On December 12, 2003, my family called for an ambulance and I was rushed to the emergency room in critical condition. I was hallucinating, I could not speak and I was in near total renal failure. Infections on my legs, which I was trying to treat myself, had turned sepsic. Gangrene was present. Within two hours of my arrival at the hospital I was put in a drug-induced coma and placed on a respirator. The doctors’ diagnosis was grim: immediate double amputations above the knees and dialysis. Or death.I was in that coma for 5 days, and during those days, my wife agonized and prayed over the situation. Our first miracle was that I survived those 5 days. And many doctors thought I could not survive without the respirator. Then our second miracle – God gave Barbara the grace, wisdom and courage to refuse the amputations.
I was taken off the respirator and dismissed from the hospital. I was admitted into a hospice program and went home to die. When I arrived home I had a fever of 106, I was still hallucinating and I still could not speak. My organs were shutting down, as were the neuropathways in my brain. I was actually in the physical process of dying. The hospice team iced me down, put morphine patches on me and tried to make me as comfortable as possible. My life expectancy was measured in days. Perhaps even in hours. Funeral arrangements were begun.
It’s important to note that hospice was not treating my legs. Their job was to make my death as painless as possible. I was being given a strong, but common, anti-biotic and they were applying only saline solutions to the wounds. Other than amputation, there is no cure for gangrene. But the miracles that happened next were either to numerous to count or they need to be lumped into one continuous miracle that lasted almost six weeks.
First my temperature returned to normal. Then my kidneys returned to normal functioning. And then the real adventure began. “But there is no cure for gangrene,” they would say, amazed, as the gangrene dropped off my legs and exposed fresh, new skin. “I don’t understand” and “I’ve never seen anything like this before” were common refrains. After a few weeks, it was obvious that, for some reason, I was not dying. But they cautioned me that I would still lose a leg. I told them no. When I did not lose a leg they, they said I would lose a foot. I told them no. When I didn’t lose a foot, they said I would lose some toes. I told them no. When I didn’t lose any toes, they said I would lose a nail. And I did. But it grew back.
I entered the hospice program with two terminal conditions and a life expectancy of only days. But we got a second opinion from God. He saved me, healed me and restored me. I am now beginning to walk again. And on the same two legs that God gave me 57 years ago. When the healing power of Jesus Christ hits a body, sometimes all you can do is just stand back and watch!! Praise His Name Forever!!
