Finding Purpose

Fight the Poison

[Many years ago now, my dad’s appendix had ruptured earlier in the day, and doctors at the ER missed it. Poison, then, coursed through his system and shut down organs. Sepsis is one of the leading causes of death, and my dad was in a coma, barely hanging on by the time I made my way home from vacation to assess the situation at the hospital and to say goodbye to my father.]

The spinning blades flapped a worthy breeze for the few of us standing on the roof of the hospital—my mom, my brother, my husband and me. And our new pastor friend too. It had been a hot day, and we were likely sweating from not only the elements but from the rushed decisions we had to make regarding my dad’s care.

Doctors presented our either/or option: we could leave my dad in this small town hospital and take our chances that his kidneys would bounce back with their rather outdated and inefficient dialysis machine’s help, or we could airlift him to the University hospital and boost the chances that he might survive this ordeal.

Seems an obvious choice, but the trip over to the University cast a shadow of doubt. Would he even make it to the other doctors? But staying here, we knew we had little chance of seeing dad recover from the sepsis.

The decision fell to me. My mom barely functioned at this point after the shock of her day and seeing my dad lay inert, intubated, in a coma. And My brother remained stoic as usual. I have probably only heard a few words from him my whole life. I became my dad’s patient advocate. I did not yet know what an important role that is.

Once the staff loaded dad onto the helicopter and we watched the craft lift to the dark sky, we all grabbed hands. Prompted by the pastor, we prayed. Before that point, and after, I had never witnessed my brother pray. Here we were earnestly grasping each other and pleading for mercy. A chance for our dad to make it through this ordeal.

I wanted to talk to my dad one more time.

At the next hospital, we met a team of eager doctors, a very young Dr. Schmidt as the spokesman, maybe younger than myself—the first time I would encounter a doctor younger than me. I was only 33.

The team waited with sort of an excitement to get started on this new challenge:

Bring this man back to life.

Dr. Schmidt assured me that he thought he could indeed save my dad. He had a plan. For one, the dialysis machine here would work twenty-four hours a day.

What an invention—a machine that filters the toxins from our body, a giant artificial kidney perfectly matched to the patient, working without protest. Without being old and tired and giving up in defeat from all the poison clogging the system. The machine seemed to work in a metaphorical sense too because my dad cleared a lot of junk out of his system during this experience.

Thank God we brought my dad to this hospital. The physicians respected my role, and I was a quick study. Meeting and communicating protocol daily. Making important decisions with profound effects. When dad did recover, he affectionately referred to me as his personal doctor. He liked Dr. Schmidt too. And Dad was indeed saved.

That phrase, “you were made for such a time as this” resonates with me. When I sometimes question my purpose or why I grew up the way I did in the family I had, I play that refrain. I was put there for a reason.

I had a job to do, and that job yielded great fruit.

A worthy purpose in my dad’s story.

[You will be able to read more about that fruit when I publish my book. I touch on shared musings & motifs like— Who Am I? Why am I here? How do I find the Light? If you are searching for answers too, I hope you stay tuned.]

Have you experienced an epiphany—You realized that you are here for a reason?

We all love to hear that kind of story. Feel free to share in the comments or leave a ♥️so others can find this post and participate.