Code Red
At 1:00 a.m., the MRI technician informed our nurse that a time slot was available for Esperanza to undergo her post-operative MRI. With sleep in our eyes, the nurse prepared Esperanza for the trip down to the basement. Once downstairs, I got myself ready to go in with her since I’ve always been with her when she’s had an MRI. However, the night MRI technician made it clear he would not let me in. I found my mama hen feathers starting to fluff.
After hearing his reasoning for this, I took a deep breath and went over to kiss Esperanza, letting her know I wouldn’t be able to go with her. I told her I was sorry and asked if she was ok with it. Her response tore at my heart, “Do I have a choice?” She wasn’t really asking; it was more of a statement. Already early the morning before, she had been wheeled away for brain surgery without my husband and me. She didn’t want us to go that time either, but again, “Did she have a choice?”
As I headed towards the waiting room, I broke down. Tears ripped through my body as I sat helplessly on the hard waiting room chairs. Then I heard it, “Code Red. Alert. Code Red, any medical professionals, go to floor 5, Room 32.” The voice crackled on the intercom that blared across the hospital loudspeaker. My heart jumped. Where were we? Was this for Esperanza? My breathing had become rapid until I pulled myself together. We were in the basement. This announcement was not for Esperanza.
Gratefulness penetrated my heart. Only seconds before, I had been a crying mess. It's incredible how, in one instance, my perspective can shift so quickly. I began to pray for this individual.
Four weeks after this day, our family volunteered our time making and serving dinner at the Ronald McDonald House (a home for families that have children in the hospital but live far away).
During this time, we met a lovely woman who has a 14-year-old girl with leukemia. Over the next two years, she will undergo chemotherapy four days a week. This means they will have to drive to Pensacola on Sunday night, which is 1.5 hours away from their home, and then stay at the Ronald McDonald House until Thursday afternoon for the next two years.
As I listened to her story, I was reminded of the code red moment. Yes, Esperanza will also have to go through treatment in the future (we will know more on October 1st), but we get to stay in our home because we are only 20 minutes from the hospital.
Last Saturday, Bruce, Esperanza, and Gryphin joined their youth group to serve widows within our church body. Five years ago, one of the women’s husbands was not feeling well. They went to the doctor’s office to find that he had cancer all over his body. Five days later, he died.
We also have friends who took their two-and-a-half-year-old to the doctor the week we got back from Australia. They found out he has stage four cancer.
And there are so many horrific events happening around our world right now but my heart is not to depress us but to help each of us to find the silver linings in our lives. For even in our most challenging moments, there is more than likely someone else going through something even more difficult. And God wants to be glorified through our lives even when we are struggling, for it is in our weakness that He is made strong (2 Corinthians 12:9-11). Therefore, we are not called to stop shining His light in our struggles but to shine His light even brighter by loving those He puts in our path with the love we receive from Him.
Today, please join me in believing in our Savior, Jesus Christ, thanking Him and trusting Him, even in the midst of pain. For Jesus has overcome the world, and He is Worthy of our Praise.
If you’d like to partner with either of our friends who are going through a tough season right now, please check out the links below.
Zealand
(2 1/2 year old who has stage four cancer)
Venmo account @faith-liechty
Hanna
(A 14-year-old girl with leukemia)
GoFundMe Click Here
Venmo @kispotyi1981
