Kids’ Doc in Jos

I got the first call about Justin, son of our missionary friends Ken & Linda, at 4:30 pm on New Year’s Eve. It was our neighbor Dr. Joel Anthis. “Mike, I don’t know what’s going on, but I just got a call that Gayle is doing CPR on Justin. That’s all I know. What should we do, try to go up there to meet them, or go to the ER?” It was hard to know at that point, not even knowing the 4-year-old’s problem. Did they have adrenalin? Did he have a blocked airway? We decided Joel, an ENT surgeon, would go to the ER and have instruments ready and I would go to the house. As I grabbed my stethoscope the phone rang again: “They’re on the way in the van, still doing CPR.” [photo: Luke with Justin and Alida]

The van was just pulling into the gate as we reached the parking lot 3 minutes later. I jumped in and directed them to the area near the operating room and pediatrics. Justin’s mom Linda was in the back still doing CPR. “What happened?”

“Drowning,” Ken told me. My heart sank. Half a minute later I popped open the back of the van and Linda handed me little Justin: cold, blue, and limp.

We quickly rushed him into the pediatric ICU and began resuscitation. Soon there were others helping–Evangel residents and nurses, Dr Cindy Anthis, missionary nurses, friends. On and on we tried what we could. There is actually not a lot to do initially for a drowning victim other than CPR. And, of course, each of us was praying silently and urgently.

On one level we just did what we normally do in our professional way. Breath, compress, start an IV, breath, check the pulse, compress, breath, suction, compress, listen, breath, give adrenalin, compress. On another level we were in shock as our hearts refused to believe what was happening. We all knew Justin, this vivacious, outgoing, energetic young boy. He was born here in Jos. This could not be happening. As the clock ticked toward the one hour mark, with no response at all, I was forced to admit that it was no use. There was nothing more we could do.

Suddenly we were just overwhelmed with grief, frustration and shock, our professional detachment temporarily wiped away. We wept and hugged each other. Mostly we were silent.

The funeral was today at Miango. Luke had so many questions as he alternated between his apparently- senseless- question mode and really trying to grasp what was going on. He was not terribly close to Justin but he did know him as a playmate. Why is everyone sad? How are you feeling now, Mommy? Why are your tears coming (or not coming)? Why can’t we see him again? Where is he now?

Our own questions are mostly unspoken. As the speaker, Dr Danny McCain, said, many of these “why?” questions will never be answered for us, at least not in this life. But, he continued, we do have hope, made a certainty by Christ’s victory over death. Not a hope of some vague, shadowy afterlife, of reincarnation, or as ultimate nothingness in union with the universe, but rather the knowledge that with our personhood intact and perfected we will live in glory with God and each other.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, January 3rd, 2006 at 10:45 pm and is filed under Mike's jottings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.