A Christmas Miracle

Near Christmas I often remember the last night I worked before driving to Missouri to spend the holiday with my mother that year. I wasn't in ICU that night. The 'step down' telemetry unit had needed help. It was a busy night, but I couldn't help noticing when an argument broke out between family members in a patients room.  She was an elderly woman with a very sick heart, and had chosen  not to have CPR if her heart stopped. I found it very sad when the husband and the adult son stomped out within moments of each other. Was it possible they didn't know how ill she was, and how near her lfe's end? I remember feeling sad for all of them, and a little angry too, that they didn't avoid conflict in front of her.

Only a short time later, the woman's telemetry alarmed. Her heart rate had abruptly slowed to a bradycardic rhythm, and then stopped. Gayle, who was in charge that night followed me as I raced into the room. I was thinking, 'Did it have to be tonight?' 'Would it have spoiled some great plan of Yours to give this woman more time? Her family will have to live with this forever.'

Gayle and I stood at the bedside. As was my custom in moments like this, I held the woman's hand and told her she was not alone, and that she was loved even though by all appearances she was already gone. She was not breathing. Neither Gayle nor I could discern a peripheral pulse, or a femoral pulse.  We each listened apically with stethoscopes for one full minute. She was gone. Her skin took on the waxy appearance I was so accustomed to seeing.

"I'm not sure where they live, or if they would even be home yet. " Gayle said. "Horrible that they had such an argument tonight."

I  agreed, and expressed concern that they might rush back here, and find no one in the room with her. When Gayle left to place the phone calls, I remained at the woman's side to assist them when they arrived. As time passed, I grew weary of standing. I realized also that I wasn't feeling so well; a bit weak, flushed and shaky. I pulled a chair close and sat and resumed holding her hand. The truth was, I was feeling worse by the minute. I felt warm all over, and a bit dizzy. I began to worrry that I was coming down with something. Perhaps I should delay my planned drive to visit my mother.

How long I sat there, I am uncertain. What I do recall is eventually feeling as if something were about to happen, and noting that my hand felt even warmer than the rest of my body. One hand. The hand holding hers. I released her to look and was startled to see all the raised areas of my palm were cherry red. On impulse, and feeling foolish I turned the dead hand over and was shocked to see it looked like my own: bright cherry red in all the raised areas. I checked her other hand in disbelief. It was the same. I did an immediate and complete repeat physical assessment. There were no breath sounds. Her heart was silent and still. I sat back down and took her hand again, this time keeping my finger on her radial. Nothing. This was foolish. Nothing was going to happen. The woman had been dead for at least twenty minutes. Still, my hand felt hot again moments after taking hers. I felt a mild nausea, and began to sweat. I repeated the physical assessmet, and this time continued standing, my hand on her wrist. More time passed, a rising surety. Something  was going to happen.

That's when I felt it. A single returning beat beneath my fingertips. and then another. The intercom crackling on and Gayle accused me of playing a joke. I had not removed the telemetry unit and she was watching the return of a normal heart rhythm. Within seconds  came her first returning breath, and the woman opened her eyes. She smiled the most beautiful smile I have ever seen and said in a clear and awe-filled voice, "I was told I have more time." 

 Gayle arrived with disbelief all over her face,  and I left the room with nausea and all symptoms suddenly gone. I heard later that when her husband and son arrived she told them the same thing, and that they must set aside their differences and love one another. I heard also that she had described what they each had been wearing when they received the call to return to the hospital, and which of their phones in their respective homes that they had answered.

There had also been a personal message for Gayle. She said the woman told her that  both Gayle's parents would indeed be alive and able to celebrate their 50th wedding aniversary together. It was something Gayle had worried about, but had mentioned to no one. 

The woman was discharged home, well enough to spend another Christmas with her family.