A Tale of Two Patients

model cars

Sometimes we pray for signs from God giving us guidance, asking Him to let us know we are on the right path as we struggle with our own inadequate decisions. My answer was given when a bible literally slammed into my chest.

Patient One, Sam:

Sam lived on our transplant unit for about six months some fifteen years ago awaiting a new heart to replace his own. He had dilated cardiomyopathy (in essence, a giant and floppy heart) and was dependent on two continuous IV infusions to keep that heart beating, in addition to a slew of oral medications. A magnanimous man in his 40’s, Sam was the kind of person others cannot forget. Always wearing a smile and having a great sense of humor, he was a born-again Christian who had remarried; he had one little boy from that second marriage in addition to several grown children from his younger and wilder days. I was his nurse most days I worked.

Passing the time at a hospital is challenging, particularly when a patient is there for a much extended stay. Sam built model cars during his days there. His family would bring him a couple of new ones every weekend, and he worked on them throughout the week. He’d sneak to the nearest stairwell, pulling his IV pole with him, to apply paint to his latest car; when administration happened to visit our unit, the other nurses and I would cover for him and deny that we had any knowledge whatsoever of just where that lingering scent of spray-paint was coming from.

As much as I loved Sam, I was very uncomfortable when he spoke of his faith and of Jesus; it was a time in my life I just wasn’t ready to hear about it. He would start talking and I’d try to change the subject. He would push, and I’d resist. He eventually won… I’m so glad.

When a heart finally became available for Sam after all those months of waiting, he decided against having a transplant. He was discharged shortly afterwards and died at home with his family by his side. Before leaving the hospital, Sam gave me a bible. I keep it at work, and have shared it several times throughout the years with patients and their families who have expressed the wish that they had a bible to read.

Patient Two, Lindsey:

Lindsey is a 24 year old beautiful girl that we have known since she received a liver transplant at the age of thirteen. Since that time, she has spent at least half of her life with us in the hospital. Most of her Christmases and birthdays have been at the hospital with our staff as her only visitors. We have seen her through multiple surgeries and recoveries, loads of new hairstyles, and a particularly difficult period of smart-aleck teenage attitude.

The last major surgery Lindsey underwent was about three years ago, and it nearly killed her. She spent weeks in ICU, hooked to machines, with no one at her bedside other than our staff. It is a miracle that she survived.

Lindsey’s mother visits once a month, on the first of the month, so that her daughter can sign over her disability and welfare checks to her. The only times that the visits last longer than 20 minutes is when the woman falls asleep on Lindsey’s couch in her hospital room. Lindsey’s siblings are the same way- they drop by to get their sister’s car keys.

The Moment:

I had a break from being charge nurse, and was caring for my own small group of patients when Lindsey’s nurse approached me and said, “Lindsey is crying her eyeballs out, and I don’t know how to help her.” When I went to her, Lindsey was crying hard enough to barely catch her breath. I held her as she sobbed that her family didn’t care about her- she’d finally had enough and had understandably reached the point of utter despair and loneliness.

We spoke of faith and how much God loves her. When she said that she wished she had remembered to bring her bible, I offered her mine-relief washed over her.

When I opened my locker, the bible immediately slipped quickly off the top shelf and hit me so hard in the chest that it made a loud thud! Two of my coworkers were eating lunch in the break room, and jumped at the sound, asking, “What was that?” They remembered Sam with great fondness from all those years ago, and we all shared a laugh as I briefly explained what was going on… Sam always knew I needed to be pushed a little (or a lot!)

Lindsey and I held the bible in our hands; when we opened it, we saw Psalm 40 and read aloud together.

A little side-note here… Just a few days before, my sister Mary had shared part of Psalm 40 with us as she offered an Easter prayer for our family. It was a beautiful prayer of love, hope, remembrance, and gratitude that felt like a new beginning of healing for our family.

Amazing how perfect God’s timing is…

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