Walking thru the Valley 2

“Greater good can come from circumstances that don’t appear good at first glance.” -Lysa Terkeurst

“I hope no one has to read this… But if I don’t make it out of the hospital, I want my family and friends and anyone else to know, that I am not afraid to meet Jesus. He has saved me all my life and I know I will be with him there in heaven. I’m gonna miss everyone too, but I know the reward of eternal life that awaits me when I enter heaven. And there, sickness and death will be gone forever. If you loved me, love Jesus, give your life to him, because staring at the possibility of death now, alone, brings the realization that You, Jesus, my God, have the power of life and death. I have no control. I’m glad I know you Jesus.”

This was from a note Joey had written a few days before he was transferred to the Intensive Care Unit. I wouldn’t find it for a couple more weeks when I stumbled upon it in his phone. I could only imagine what he was thinking as he wrote it. I’m sure we were thinking the same thing.

Once Joey was moved to the ICU, his texts got fewer and fewer. We had already stopped trying to talk on the phone since he would have to try and yell for me to be able to hear him with his mask, only tiring him out more.

The nurses kept prompting him to lie on his stomach, which they called proning. I had read a few articles on it that mentioned how it was a game changer with COVID-pneumonia. Being on the stomach takes pressure off of your lung tissue, helping you to breathe easier. But the doctor told me that while they would keep encouraging it, it may already be too late for that.

The doctor was also concerned because Joey wasn’t eating. Before, he was able to quickly pull the mask away and sneak a bite of food in, but anymore, pulling the mask away caused his oxygen to drop drastically. She wasn’t convinced that he would tolerate a feeding tube either.

October 25 we would FaceTime Joey again. It was evident how difficult it was for him to breathe, his stomach and chest rising and falling rather quickly. We told him about the prayer meeting we were holding for him that evening at the hospital. We invited everyone that wanted to come to meet with us outside the hospital to pray together for Joey. A couple of friends even went earlier to walk around the hospital and pray. I knew there were many people praying for Joey and our family, but we felt a need to get as close to him as possible and lift him up in prayer.

It was a beautiful evening. Family, friends, our church family and co-workers showed up to pray and offer support. Others who couldn’t attend, prayed from where they were at the same time. It was amazing! Prayer warriors storming the gates of heaven on Joey’s behalf.

Me and my mom, Josh, and Cameron arrived first at the hospital where we would pray. As we stood waiting for others to come, a man in a semi truck was driving out from the hospital. He stopped in the middle of the road and yelled something at us but we couldn’t hear him, so we asked him to repeat himself. He said, “The great awakening is coming!” Then he said something else that we couldn’t quite make out and then he drove off. We all just looked at each other and kind of giggled wondering what this guy was smoking? But my mom, being my mom, reminded us that you never know when you might be entertaining an angel. It made me think, but I just thought he was probably crazy and I let it go. But every now and then I’d remember what he said and would question it.

October 26, the day had finally arrived! We were finally allowed to visit Joey! Visiting hours started at 8 am and I was there. It was such a relief to finally see him, but it hurt. Here was my big, strong, husband lying in bed helpless. I felt helpless too. I couldn’t do anything to help him. I tried not to cry because I didn’t want to upset him. So instead, I just kept telling him how proud I was of him. God’s got this, I would say. And I’d remind him of how many people were praying.

The rollercoaster continued on over the following days. One minute his oxygen would be in the 90’s and then he would cough or try to talk making it drop to the 70’s, sounding off his monitor. I quickly grew to hate that sound!

The nurses soon started giving Joey morphine. It would help him sleep and calm down his body some. His respiratory rate was still so high and I could see how tired he was getting. His anxiety, which he never had pre-COVID, was getting worse and it seemed like nothing helped relieve his cough.

With so many meds, he would get pretty loopy at times. Although he had a hard time talking, he matter of factly told me he invited Bugs Bunny to dinner. Another time when other patient’s monitors were sounding, he asked if there were mariachis down the hall. Sometimes it was humorous, other times my heart just broke for him.

Multiple times Joey’s nurses tried to insert a feeding tube down his nose and every time was a fail. One of the times he yelled at them to take it out. Another time he pulled it out himself causing a fiasco that ended up with a part of his face mask breaking off, causing his oxygen to plummet. I thought I was going to need my own oxygen after watching that! A couple of times he managed to get some sips of Ensure in him, but it was not near enough.

One day, one of Joey’s doctors sat down with me while he slept. She was not sure how much longer he could keep this up. Breathing so fast was making his heart work harder and he was getting more and more tired. She brought up intubating him again. I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation. I started crying. I told her I didn’t know what to do. She told me I didn’t need to make the decision right then and there. But they needed to know if they had permission to do it in an emergency case scenario. I gave them permission and kept praying they wouldn’t have to.

Every day, every doctor, and every nurse would tell me the same thing, “Prepare for a long bumpy ride. Some days he’ll take two steps forward and the next, he’ll take three steps back.” They were one-hundred percent correct.

The kids were having a really hard time and even more so when they would come visit Joey. They would usually start crying before they would even get up to his room. Because of the visiting rules, I couldn’t go in with them to support them. They had to go in alone.

It was so hard seeing them so broken and scared. We would usually come together in the evenings when I would get home and talk and just be together. We needed each other more than ever. But Joey’s absence was always obvious. We missed him and everything at home reminded us of him. We’d see his guitars around the house or his music equipment and would break down at the thought of never hearing him use them again. His items on the sink in the bathroom, his clothes in the closet, his truck, everything just screamed at us that he wasn’t there. I was still sleeping in the living room and on the weekends, Kayla would sleep over. I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in our bed.

Joey’s bible brought me comfort some days. There would be times when I would be praying, which always turned to crying and me pleading with God to heal Joey. In a moment of desperation, I would just start thumbing through portions that he had highlighted. One of those times, I came across John 14:27 which says, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” How I needed to read that! God was there and I knew that He was walking through this with us.

There’s this one particular song that my aunt Stella sings. It’s actually sung in Spanish, and she would always call me and sing it to me when I would get very ill from my autoimmune disease. It talks about the women in the bible that had a bleeding disorder for many years. As Jesus passes by her one day, she thinks that if she could touch even just the hem of his robe, that she could be healed. As Jesus walked past her, she touched the hem of his robe and her bleeding stopped and she was healed. You can read the whole account beginning in Mark 5:25.

This passage and this song that my aunt sings is a passage I hold very close to my heart as they talk about one of the many times that Jesus has healed someone. One morning, as I was praying, I opened up this passage in Joey’s bible, thought on it for a while and sang the song in my head. That evening, my friend and co-worker, Jackie, texted me telling me I had to listen to the sermon that evening. As it turned out, part of the sermon preached that night was on this same passage. It was a very moving sermon at a time when I needed to hear it most.

There were other times when God just seemed to reach down and so clearly say, “Here I am, I’m right here with you.” No, I never heard him audibly, I wish I would have, but it was in subtle ways that I just knew. He’s amazing like that, even when we can’t visibly see him, we can still know he’s there.

The days ahead, I became more intentional in paying attention in order to “see” God in our situation. I prayed and asked Him to show me what it was he wanted me to learn from all of this. I still wasn’t sure what his plan was, but I knew me and my family couldn’t walk through it alone. Time and time again, he proved his word to be true even when the pain seemed too much to bear.