5. Hanging by a Thread

I have been asked recently what if Scott had not made it. Would I still write about this in my blog? Would I still keep my faith?

I don’t know. Thank goodness, I had not received that ultimate trial of faith. I know it would be hard. Nо matter how much has beеn written about it, we know nothing about death. We see it as an ugly monster, because we've never experienced it. Unknown stuff is torturous and fills us with unquenchable fear.

What I know, is that I've walked in the shadow of death for 8 weeks straight and God is my judge on how I handled it. But I feel that I've learned a bit about this part of our life. No, I was not even close to solving the puzzle of death, but I grew stronger and more courageus witnessing many close calls this summer. I think I've figured out what faith means. It took some time, my eyes were not open at once. Let me remind you, I am only covering day 2 of our trial. At that moment, despite my knowledge of the gospel, I realized, my faith was very weak.

Morning of June 28th I called Saint Roch hoping to get better news on Scott. Thе same doctor as yesterday was nervously shouting in the receiver about Scott’s condition. “He is worse. Last night his temperature went high again despite our attempts to bring it down. His organs have started to shut down. His kidneys failed! His liver failed! It’s very bad! We are transferring him to a different hospital right now. You can call them in about an hour, I'll give you their number...”

...

I cannot hold my pain. I am bursting in tears, drowning in grief. With much effort I repeat to my family what I've just heard on the phone. Mom, Nadia and I fall on the couch, holding each other, sobbing out loud like at the funeral. David could not handle this and dissappeared somewhere. Unsuspecting babies continued to run about their business. As for us, girls, we were mourning Scott, who was so close to being dead. I could not get enough air, and I remember, I kept on saying as if in trance: "Oh, God, it hurts... I'm so scared..."

...

Again, it was my 10 year-old daughter, who, after wiping her tears, was the first one to comfor us: “It’s still ok. We will be together forever. If he dies, he’ll just have to wait for us in Heaven.” First, I wanted to shout out that she was much too young and did not understand anything. But instead, I hugged her and silently admired my daughter's faith. In the most difficult moment my child has become my strongest example! I wanted to be like my Nadia. Where is my faith?! THIS was the time to trust in the gospel completely and wholeheartedly! Hold on to it for dear life! I must truly believe in what I've taught my children.

We stopped crying. We tried to be brave, though time and time again, we would glance at each other to see tears running down the cheeks. It’s hard, who are we kidding?! Losing a loved one is hard. Human nature is such that we strive for family ties and yearn for our family members that leave us. Feelings of affection, that God has granted us, demand the continuation of our relationships in the next life. That is why eternal families make perfect sense and are so essential in the scheme of eternal bliss. I am so thankful for Temple marriages. We will be together forever no matter what.  And not even death will do us apart.

But death or no death, we needed to go grocery shopping. Faces are washed, shoes are on, we are walking downstairs. Our Bob stroller spent the night on the first floor by the front door. It was too heavy for me to drag it upstairs the night before. It's standing by the wall, all folded up. I even took one wheel off of it, making it inconvenient to steal. As I unfold my wonder-stroller I discover that one more wheel is missing. Actually, here it is, just on the floor. But the fastener is missing, and I can’t put the wheel on without it, it simply slides right off. We search for it all over the hallway and stairwell, we even checked the garbage cans. This is so unfair! So mean! Who could do such a thing?! Talk about series of unfortunate events. Based on a true story too.

We did not have a choice but to carry our babies in our arms to the store. And then carry them back, along with groceries.  David, the oldest man in the family at the moment, did not complain once, but carried the biggest bag.

I called the hospital where Scott was transferred to and talked to the doctor, who informed me that Scott was intubated and on full life support.

Mira picked me up as soon as she could and we went to L’Archet-2, a newer and bigger hospital in Nice. Mira has never been here before; we were a bit lost in many corridors, staircases and elevators. Soon we were standing before the door for the ICU of the Deprtment of Surgery and Organ Transplantation. I was shivering. Mira pushed the buzzer and explained to them what we wanted. The door opened automatically and we went inside. Before we could go any further, we had to stop at the small locker room and put on a hospital robe on top of our clothes and spray sanitizer on our hands. It could be because there is not a single window in the whole unit, or serious medical equipment, "breathing" and beeping all around, the feeling is truly dark and depressing. The main reason it felt like that, is that I came here to my beloved and very sick husband, whose life was hanging by a thread.

Gosh! Scottie, is that you?! All yellow and swollen, his face is deformed, hardly recognizable. The ventilator tube comes out of his mouth; many other tubes are attached to his neck and wrists. He is so cold! So, his liver, the oven of а human body, does not work. It is so horrible to be by the side of your loved one, who is barely alive, and still hope for his recovery. Never in my life have I experienced such a mighty battle between my mind, that was feeding me with fear, and my heart which, like a defeated, choking and bleeding warrior, kept on whispering with broken voice, that it is not the end, that there is no way I should be giving up.

Mira called me to meet with doctors. I was scared. I thought, they'd ask me that terrifying question: "do I give my permission to turn off the machines?" I am so glad, I am not alone in this, that Mira is next to me. Dr. Tran, who I spoke with on the phone, and the head of the department Dr. Gouboux were waiting for us in their office. Dr. Tran is really young, tiny brunette with huge eyes, full of either compassion or anxiety, I can't decide. In any case, she is very worried:

"Scott was transferred here, because we specialize on liver and kidneys. Last night, when his temperature went up very high, it caused a multiple organ failure. Since he's gotten here, his kidneys have started functioning a bit, but very poorly. The biggest problem is liver. Did he drink alcohol?" I shake my head negative. "Did he smoke?" The same answer. "Did he suffer from diabetes, high blood pressure?..." And more similar questions, followed by my "No" answer.

"How old is he?" - "38."

"There is hope that his liver will start building itself back. If it does not start regenerating in the next 48 hours, liver transplant is necessary to save his life." 

"And how long is the wait in case, it does not regenerate?.." I ask with trembling voice.

"We will put his name first on the emergency list which goes out nationwide, usually we have a liver within 48 hours."

Man, this is SO serious!

Dr. Gouboux picked up where Dr. Tran stopped: "The problem with liver not working is the complications it causes in brain, namely what we are observing in Scott. Water is accumulating in his brain, which swells up the brain and can cause pressure against the skull, which is fatal."

Thank you, doctor, for one more horrifying picture in my mind. I gulp. The most important thing now is not to pass out. Ok, continue, bring it on! Tell me more bad news. I am getting used to it.

“But if his liver will start working again, then it will drain all the excess water from around the brain, and that should put brain back to normal. We have very important 48 hours ahead of us,” he smiled. There was a twinkle in his eye that instantly wrapped me in hope, like a warm fuzzy blanket I needed so bad.

With that I am ready to wait for the next 48 hours and not get used to him being on his death bed. He must be somewhere in the realms of eternity, but only temporary. Maybe, he is there to see his Dad and his Grandma Helen Thompson, who had actually passed last week. Her funeral was held yesterday, on Monday, June 27th in Utah; naturally, we were not there. Maybe this was a way to say good-bye to her. Maybe, I made all this up. But wherever he was, I made a decision to fight for my husband's life. While doctors and nurses were keeping alive his broken body, I was pleading with the Lord to please let his spirit return to his body, fix his organs, help his liver regenerate and eventually bring him back to us. Amen.