As I mentioned in my profile, my youngest daughter is a type-1 diabetic. She survives on 4 insulin injections every day. She wasn't always a diabetic and we had to find out the hard way.
On December 27, 2005, my daughter celebrated her 16th birthday. She marked the sweet 16 milestone by promptly eating everything in sight that day. Her friends took her to breakfast at I-Hop, lunch at Sonic, and then we all ate as a family at a local Italian restaurant that evening. The next day, she wasn't feeling well, which her mother and I attributed to her eating so much.
Two days later, on December 28, Melissa was feverish and vomiting. Now, she's our little drama queen and has had many "near-death" experiences from things like pimples, or a cold. But this time, she really looked ill. Her mom took her to our "Doc-in-the-box," and was told she needed to go straight to the ER. My wife called me from the hospital and said it didn't look good. Quickly and frantically, I rushed over to find my daughter delirious. The nurse came in and said the results of her blood tests showed her blood glucose level at 860 and toxic levels of acid. We learned Melissa was in a state of DKA, or ketoacidosis, in which her blood was now acidic and near fatal.
It all seemed like a blur as we sprinted through the halls, Melissa on a gurney, to pediatric ICU. There we were met by a team of nurses and physicians all shouting orders as they moved our daughter into a room. Within 1 hour my daughter was in a coma and the doctor told us she might not make it through the night.
Each hour was pure agony. Hours turned into days, as we got no good news and the prognosis grew more and more dim. Melissa, our sweet, bubbly teenager was dying. For four days she languished in an unconscious state. By now, the resident specialist on juvenile diabetes in our region was in control. He worked day and night with my daughter, as did the attending physician. They were our angels.
On day four, December 31, I couldn't take it anymore. The hospital is just across from a huge park surrounding a small lake. At the request of my wife, I strapped on my running shoes and took off. As I ran all I could think of was all the things I wanted to say to my daughter and how desperately I wanted a second chance. It was cold, but I didn't notice it. People must have thought me crazy as I was crying the whole run.
I found myself running after God and wanting answers. Why my kid? Why now? I want to see her graduate. I want to give her hand in marriage to the man she'll spend the rest of her life with. My grandchildren, I want to hold them. God gave me some peace in my 3-mile run that day. Something I hadn't had in four days.
That night, as the rest of the world was celebrating the coming a new year, and as we watched the ball drop in Times Square, we sat and waited for some signs of improvement. Melissa had just had another cat scan at 5 am. I couldn't take it anymore. As our youth minister led us in prayer I literally fell into his lap and cried my soul out. At that moment, I did something that was almost impossible for me. I gave my daughter back to God. I told him no matter the outcome, I would praise him for he is my God.
At 6:00 am, January 1st, with the first new day beginning in a new year, my daughter opened her eyes. I was sitting in the hall with my head down and I heard my wife and everyone in her room scream. I instantly thought the worse, but when I ran in I saw my kid looking at me. She had a breathing tube in her throat so she couldn't talk. I asked her if she knew how much I loved her and she nodded yes. It was the greatest day of my life.
It took about 8 more days for her to leave the hospital and there was no permanent brain damage, although that is suspect from her behavior sometimes (HA), but she had made it. God brought us through the worst time of our lives.
As I look back I remember that 3-mile run and my conversation with God and all I can do is say "Wow!" He does listen and he weeps with us and he celebrates our victories, just as we do.
So, next time you're out running, try running with God. Strike up a conversation with him. You might be surprised at the answers you'll get.
2 years later and my daughter will graduate from high school early. She wants to go to cooking school and open a restaurant for diabetics. She and I took a 50-mile journey to raise money for diabetes last year, but the real journey is just beginning for her. It's a journey I just thank God she's around to take.
God bless you all and ever forward!!!
--The Fat Runner
2 comments:
I don't know Greg, sometimes those conversations with God just don't come out the way I want! I remember going through a similiar situation while my sister (9 years older than me) at the age of 37 was in the hospital with Kidney failure from complications with diabetes. After 6 weeks in the hospital, it became evident to us all that she wasn't going to get better. That certainly wasn't what I had asked of God! As time wore on my prayers changed and were answered as He called her home to heaven and relieved her of her earthly pain.
During the many conversations with God and me searching for anwers, I made many mistakes. Some very serious ones! I would encourage all to not let down your guard as Satan often attacks during your weekest moments, put your faith in God and run after Him any way you can! Make it a purposeful run and you will be rewarded!
Once again, great thoughts Greg.
Thanks for the great comment, Jason. Life is no bed of roses, I know. Sometimes things don't work out the way we want and we're left wondering what God was thinking. But, as he said, "My thoughts are not your thoughts."
I struggle greatly with making sense of my life and its purpose. I need look no further than the Bible for answers, but that's easier said than done. I rely heavily on those of you who are my friends to help me on the journey.
Thanks for what you said and hang in there. We're all in this life together.
--Gregg (aka, The Fat Runner)
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