One Bloody Night in the ER...

David was a shepherd boy. This David* was a young boy with a C-collar and a scalp lac secondary to a bathtub accident. Injury-wise, nothing critical really. I mean, there was no LOC, amnesia, AMS, neck pain, or fractures. The C-collar was cleared and we moved on to assess the situation with the lac. No biggie—2.5 cm, nothing a few staples couldn’t fix in a hot second. Socially, David’s story was quite similar to many of the other patients we serve at the county hospital—poor, living with grandma and several other children, young mom in and out of the home, no dad to speak of, sleeping on the floor of a one-bedroom apartment. I left to write my note and patiently wait to present him to my attending who would most likely say, “Okay. Staple him up and write his discharge.” Easy enough.

About 5 minutes into my note the nurse came over to say that my patient was bleeding pretty bad and that the grandmother was asking for me. I kept writing, knowing that it probably was nothing urgent as he was fine just minutes ago. Upon completing my note, I lackadaisically walked over and pulled back the curtain to find my patient sitting in a pool of his own blood. Four-letter words flooded my mind. Alerting my attending to the situation at hand, I was reprimanded for failing to hold pressure on the wound. Frustration washed over me. Seriously?! It was barely even bleeding 5 minutes ago, I swear. Just my luck.

Now the blood was pouring from his head. Knowing that we are unable to sew or staple actively bleeding wounds because a hematoma will form at the site, I firmly gasped David’s head to apply some pressure. He screamed bloody murder and fought me something fierce. He was too strong for me. There was no way. Blood was gushing from the wound and flying everywhere as he fought against me. I feared for the demise of my new white shoes. The nurse laid on him as I braced his head. Our 2 woman team had finally defeated our 5 year old muscle man, and I pressed down on the gusher as hard as I could showing it who really was boss. I prayed that David’s blood-curdling screams could maybe turn into some blood-clotting.

5 minutes past. Nothing. 10. Nothing. 20. Nothing. Half an hour and the booger was still oozing like there was no tomorrow.

Grandma was in the corner hysterical, chanting the name of Jesus as if she was going to coax a genie out of a bottle or something. The nurse had left to attend to other patients, and I was left to my own devices to keep young David pinned down on my own. He was still fighting me and it became a war of who would tire first. Covered in blood, sweat, and David’s tears I was wearing out, but determined to complete the relatively simple task given to me, hold pressure. Pinned under my weight, I held pressure with one hand and stroked his face, catching his tears with the other as he cried out for his mom who was nowhere to be found. Eventually, his screams turned to mild cries to mere whimpers as he drove himself to sheer exhaustion.

As time passed I was able to loosen my grip on David a bit, but his grip on my heart only tightened. As he began to relax I was able to hold his head and stroke his back giving him some of the affection and comfort that a young hurting boy so much needs. My mind wondered to what his life at home must be like and what it must be like for a young boy to live without a father in a pretty rough neighborhood. I began to pray that God would father him and raise him up to be an incredible man after His own heart that would break the cycle of brokenness and poverty in his family. I prayed that against all odds, despite all outlooks and circumstance, that the Lord would break through to him and rescue him. My spirit truly cried out for his young heart and life. An hour passed. Then two. And while the blood was still ‘a flowin’ I was sure that my spirit had prayed the kid into being the next Billy Graham or at least something to that effect.

I can’t help but think about the anointing of God on King David’s life. When he was anointed to be king he was only a young shepherd boy. In fact, he was originally overlooked because of his lowliness and age. But the Lord spoke rather clearly to the situation when he said, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature…. For the LORD sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart." In the end, God raised David up to be a mighty king and accomplish many great things. And not only that, God raised David up to be known as a man after His own heart.

In this blog, I will never use the real names of my patients and will often change identifying factors so as to guard their confidentiality (and protect my behind too for that matter :0). In this account, I changed the young boy’s name to David. Why? Because the Lord is going to father him and guide him and love him and rescue him and raise him up to be a mighty man of God that chases after the heart of the Lord. Why? Not because his life circumstances will point him to that end but simply because the God of all hope is able.

That bloody night in the EC, I learned a lot. I learned that scalp lacs bleed—a lot. I mean, you would have thought the child lost a limb or something. I learned that I am weaker than a 5 year old boy. I learned to sew a few stitches. But most of all, I learned to pray. I learned to catch a vision for all that could be and cry out to the Lord that it simply would be.

I will probably never see David again—that is until the Lord raises him up to be the next Billy Graham. Just playing. But really, the possibilities are endless. And God is able. More than able.

*Names and certain identifying facts are changed in this blog so as to respect the confidentiality of the patients whose stories are told.

Jesus Wants the Rose!

I really love this video.

...we implore you on Christ’s behalf, be reconciled to God. For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.
-2 Corinthians 5:20b-21

For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly....but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us....More than that, we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.
-Romans 5:6,8,11

O I am ever thankful that the Lord would want me, the broken rose, breathing new life, restoring me.

What was said to the rose to make it unfold, was said to me here in my chest. So be quiet now and rest. Here is our King. Here is our Love. Here is our God who's come to bring us back to Him. He is the One. He is Jesus....

The Most Glorious, Trying, Beautiful, Exhausting, Frustrating, Exciting Day Ever- AKA LBJ Day Uno

There is a code to the bathroom door. Who would have ever thought? I asked for it once. The second time I was embarrassed to have forgotten. Was is 2-5-6-1? 3-5-6-1? Or maybe 5-2-6-1? Crap. Can’t even seem to get the dad-gum bathroom code right today. I asked the nurse again and got that same O you poor, stupid med student, your life will never amount to much look I had been getting from every direction, so it seemed, for the majority of the morning. First it was the gauze I couldn’t find that happened to be in every room just under my nose, then the wrong speculum I picked from the closet, followed by a completely off-the-wall totally-wrong diagnosis and the shower of gloves I spilled in the exam room.

LBJ hospital is quite the place. It is exquisite. Truly. Maybe not my first thought walking in the door the first time, honestly, but really. The people are beautiful. I mean, some of them have about the IQ of a rock, but others really surprise you. Getting to serve them is a privilege. Whether talking to them is about as useful as talking to a barn or not, I love it. They are made in the imago dei and they are beautiful.

In true fashion, my first shift in the Pedi EC today was quite the experience. It was surely no different from any other day there, maybe even more calm than usual, who knows, but it made an impression on me already. It was the most glorious, difficult, trying, exciting, rewarding, fun, exhausting day ever.

There was one patient in particular that stands above all the rest, maybe because she was the only one all day I never had to fill out paperwork on or present to someone on the totem pole above me and inevitably feel like the dumbest person alive having overlooked some part of the exam (those of you in my shoes know exactly what I mean :0). I never knew her name—I probably never will. The sight of her precious face made my eyes well with tears, which I quickly choked back knowing that was not the professional, grown-up doctor-type thing to do, or something to that effect.

I knew excitement was coming when someone ran into the EC shouting stuff I could only partially understand. I had no idea what was up but I ran outside with the best of them. As I passed the gloves on the wall I thought I ought grab a pair but not wanting to break suit or be over-zealous I followed everyone else gloveless. I felt like I was in a scene from Grey’s Anatomy, if only for a moment—you know when they run out to the ambulance dock and something crazy, wild happens just as they cut to a commercial break? I just knew I would see Katherine Heigl out there talking to Denny or McDreamy glowing in the sunshine in all his hotness or something bizarre. Ha. Anyhow….

There was quite the crew of folks gathered around the vehicle parked just outside. I stood on my tippy toes to see what all the excitement was about and before I knew it a baby was handed out of the car. Someone called out the time. I noted it in my mind. 3:21. I have no idea why out of the 20 or so medical personnel types gathered around they thought I looked like the appropriate person to hand a fresh child to, but nonetheless, next thing I knew the baby was handed to me. I gladly accepted, gloveless and all. (Though my attending sure didn’t miss the opportunity to fuss me—dang, if only the thought counted!)

I heard her precious cries. She opened her eyes and I felt like she looked straight at me. Welcome to the world, sweet one.

The scene was chaos. Mom was in pain and still needed to deliver the placenta. No one could seem to find the appropriate wrist bands. But I was in my own world with a beautiful baby girl in my arms. O bliss.

I carried her around for what seemed like forever as things were sorted out. I thought of names for her and wondered at what she would be when she grew up. I thought of running as fast as I could and taking her home to be mine!—just kidding. Don’t tell anyone. They will never let me around small children again!

For all the moments I felt like a retard, unable to even open the bathroom door, dropping all my stuff on the floor during a pelvic exam, and answering even the simple questions 100% wrong, there were the moments of tickling cute little kids, having real-life talks with teenagers, and of course, delivering babies in the parking lot. Exhausted? Check. Fulfilled? Double check.

Bring it, day 2!