How can I describe my feelings? Overwhelmed. Grateful. Humble. Ashamed.
Yes, Lord, You've made Your point-again, I prayed. I carry all this burden of worry, and You cover everything in Your plans. I haven't understood that my income struggles and my drop in salary were part of Your perfect plan! The amount of my loss is far exceeded by the bills that I don't have to face-and even if I'd still used traditional insurance, it would have combined with Medicaid and still left me with a massive bill that could take many years to pay. But You knew in advance how to bless us. Why can't I ever learn to walk in faith, to trust Your will? I carry all this burden of worry, and You cover everything in Your plans. I haven't understood that my income struggles and my drop in salary were part of Your perfect plan! The amount of my loss is far exceeded by the bills that I don't have to face-and even if I'd still used traditional insurance, it would have combined with Medicaid and still left me with a massive bill that could take many years to pay. But You knew in advance how to bless us. Why can't I ever learn to walk in faith, to trust Your will?
Out of the Prison of Self-Pity My dad, as usual, put it best: "If you weren't broke, you'd be bankrupt."
He had a point. As a matter of fact, I never knew him not to have one. My father has the wisest advice of anyone who has ever counseled me.
During the early part of our experience with Alex and the accident, Dad offered me his perspective once again, and it served me well. When the accident occurred, he was speaking at a medical conference in Europe. He quickly flew home to Ohio. As soon as he spotted me at the hospital, he put his arm around me and said, "Son, many people in the world would love for this to be their worst problem."
I realize many people just don't get that point of view, and some would say that he was being insensitive with this comment. But I knew my dad. His incredible perspective on life and what is really important gives him amazing power in everyday living. How many times did I come to him with a problem when I was growing up? And how many times did he patiently listen and offer good advice? But I knew every single time what I was going to hear before I left the room-he would always bring up someone we both knew who was struggling in life to help me better comprehend the scope of my own problem.
+ + +Does our daily focus on the ordinary events of life dampen our awareness ofthe providential andmiraculous events occurring in and around us all the time?Dr. William Malarkey, Kevin'sfather+ + + I came to understand the wisdom of this approach. Self-pity imprisons us in the walls of our own self-absorption. The whole world shrinks down to the size of our problem, and the more we dwell on it, the smaller we are and the larger the problem seems to grow. Awareness of others is a healthy antidote to this self-focus.
We're not the only ones with issues, and usually our own struggles are far from the worst we know about. There is never a moment in life when it's impossible to have a heart filled with gratitude-no matter what happens. A catastrophic event, such as our accident, puts that philosophy to the test. But even then it's true, and Dad dared to apply it as his grandson lay in the valley of the shadow of death.
I didn't need to know just how unfortunate I was. I needed to be reminded of the truth: my struggles were far from the only ones out there, and I still had much to be grateful for. I can't imagine any outlook on life that is wiser or more grounded. I recall sitting in the waiting room of the ICU, watching news of the tsunami that hit Indonesia at the end of the year. Nearly 230,000 people in about a dozen countries were killed; 43,000 of them simply vanished without a trace.
I sat in my chair at the hospital and watched the TV screen as a home floated along the coast. I thought to myself, I still have Alex, who is alive by the grace of God. I still have my home I still have Alex, who is alive by the grace of God. I still have my home. Okay, that home needed some major repairs, but I still had it. And even when my house crunched under the force of the tree trunk, I could still say, "Many people all over the world would love for this to be their worst day." Okay, that home needed some major repairs, but I still had it. And even when my house crunched under the force of the tree trunk, I could still say, "Many people all over the world would love for this to be their worst day."
+ + +I remember telling my father that I'd been happy each of the first sixty days of Alex's coma-and I'd cried onfifty-seven of them.Kevin Malarkey+ + + My dad doesn't believe in the existence of a bad day. I find that holding this philosophy makes a great difference in our state of contentment. The tougher life became, the more good we saw in people and in God.
It's possible to know peace and pain at the same time, believe it or not. Life can be rough yet still feel right. Even as I wept at times, I knew my family was aligned with the will of God. I could say, with the old hymn, It is well with my soul It is well with my soul.
Even so, in moments of reflection, I've asked myself, Do you wish the accident had never happened? Do you wish the accident had never happened? That's an easy call. Yes-and no. From a strictly human or physical perspective, of course I wish that the accident had never happened! But I am not merely a mass of molecules, incoherently careening through time and space. I am a child of God, destined for another world, a world before which this one pales in significance. Our spiritual preparation for the That's an easy call. Yes-and no. From a strictly human or physical perspective, of course I wish that the accident had never happened! But I am not merely a mass of molecules, incoherently careening through time and space. I am a child of God, destined for another world, a world before which this one pales in significance. Our spiritual preparation for the next next world is to be the priority of world is to be the priority of this this life. As the accident has brought Alex and me-and untold thousands-a deeper life with God, then my answer to this question has to be different. I have chosen to view the accident as integral to my life. life. As the accident has brought Alex and me-and untold thousands-a deeper life with God, then my answer to this question has to be different. I have chosen to view the accident as integral to my life.
What if we could go back and rewrite the scripts for our lives? With what I know now, I could avoid a lot of pain by bypassing the future laid out for me. But I would also be sidestepping the countless blessings of God, present and future. I could never have peace about that.
It's not a matter of God's planning for my son to suffer, but of God's planning to use all of this to do wonderful things that bless many lives-my son and the rest of my family included. Nothing good ever comes to pass without a price. It's a very difficult thing to understand, but ask yourself, what if Jesus-who did did have foreknowledge of His crucifixion-had turned and walked away? have foreknowledge of His crucifixion-had turned and walked away?
I hate pain and suffering, especially when it affects those I love more than anything else in this world. But I trust God; I trust Him implicitly to turn sadness into joy and mourning into dancing. I can't wait to watch Alex dance!
Can Alex Hear Us?
Beth and I were with Alex every day, but we knew his siblings would eventually need to see him too. Determining the right timing was a tough judgment call. It would be hard for them to understand why Alex would not be able to talk to them or play with them, and he was in a strange room with lots of scary machinery.
A few weeks into Alex's coma, we decided to bring Aaron to see his brother. At four, he was the sibling closest to Alex in both age and friendship. Alex had a few friends, but his best buddy was always Aaron. They were inseparable. In fact, from ages four to six we have almost no pictures of Alex without Aaron. Doesn't that say it all? They played sports together, they played with action figures together, they ran around outside together, they climbed trees together, and, yes, they disobeyed their parents together!
We spent time talking with Aaron, preparing him for the experience. In our "parental wisdom," we told him Alex was sleeping. While we spoke to Alex all the time, hoping that on some level he could hear and understand, we didn't want Aaron to have unrealistic expectations.
Aaron was keen on bringing Alex a gift: a G.I. Joe action figure. We told him we thought that was a fine idea. Beth and I had a friend, "Mr. Jeff," who was also close to our children. He accompanied Aaron and me, carrying Aaron in his arms, and the three of us entered Alex's room.
My radar was on high alert, keeping a close eye on Aaron. How would he handle this strange setting for his beloved big brother? In the wonderful way of a child, he took it all in stride and was delighted to see Alex. It's so easy to underestimate what children can handle.
We held Aaron above the reclining body of his brother, and he began showing Alex the cool toy he'd brought him. In better times, the two of them had loved playing together with action figures. In many ways, Alex had been the ideal big brother for a little boy. Iwondered just how difficult it was for Aaron on the inside, how much he was missing his favorite playmate.
"See how G.I. Joe can move his legs? He's running!" said Aaron, manipulating the limbs on the action figure and making all the appropriate sound effects. "See, he has the kung-fu grip!"
He demonstrated all the features of the toy just as if the two of them were alone, having a great time as they always had.
I should have been satisfied with Aaron's relaxed, happy demeanor, but I couldn't keep myself from worrying that at some point, Aaron's little heart might be hurt because big brother Alex remained unresponsive. In as gentle and nurturing a way as I could, I said, "Remember, Aaron, your brother is asleep. He can't hear you."
Aaron turned around, looking me straight in the eye, and announced with absolute confidence, "He can hear me."
He was only four, but he spoke with all the assurance of one who had all the facts. He turned back around as if to say, What is it about these things that adults just don't get? What is it about these things that adults just don't get? and continued demonstrating the action figure's features to comatose Alex. and continued demonstrating the action figure's features to comatose Alex.
I might as well have told him the sky was green. "What are you talking about, the sky is green? Anyone can see the sky is blue. Of course Alex can hear me."
Jeff and I simply looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders. Can a child see and understand certain things that skeptical adult minds can't?
Miracles at Christmas The world never slows down to accommodate a family crisis. Our lives remained an absolute blur of appointments, discussions, and medications, even as a myriad of people cared for our other children and many of our own needs. The one constant around which everything swirled was Alex in his long sleep. It had been a month since our full family of six had occupied one room at the same time.
Even as Alex was inches away in body but worlds away in spirit, we began to prepare him for his own return to life. We remained confident it would happen, so we believed we had to prepare. Very gently, we'd lift him from his bed and place him in a wheelchair for short periods of time, a painstaking, methodical process. First we would move him to the edge of the bed so that his legs dangled over the side. Beth would slide behind him, both to support him and to give him big hugs. What was at first a series of carefully executed moves became another routine in our lives.
One day, something changed. As Beth went through the process, Alex's lips formed into a slight but unmistakable smile. We looked at each other to confirm that we hadn't imagined it. Our son was smiling. We looked at each other in amazement as tears of joy began to flow. God was so good to give us this little encouraging sign. Maybe Aaron was right: What do you mean he can't hear us? What do you mean he can't hear us? But it turned out to be only a momentary flash, and Alex was off again to somewhere we couldn't go. But it turned out to be only a momentary flash, and Alex was off again to somewhere we couldn't go.
At Christmas, we paused to consider that it had been six weeks since the accident. In some ways, it seemed like six years. For the first time, the hospital allowed us to bring all the children into Alex's room. For the third day ever, all six of us were in one place. We were able to open a few presents together and to take a family Christmas picture.
It's another idea that is difficult to explain unless you've walked in our shoes, but this was one of my best Christmases ever. By now, we had learned to take nothing for granted. Our son was in a coma, our new home was in shambles, and the presence of God was more real to us than ever before. Just being together was itself a special gift from God. We held each other close and prayed that the Lord would bring us even closer-to one another and to Him-in 2005.
+ + +Several months after Alex's accident,I was at a run review. This is when a physician reviews patient charts with the flight crew to assess the quality of care given and educate us on a patient's particular injury or illness. During a review, no information is given that could be used to identify a person. When the doctor got to one patient, however, the details sounded familiar.We were told the flight crew had done a good job. Then we were shown an X-ray revealing that the patient's skull was separated from the spinal column. The doctor concluded that the patient had expired because this injury was simply incompatible with life. I wasn't 100 percent sure this was Alex's case because no identifying information had been given. I later discovered, however, that this was indeed Alex. Normally, the physician would have been correct to say a patient in this condition had died; however, the Lord was taking care of Alex, and Alex was not dead. I wasn't 100 percent sure this was Alex's case because no identifying information had been given. I later discovered, however, that this was indeed Alex. Normally, the physician would have been correct to say a patient in this condition had died; however, the Lord was taking care of Alex, and Alex was not dead.
Dave Knopp, paramedic
In the midst of all the joy of being together, my eyes moved from one child to another, then to Beth, but my mind wandered into the future of mounting bills. If it seems that my thoughts seesawed between keeping my mind on Jesus, the amazing financial provision God had made, and the mountain of trials we were climbing-that's exactly how it was. At one point, I triumphed in faith; at another time, I allowed the angry waves to obscure the Redeemer. I used to read the stories of the Israelites and wonder, How could those ungrateful people have been so quick to take their eyes off God after all the miraculous things He did for them? How could those ungrateful people have been so quick to take their eyes off God after all the miraculous things He did for them? I didn't have to wonder anymore. I was just like them. I didn't have to wonder anymore. I was just like them.
Yet, in the midst of all these temporal concerns, we were about to see the world we were living in collide with the world Alex was experiencing.
From AlexAngelsAn angel of the Lord appeared among them, and the radiance of the Lord's glory surrounded them. They were terrified, but the angel reassured them. "Don't be afraid!"Luke 2:9-10Angels aren't boys or girls. They are neither.They are completely white and have wings.Some are not as big as Daddy thought they would be-only about two feet tall. Other angels, especially the ones in Heaven, are larger. The angels have visited me many times, and I have felt afraid when more than one comes. Later on, when my daddy and I were able to talk about these things, he told me that maybe these angels are small in size to help me with my fear-I don't know.They have different jobs. One just makes me feelbetter-Iget more courage. Another helps me open my mouth and make words. One had his hands on my chest-to help me become stronger, to help me breathe. I always see the angels when they come, and even when I couldn't talk, they could hear me. At the same time they do their jobs, they make beautiful songs for God.One time when the angels were with me in my hospital room, my daddy asked me if I wanted to sing with them. I said yes, so we played a worship song-I couldn't sing with my mouth, but I was singing with the angels-they could hear me. This was in the days when I had to talk to people with special signals-but I didn't need to talk that way to the angels!People have told me that after I am with the angels my face is glowing-like a thousand Christmas mornings. It's funny that I could usually only smile with just one corner of my mouth, but that my smiles after the angels' visits were huge. I've heard about Stephen's face in the Bible when he looked up to Heaven. Maybe my face looks like that?There are different kinds of angels. People often want me to describe them, but this is hard! I can only use words like magnificent magnificent, awesome awesome, and incredible incredible.The angels talk to me about themselves and about me. Some of the angels are messengers, and some are warriors, and some are worshipers. One group of angels guards the walls of Heaven. These are the toughest angels of all. They are at all the posts on the wall, and the main post is the heavenly gates.My daddy asked if it was like the Great Wall of China. No, it isn't-how can I describe this? But the angels are spread out like that.There are lots of buildings in Heaven, but I only really notice the Temple. God never leaves the throne in the Temple. There is a scroll in a glass container. It describes the end times. No one can read this scroll but Jesus.So there are a lot of different angels. The one thing they all have in common is that they are awesome!They also make me feel calm.
Chapter 6
We Meet Another World
As men and women devoted to science, they had no explanation for how this could have occurred inside their hospital.
As December approached, so many incredible things had happened since the accident that we sensed that, other than Alex's complete recovery, the biggest events were behind us. There had already been more than enough cause for praise. After all, Alex was alive, and we felt that we were being held firmly in the loving hands of God. We had experienced love and spiritual support, not to mention material support, in a manner we had not thought possible. God's fountain of supply seemed never ending.
Hillbilly had said he sensed the Spirit of God moving in a powerful way. We were soon to be plunged deeply into a world I had known only superficially.
Science Is Confounded Alex's first surgery came during the month of the accident. A hole needed to be cut in his throat-a stoma-so that a ventilator could be attached and the tubes could be removed from his throat. This operation is called a tracheotomy. The surgeons would also make a small hole for a stomach tube, through which he could receive fluids and medication, as he had no ability to swallow.
How I longed to see Alex without all those monitors, machines, tubes, and wires! When the medical staff began unhooking him for the surgery, however, I became increasingly anxious. Alex needed all that stuff to survive. Could I trust that they really knew what they were doing? Silly question, I know, but in the moment, all of this was quite unnerving. As a parent looking on with absolutely no power to protect, to expedite the situation, or to keep my child safe, the feeling of helplessness was unavoidable.
Even so, from the first day of the crisis, we took every opportunity to hug Alex, speak comforting words to him, and generally treat him as if he fully understood everything. We decided from the beginning to treat him the same as our other children. We spoke to Alex as if his eyes were open and he were listening, nodding, and smiling-just not offering replies. We encouraged him. We told him that God was with him. Our words were truer and more wonderful than we could possibly have guessed.
The surgery went well, according to the doctors who filled us in later. Alex now had two new holes in his body. The medical experts had never thought he would make it far enough to have these procedures. We believed the surgery was simply one more positive step in getting our son back.
As Alex's condition stabilized a bit, the doctors began exploring next steps. They had told us early on that they eventually planned to fuse the vertebrae in Alex's neck. Without surgical intervention, they said, his neck would never be stable.
By the end of November, they were considering an interim step: attaching a "halo" brace to Alex's head that would hold his neck in place. They scheduled an MRI of Alex's neck for November 30; later that same day, they told us, they might attach the halo. This brace, a metal ring that secures to the skull with pins, would keep his head and neck immobile and could aid in healing the area of greatest injury.
For the doctors, these options were exciting possibilities. For Beth and me they both seemed like steps in the wrong direction. We were holding out for the big victory. We were praying for full healing.
The doctors continued their deliberations, unaware of our struggles. After examining the results of Alex's MRI, they decided to scrap the halo plan. Yet they continued to consider the vertebrae fusion.
The downside to the surgery was that Alex would never regain full movement in his neck-and what would that mean when he was fully healed? This issue didn't concern the medical staff. We weren't really certain what to do, so we talked it over, prayed, and decided to give the surgeons the green light. A date was set, and the army of prayer warriors again assumed their fighting stance-on their knees.
And then we received stunning news. By the end of December, the doctors concluded the vertebrae had healed well without intervention, or rather without medical medical intervention. "We're not sure what happened," the neurosurgeon told me, "but we don't need to do the surgery." intervention. "We're not sure what happened," the neurosurgeon told me, "but we don't need to do the surgery."
I was ecstatic! "That's okay, Doctor," I told him. "We understand; in fact, we know what happened. There is a Physician who has been healing people since the beginning of time, and Alex is one of His patients."
The word went out to Alex's Army. They rejoiced. But they were not surprised.
We were confident that God had intervened in time and space, responding to the prayers of the saints. Sometime later we discovered other intriguing events that occurred around the same time.
Not long after the surgery was scheduled and then canceled, we heard from Sue, who wanted to tell us about her own experience with Alex. The story she related constituted another miracle in our remarkable experience-and preceded still another miracle.
Visitors in the Night We'd seen people doing the work of angels-calling 911, climbing into the car to pray with Alex, riding in the helicopter, even showing up to serve God by working on our home. But Sue's report indicated we were moving into a new arena-one I had no direct experience with.
Sue had responded to an early appeal for prayer warriors who would be willing to stay with Alex overnight. On one such evening, she quietly entered Alex's room and settled in a chair opposite his bed. She spent the next few hours reading to Alex and praying for him. At around 3 a.m., as her head was bowed in prayer, she heard the sounds of water flowing from the faucet in Alex's room. That seemed a little odd to her, butsince there were no doors in the ICU units, she assumed that one of the nurses had come in to Alex's room and was washing her hands. Finally, she couldn't help herself and looked up, only to see that no one was there.
She bowed her head again, and after a few moments the sound of flowing water filled Alex's room for a second time. She looked up-nothing. She went back to prayer. And for the third time she heard water flowing. When she looked up, she saw nothing. Though she thought it was strange, she was there for a specific purpose, so she resumed praying.
Then she was suddenly filled with the knowledge, inher spirit, that there were three angels present in the room, standing behind Alex, with their hands on his neck. She wasn't looking-she saw nothing with her eyes-but she knew knew and and felt felt their presence. their presence.
Before leaving, one of the angels told her, "There is more to do, but this is all for now." Sue told us she was convinced that angels were ministering to and looking after Alex-especially in the middle of the night.
Beth read and reread Sue's e-mail. We were both caught up in a sense of wonder that angels had visited our son and that our friend, who hadn't seen them, was as confident they were there as if she had. It's easy to discount this sort of thing, but there was more information for us to consider. Upon pondering that e-mail, Beth wondered about the timing of the events Sue reported. She pulled out the prayer/visiting schedule and began poring over the dates for people staying overnight with Alex. The information was easily available because every detail of this prayer ministry was highly organized.
When Beth found that night's record, she called me over. "Look at this, Kevin. The record is right here. Sue was praying over Alex the evening before doctors planned on putting the halo on Alex. The angels were there the evening before that procedure was ... canceled." Beth looked into my eyes with a quiet, confident expression as if to say, "It's happening."
A surge of hope coursed through me. Oh, God, help my unbelief. You are the God of miracles. Oh, God, help my unbelief. You are the God of miracles.
A few days later the phone rang.
"Hello," answered Beth.
"Hello, my name is Melissa. I'm so sorry to bother you, but I had to call you. It's about Alex. I've been praying for him."
"It's no bother at all. We greatly appreciate everyone who is lifting him up in prayer."
"Well, I don't want to take you off guard, but something has happened, and I wanted to tell you about it. Is this a good time?"
"Sure. What's on your mind?"
"I've had a vision ... from God ... about Alex and angels. I'm an artist, and I had to paint the vision. May I send it to you? I'd like you to have it."
"Sure, we'd love to see it."
After Sue's experience, the idea of visions from God was less jarring than it would have been prior to this entire ordeal. We were eager to see what this woman had painted-what she was sure God had shown her.
When the package containing the painting arrived, we carefully unwrapped it. After the last piece of tissue paper was gingerly removed, we stared, awestruck at the image. Clearly depicted were three angels standing behind Alex's bed with their hands on his neck. For the longest time, we just sat and stared, drinking in the amazing encouragement of our awesome God. God truly had sent angels to minister to Alex.
We soon got on the phone with Sue. She had never met nor spoken with the artist. Beth described the painting in detail. Sue, too, was amazed as she confirmed that the painting captured exactly what God had revealed to her during her prayer watch. We were reminded of Jesus' words in Matthew 18:10 about little children: "For I tell you that in heaven their angels are always in the presence of my heavenly Father."
We scanned the picture and posted it on PrayforAlex.com so that everyone could be blessed by it. More than ever, it was clear that God was involved in our situation in a remarkable way and that the result of it was that the Lord would be glorified. Our hope for the future continued to build.
We give thanks to God for Alex's angels.
Awakening As the holiday season ended and a new year began, Alex's long sleep continued. His body was still with us; his spirit, unaccounted for. We held on in faith that God would bring him back to us, but there was another looming issue. The hospital medical staff was deliberating about where they would send Alex. They wanted to discharge him, but where? The conversation took on an awkward tone. Everyone other than the ICU staff seemed afraid of the ventilator and the issues surrounding it.
Finally, the doctors began talking about sending Alex to the rehabilitation unit. Beth and I couldn't make sense of that idea-how do you rehabilitate a child in a coma? We soon discovered the answer: you don't. You "rehab" the parents. This was going to be all about training us, so that we could eventually take Alex home.
+ + +Here is a letter I wrote to Alex on January 6, 2005:Alex,I've prayed for you so often, and for so many things.I asked God for His healing hands, and I touched your entire body.I asked God to make every cell in your body totally healthy.I prayed for the hurts in your brain stem and spinal cord to get better; I prayed for you to regain lost functions.I asked God to allow you to come forth come forth, as Lazarus did. I urged Him to restore in you the awareness necessary to become a rehab patient, rather than a neurosurgery patient onthe rehab unit.They don't think you can do it, Alex. I guess they don't know our God as well as we do; perhaps they haven't seen what He will do when we trust His promises. The doctors speak of ventilators, but I asked God that the day would never come when a ventilator would enter our house; it wouldn't be necessary, because you'd be breathing freely and independently when you came home.Alex, I'm praying harder than I ever have. I'm believing bold possibilities that, in the past, I might never have dared to believe.I prayed Ephesians 3:20 for you:Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think.I saw you in the words of Psalm 91:1-5:Those who live in the shelter of the Most Highwill find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.This I declare about the LORD:He alone is my refuge, my place of safety;he is my God, and I trust him.For he will rescue you from every trapand protect you from deadly disease.He will cover you with his feathers.He will shelter you with his wings.His faithful promises are your armor and protection.Do not be afraid of the terrors of the night.Alex, I will not be dishonest and claim I've had no sad moments. I'm missing terribly the fun we had together. But I feel so very blessed to be your daddy here on earth. You exceed every expectation I'd ever had for a son.I pray for Satan's defeat every day. I pray that God Himself breathes new life into you, and when I see you, I bend down and try to breathe my breath into your nostrils and mouth. Isee how you don't like me doing that!My son, I promise to love you and to care for you, no matter what the future holds, as long as you and I are both alive. I am in you and you are in me; that will never change.I pray that God will align my will with His, and I will praise Him for whatever He may do. I praise Him and worship Him each day as we watch the miracle named Alexander.I love you more today than yesterday.Daddy Kevin Malarkey
We began to learn how to feed Alex, give him medication, clean him, and monitor the equipment and everything else necessary to get our son through each day. The "final exam" was for each of us to handle all of Alex's care for a twenty-four-hour period, including pulling an all-nighter. Someone mishandled the paperwork, so I actually got to do that drill twice. I didn't mind.
Alex finally left the ICU for a new room in the rehab unit. The plan, as we learned in our first meeting, was to keep him there for about one month. After all, he wasn't a true rehab patient, so he couldn't benefit from the services there. Beth and I had a month to become skilled at caring for all of Alex's needs, after which he would be discharged from the hospital.
But I had different plans.
I looked around and saw all the exercise equipment and the trained therapists. I could visualize Alex benefiting from the whole environment. As I told our followers on PrayforAlex.com, I wanted Alex to wake up and take advantage of all that was there for him in rehab. He wouldn't need to be fully conscious, just sufficiently aware to meet the threshold requirements of response.
This was a true crisis moment. The doctors had no further expectations for Alex's recovery, but we did-and we wanted to keep him in that place that would most help him on the long road to recovery. The hospital had done its duty, we had done all that we could do, and now it was time for Alex to show up. It was up to Alex-which meant, of course, that it was up to God.
I prayed, Lord, wake Alex up! Touch his brain stem today and send him back to us, because this is his chance to begin getting better. This is the place to get the tools he needs. Lord, wake Alex up! Touch his brain stem today and send him back to us, because this is his chance to begin getting better. This is the place to get the tools he needs.
I really believed, too. I felt in my spirit that a change was coming very soon. Already Alex was beginning ever so slightly to track activity in the room with his eyes. His condition was stable, and his meds were manageable. He seemed to be sleeping better in the rehab unit, and we believed he was on the verge of being ready to "power heal."