About two weeks ago, I asked for prayer about a difficult family matter and promised to tell you more later. I am now ready to tell you the details and show you God's hand at work.
On Friday, two and a half weeks ago, I escorted a relative to the hospital for a procedure. It was a simple procedure, however, Denise (not real name) was convinced that she would die during the procedure. She insisted that a Do Not Resuscitate be notarized before the procedure began. It was obvious to everyone that Denise was suffering with some sort of mental instability. I received many questioning looks during the day. I knew the truth but could not tell them.
After the procedure, the doctor came to visit with me. I was determined to get some straight answers from him because the entire family knew that Denise was not telling us the truth. I wondered how to ask him knowing he was limited by HIPA regulations. For his protection, I did my best to give him answers rather than asking questions. I gaged the validity of the answers by his reaction rather than his answers. I told him that Denise was convinced that she had a stage 4 tumor and 9-11 months to live. He replied, "She has a very active imagination." I informed him that Denise was reporting that she overheard a conversation between him and his office nurse about the tumor. With a smile, he replied, "Well she certainly has a good imagination, doesn't she?" Then to my amazement, he said, "There is another problem, you know?" So that he would not have to betray a confidence, I said, "Denise is addicted to prescription pills." He replied, "She needs professional help."
The following morning at 5:00 a.m., I began researching drug intervention programs. I found one that asked the reader to leave contact information. I completed the form and expected a polite reply email on Monday. Instead at 4:00 p.m. that afternoon, I received a phone call from them. After an hour of conversation about Denise's problems, the representative said, "I'm sorry, but we can't help Denise. She needs more help than our program can give. Let me call another program that I recommend and they will call you back."
About 20 minutes later, a representative of the second program called. We also talked for over an hour. Both counselors told me as much about Denise as I told them. When I asked how they knew, they replied, "We can tell by the kind of drugs she is taking."
I felt good about the program and agreed to a conference call between the facility and several family members. I attempted to coordinate every one's busy schedules for the call. Late Monday afternoon, I knew that the best time for the call would be 6:00 that night and told everyone to be on standby for the call. I attempted to contact the counselor to tell her but she didn't answer the phone. I was in a panic. One member of the team was on the east coast, one in the north, three in the southeast, and the counselor on the west coast. I knew that if the call did not take place that night, we would have to wait several days before our schedules would allow us to "meet".
One hour before the scheduled conference, the counselor called me. At that time she did not know I had scheduled the call. She explained that her baby was ill and she had spent the day in the doctor's office. She had just returned to work and thought it a good idea to 'check in' with me. I asked if it would be possible to hold the conference call in one hour. She agreed, took every one's phone numbers and gave me order of events for the call.
The conference call lasted about one hour and fifteen minutes. Everyone shared information about Denise and came to the conclusion that she needed help. We scheduled the intervention for ten days later because one member of the team would be out of the country.
Denise had called my phone several times during the conference call and I had ignored the interruption. I returned her call and listened to her ranting for over an hour. I told her I needed to go and then my phone lost the signal. Immediately, the house phone rang. I answered it to keep from waking my husband. Denise started talking about her health. Typically, Denise shares only what she wants to share and resents questions. Without warning, she said something about her pain pills and I seized the moment. "What do you take for pain?" I asked. Denise gave me the entire list of all her medications.
The following day, every team member began researching the program. After extensive conversation, we agreed that Denise needed to be in this long term in-patient facility. Then we began working on the intervention portion.
I can see at least 3 times that God intervened to make this happen. There are many more times coming our way during the intervention. We will talk about that tomorrow and once again, you will see God's hand at work.
The following morning at 5:00 a.m., I began researching drug intervention programs. I found one that asked the reader to leave contact information. I completed the form and expected a polite reply email on Monday. Instead at 4:00 p.m. that afternoon, I received a phone call from them. After an hour of conversation about Denise's problems, the representative said, "I'm sorry, but we can't help Denise. She needs more help than our program can give. Let me call another program that I recommend and they will call you back."
About 20 minutes later, a representative of the second program called. We also talked for over an hour. Both counselors told me as much about Denise as I told them. When I asked how they knew, they replied, "We can tell by the kind of drugs she is taking."
I felt good about the program and agreed to a conference call between the facility and several family members. I attempted to coordinate every one's busy schedules for the call. Late Monday afternoon, I knew that the best time for the call would be 6:00 that night and told everyone to be on standby for the call. I attempted to contact the counselor to tell her but she didn't answer the phone. I was in a panic. One member of the team was on the east coast, one in the north, three in the southeast, and the counselor on the west coast. I knew that if the call did not take place that night, we would have to wait several days before our schedules would allow us to "meet".
One hour before the scheduled conference, the counselor called me. At that time she did not know I had scheduled the call. She explained that her baby was ill and she had spent the day in the doctor's office. She had just returned to work and thought it a good idea to 'check in' with me. I asked if it would be possible to hold the conference call in one hour. She agreed, took every one's phone numbers and gave me order of events for the call.
The conference call lasted about one hour and fifteen minutes. Everyone shared information about Denise and came to the conclusion that she needed help. We scheduled the intervention for ten days later because one member of the team would be out of the country.
Denise had called my phone several times during the conference call and I had ignored the interruption. I returned her call and listened to her ranting for over an hour. I told her I needed to go and then my phone lost the signal. Immediately, the house phone rang. I answered it to keep from waking my husband. Denise started talking about her health. Typically, Denise shares only what she wants to share and resents questions. Without warning, she said something about her pain pills and I seized the moment. "What do you take for pain?" I asked. Denise gave me the entire list of all her medications.
The following day, every team member began researching the program. After extensive conversation, we agreed that Denise needed to be in this long term in-patient facility. Then we began working on the intervention portion.
I can see at least 3 times that God intervened to make this happen. There are many more times coming our way during the intervention. We will talk about that tomorrow and once again, you will see God's hand at work.
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