John's Miracle Pt. 2 - The Hospital
- John & Stephanie Butler
- Dec 30, 2023
- 10 min read
Updated: Dec 30, 2023
Thank you for following along with our story of how God showed up for us in the midst of calamity. We pray it reminds you, that even when it seems chaotic and dark, God's light can be found. What you focus on matters. Emphasis has been placed on the names of those God used to show himself as present during this time, and we have either not used or altered names for privacy's sake.
If you haven't read Part 1, The Accident, please do. For those who would like a Cliff's Notes version, I (John) had been in a rollover van accident. I wasn't wearing a seatbelt. After a CT, I was diagnosed with two crushed vertebrae. After being unable to be discharged and in excruciating pain, I was admitted. I was wheeled into the elevator, headed for the second floor.
My Arrival
It was about 9 pm when we finally got to the room on the second floor. A shared room, but the other bed was empty. Well, that's good. The first person to greet us was the night shift nurse, Emily. I had to be moved from the transporting bed to the room's hospital bed. That was, painful to say the least. The slightest movement caused me to cry out. Emily asked what had happened. "Roll over, no seatbelt?" She carefully read through the admitting doctor's instructions. He had prescribed an IV for Fentanyl. She looked at me and said, if the goal is to get ahead of your pain and keep it under control, I don't think this will do it. I would suggest a different approach. IV meds hit fast, but they also wear off pretty quickly. You're going to get to a point where it hurts, you want pain meds, but they start to wear off before it's time for another dose. Big swings of highs and lows. That's not what you want. I suggest some tablet pain meds (two types), we can alternate every 3-4 hours. You can keep the IV pain meds if you're severe, but I've been here 20 years, and I think this would be a better approach. We didn't know any better, so we told her that was fine. She left to discuss her thoughts with the doctor.
I lay in the hospital bed, in terrible pain. I couldn't lift my head without sharp pains in my back. As I lay there, Stephanie and I still thanked God. The pain might be hard to bear, but the alternative of not being alive made this something I was willing to go through. The miracle of surviving the crash was by no means the only miracle God provided for us. Little did we know, it was just the beginning!
After a few minutes, Emily returned and went over the pain pill regimen. She was able to discuss with the doctor this alternative method for pain control rather than the IV for Fentanyl and he agreed to the change. I was so grateful she advocated for me! I didn't know my options, but I had a dose of Fentanyl in the ambulance, and it was so strong, I almost passed out. The pain pills Emily administered kept the pain from unbearable levels without being overwhelmingly overpowering. I am convinced this was all part of God's plan. There are no small miracles!
Stephanie, convinced I was in good hands for the evening, headed home. She had called our son Kyle earlier in the day while we were still in the ER to ask him to bring me some clothing and to look after our dog Jake. Now hours later, she needed to go home to make sure Jake was let out. Without Kyle's help, Stephanie would have been back and forth and for his help, we are both grateful. When she apologized for needing Kyle's help and interrupting his workday he simply said, "That's what family is for Mom".
The first night was not a restful one for me at all. Any movements caused pain and the occasional strong back spasms were excruciating. Shortly after midnight, another patient was admitted to my room. He had suffered head, neck, back, and rib injuries, due to some sort of a fall. This was all information overheard during my sleepless night, and the nurses checking him in. I might advocate here for all private hospital rooms. No one should have that much information about a person's medical history unless they choose to share it. Shared rooms lack privacy and probably cause HIPAA violations, but I digress.
Day One of 10
The next day was sort of a pain-filled, drug-induced blur. I remember Stephanie coming back in the morning and sitting with me. We were shocked that after being measured for what was called a TSO brace by a specialist in the ER, who said it could take 3 - 5 days to receive the brace, but whether I was admitted, or not, he would make sure the brace found me. On the morning of day two, he arrived brace in hand. At this point, I began to realize that God was raining his favor on me! It was custom-made. The specialist mentioned they could have made it locally, but it would have taken longer to receive, so he requested it made at a facility in another state and had them overnight flight it here. He found I was admitted and showed up with it. This was within 48 hours. The brace was a monster. I had to sit up, which as I've already stated was horrible. Then because the brace was in two pieces, they laid the back piece down and I had to lay back down (more screams of pain) and they had to tuck it under me while I rolled into it. Once positioned on the back, as straight as possible, they placed the front, and used the Velcro straps to tighten it, preventing any torso movement. When they tightened it the first time, I panicked because I couldn't breathe. I had to learn to not diaphragm breathe but breathe from my upper chest. It was a challenge. All the pain aside, once I was wearing the brace, I was able to (still with a lot of pain) be assisted into a chair in my room. I was upright again. Progress. Painful progress, but progress nonetheless. Thank you, Lord.
My roommate was awake also and we were able to speak to each other between the curtain that separated our beds. I asked him if I could put in a prayer request for him on our church's prayer line. Every morning between 6 am and 7 am, a volunteer from our prayer team would host our prayer line. He agreed. We (Stephanie & I) know God to be a healer, and we had an expectation that he would be healing both of us.
At this point, the physical therapist (PT) arrived. She was an interesting woman with a British accent. Stephanie, whose mother was from London, asked if she was from England, and indeed she was. She had great stories of a life full of adventure, and we found out we knew mutual people. Small world, but also, another way God showed himself. She brought a walker as well as other tools to help me put on shoes and socks with minimal movement of my back. Now, Stephanie wasn't too keen on the idea of me trying to stand and walk, after the struggle just to sit, but nonetheless, this was what was recommended. So, my first attempt to stand went something like this, they put a "gait belt" around my upper back, which is supposed to stop people who are unsteady from falling. I was instructed to sort of scoot forward with a hand on the walker to use it as leverage and lift myself up. This sounds fairly easy, however, in attempting to stand, I had a back spasm and my knees buckled. This was going to be a bit more challenging than I had realized. Ok, let's try that again. I was able to get up and steady myself. I was able to take a handful of steps before needing to sit (they followed me with the recliner).
The PT mentioned the doctors were thinking I should be able to go home. We looked at her, and Stephanie explained we didn't think she could do what was necessary, for example, what about the steps to get into our house? The steps to go upstairs? Seeing my instability, our PT said, she had been in her role a long time, and my instability made her nervous. She was going to talk to the doctor about keeping me in the hospital, at least long enough to get enough mobility to navigate into the house. Because of her input, we were no longer concerned about being sent home before I was ready. There's no way Stephanie would have been able to take care of me by herself. God knew that and again, put someone in place just for us!
The PT put in a request for me to be moved to an in-patient rehab facility where I could receive even better, more personalized, and more intense therapy. The days went by and there was no word on when I'd be moving. Stephanie came each morning, stayed, and left each night. We anticipated the next day would be the day I'd be moved.
Each day my mobility improved. I was introduced to tools to help me do things like, pick up socks from the floor, and put them on. The tools allowed me to reach without bending and have some sort of independence. I was feeling good about the progress I was making, and while still painful, my pain was being managed. I was able to stand using the walker for leverage without my knees buckling. I was still in my shared room, and my roommate was progressing too.
I had so many visits from our church family. Each one provided encouragement. One of our friends, a nurse, shared with us, that if there is something we want or need, we have to ask for it. She said you have to advocate for yourself. With that in mind, we asked if I could have a private room. We honestly, didn't expect it to happen. We were told that all of the beds were full in the ward and our nurse would see what she could do. Each of the men who had been in the accident came to visit. I was amazed to see them all well and it encouraged me. A miracle. One evening, when the pain was speaking louder than my faith, I felt like I wasn't ever going to be pain-free. That night, I received A call from my Bishop, Larry Taylor. Bishop Taylor was also in the accident. He said he was praying for quick healing, and he also said, "You're going to the Dominican Republic with us in June." He was referring to a marriage retreat in the Dominican Republic that Stephanie and I were planning on attending. At that point, I hadn't thought about the trip. Considering it was 3 months away, it didn't even seem like a possibility. However, I had to take into factor Bishop's track record: if the Bishop says it, he heard it from God, and it will come to pass.
My IV had been placed in the back of my hand. Every time I used my hands to push myself up, the needle jabbed me. Remembering our friend's advice, we asked. "Would it be possible to move this IV?" The nurse for the day said "Sure" just let me get what I need. It was then, that I realized, God was showing me, to open my mouth, and speak things that I want to see. With the IV out of the way, it was painful, but slightly easier to use my hands to pull myself up onto my walker, etc. Every day we waited to hear back from the insurance company on my transfer, and every day none came. The weekend, we were told moves don't happen on the weekend, but we were still hopeful. My roommate was discharged, and right after, the nurse came to tell me they had someone else discharged, and I was being moved into a private room!!! I was starting to get stronger, the pain was still high, but I was regaining strength. My mood was lifting, and I knew I was making progress.
Saturday morning, I was feeling pretty good. The pain was being managed well, I was in the privacy of my own room, and the IV was no longer a factor. It was like a switch flipped and my strength was continuing to increase. I was able to put on my brace without the help of the nurse. It was awkward, but it was progress. They were taking me for walks down the hallway, as far as I could go daily. Today, I feel really good, I walked around the hall and didn't need someone behind me, just in case I got tired. I decided to ask if I could try walking up and down the hall on my own. The nurse got the approval from the physical therapist. I was able to walk by myself! It felt amazing to not need so much help. This was now Sunday. We had our nursing staff swap shifts.
Our new nurse introduced herself. Kim asked about my injury. I explained I was hoping for a miracle (meaning being released to in-patient rehab over the weekend). She looked at me, and said, "You have already had a miracle, in fact, you have had more than one". Stephanie & I looked at each other and our mouths fell open. We both looked back at her and said, well... yes. She said, God is going to use you, and you will have a story to tell. At this point, I came to a full awareness that this was just another example of how God had stayed with me through this experience. I knew, pain or not, I was going to be healed. Now, I just needed to get to rehab to be well enough to go home.
The News
The doctor came to check on me. Stephanie and I listened, as we were told, that due to my progress, the inpatient rehab facility was being denied by my insurance. We didn't know what that meant. What do we do now? The PT had spoken with the doctor and said she no longer had concerns about me going home and felt it would be a good option. "So, we can release you to go home, and you can do outpatient physical therapy." Home?! I. Can. Go. Home?! What? I thought it would be weeks before I could go home. God bypassed part of the healing process just for me, just because He loves me that much! He put my physical therapist in place to advocate for me!
There were several cases of someone being put in place just to cheer me up or speak words of advice or encouragement. I had two male nurses during my stay. One nurse had a Christian/Anime YouTube channel, and he gave me encouragement about keeping my joy regardless of the circumstances. The second nurse was on loan from the ICU and he had a great sense of humor. He was the one who was able to move my IV.
I am so humbled and appreciative of how our church family surrounded us with love and support. They would visit with me, and pray with me, and there were countless prayers on the prayer line as well. What stood out most for me was how my wife spent just about all her waking hours with me. Encouraging me, praying with me, laughing with me... Just loving me through it all.
The journey to get home was painful. Listening to the medical professionals, I expected at least a year to fully heal from this. I was facing months of physical therapy and really didn't know if I'd have to live the rest of my life with pain, or what accommodations might need to make going forward. One thing I did know was, I was grateful that I was healing, and finally going home.
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