Heparin and Jesus

A good handful of weeks ago The Lawyer had a cold. Now, before you go thinking I’m going to make some references to “man cold” or “near death experience,” just know I’ve already worn those out, so there’s no need to reiterate here. I’ll just move right along.

So, he was having this man cold and forewent his bi-daily power walk for a week or ten days because he couldn’t breathe or stop coughing and the like. No biggie, we all deserve to let our bodies recover from near death experiences. But then one Monday he decided the eminent danger was no more and he headed out to the trails to pump the heart. All’s well. But the next day he began to complain of achy legs. We chalked it up to just being sore from walking after having not, so he walked again Wednesday. But by Thursday when the soreness was greater instead of lessened, we began to scratch our heads. Shouldn’t be this way. Wonder what’s up.

By the time the work day was over, dinner was inhaled, and we were doing an evening walkabout in the backyard, he pulled his shorts legs up and said, “look how swollen my left leg is, and it’s painful, and tight,” and I replied, “yeah, and it’s a different color.”

We just stared at each other.

Fortunately/unfortunately, because of life’s circumstances, we both know more than our fair share of medicine and we knew this presented all the signs of a blood clot. Added to the fact that he’d had a few little clots in that calf sixteen months prior, (post-op knee surgery) we knew it was time to make a trip to the ER. Though we chose to call our insurance plan’s urgent center first because we’re aware they have an ultrasound tech on staff at all times, we figured we still may end up in the ER but hoped the urgent center may treat and send us home.

Silly us.

The urgent center did see us and did perform an ultrasound diagnostic and did confirm there was a clot and did, as suspected, send us right across the parking lot to the big ER. Yay us. Time to hurry up and wait.

Now, I won’t try to make you feel the pain of the ER, I’ll just say we sat there three hours before getting called back, and then they couldn’t find the records that were supposed to be sent over from next door, so they just did another ultrasound to confirm. And boy did they.

The ER doctor could not WAIT to get us over to the main hospital and off his ward. You see, The Lawyer definitely had a blood clot in his leg. One, long, length-of-his-leg clot. Yep, that’s a thing. The blood clot in his deep vein started just a couple inches above his ankle and came all the way up to just-shy of the bend of his groin. If ever the “😳” emoji were appropriate, it would be now.

😳

This one most certainly blew our paradigm of what we thought we knew of medicine. This one was a new one on the both of us. And we were stunned.

So the rest of the night in the ER was long and boring and I almost fell out of the chair more than once when I dozed off. But eventually the nurse came in with the good news that a room had been made ready for him in The Big House. He’d be transported around daybreak, and I should go home and clean up, nap, and pack a bag. So I did – at 4 in the morning. Met him over at the main campus about 6:30, settled into his room, and began to mentally prepare for surgery. There are a couple of surgical procedures employed to remove clots, whether small or large, and he was going to be worked into the schedule to get the monster evicted from his leg. But then somebody had the brilliant idea of getting him a CT of his lungs “just to confirm or rule out clots.” So they did that and we waited a little longer. Eventually made it down to pre-op where we will neither confirm nor deny that they did or did not shave him from belly button to toes in preparation for clot eviction.

Then we waited some more.

At this point it’s well into the afternoon and the anxiety of surgical anticipation was beginning to get more and more intense. Then the PA came in. And guess what. Pulled the plug on the surgery. She explained that they had just received his CT results. And guess what. A few clots scattered in his lungs.

Dang it.

She said they wouldn’t do the surgery until cardiology cleared him. At this point it’s late afternoon on Friday. Do we really think a cardiologist is going to clear him and a vascular surgeon is going to work him in for surgery at 4:30 on Friday? No. No we do not.

Upstairs we went.

The plan then became hang out in The Big House and watch the Heparin drip till surgery on Monday. Ok, fine. I suppose it could be far worse. We hunkered down and watched a lot of “sleeping weather” tv, and did a whole lot of nothing.

Probably needed that break from the weight of the world, but why did it have to come with the weight of the world?

But Monday did roll around and we were told he’d be worked in before lunch. So back downstairs to pre-op we went at 10am, and hung out till noon. When, guess what. The surgeon came in and pulled the plug on the surgery.

Can’t make this stuff up.

He explained that, among other reasons, the surgery could actually do more damage than leaving the clot alone to dissipate. Veins are tricky and delicate and have their own complex ecosystem, and unless the surgery was life or death, they didn’t want to risk ruining his vein. There is a whole lot more to the story, but sometimes the bottom line is all you need.

*whispering* But let me tell you what really happened.

When it was first suggested he have surgery, we were all in. It seemed a good idea and all made sense. We prayed for The LORD’s protection and peace, over both us and the surgical staff. When the surgery didn’t happen, we were ok with it and happy to have cardiology give their blessing. Never fun to just hang out in the hospital just to watch an IV drip, but it could’ve been far worse. By the time Monday rolled around, however, it had become a bit more intense. I just had an uneasy-ness about the surgery.  But I have a network of loved ones with faith far stronger than mine, who don’t mind when I or anyone else calls upon them for prayer. So I did. I enlisted everyone I knew I could call on who would genuinely pray for Joseph, to do so. The texts went something like this: Hi! Joseph is in the hospital with a blood clot the length of his leg (I know!!) and a few scattered in his lungs. He’s supposed to have surgery Monday to remove the leg clot. We’re a captive audience at TMH for the weekend. Would you please pray with me that he won’t have to have surgery, that the Heparin(blood thinner) will do its job, and that Jesus will heal his body? I appreciate you always being willing to stand with us in faith. I know God hears your prayers, and with an army of us praying I’m believing this will resolve before surgery ever has to happen. Thanks!

So I may have sent that to a few or a bunch of my people.

We all prayed all weekend.

And Monday rolled around, and, well, I’ve already told you what ensued. No surgery.

I don’t care what the reason is that the doctors gave. And look, they were all good, legitimate reasons. But how did we all get to that conclusion? The God of the universe heard our prayers and answered, and that’s the bottom line of it. The scriptures say “the prayers of a righteous man availeth much,” and, “pray in the Spirit and with understanding.” And we did. “I cried out to the Lord And He answered me out of His Holy hill.”

We got to go home that Monday with no surgical scars, no anesthesia hangover, just a prescription and compression socks. Seems like a pretty righteous deal to me.

So if you’re ever doubting whether God hears you and will answer, just think of this little story, and get on your knees and ask everyone you know with even the teeniest bit of faith to stand with you in prayer. God hears you and knows what you need before you even ask. But he wants to hear you ask.

So ask.

❤️