Rachel Nelson, MD
The Unlikely Answer
I awoke on a Monday morning to an urgent text message. I was being called in to work on the hastily put together pediatric COVID-19 unit at my hospital. Honestly, I was annoyed. It was a scheduled week off and I had made a lot of plans. Grumpily I spent the next half hour rescheduling my life before heading into the hospital.
The mood was much more somber than it had been the week before. COVID-19 cases were rolling in, and everyone was feeling the strain. Workmen were hastily putting up a wall down the middle of our pediatric unit to segregate COVID patients because we had run out of negative pressure rooms. My charge nurse was struggling to find nurses to cover extra shifts. And the residency program director was posting signs everywhere reminding residents to wear their masks and social distance even in non-patient areas.
Rounds were slow and tedious: Gown, double glove, double mask; de-gown, de-glove, de-mask, then repeat. We started with the sickest and worked our way down. One of my last patients was a sweet little boy transferred out of the PICU the day before. Tragically, his mother had passed away from COVID-19 just a few hours ago. The grief and pain were palpable. Before leaving we prayed together. During the prayer I did something I never do; I prayed that God would help the discharge process go smoothly.
I don’t believe I have ever prayed this before. And honestly, I’m not sure why I prayed for that this time. But I heard myself praying for a smooth discharge by a specific time: 4 pm. It was 12 pm. Even as I prayed the prayer, I did not think this was unrealistic, nor did I really think I would need God’s help. All that stood between my patient and discharge was home oxygen, and the resident had already put the order in. I guess I was just praying for a smooth discharge because it seemed like a nice thing to say.
Imagine my dismay when around 2 pm the discharge coordinator called to tell me that there was no oxygen available in the city. She had tried all known companies and all of them were out. Apparently, area hospitals were sending COVID patients home from the ER on oxygen, and all the oxygen was gone! I had not considered an oxygen shortage when I prayed my prayer. I slowly made my way back to the room to give the devastating news. My patient would have to stay until I could wean him off oxygen. As you can imagine, this was a big blow and I left with him crying.
I was a little upset, too. “God,” I argumentatively whispered. “He is already struggling to understand his mom’s death. Now I’ve made things worse by praying for something that now cannot happen.” Even as this thought left my mind, I heard God answer, “I know, I’m not embarrassed. I’ve got this under control.”
And God did have it under control. I suddenly remembered the name of a specialty pharmacy I’ve used in the past. Too scared to hope, but willing to try anything, I gave them a call. They had oxygen! Eagerly, I gave their information to the discharge coordinator. Within 20 minutes she gave me the happy news that insurance had approved the pharmacy. Happily, I ran back to the room to let the patient and the dad know that they could go, after all! It was a happy ending. Dad and son were wreathed in smiles and around 4 pm they left the hospital with the oxygen!
I was very humbled. I had started the day in a grumpy mood, prayed an insincere prayer, and then doubted that God had the ability to create oxygen. Yet, despite my lack of faith, God performed a miracle for a grieving child to remind me that in the midst of tragedy, He still loves and cares for us.
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