And it came . . . to pass
by Norm Phillips
"We were offered no encouragement at this time.
The medical team at Duke University Hospital continued to do what they could for Karen,
and we continued to do what we could---we prayed and trusted God for a miracle."
The year . . . 1991
JUNE 10
Noon
My wife didn't eat lunch. She said her stomach was upset.
It had been a day like any other day. I'd spent my morning working in my study at home, preparing the first lesson of our Vacation Bible School for that evening. My wife had busied herself at the church a block away, turning the classroom into a "first-century home" and making last-minute changes in our costumes. We would be depicting wealthy class Jews of that time period, and the classroom was to to be our home of that period. I was to be the teacher, and Karen my assistant.
But that day Karen wasn't hungry when she returned from the church. "Norm, I've been so out of breath today. I had to sit down and rest a couple of times while I was working," she said as she sat down beside me.
I studied her as I thought. "You're probably working too hard. Just how many trips did you make back and forth from the parsonage? And up and down those stairs?"
"Quite a few," she answered.
"That might explain it. And maybe you're still tired from our trip," I added, eager to dismiss it as anything more serious. The two weeks traveling to the Midwest and back had been tiring. "You've always been extremely healthy; I don't think it's anything to worry about."
After I ate lunch, we changed clothes and started off to call on a lady that was scheduled for minor surgery the following day. We had planned on stopping at the Post Office on our way, but before we got there, Karen said, "Norman, you'd better take me home. I don't feel well."
I took Karen right home and she took something for gastric upset. Our older daughter Pamela was home, so I asked her to look after her mother while I went calling.
When I returned home thirty minutes later, Karen was worse.
"It's hard for me to breathe, and I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest. My left arm feels numb, too," she said.
"Let's get you to the hospital."
When Karen willingly agreed, I realized how seriously ill she was. I drove her three miles to the local Princeton, West Virginia, hospital, and she walked into the emergency room with me. When I told the receptionist Karen's symptoms, she took her immediately into emergency care. By the time I filled out the registration forms, Karen had been given and I.V. for the symptoms, and nitroglycerin for the pain.
Karen's condition deteriorated rapidly until her blood pressure dropped to just 40. She was ashen and unresponsive. They transferred her immediately to C.C.U and called a cardiologist who was unavoidably delayed. When he finally arrived, he decided to administer streptokinase, a clot-dissolving drug. But when her blood gasses dropped to dangerous levels and they needed to connect her to a respirator, the cardiologist came to me in the waiting area to obtain my permission due to the danger of the procedure at that time.
"One nick, and she could bleed to death," he explained.
Offering up a silent prayer, I gave my permission.
Shortly after that, they called me into the C.C.U. requesting my assistance. "Norm, we need you to keep Karen awake," one of them said. "If she goes to sleep, we're afraid we might lose her."
As they intubated her, they explained the reason for their concern: "This procedure is very risky after streptokinase has been administered because her blood has been robbed of its clotting ability."
Karen looked awful, but I did my best to stay upbeat as I helped her stay awake. "I'm so tired," she mumbled just before they inserted the tube, but she cooperated with the procedure.
The call for prayer had already gone out to family and friends and those prayers were being heard. And answered. The tube went in without any problems. With the respirator in place, and the drug dissolving the clot, Karen began to show improvement for the first time since we arrived.
From my more than twenty years of experience ministering to people in emergency room situations, I knew from the solemn atmosphere in the C.C.U., and from Karen's appearance, that she was still in very grave danger.
