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Authors: Robert D. Lesslie
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it. That’s when things started to change. I got out on probation, met Dylan, and my life has been a different journey ever since.”
She gave Summer a smothering hug.
“I remember Miss B saying God only made one of us—one of me. And that he had a job for me in this world that no one else could do, and a place for me that no one else could fill. Back then, those were just words—but I remembered.”
Dakota looked down at her daughter and then into my eyes.
“Tell Miss B I’ve found my place.”
Still other seed fell on good soil.
Miracles OF D ELIVERANCE
I sought the L ORD , and he answered me;
He delivered me from all my fears.
P SALM 34:4
You are my hiding place;
you will protect me from trouble
and surround me with songs of deliverance.
P SALM 32:7
On Holy Ground
Right upper-quadrant pain—weight loss—nausea—anemia.
John Richmond was lying on the stretcher looking up at me, his eyes asking for an answer, something he could deal with. I didn’t have one yet, but my gut told me that when I did, it wasn’t going to be anything good.
He was sixty-six years old, a retired banker, and had always been in good health. The abdominal pain had started a few weeks earlier, but it would come and go, and he put off getting it checked out. This morning he had nearly blacked out when he got up from his kitchen chair, and that was enough for his wife, Ellen. She had insisted on his coming to the ER, and here he was.
“We need to check on some more lab work, and I’m going to get an ultrasound of your gall bladder. It might be something as simple as that.” I picked up his chart and headed for the curtained entrance of room 4.
“Would that explain his anemia and almost passing out at home?” Ellen’s brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed, locking on mine. She must sense something bad was going on here.
I turned and held the clipboard to my chest. “Not necessarily, but let’s start there. We need to find out what’s causing all of this, and I’m not going to let your husband go home until we do.”
Her face softened and she smiled and nodded at her husband. I glanced down. Her hand still gripped the stretcher rail, her knuckles white and tense.
There were some troubling findings on the ultrasound, and the radiologist recommended a CT scan. That, along with the rest of his labs, confirmed the diagnosis and my worst fears. John Richmond had a large tumor in his colon and multiple metastases in his liver. There was not going to be an easy answer.
The Richmonds’ son Matthew had joined them in room 4, and I shook his hand before pulling up a stool and sitting down.
“John, Ellen—we need to talk about what we’ve found.”
His surgeon was able to remove the cancer in his colon. But the tumors in his liver didn’t respond to chemotherapy and continued to grow. Within a few months he was jaundiced, his skin turning a deep yellow because of the inability of his liver to function properly. And the pain was getting worse. That was what usually brought him to the ER—and episodes of severe and uncontrollable vomiting.
“We’ll get you something for the nausea in just a minute, Mr. Richmond, and something for the pain,” I overheard one of my partners, Jay Barton, tell him. He was taking care of John Richmond this morning.
A few minutes later, Jay came out of room 5, pulled the curtain behind him, and walked over to the nurses’ station.
“How’s he doing?” I looked up from the chart in front of me and over to Jay Barton.
“Not good.” Jay shook his head and slid Richmond’s chart across the counter to Amy Connors. “His jaundice is worse, and his blood pressure is low. No fever—that’s at least one good thing. But I can’t imagine he can go on much longer like this.”
“Hmm. Is his wife in there with him?”
“No, it’s his daughter—Rebecca, I think. I wanted to ask him about a living will, advanced directives, that sort of thing. But I felt awkward with his daughter
She gave Summer a smothering hug.
“I remember Miss B saying God only made one of us—one of me. And that he had a job for me in this world that no one else could do, and a place for me that no one else could fill. Back then, those were just words—but I remembered.”
Dakota looked down at her daughter and then into my eyes.
“Tell Miss B I’ve found my place.”
Still other seed fell on good soil.
Miracles OF D ELIVERANCE
I sought the L ORD , and he answered me;
He delivered me from all my fears.
P SALM 34:4
You are my hiding place;
you will protect me from trouble
and surround me with songs of deliverance.
P SALM 32:7
On Holy Ground
Right upper-quadrant pain—weight loss—nausea—anemia.
John Richmond was lying on the stretcher looking up at me, his eyes asking for an answer, something he could deal with. I didn’t have one yet, but my gut told me that when I did, it wasn’t going to be anything good.
He was sixty-six years old, a retired banker, and had always been in good health. The abdominal pain had started a few weeks earlier, but it would come and go, and he put off getting it checked out. This morning he had nearly blacked out when he got up from his kitchen chair, and that was enough for his wife, Ellen. She had insisted on his coming to the ER, and here he was.
“We need to check on some more lab work, and I’m going to get an ultrasound of your gall bladder. It might be something as simple as that.” I picked up his chart and headed for the curtained entrance of room 4.
“Would that explain his anemia and almost passing out at home?” Ellen’s brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed, locking on mine. She must sense something bad was going on here.
I turned and held the clipboard to my chest. “Not necessarily, but let’s start there. We need to find out what’s causing all of this, and I’m not going to let your husband go home until we do.”
Her face softened and she smiled and nodded at her husband. I glanced down. Her hand still gripped the stretcher rail, her knuckles white and tense.
There were some troubling findings on the ultrasound, and the radiologist recommended a CT scan. That, along with the rest of his labs, confirmed the diagnosis and my worst fears. John Richmond had a large tumor in his colon and multiple metastases in his liver. There was not going to be an easy answer.
The Richmonds’ son Matthew had joined them in room 4, and I shook his hand before pulling up a stool and sitting down.
“John, Ellen—we need to talk about what we’ve found.”
His surgeon was able to remove the cancer in his colon. But the tumors in his liver didn’t respond to chemotherapy and continued to grow. Within a few months he was jaundiced, his skin turning a deep yellow because of the inability of his liver to function properly. And the pain was getting worse. That was what usually brought him to the ER—and episodes of severe and uncontrollable vomiting.
“We’ll get you something for the nausea in just a minute, Mr. Richmond, and something for the pain,” I overheard one of my partners, Jay Barton, tell him. He was taking care of John Richmond this morning.
A few minutes later, Jay came out of room 5, pulled the curtain behind him, and walked over to the nurses’ station.
“How’s he doing?” I looked up from the chart in front of me and over to Jay Barton.
“Not good.” Jay shook his head and slid Richmond’s chart across the counter to Amy Connors. “His jaundice is worse, and his blood pressure is low. No fever—that’s at least one good thing. But I can’t imagine he can go on much longer like this.”
“Hmm. Is his wife in there with him?”
“No, it’s his daughter—Rebecca, I think. I wanted to ask him about a living will, advanced directives, that sort of thing. But I felt awkward with his daughter
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