Sherrene had also gone home, and a nurse from cardiac care was substituting for her usual day replacement. Brittany was in her thirties, a young mother of three, who connected well with Michelle. She was also interested in mysticism and New Age philosophies and was helping Michelle sift through the various articles and information from Trevor.
“You know, I’ve heard a lot about healing through imagery,” Brittany said with enthusiasm as she read the top page from the stack. “There is a center in Arizona that teaches this. Oh yeah—here’s the information about that place.”
“So what does it say to do?” Michelle asked with a hopeful expression.
“Well, basically, you just imagine the various cells that have been attacked by disease or damaged by injury, and you begin to see them repairing themselves.”
“You just do it all in your mind?”
“Yeah. It sounds crazy, but there are terminal cancer patients who have been completely cured through this type of therapy.”
“But weren’t those people doing the imaging themselves?” Michelle asked.
“I think you’re right. But here’s an idea. You could talk to your dad about all of this, and even though he can’t answer us right now, maybe he’ll try to follow your directions in his mind. It couldn’t hurt to try. We don’t know how our own thoughts can impact physical matter. Think about those guys who can actually move heavy furniture from across a room just by thinking thoughts to move it.”
“Yeah. I’ve heard about that. Well, I guess it’s worth a try,” she agreed.
Michelle leaned over her father’s bed. She began speaking positive thoughts into her father’s mind, hoping that he would hear and think the healing images she was describing. There was no response from John. He remained totally still, not even moving his fingers. It was as if he was sinking deeper and deeper into his coma.
After several minutes, Michelle sat back and sighed. As if Brittany could see the discouragement written all over her face, she touched Michelle’s arm and said, “Give him time. He’ll come around. Just keep thinking positive thoughts.”
Michelle nodded and turned her face away, not wanting the nurse to see her eyes filling with tears again. Positive thoughts escaped her like a vapor. She was almost totally lost in fear and despair.
Help me, she cried out in her mind.
“I will,” replied a still small voice from somewhere in her spirit.
Instantly a picture of the shepherd from her dream flashed across the screen of her mind. Michelle could see a depth of compassion in His eyes that penetrated to the darkest part of her soul.
It was three in the afternoon and the sun filtered in through the metal mini-blinds in the hospital conference room. Sheila, Phil, Joan, Michelle, Steve, and Tim were all seated around the massive oblong table with Dr. Jeffries at the head position. A cold draft from the air conditioning caused Michelle to shiver and Steve reached over, placing his arm around her and drawing her up against his side.
Dr. Jeffries had spread out John’s various test results in the center of the table for everyone to see. “I’ve consulted with several other neurosurgeons on staff here including the chief of neurosurgery, and they have all conferred with my evaluation of John’s condition,” he began. “We all came to the same conclusion,” he continued solemnly. “We believe that the most appropriate response is to place him on a ‘no code’ status.”
He paused as various members of the family shifted in their chairs and searched each other’s faces for reactions. No one said a word, but volumes were spoken by their expressions alone. Dr. Jeffries continued, “From what the nurses and his chart tell me, John suffered respiratory arrest during the early morning hours. He was resuscitated and returned to his prior level of unconsciousness. There has been no significant improvement in his condition; in fact he seems to be slipping deeper into the coma.”
Sheila began to weep quietly, and Phil handed her a handkerchief, rubbing her shoulders gently in an attempt to reassure her.
“I know that this is a tremendously difficult decision for you to make,” he said looking at Sheila. “But have you had a chance to discuss it as a family?”
“Not really. Is there some reason why it is critical for us to make this decision right away?” she asked.
“It’s been my experience that the longer you keep a loved one on full code, the harder it is to decide to change their status. Watching someone hang onto life can give a false sense of hope for recovery.”
“Are you saying that it’s not possible for John to recover from his injuries?” Phil asked.
“Nothing is impossible,” Dr. Jeffries said, turning to Sheila’s father. “But the complete recovery of someone in John Ackerman’s condition is very unlikely.”
“I think you’re underestimating my dad,” Tim said sitting forward in his chair and looking Dr. Jeffries squarely in the eye.
“That may be, but think about this. Compounding the multiple injuries to your father’s brain is the likelihood that his will to live is marginal, considering the circumstances leading to his injury.”
Tim just shook his head as if to shake off what he had just heard. He ran his fingers through his dirty, disheveled hair, and slumped back into his chair.
Looking around the table at each family member, Dr. Jeffries added, “Let me ask all of you this question. What kind of man would you describe John to be?”
It was silent in the room for a few moments, and then Sheila spoke. “My husband has always been a pillar of strength. He is hard-working and independent. A self-made man. And he is a loving husband and father, who always put his family first.” Her voice began to waver, as Michelle reached out and took her hand.
“Mom’s right,” agreed Tim. “Dad has always been a determined guy with a strong sense of responsibility.”
Michelle nodded, looking at the doctor and twisting a piece of her hair until it was a tightly woven strand.
“All right,” began Dr. Jeffries. “Let’s think about what you are saying in relation to his current condition. We’re dealing with someone who is used to being strong and independent, right?”
Several heads nodded in agreement.
“How do you think he would feel about a life of weakness and dependency?” he continued, pausing to let the question sink in.
Michelle started to cry again softly, and Steve pulled his chair closer so he could comfort her. It was clear where Dr. Jeffries was going with his question. No one in the room could say that John Ackerman would gracefully accept the life of an invalid, should it come to that.
“Here’s another question for you. You say that he is very loving and would always want what’s best for his family. You, his family, would like to hold on to him, which is perfectly normal. But would he think it was best for you to have to care for him for the rest of his life, should he live a normal life span in a crippled body?”
He tried to make eye contact with each person at the table, but many of them were avoiding his glances as much as they were trying to avoid his questions.
“Dr. Jeffries,” Phil spoke up, “we are all trying to understand your perspective on John’s condition, but you need to understand ours. Yes, we are trying to hold on to him, but it is not just for ourselves. As you know, human life is complex and there are many layers to consider. I, for one, am concerned for John’s spiritual condition as well as his physical one. In my opinion, God is not finished with His work in a person’s life as long as that person is alive. Perhaps there is unfinished business that needs attending to. Who are we to rush that process?”
“In all fairness to your issues, I’m not proposing terminating a life here. I’m just suggesting that we reconsider prolonging the dying process,” said Dr. Jeffries.
“I understand that, doctor. I just think we all need more time to discuss the implications of the decision you are proposing,” Phil responded.
“That’s fine. But here’s another consideration,” he said, turning once again to Sheila. “Your
husband’s driver’s license indicates he’s an organ donor. He’d be a perfect candidate for that, Mrs. Ackerman. He appears to be in good health overall, and donating his organs could save several lives, not to mention the possibility of restoring sight to someone who needs corneal transplants. It’s not up to me to determine the timeline for your decision. But you should know that healthy tissue can deteriorate over time in a comatose patient,” he added as he gathered up the paperwork on the table and rose from his seat.
Continuing to address his comments primarily to Sheila, he said, “Again, I’m sorry you are facing such a tough decision. And we will honor whatever your family wishes. Your husband’s care will not be compromised if you choose our ‘no code’ recommendation. It will only mean that we will allow your husband to die peacefully if his heart or lungs fail.”
Sheila nodded.
“The nurses in the ICU can page me any time if you have any other questions or whenever you arrive at a decision,” Dr. Jeffries concluded.
Michelle and her mom sat in a booth sipping coffee in the brightly lit coffee bar just inside the main lobby of the hospital. Phil and Joan were resting on the couches in the ICU, and Tim and Steve had decided to take a walk. John was stable for the time being, and it was time for everyone to take a break and sift through their emotions and options.
“Grandpa and I had a good talk,” Michelle began, cupping her hands around the steaming mug in front of her. She’d been having a hard time getting warm ever since that chill in the conference room. Though she felt awkward about it, she wanted to discuss with her mother the spiritual questions that were replaying in her mind.
“What do you think about what Grandpa said to Dr. Jeffries? Do you think God is doing something in Dad’s life through all of this?” Michelle asked.
“I really don’t know, Mimi. Your grandfather has a strong faith that I’ve admired for as long as I can remember. He talks to God as if he could see Him face to face,” Sheila said, grasping for words.
“What about you, Mom? What do you believe?” Michelle asked in earnest.
Her mother slumped back in her chair. “That’s a good question, Michelle. I guess I’d say that I believe there is a God, and I’d like to believe that He really does hear prayers and is able to help us. As far as Him doing a work in your father’s life through this mess, it sure would make it easier to bear if I could grasp that.”
She sat up and leaned forward. “All I can tell you is this. Ever since I got to this hospital, I’ve been praying. I mean pleading with God, Michelle. And sometimes I think He’s hearing me. Every once in a while, a sense of peace comes over me. I can’t really explain it, but it’s almost like a part of me knows that everything will be okay. Maybe I’m just in denial or trying to make something up here. I really don’t know,” she finally concluded vaguely.
“You know, I think Steve’s become a Christian,” Michelle said.
“I didn’t know that, honey. But that’s good. I wish your father had something like that to hold onto. If he did, maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess now.”
“Do you think that Christianity is sort of narrow, Mom?” Michelle asked.
“Narrow? What do you mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Old-fashioned I guess, or outdated. It just seems too limited.”
“I don’t think I understand exactly what you mean, Mimi. You should probably be talking to your grandfather about these concerns of yours. I’m not a theologian, you know,” she said apologetically, reaching over and squeezing her hand.
“I know, Mom. It just seems like there are so many avenues of spirituality to explore. This guy I know back in Sandy Cove faxed me some articles about healing diseases and injuries with guided imagery. It’s like using your imagination to heal your body. I tried to do it with Dad.”
“Some of the stuff you have been exploring sounds pretty weird to me, honey. I think your grandparents’ faith is more solid than that New Age stuff you’re dabbling in,” she said gently.
“You’re probably right, Mom. When I tried to explain the things I’ve been learning to Grandpa, they all sounded so strange and kind of unreal. And when I tried to do that positive imaging with Dad, I almost felt silly. I wish I could just be like Grandma and Grandpa and know exactly what I believe and why.”
“That’s not such an unattainable goal, Michelle. Maybe you should start by spending some time alone praying.” She patted her daughter’s hand.
Michelle smiled and nodded.
“Well, I’m going to go back and sit with your dad,” Sheila said, standing up.
“When Steve gets back from his walk with Tim, tell him I’ll be in the chapel,” Michelle responded. Her mother smiled and nodded.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Michelle breathed a silent prayer of gratitude when she found the sun-filled chapel empty. She walked up to the front pew and sat down on the oatmeal cushion, folding her hands in her lap and glancing around the room with its pale yellow walls and scenic watercolors. It was almost as if she was searching for something or someone. Finally her eyes lit on the cross.
She leaned back, closed her eyes, and began to cry. A gentle stream of tears rolled down her cheeks. Her breathing was shaky, as was her hand when she reached up to brush the sorrow from her face.
Where are you, God? her heart anguished.
I’m here, Michelle, a silent voice replied.
A warm blanket of comfort wrapped around her in the stillness. Michelle hugged her shoulders. Her tears were still flowing, but now they were cleansing her instead of swallowing her in sorrow. The presence of God was suddenly so powerful that she was afraid to open her eyes for fear of seeing Jesus Himself standing in front of her. It was as if she had entered another dimension. Her spiritual ears could hear the voice of God speaking.
Come to me, Michelle. I will in no way cast you off. Take my hand and I will walk through this valley with you. I will never leave you nor forsake you.
In that moment, Michelle’s heart was pierced with the truth. She knew to the very core of her soul that God Himself was present with her, and that He had come to meet her at this specific time and place. She sat silently, not moving a muscle, as she soaked in the words He’d spoken to her heart.
Then a thought invaded her mind. This is not real, Michelle. You are only imagining it. Don’t be a fool.
She shook her head and frowned. Feeling agitated, she arose and walked around the pews. What if she really was just imagining it?
She paced back and forth for a few minutes. Her mind was flooded with so many thoughts—the memories of her grandpa’s stories and prayers, the dreams and their interpretations, the tarot cards and the personal evolution classes, Trevor’s thoughts and beliefs, her dad’s self-sufficiency and pride, Steve’s newfound faith in Christ, and her mother’s vague but honest view of God.
As these thoughts swam in her head, two voices fought for control. One claimed to be the voice of reason, telling her to be wise and to recognize how much she was growing on her path to enlightenment.
The other simply repeated the call, Come to me. I am real.
From the recesses of her memory a song began to find its way to her consciousness—a melody about God’s loving kindness and faithfulness in every storm of life.
Michelle smiled gently as she thought about how her grandmother used to sing that song while she washed the dishes. Until this moment, Michelle never really considered the message behind the soothing lyrics. Now she thought aloud, “Maybe you do really understand all my confusion, God.”
“He does, Michelle.”
Michelle jumped, startled by the familiar voice. She turned and her mouth dropped open with shock and surprise. “Kristin!” was all she could manage.
There stood her best friend since childhood, Kristin McKinley. Michelle could hardly believe her eyes.
Kristin quickly walked over and embraced her. “Sorry I startled you.” Her hug brought a new flow of tears, and soon they were both crying—Kristin
dabbing her delicate blue eyes with a tissue, her shining blonde hair reflecting the light of the chandelier overhead.
Michelle blew her nose and smiled. “What are you doing here?” she asked, feeling happy and amazed.
“Your husband called me. He thought it might be a good idea for me to come,” Kristin replied, giving Michelle another quick squeeze and then holding her at arm’s length and looking into her eyes.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Michelle responded, her vision blurred by tears.
“Oh, ’Shell,” Kristin sighed, holding her close while they both rocked and cried. The bond of friendship between them required no words, and Michelle drew comfort and strength from Kristin’s familiar touch. The months and miles melted away, and they were best friends again.
After their tears subsided, Michelle looked Kristin in the eye and asked, “Do you really think He does?”
“Does what?”
“Understand?”
Kristin had a puzzled look on her face. “You lost me somewhere.”
“God. Do you think he understands?” Michelle asked.
Her friend’s face relaxed into a smile. “Yes, Michelle. He really does.” She reached over and put her hand on Michelle’s shoulder. “I’ve learned that God understands us like no one else ever will.”
Michelle searched her face. This was the first time she’d heard Kristin talk like this. “How did you learn that?” she asked.
“You got my email about Mark, right?”
Michelle thought for a moment. “Oh yeah. He sounds like a great guy.”
“He’s taught me a lot about God. It’s changed my perspective on everything,” she continued.
“So Mark’s a Christian?”
“Yeah. He’s a youth pastor at the church we’re attending.”
“No way!” Michelle replied surprised.
“Way!” Kristin smiled.
“I guess we’re both ending up with Bible thumpers,” responded Michelle.
Out of a Dream (Sandy Cove Series Book 1) Page 23