vent...and IT WORKED. He's my MIRACLE BOY today!"
What a day that was. And what were the odds that I would just "run into" Sharon like that........SEVEN years later??? I could have done my own detective work, if I had wanted to - at ANY time during those seven years, but I didn't. I'm not only convinced it was a total "miracle"...I'm convinced that God had several lessons in all of it - designed just for me, as that student nurse. My faith grew by leaps and bounds on that wonderful day of our "reunion."
Bonnie Creighton,RN, in Minnesota
