Those words were assuring, but also puzzling. Due to a mysterious digestive disorder, I had already been examined by nearly a dozen doctors in the past year and had undergone as many medical tests. None of the tests had been particularly challenging. Why would a routine CT scan be any different?
At the hospital later that morning, in order to get a clear image, a nurse injected me with a contrast agent, or dye, then stepped out of the room to avoid radiation from the CT machine. About halfway through the scan, the fluid entered my bloodstream. Searing pain tore through my body. Immense pressure gripped my lungs. I gasped for breath. I tried to scream, but my throat had closed so tightly I could barely get out a whisper.
The pain intensified second by second. My senses reeled, and my neck and face swelled. I could barely open my eyes. My sinuses tightened with unbearable pain. I had no idea what was happening. I tried to keep calm. It would pass, I told myself over and over.
This was an allergic reaction to the dye, I would find out later—a potentially life-threatening complication that can occur in asthma sufferers like me. Apparently my asthmatic condition had been overlooked when the hospital planned my CT scan.
Finally the scan was over and the nurse returned. I stumbled to my feet, coughing uncontrollably. My swollen face and neck were covered with red spots. The nurse realized something was seriously wrong, helped me onto a nearby bed, and summoned a doctor. When he asked me where I was hurting, I couldn’t move my jaw to tell him. “Get her to the emergency room immediately!” he ordered. “This is very serious!”
A doctor at the emergency unit examined me and passed his findings on to my dad, who was there at the hospital with me. “Her heartbeat is faint, her blood pressure is falling rapidly, and very little oxygen is passing through her lungs. She is in toxic shock.”
Dad phoned family and friends and asked them to pray for me. He squeezed my hand, and I saw desperation in his eyes. The doctor’s unspoken conclusion hit me: he didn’t know if I would make it.
Nurses rushed to hook me to a respirator and administer injections to counter the toxin. “Breathe!” they urged. I struggled desperately, but felt myself slipping into darkness—a silent, painless, overwhelming darkness.
Suddenly Jesus’ words came back to me. “I will fight for you. I will face each challenge with you.” Strength and determination that could have come only from Him pulled me from the darkness. I fought to open my eyes and take another breath.
The pain reached an unbearable new high. Convulsions shook my limbs. I couldn’t think, much less pray. A second wave of numbing darkness swept over me. Powerless to drive it back, I felt myself fading.
Again Jesus’ lifesaving words came to me. “I will fight for you. I will face each challenge with you.”
Clinging to those words, I found strength to keep fighting, to keep breathing.
Two intense hours later, I was out of danger. I had survived!
As Dad led me out of the hospital and into bright sunlight, I was still a bit dazed, but my heart overflowed with gratitude and joy. Jesus had saved my life! He truly is, as the Bible says, “the same yesterday, today, and forever.”
I am so glad that I took time that morning to ask Him to speak to me. It had seemed like such a small thing, almost an inconvenience, but the few words He spoke to me became my lifesaver.
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John 10:27 ESV - My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.1 Peter 1:25 ESV - But the word of the Lord remains forever. And this word is the good news that was preached to you.
1 John 1:1 ESV – That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we looked upon and have touched with our hands, concerning the word of life.
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