Just down the road from where I sit, one of our dear friends lies in a hospital bed in a deep coma. A terrible car wreck on Saturday afternoon caused a very serious brain injury. Now he lies there, completely still, hanging on to life with machines performing every vital function for him. His brain continues to swell and bleed. They can no longer use the medications that were reducing the pressure inside his skull. This morning, a neurosurgeon told his family that his brain was too badly bruised and swollen to perform surgery. The doctor said that he is now "in God's hands."
In God's hands, indeed. We have been to the wreck site, we have seen the pictures of the mangled truck he was trapped inside. It is miraculous that he made it to the hospital, that he survived his surgery to repair his internal organs that day, and that he has made it through three long days so far. He is strong, and he is in the fight of his life right now. The fight FOR his life.
I have a hard time believing that the God I love would let him suffer through the last three days just to take him from us. Or to not let him wake back up again. The doctors aren't giving his family a whole lot of hope. IF he makes it through, they say...IF he wakes up...he will probably never be the same again. That's a lot for them to take. To hear these things about their eighteen-year-old son, brother, cousin, nephew, friend. To see him lying in a hospital bed with so many wires and tubes running in and out of his body, a drastically swollen version of himself. To spend so many hours in the ICU waiting room and hallway, unable to see their loved one. Waiting for any report, not knowing what is going on behind those locked double doors that lead to his room. We have spent a great deal of time at the hospital since Saturday afternoon. It is the least that we can do, to give them support and hugs, an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on. There are so many tears from so many loved ones. It weighs heavy on my soul.
My husband and I have been able to see him twice. I have held his hand and told him to keep fighting and that we love him. I have prayed over him with a complete stranger. Visitation is five times per day, fifteen minutes each time. It is overwhelming how many people line up to see this young man every time visitation rolls around. A flock of 50, 60, 70 people, filing in and out, three at a time. So much love, such a big family, and so many friends. I know why. He is a good kid. He is outgoing, he has a big smile, a great sense of humor, a helping hand, and a sweet spirit.
Please pray with me. He is in God's hands. So...I pray that God's hands will carry him and his entire family through this and bring him back to us.