We arrived at the hospital, where a team of specialists from the vascular department (I am extremely medically challenged so my terminology may not always be right!) waited to examine her. We quickly realized that when the doctors arrive in groups of 4-plus at a time, they are taking this seriously! They evaluated her, with the same concern that there was a clot, and were extremely concerned as to why this would develop in an otherwise perfectly healthy 10 year old girl. We were given the first of many, "this just doesn't happen" explanations of the weekend. After telling our story repeatedly, and being examined over and over (we seriously lost track at 13 doctors), they were ready to do the ct scan and locate the clots. First, though, they had to insert the IV which terrifies Cailin.
I finally was feeling like this was bigger than I was prepared for, as I started to grasp the potential consequences of breaking up a clot, and what it might do to her body. I had been prepared to face whatever battle came, and I trusted that she would be ok, but now I just didn't even want the fight. So I climbed up on the gurney with her, and wrapped my arms around her. I kissed her head until she started to fall asleep, and then I prayed.
We had been praising God all along, we had been claiming victory, and giving Him glory for what we knew He would do. But now I prayed and asked Him to just take this from her. I cried out to Him that I didn't want to do this, I wanted Him to just take it from us. As I said these words, I recalled Jesus begging God the same thing... if it was His Father's will, to take this cup from Him. I paused then, asking if this was what He expected of me? To accept this cup? Then clearly I felt the knowledge that He assured me, "No, Jesus accepted that task so you don't have to. He shed His blood to spare Cailins. She is fine."
As the nurse came in to administer the iv we tried to awaken Cailin, but she was out cold. This was the only sleep she would have until 3:00 when we were admitted to our patient room. When she finally awakened, after 10 minutes of rest, she wiggled her fingers and said, "Mommy, my hand doesn't hurt." She slowly made a fist, which she had not been able to do because of the swelling and pain, since Tuesday. She just kept slowly moving it and staring at it, amazed that she was able, and that the pain was gone. I felt her hand and it was warming up- the color was returning.
They gave her the iv, and then sent her for the CT. They found nothing. We watched as her hand continued to return to its normal color and size, and as she used it freely, pain free. The doctors were astonished. They could not explain it, but they did their best. They drew vial after vial of blood for testing, and the team studying her case included pediatric cardiologists, rheumatologists, neurologists, radiologist, hematologists, oncologists, vascular specialists, and all were baffled. They contacted colleagues around the country to see if anyone had experienced this phenomenon anywhere else. Nothing.
We explained to every person who entered her room that we believed God healed her, and while they couldn't agree that it was a miracle (except one doctor who I believe was a Christian), they also wouldn't say it wasn't. They admitted it shouldn't have happened, they had no idea how to explain it, and sometimes things are just unexplainable. They finally conceded they had done nothing and could do no more- she was well, and she could go home.
We were sent there to be admitted into the pediatric ICU for 24-48 hours (before we would even know if she was out of the woods). Instead we were admitted into the general peds unit, after she was well, for observation, and home in less than 24 hours. Sunday morning she awakened restored and refreshed, and went to church to praise God. Today she is back at school.
God is good. God is big. He is in the miracle business, and He is bigger and stronger than the one who seeks to devour and destroy.
Thank You Jesus. Thank You.