MY DEFINING MOMENT
After a few days and some major antibiotics, my secretions
began clearing up again. What's more, my temperature began dropping for the
first time in the now six weeks since the accident. Dr. Frank walked in and
said, "Looks like you're getting stable enough to realign your neck. How does
that sound?"
'Finally,' I replied silently.
"See you in the morning, bright and early," he said
with a smile and left the room.
The respirator had not been set to four bpm since
that one long horrible night. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever get
to four. My gross intake had seemed to level off at 400 cc's. That would
never be enough and it was clear to me that getting off the respirator was
becoming less and less likely.
I thought of what I'd been through since I'd been
imprisoned by this life changing malady. I'd contracted pneumonia twice with
body temps hovering at times at 105 degrees. One side of the horseshoe shaped
crown holding the heavy traction had slipped an inch requiring me to endure
more stinging lidocaine injections at my tender temple to prevent the real
pain of screwing the bolt into my skull. I still have an inch scar on the
left side of my head caused by the slippage.
Because of the less than desirable nutrition offered
by the hospital to its patients, I was eating less and less until I'd ultimately
loss 30 pounds. I'd gone from a lean 175 pounds to a fragile 145. I was finally
put on an anorexic diet and was made to drink straight potassium with breakfast
and eat a banana with every meal. The potassium came as a liquid in a small
cup and had the nastiest flavor that had ever crossed my tongue. We would
mix it with a strong fruit juice, usually orange, then put a spoonful of honey
in it. I would gulp it quickly and take a bite or drink of something else
immediately afterwards to mask that atrocious taste.
Would the surgery bring any change? How much damage
had the spinal cord endured? At the very least they would be removing the
traction that had kept my neck, my only remaining working muscle, motionless.
It would be a positive step toward stability. Then I could get back to the
business of getting off this blasted respirator and go home.
The surgery took longer than expected, according to
Dr. Frank, but the objective of realigning my spinal cord was reached. He later allowed
me to see the before and after x-rays. The work
he did was incredible . The vertebrae was completely broken front to back and the spinal
cord was crushed between them.
Back in my room, after I'd awakened from surgery,
I noticed a difference in my breathing. It was easier. I had the R.T. pull
out her trusty spirometer and measure a full breath. It had gone from 400
cc to 650 cc. I talked to Dr. Frank and he reported that they discovered and
removed a bone chip in my spinal cord. This apparently released the flow from
the brain to the diaphragm causing a portion of it, the left side it turned
out, to work better. It would also eventually effect my left bicep allowing
me to bend my left arm... but never enough to make use of it.
The next morning when Dr. Bregman came in, he asked
me if I was ready to pick up where we left off at four breaths per minute.
I told him about my improved breathing and that I felt ready to beat the machine.
I'd become a changed man. After the long, arduous fight where I'd felt that
I was being beaten, I found the enemy's weakness. I was the challenger and
the champ was down. He would be up again but not for long.
I could see the light at the tunnel's end and it was
beautiful. I could taste victory and it was delicious. I have met the Giant
and he will soon feel my stone.
After two days and nights on four bpm, the respirator
was set to two. In two more days came a setting called "flow-by" where I breathed pure oxygen
on my own power. In two more days I spent a night breathing room air
on my own. There was no recurring whoosh of sound from the respirator. It
just sat beside my bed with the power "off" through the night for the first time in over six weeks. The next day, orderlies came in and
collected the web of hoses that had served as my chains, placed them on the
defeated Giant, and rolled it out of the room. If I were thinking, I would
have asked for its severed head.
Dr. Bregman walked in next. I looked up at him and
mouthed the words, "You saved my life."
He looked at me quite seriously and said, "It wasn't
me. It was you."
It was a defining moment in my life. Perhaps the single
most important event in my life besides accepting Jesus. It was like being
born again but not from anything that was given me. This was a life I claimed
on my own by the sweat of my brow, by the strength of my will, by the grace of my God. Of course,
I had no idea what lay ahead of me but there couldn't be anything compared
to the battle I'd just fought and won. Surely my worst days were behind me.
I had climbed the mountain, swum the Channel and defeated the giant. Could
there ever be a challenge more difficult than that? I had to ask.