My dearest family and friends,

If you are receiving this email it is because at some time or another, your email has been in my address book; I trust that you will find comfort and encouragement from what I am about to share.

A couple of days before Friday the 8th of April, Jorgie, my son, mentioned that his right hand was hurting. He had started going to the gym again after a long absence due to a shoulder injury and thought that maybe he had strained his hand working out. His father and I thought nothing of it and suggested he take Motrin. On Friday, however, he informed us the pain was getting worse and that he wanted to go to the emergency room because it was too late to go the Doctor’s office. At this point I still thought it was not that big a deal, and I sent him and his dad to the Baptist Medical Plaza on Bird Road. The doctor prescribed pain medication and told my son to see a hand specialist on Monday. On Saturday we went about our day—even going to my niece’s and nephew’s birthday party where he spent the day resting in my mother-in-law’s bed. Later that night he said the pain was back and more intense, so his dad took him to the emergency room at Doctor’s Hospital. My nephew and niece came to spend the night, so I stayed with them. Again the doctor’s prescribed an even stronger medication and told him to see a hand specialist. Sunday morning the pain was unbearable, and by this point I am thinking that maybe it’s broken. My husband and Jorgie go back to Doctor’s Hospital for the second time, and this time they take an x-ray and perform an ultrasound to see if he has a blood clot or something; all tests come back negative. For the third time they increase his pain medication and tell him to see a hand specialist.

So now I am relieved thinking at least nothing is broken and three different doctors have said as much, so I go about preparing for the work week on Sunday night yada yada yada. Early Monday morning at about 1AM, my son is in soooo much pain that I go to the living room and start to pace and pray and frantically beg GOD for guidance. I start thinking about the time I sent him to school with a stomachache that turned out to be appendicitis, and I realize that, like it or not, I will not make the same mistake and he is going to have to go back to the hospital. Understandably, he was reluctant to go because he was certain they would give him more meds and send him home again.

Now, how many of you know that it is hard for me to take no for an answer? How many of you know, however, that when your son is 23 years old, there is a certain way you have to communicate so your adult child doesn’t feel as though he is being bossed around? Like Jorgie always says, “Respect my grill, Mother.” I calmly suggested he go to Cleveland Clinic, a hospital I love because they have successfully treated me and others I love for years. I explained that even though it’s a little further down the road (40 minutes away) they have an excellent track record treating our family so he should go. He looked at me and said, “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

Are you kidding? I could not even bask in the joy of having a compliant son. “GET UP! Let’s go right now!” I yelled.

Fast forward a few hours and this is what happened. He walked into the emergency room, and the attending physician said that whenever you have redness and swelling in an extremity like the hand or foot, it is more than likely an infection. They drew blood and immediately started him on antibiotics and medical-grade heroin for the pain. Official diagnosis is Cellulitis, an inflammation of the cells in the hand caused by bacteria that he more than likely picked up at the gym. He was absolutely misdiagnosed at the other hospitals. However, God is an on-time GOD, and my son is making a complete recovery. One person suggested I sue. No way! My son is alive, with two hands, and getting better and already on his way to gaining the 10 pounds he lost. What more could I want? I will, however, speak with whoever is in charge of the emergency room services at these two places and explain what happened so the next person with this issue is treated differently.

Anyway, for the next four days I watched as my grown son cried in agony whenever a doctor walked in and examined his hand. I almost fainted when one day three specialists walked in and each of them grabbed the hand and moved it back and forth. At one point when the third doctor started bending Jorgie’s hand backward, I imagined myself morphing into a vampire bat and hurling myself at the doctor’s neck and draining the life blood from him and watching gleefully as he struggled to breathe. The major concern was the wrist might have an infection, which would require immediate surgery. I prayed silently under my breath that the wrist would be fine, but to determine this they had to twist Jorgie’s hand. His wrist was fine, and ultimately all the medications did what they were supposed to do, and no surgery was required. (I apologize for my blunt confession of wanting to kill the doctor).
One nurse commented that the medicines were indeed powerful and that a lesser man would not have been able to tolerate their effects. I was reminded of a blind man in the Bible, John 9:11, where, “The man they call Jesus made mud and spread it over my eyes and told me, ‘Go to the pool of Siloam and wash yourself.’ So I went and washed, and now I can see!” Yes, the medicines, like the mud in the Bible verse, made a difference, but I thank Jesus first and foremost—not the medicines or the doctors. Can I get a witness?
One of the first things I did when we finally found out what was happening with my son was call the prayer warriors for support. My sister, Aldys, gathered a group of colleagues where we both work, and they prayed. Countless other friends of mine joined me along the way as word spread. How can I ever repay anyone? I can not, but GOD can, and I will ask HIM to every single day. However, hands down, the most comforting thing to me is having a husband who boldly puts his hands on our children and prays when there is a need. (It seems as though there is a need everyday.) This same man who at least once a day shows me the embroidered fly on his jeans that says “Lucky you” just happens to be right. Could there possibly be anything more romantic, sexy, endearing, or powerful than a praying man????? To all you fathers and mothers out there: Please be encouraged to pray for your children. Put your hands on them and ask GOD to protect them and bless them. We are living in crazy world where, like it or not, we can not protect them from every bad thing that threatens them. However, when you pray it is GOD HIMSELF WHO shows up to do what you can not. As I sit and write this email today I can testify that GOD ANSWERS PRAYERS—HE IS RESPONSIVE—HE DOES NOT PUT YOU ON HOLD LIKE THE CABLE COMPANY!
I also experienced many touching and wonderful moments during this ordeal. It is a gift from GOD that we can laugh and be blessed—yes I said BLESSED—during a crisis. While under the influence of the medications my son said, “There’s a coon dog smelling my feets.” He also said, “I like women with Spanish accents.” (As a side bar to this story, my son has met a lovely young lady, with a Spanish accent, who one week into their budding romance confronted head on a new love interest who cried, snotted, and everything else in between and was not scared away.) Said young lady visited in the hospital, and until the day I die I will never forget when he looked at her through tear-stained eyes and said, “You are so pretty; I feel better already.” And then he took her hand and placed it over his heart. Just thinking about it now makes the tears well up in my tired eyes. An elderly lady by the name of Flo, who is a volunteer at the Cleveland Clinic, also visited. She walked ever so slowly into the room, and it was obvious that she has Parkinson’s disease. She asked if she could pray and extended a wrinkly and shaking hand to me and the other to my son. That woman called on GOD to pour out HIS healing power into my son and the HOLY SPIRIT to energize him with HIS strength for a quick recovery, and I was overwhelmed with gratitude that we live in a nation where praying in a hospital is STILL LEGAL! Turns out she also volunteers at the women’s prison four days a week. What an inspiration! When we finally got home my daughter, Rachel, gave her brother, who was wearing swimming trunks, a bath. I took a little video but I can not show it to you because both my children were mad at me for taking it and made a less-than-acceptable gesture. Still, it was moving to see my daughter care for her brother in such a gentle way. And of course, message after encouraging message from all of you reminding me that you were with me in spirit strengthened me in tremendous ways. Thank you thank you thank you!
Moving forward Jorgie will start physical therapy this week and is already off all his meds except one anti-inflammatory. The Bible says in Romans 8:28 that “And we know that in all things, GOD works for the good of those who love Him…” This promise is for him and for all of us who love GOD. That’s the best news I have heard all day, and I am confident that something good will ultimately come out of all this! At least now all of you know that anytime you go to an emergency room insist they draw blood.
Finally, and in closing, I have put a link here to a song that sums up how this relieved mother feels: I WILL TESTIFY TO LOVE. Please follow it and listen for yourselves; Wynonna Judd has an amazing voice! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GGMksGmwvb4&feature=fvst
Here are the lyrics:
All the colors of the rainbow All the voices of the wind
Every dream that reaches out That reaches out to find where love begins
Every word of every story Every star in every sky
Every corner of creation lives to testify

For as long as I shall live I will testify to Love
I'll be a witness in the silences when words are not enough
With every breath I take I will give thanks to God above
For as long as I shall live I will testify to Love I will testify to Love

From the mountains to the valleys From the rivers to the sea
Every hand that reaches out Every hand that reaches out to offer peace
Every simple act of mercy Every step to kingdom come
All the hope in every heart will speak what LOVE has done

And remember, if you ever need anything from me, Holler!
Eternally grateful,
Yenise