Thy Will Be Done: Part One

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Author’s Note: Although this is a true story, for reasons known to those involved, the names of the participants have been changed.

I was a 22-year-old military wife, living in Alaska. Edward, my husband was stationed at Ft. Wainwright, which is the northernmost Army base in the United States. Ft. Wainwright is a winter training facility, and he was in the infantry. That meant that during the seven to eight months of winter each year, he could be gone for a month at a time, leaving me on my own to care for our children. We had three daughters at the time, aged 39 months, 27 months and 13 months. It was just the beginning of winter there (October) and the height of the flu season.

It started out as an ear infection. No big deal-- some children's Tylenol, a little ampicillin and we're back in business. Usually. But this time something told me instinctively that all was not right. Cat, my two-year-old, just didn't get better. I took her to the emergency room more than once, but each time after a rather superficial examination the doctors just “wrote me off” as a young, hysterical mother. More ampicillin was prescribed and we were sent home again.

This went on for two weeks. Cat complained of headaches and said that her neck hurt. She couldn't turn her head from side to side. Soon it seemed like she was sleeping most of the day. Usually cheerful and uncomplaining, now when she was awake all she did was cry. Her fever shot up despite the medicine, so I called my husband's commanding officer and explained the situation. I begged him to send my husband home from the field. To his credit, he did.

By the time Edward arrived back home, I couldn't get Cat to stir. By now I was frantic! He took her back to the hospital, determined not to leave until they found out what was wrong. He returned three hours later without her, crying so hard that I couldn't understand what he was saying at first.

Cat had contracted viral spinal meningitis and was now in a coma.

We returned to the hospital to talk to the doctor, who explained that an airborne virus, much like the pneumonia virus, causes spinal meningitis. Since Cat had the flu, it entered her weakened system and traveled, via bloodstream, to the ear infection. The infection finally reached her spinal chord, where it was now literally burning the cells in her brain. He told us bluntly that she may not survive the next week and that they “were doing all that they could”.

Totally shaken, I walked into the room to see my baby. She was lying in a stainless steel crib, her eyes partly opened and looking blindly upwards. All she wore was a small, white disposable diaper with Sesame Street characters on the tapes and it made her look even more vulnerable. An IV was attached to her chubby arm and a heart monitor was attached to her chest. It was beeping steadily; the only audible sound in the room. I waited until we left the hospital and collapsed into tears.

We drove home, not saying anything, fearful that we might cause each other to start crying again. When I got home I dropped to my knees, asking God for guidance. I was instantly enveloped with a feeling of great peace and I knew in my heart that no matter what happened, I would not go through this alone.

Immediately afterward, I called my sister in Michigan. Rachel is a “prayer warrior”; she believes in the power of prayer to change things and we have seen the Lord work mightily with her faith. She was my staunchest ally in those terrible times. We prayed together over the telephone, knowing that, even though we were thousands of miles apart, Jesus was with us. After we hung up, Rach called everyone that she knew, and a prayer chain began as I made preparations to spend my days with Cat in the hospital.

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