Dear Readers:
What do you do when trouble comes? When dread clutches its icy fingers around your heart, or unimaginable images boggle the mind, what do you do?
I’ve been away a few days, but by the grace of God, I am back. Yes, an unforeseen event — beyond my control — brought me to my knees. It began when I received an unexpected phone call twelve days ago . . .
“Mom, come to the job site; Pops fell off the ladder–“
“What? No!”
“He’s not responding now, Mom. I need to call 911.”
By the time I arrive at the scene, paramedics surround my husband. They have him in a neck brace and on a gurney, asking him questions. He is in and out of conscientiousness, unable to say where he is or what has happened. At that moment, many things became a blur to me. I try to follow the ambulance to the Emergency Hospital, lest I become lost due to complete disarray and panic.
So there I sit in the midst of the storm, waiting and interceding: I can’t leave this hospital without him, Lord!
I soon received word that my husband suffers from severe injuries from falling off the 20′ ladder. Even though he missed the concrete, he sustained thirteen fractured ribs and partially collapsed lungs. A surgeon is assigned to Mark, and once in the ER, they insert a chest tube to inflate his lungs.
I call on family and friends to please pray for my husband . . .
When the accident occurred, my daughter and husband were working together. She joins me in the waiting room. “Mom,” she said, “when I got to Pops, he was praying, ‘Please help me, Jesus … heal me, Lord.'”
That piece of news soothes my soul — it comforts my heart, it encourages me — it encourages us all! You see, after his fall, my husband is unable to communicate, yet his spirit-man cries out to God for help!
This poor man cried, and the LORD heard him and saved him out of all his troubles. Psalm 34:6.
I stay in the ICU as long as I can before they send me home. Three days later, they transferred Mark to a private room with a common germ on the skin called MRSA (a type of Staph). I remain with hubby in his room for the duration of his stay. He is in a lot of pain and discomfort. The morphine pump doesn’t seem to be enough. Every day, several times a day, two or three blood samples are taken from different veins for blood culture. The only problem is that Mark’s veins are small, rolling veins, which eventually cause his arm to become tender and swollen.
We’re so blessed to have our dear pastors from church come by, as well as a few other visitors, dressed in gloves and gowns, to pray over Mark. On the fourth day, the doctor removes my husband’s chest tube, but he is not out of the woods yet . . .
Day Five: Mark experiences excruciating pain in his leg, so much so that his blood pressure elevates to a 103-degree fever. Still unable to sit up, they wheel him out on his bed for additional X-rays of his hip, femur, and leg. When they return, he is knocked out. In the wee hours of the morning, he’s awakened drenched in sweat, tugging and pulling off his gown, tangled with the wires he’s connected to. I buzz for the nurse and try holding him down until help comes. They cool his body, and when they use a wet cloth on his brow and neck, he says it feels good.
Day Six: The doctor leaves after checking in on Mark. That same hour, Mark says he feels a chill. I figure maybe his fever has worn off, and I cover him with another blanket. But he complains of still feeling cold and begins to shiver. Ten minutes into it, he takes a turn for the worse. I call for the nurse. She comes with a couple of extra blankets, telling Mark he’ll soon be warm, and leaves. Mark’s shivers become more vigorous and uncontrollable, and he even starts wheezing. After a few more minutes of shivering, he becomes unresponsive. I run out to fetch help.
The nurse comes in, rushes back out, and calls for a Code Blue. Within minutes, a rapid response team of ten to fifteen people arrives at Mark’s bedside, bringing along some emergency equipment; even the chaplain walks in. While the team is surrounding Mark, the chaplain is trying to speak with me. He asks if I am the wife. He says he can see how much love I have for my husband. But I don’t want to chat with him. I want to talk with Mark. The doctor comes and asks me what has happened. “You tell me,” I answered.
I quickly phoned my son, telling him of Mark’s condition and to pray. I remain near Mark’s bedside and caress his face while talking to him. And I look to Jesus, the Author and Finisher of my faith. I don’t know how many minutes pass before the doctor and the entire team work on getting Mark to respond. Thank God, my husband finally comes to!
More tests. They find that Mark has a bout of pneumonia, as well as an unknown infection in his blood. He is off morphine, and Norco is given for pain. Now they have him on a broad spectrum of antibiotics to treat his infections. Three days later, the infection he has is caused by Acinetobacter, a bacterium commonly isolated from hospital environments and patients in hospitals. In other words, this type of bacteria is frequently associated with healthcare-associated infections.
Day Nine: Mark can sit up in a chair for a short period. That evening, he is using a walker as we walk around the corridor. The hospital staff is amazed and delighted. It is obvious they adore my hubby.
It is of the LORD’S mercies that we are not consumed because his compassions fail not. Lamentations 3:22
Day Ten: Homeward bound!
I am happy to report that hubby is resting and quite content to be back home. I appreciate everyone who extended their love, prayers, and encouragement on our behalf. I may feel a bit worn out, but I am, after all, a grateful woman. We have much to be thankful for.
I once read, “It is hard to wrap your heart around trouble when it pierces your soul.” So when trouble comes knocking at your door, don’t walk it alone. Give it to God and reach out to others for encouragement and support.
He only is my rock and my salvation, My stronghold; I shall not be greatly shaken. Psalm 62:2
© M.A. Pérez, 2016, All Rights Reserved
Once we landed, it was she who became our guardian angel. While I retrieved our luggage, she stayed behind and waited patiently with Mark. When I returned, she volunteered to accompany me in fetching our rental car, even praying for a blessing over the remainder of our vacation. She walked with me back to where Mark was waiting, helped me load everything into the car, and politely waved goodbye to us. I truly felt she was an angel sent by God.
We were flooded with hugs, tears, and joy, and our bellies were full of my stepmother’s delicious Fricase de Pollo in no time. Due to all the medication my husband was on, he hadn’t had much of an appetite, but I was certain it would return with all the anticipated Puerto Rican cuisine.
The next day after a warm breakfast, we drove into Ft. Lauderdale to visit Big Brother, his wife, and their three strapping sons. While the 
big boys played a game of chess, we gals went grocery shopping. When we returned, Mark was ready to call it a day. The pain from his ribs was causing him misery.
The anticipated meal did not disappoint. 
Although quite tasty, the star entree wasn’t the pavo but the pernil, the traditional Puerto Rican pork shoulder. Not to be outdone, there were a couple of large pans of my stepmother’s delicious arroz con gandules. This was a Thanksgiving feast at its best! I believe we ate until we couldn’t eat another bite; hardly any room for dessert.
From Heart to Heritage
Reflections From the Heart 