Our Miracle, Part One

"Indeed he was sick, he almost died; but God had mercy on him, not only on him but also on me, to spare me sorrow upon sorrow." Phillipians 2:22

It was July 2nd, 1999. I was taking credential courses at Concordia University, Irvine, and the summer course I was taking was one of my last ones before student teaching began that following fall. It was the last day of the course and I was excited to get home. I headed down the 5 south, and passed Mission Hospital, like I had a million times before. But this time it was oddly different.

As I approached the building off the side of the freeway, a shiver ran up my spine, and my eyes quickly filled with tears. Suddenly, I saw a vision. All I could see was Tim, gravely ill, in the hospital, surrounded by crying family and friends. But as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared. As an uneasiness filled my stomach, tears started to fall from my eyes.

Now I don't have visions, and I am fairly certain that most of you do not have them either. But something about this "vision" was odd, and needless to say, very scary. I told myself that my anxiety was playing tricks on me, and decided to use my cell phone to call Tim. I was relieved to hear his voice and discover that he was fine, and it validated that my conclusion about the whole thing was correct--I was being rather nutty.

I arrived at my apartment and felt thankful that instead of reality, it was just a day-mare, but somehow I couldn't shake the feeling I had. The next morning (July 3rd), I went to Tim's place with Starbucks in hand. We planned to spend the day apart in order to be with our individual friends, so after we drank our coffee and saw each other for a little while, I decided it was time to head out. I got in my car and started the engine, while Tim stood on the driveway intent on watching me go. I glanced up for a minute before driving down his driveway, and immediately felt the shiver return to my spine, the tears to my eyes, and the uneasy feeling in my stomach again. I tried to push the feeling away as I waved goodbye. He waved back and I drove out of sight.

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Now, Tim and I had been dating for 4 years. We were planning to get married, but the only problem was that opportunity after opportunity would come and pass but a ring never made it to my finger! Tim was admittedly scared after watching his parent's difficult divorce. He was determined to only marry when he knew he had found the one because he wanted to stay married to that one for the rest of his life. He kept second guessing himself and I knew it. I came to the conclusion that if I could show him that I was that one who would stick for the long haul, I would get my ring! Only problem was how?!

Little did I know that I was going to get my chance, and in a way that I could have never imagined possible.

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It's still July 3rd, and it was about 4:30. Tim had promised to call me before dinner, and he hadn't called yet. I felt irritated by it and decided to call him instead. His friend and roomate Jimmy answered the phone and panic was in his voice. He told me he was so glad I called because he couldn't find my phone number. Confused, I asked if I could talk to Tim, but then he said the following:

"Carla, Tim got hurt, really bad. He hurt his head. The ambulance is here, they're taking him to the hospital. It's really bad Carla. Hurry up, go to the hospital. Go now!"

I started shaking, my heart started to race, and tears flew out of my eyes. I raced to the hospital faster than I had ever driven, and when I arrived in the emergency room, a champlain was sent out to see me. He asked me to call Tim's parents, and told me that we wouldn't get an update until his family arrived.

I was mad. And scared. And I wanted the champlain to go away! I called his mom and burst into tears. I told her that I didn't know much but that she had to come right now. She picked up her stuff and came with Tim's sister having no idea what to expect.

An hour later, she arrived, and the neurosurgeon came out and just his family and I gathered with them in a private room. He told us that Tim had fractured his skull, and that his brain was bruised and bleeding. They inserted a drain and a ICP monitor and were watching it carefully in order to make sure that the pressure in his brain didn't get too high.

They told us that the next 24 hours were critical, and they would let Tim's response to the injry determine their next steps. All we could do was wait and hope for the best.

His mom and I stayed in the ICU with him all night. He was medically paralyzed, and intubated. He had a large tube coming out of his head and it drained blood and cerebral fluid into a large container. They told us to talk to him because he could probably hear us, so we did. We didn't sleep a wink--it was all we could do to not leave his side.

The next morning arrived--the 4th of July. 35 of his cloest friends gathered with his family and me in the ICU waiting room. The neurosurgeon and Tim's ICU nurse came out again, and he updated all of us at the same time. Nothing could have prepared us for what we were about to hear.

Tim's brain was so swollen that it is being squished by his skull. He had to have surgery right away to take part of his head off, so that his brain would be allowed to swell without restriction.

This was a totally foreign concept for me. Back then, I knew nothing about anything medical (hard to imagine, I know!)--and all that echoed in my ears was "we have to cut off his head???!!!".

I burst into tears and started to run out of the room. I began to hyperventilate, and almost passed out in the hallway. The nurse that was in the room and one of my friends came out and caught me before I hit the floor. My friend told the nurse that she had xanax and asked if she should give it to me. The nurse quickly said yes, and they pretty much shoved it down my throat. They brought me back to the waiting room, wrapped me in a blanket and sat with me while the wonder drug kicked in. When I had calmed, they explained what was going to happen and I couldn't say a thing.

As I sat, dumbfounded, I looked around and realized that I was sitting in the very same vision that I had just the night before! It was all too much to bare, I just put my head into my friend's arms, and sobbed.

Meanwhile, he was taken back to surgery, and they removed the entire left side of his skull. They left the drain and the ICP monitor on the right side of his skull. They put the flap of skin and hair back over the now skull-less head, stapled it back together, and wrapped it up tight in gauze. On their way back to the ICU, the wheeled by the waiting room, where we were all standing, anxious to know if he made it through surgery.

But when we saw Tim being wheeled by, he was ashen gray, unconcious, and still. Tim's mom layed her eyes on him and broke down, falling to the floor; all she could say over and over was "he looks dead, he looks dead!", as she sobbed unconsolably. A pastor coincidentally was nearby and overheard what we were dealing with; so he came over and asked if he could pray for us and for Tim. We all said yes, so all 41 of us gathered in a circle in this big white hallway, held hands, and prayed. We prayed for strength to get through this, for His mercy to be upon us, and we prayed for a miracle.

To be continued.......

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