Chapter 25

Home at Last

    You know, I knew I would have to go back to the hospital to get fixed up but I was hoping that I could go home first;  to sleep in my own bed;  to be somewhere safe and away from people. I was bitterly disappointed that that could not be.   I understand now,  but I was pretty unhappy then.

    They took me to Phoenix Baptist Hospital in Phoenix and Dr. Michael Steingard was there to meet me. The first thing we did was give him my medical chart from Zimbabwe and they hooked me up to some IV’s. They drew about a gallon of my blood and,  shortly thereafter,  they gave me a number of injections. (I was so sick of being messed with) I got to talk to all of my kids and then they took Momma (Linda) home. I was moved down to the intensive care section and finally I was allowed to sleep. I don’t know if I was given something to help me sleep, but I know that I dreamed that someone was always coming in to give me injections. Dream or reality I don’t know,  but I was sure getting sick of needles!

    The next morning a couple of guys came in with a portable X-ray machine and,  without exaggeration,  they must have taken 50 X-rays of me.  Between Zimbabwe and all of the X-rays that were taken in the hospitals in the US I’m surprised that I don’t glow in the dark. They also performed another test that had a profound effect on me.

    Dr. Steingard was concerned about the blood flow in my damaged left leg so they did a vein scan. This involved running a scanning head over the outside of my leg, similar to an ultrasound for a pregnant woman, and they can determine where and how well the blood was flowing in the affected area. Shortly thereafter,  the doctor came into my room and talked to me about the scan. He said that I had a massive blood clot from just above my knee up into my groin. Then he said something that broke me up.

    He said, "If they would had tried to do reconstructive surgery to you in Zimbabwe they most certainly would have broken loose a myriad of little bloodclots that would have traveled throughout your body and probably killed you".

    I just started bawling. All this time that I had felt like the Lord had abandoned me and was letting me go through all of this pain and suffering for nothing yet He, in fact, had stayed the hand of the doctor in Zimbabwe to keep me from dying under their third world medical care system. Oh, for me this changed the whole complexion of how I was feeling and redefined how I perceived God was taking care of me. It would also redefine how the physicians in  Phoenix would take care of me.

    Dr. Steingard came in to talk to me after receiving the test results. He was appalled by the medical care that was given to me in Africa,  especially by the physician in charge. He told me that my type of leg injury must always be taken care of within 48 hours or just exactly what happened to me was a distinct probability (the fatty pulmonary embolism). He also told me that because of the severity of the break and because the three pieces of bone had started to fuse together,  he recommended that another orthopedic physician take charge of my case. He also recommended that I be moved to another hospital, Phoenix  Baptist, because it was better equipped to take care of my multiple physical problems.

    I met Dr. Bruce Mallin the next day at Phoenix Baptist and instantly liked him. He was pretty forthright and was pretty frank with regard to my prognosis. He told me that I would very probably be able to walk after the surgery but he was unsure if I would require a walker or  just a cane. He also told me what treatment would be necessary to solve the blood clot problem.

    Apparently there was a relatively new procedure that had been developed that involved inserting a tiny filter up inside of my body, just below the level of my kidney veins, that would trap any blood clots that might break loose during the course of my surgery and recovery. Had this type of procedure been available and utilized in Zimbabwe I never would have gone into the coma.

    The procedure to install the filter was relatively simple and was done under a local anesthetic. They inserted a long plastic tube up into my groin, while we all watched on this monitor (color yet!) and when it was in the correct position, they withdrew the tube and there the filter stayed. I have it yet today.

    They planned to do the surgery to repair my broken leg a couple of days later but then suddenly, I got pretty sick. Whether it was gall bladder, heart or some other trouble it scared the doctors enough that they put me through a multitude of other tests. This added about another week to my already interminable hospital stay. Finally the big day arrived and I was so looking forward to it.

    Bro. Ron and Linda were with me when they wheeled me into the pre-op room. After giving me something to settle me down,  we waited until the physicians were ready. Dr. Steingard, who was assisting, came out to reassure us and a couple of minutes later they wheeled me into surgery. They gave me the mask and the next thing I remember is struggling with a nurse in the recovery room.

    I was pretty heavily medicated for the rest of that day and I remember that the following morning Dr. Mallin came in to talk to me. The surgery was extremely arduous for both he and Dr. Steingard. The were unable to break the bond between the bones that had fused together so they had to take a hammer and chisel to break them apart. They then had to drill down through my hip so that they could insert a 16" stainless steel rod through the two remaining ends of my thigh (femur). They then stretched out my leg as far as they could so that the length of the leg would be as long as the other. This proved very difficult because my muscles had contracted, shortening my broken leg.  In fact, Dr. Steingard pulled his back out trying to stretch my leg back to it’s proper position. They then started drilling and inserting screws through my femur into the rod to lock it into place - and then it happened.

    The plan was to insert two screws through the top part of the bone into the rod and then insert two in the bottom. After inserting the two top ones the electric drill burned out and they didn’t have another one sterilized. For some reason after this my blood pressure dropped to a dangerously low level and they decided to halt the surgery. So after 4 ½ hours I went to the recovery room and I was back to my old tricks of trying to fight with the nurses.

    Normally they try to get people up on their feet the next day after the surgery but for some reason they waited for three days before trying with me. It was kind of an involved procedure because I had this large incision in my left leg and they had some sort of electric drain connected to it. After arranging all of the hardware and plumbing connected to me, the two physical therapists started to maneuver me to the sitting position with my legs over the side of the bed. It was agonizing! I did not have a brace on my leg and the head therapist, a ham-fisted woman I nick-named Attilla the Hun, was extremely rough in handling my sore leg.

    I finally got to the sitting position and they brought a walker into the room. They then helped me to stand up on my right leg, holding onto the walker, so for the first time in three months I was able to stand, albeit for only a couple of minutes and only then with the aid of a walker. They had this special belt around my waist to help stabilize me and all I had to do was sit down on the bed if I felt dizzy. Surprisingly enough I never felt dizzy, like I was going to pass out, after I returned from Africa. Perhaps it was because of different medications.

    The next day they brought a modified walker into the room that had an arm rest on the left side to compensate for the fact that my hand was still partially curled up and I had no strength in that hand and arm . That day I took my first four or five steps to my bathroom and back. The next day I walked to the door of my room and back and from then on it was a matter of building my strength and walking progressively further and further.

    I continued to have problems with the head physical therapist and I insisted that they provide someone with a modicum of compassion to work with me. It took a couple of, shall we say, pointed discussions with the head nurse and Dr. Mallin and they finally relented. The point that I finally got across to them was that when my daughter Carin was able to get me sitting upright on the edge of the bed with my legs hanging down with far less pain and discomfort than could Attilla the Hun then it was time for Attilla to go! It took me refusing to work with the lady before they brought someone else in,  but from that day forward my progress was remarkable. The two new ladies were sensitive and caring and utilized encouragement instead of drill sargent tactics. (I spent enough time in the Army and I ain’t goin’ back!)

    After about a week they were helping me into my wheelchair and I was able to wheel myself around the hospital, even going downstairs to the lobby without supervision. Boy,  did I get chewed out for that one 'cause they couldn't find me! About this same time Bro. Wes Nygaard visited me in the hospital and we got permission to go outside. Oh!  What a wonderful experience that was. The air smelled so sweet and there were birds in the trees and I think it was just then that I knew everything was going to be okay.

    My walks in the walker became progressively longer and one day I met the family at the elevator instead of in my room. It was then I got up courage enough to ask if I could get out for Thanksgiving. (You know,  kind of like a inmate getting weekend pass) After some hesitation Dr. Mallin and my internist,  Dr. Bishop agreed.  Linda drove the van up to the front door and they wheeled me down, helped me sit on the floor and then lay down inside.

The family had been invited to Bro. Tom and Sis Kim Ward’s house for Thanksgiving and they were going to have a surprise guest, ME! The ride was pretty painful because of bumps while driving but it was sure good to be out,  even if I couldn’t see anything because I was laying down. They were sure surprised,   but they recovered graciously and helped me into the wheelchair and hence into the house. We had a wonderful time even though it was a little embarrassing being waited on hand and foot. (Well, truthfully I did enjoy the attention) Even though I didn’t do anything I was thoroughly exhausted when I returned to the hospital later that evening and the staff wasn’t too happy when they saw me. (Aw,  well can't please everyone)

    Things continued to progress and I went home the first week in December. About ten days later I went back into the hospital to have a minor surgical procedure to install the remaining two screws in my leg. Surprisingly the insertion of those two screws made all of the difference in my leg. It was far less sensitive to movement and I could then start putting weight on that leg. We had our usual Christmas open house on Christmas Day,  and what a wonderful time we had!  My fondest memory was of all of the young people sitting around, and on, my bed playing Pictionary. (I still hadn’t been able to sleep in my own bed upstairs yet.   I was in a hospital bed in the family room)

     I started physical therapy the first week in January. For someone who, they said, would probably never walk without a walker, by God’s grace, I made remarkable progress. I had pretty much discarded the wheelchair by the first of February. By the middle of February I had discarded the walker and started using crutches,  and by the middle of March I started to walk unassisted. Not very far and still with a pronounced limp but I was walking. That same month Linda and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary.  God had indeed worked a miracle.

    The cynical among you might say that the doctors healed me or that I healed naturally but how do you explain the remarkable chain of events that kept me in the car when we hit the tree?  How do you explain an anesthesiologist just happening to get a new machine that would alert them to the fact that my lung was collapsing?  How about a nurse just happening by to see my tongue turning blue when I threw the embolism? When I was in the coma and fighting the staff unconsciously,  how the believers would pray for me and I would have a restful sleep immediately when they prayed?  Why the doctor would tell us that my leg was growing back normally but, in fact, he did not have the skill to keep from killing me on the operating table? How a reasonable prognosis for me was to be able to walk with a walker, but within just a few short months I was walking almost normally?  Remember Linda getting reminded about health insurance? If we would have had to pay for all of the medical bills, which came to almost $300,000 it would have broken us!  Too many coincidences, far to many coincidences!

    I know now that the Lord was dealing with me and protecting me even though many times through the ordeal I wouldn’t acknowledge that. I didn’t realize what was happening, I didn’t trust God to take care of me, and I didn’t know why God would allow something like this to happen to me. If this was a test for me to endure, I thought in my weakness that I had failed the test - but God would show me differently.