My parents used to tell us stories about our only brother Terry. He dreamed of nothing but becoming a preacher. At age 5 he would take all the chairs in the house and make the living room look like a meeting place. He would arrange the chairs as if they were pews, stand in front of them and talk and gesture as if he were preaching to a crowd. And preaching, was mostly what he did the rest of his life, in small towns in the Philippines to the capital city of Manila to the United States and some European and Asian cities. He would preach and teach in Bible colleges and lead Bible Study groups. He had the life-giving message of the Gospel and he shared it in whatever fashion he could, with whoever would listen. But today he is silent, though we could hear his breathing with the help of a respirator.
“Wake up, Terry, wake up,” his wife Gloria was encouraging him. “We’re all here. Lu and Ruth, Josephine and Hildo, Quiling and Don. They’re all here to see you.”
There was no response from him. He had the respirator tube in his mouth, and a couple more tubes hooked up to the machine that monitors his heartbeat, pulse, blood pressure; another was to the colostomy bag. There were IV’s that fed and sedated him.
I am surprised that the ICU personnel allowed these many people in his room. The nurse was very kind. As each of us sisters were introduced to her, she gave each of us a hug. She was kept busy as she worked on his monitors that sometimes flashed red or yellow lights, or sounded off with a whistlelike alarm. She would check the ports in various parts of his body. She was a picture of intense efficiency and focus. But she was never too busy to answer our questions.
We were at a loss. There were attempts at short conversations with him. We believe he could hear us, but just could not respond. But we went on our visits, taking turns going out to the waiting room and back to ICU.
65th Wedding Anniversary
Months before this day, we received invitations to come to Florida from Beth, his daughter, as they celebrate her parent’s 65th wedding anniversary in May. But a month before, Terry was diagnosed with colon cancer and a week later he had surgery. He did well. The cancer was still localized and the doctors thought they had taken out all the cancer cells. A week later, he developed gall bladder problems and had to have a second surgery. As he recovered, he developed pneumonia and peritonitis set in. Massive doses of antibiotics were administered, but the two surgical assaults on his body left him so weak and had to be put on a respirator.
Beth, who lives in NY, left for Florida two weeks before the anniversary, went home after a week, only to go back with husband Randy, the week of the party. His son, Joel and wife Beth, flew in from Arizona. Sisters Lu and Ruth, also from NY, decided to change their flights to a much earlier one to be by his bedside. The California sisters - Josephine and her husband, my husband and I arrived the week of the anniversary party. Ariel, Josephine’s son, flew in from NY on Monday afternoon and flew back home the following day, having spent a couple of hours at his uncle’s bedside.
The daily visits to ICU continued with more of us trooping in every morning. The security guys were amazed at the number of visitors to Room 214. “What a lucky guy!” one of them blurted out to us. It was obvious there was so much love there.
The Conference
The hospital conference room was packed. Dr. Ramos sat at the head of the table. Behind him were the managing nurses. Terry’s wife sat next to the doctor, all the children and their spouses, all his siblings and their spouses, two grandchildren and the brand new husband of one. There was also a close friend – the Pastor who now takes care of the West Manhattan Church which Terry started and pastored for over 30 years. On the speaker phone was Terry’s grandson, Nathan, who is a Crisis Ward doctor of a hospital in Arizona. Dr. Ramos and he were exchanging notes on Terry’s condition and what medical options the family had.
“His organ systems are stable, but he is so weak that taken off the respirator, he will not survive. But he is not getting any worse nor any better,” Dr. Ramos told Nathan.
Both doctors were puzzled. Dr. Ramos was hard-pressed to give the family any idea as to what direction to take. Nathan agreed. There was somber discussion. Gloria was breaking down. She was reminding them that he did not want to be artificially kept alive. The doctor said we were not there yet. His organs were functioning fine. He was just too weak to be taken off the respirator. The next step was to do a tracheotomy to help him breathe easier. The doctor and nurses left the room to allow the family to confer. Finally, a decision was made. “Let’s give him a couple more days; we’ll wait and see if he gives any positive response.” Eli, the younger son, asked Joel to pray. Joel thanked God for his concern and love. He told Him how everyone would accept God’s decision about Terry, but it was our request that He reveal to us the direction the family should take. His prayer was halting at times and there was an instant of emotional breakdown but it was clearly a prayer of submission to God’s decision.
The Party
The children decided to proceed with the 65th anniversary party. It was at Emeril’s Tchoup Chop in Orlando. It was a good temporary relief from the ICU visits. The beautiful fusion menu was a welcome departure from the quick meals that we were having either at the hospital cafeteria or at our rented condominium in Kissimmee, where all of us siblings and Paul, West Manhattan’s Pastor, were housed. There was our first cousin and her boyfriend who drove in from Jacksonville; there was Rudy, our first cousin from Orlando, and his wife, Angela. Then there were their bowling friends. It was a good night.
Monday Afternoon
The days went on. We remembered the doctor’s advice. “He hears you, so talk to him.” We prayed, engaged him in one way conversations. Don read Scripture. His Pastor from the Poinciana Church visited daily and prayed. I whispered Gospel songs and hymns. Ador, a bowling friend, suggested, “Sing the Sparrow song.” Ruth sang “His Eye is on the Sparrow.” Paul read more Scripture. We thought we saw some response. He slightly moved his head, and wiggled his fingers under the sheets.
Then on Monday, we trooped to the hospital once more. Back to ICU. We took turns going into his room. He seemed to be the same. We were praying. Then late in the afternoon, he opened his eyes and looked at each one in the room in the manner of one waking up from a long sleep. It was only for less than five minutes, but it sent our spirits soaring. We went home with a great deal of hope in our hearts. Soon as we got back to our rental townhouse, I emailed a quick message to our Community Bible fellowship updating them on Terry’s condition – please pray.
The Days that Followed
Tuesday morning Lu’s cell phone rang as we were preparing to leave for the hospital.
“Dr. Ramos was in the hospital early and was just so thrilled to see the change in Tatay’s condition. He opened his eyes longer this time and was responding quite well. There has been a tremendous improvement for the last 10 hours. We’ve decided to do the tracheotomy tomorrow, but as God would have it, a surgery by another doctor has just been canceled, so we have room to do the trache now. He will be in the operating room in 30 minutes! Pray!”
We arrived at the hospital as the staff was preparing Terry for our visit. He was clean shaven and his cheeks had much more color. His eyes were open and seemed more aware. He was responding to our comments with his eyes and with slight movements of his head. He looked much, much better than we have ever seen him.
That evening Gloria invited everyone to her house for dinner. Eli & Ruth brought Buffalo wings and salad, Roxanne & Alvin (Terry’s bowling pals) brought homemade pancit. Ador brought watermelon. Gloria cooked rice, provided drinks, fruits and coffee. There was a lot of food, stories, getting to know those friends being met for the first time. It was one big family, supporting each other, praying together, expressing concern and love for one another and an overwhelming respect and love for the one person who couldn’t be there. We all found strength and beauty in the midst of pain, in the shadow of death.
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