Philippians 4:6-8 – “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.”

     Imagine your doctor telling you he needs to admit you because your leg needs to be elevated to deal with fluid drainage from the ulcers. You head to the hospital in good faith with the premise of managing the leakage. Now imagine your doctor coming in a few days later to look after your wounds and announcing that your arterial circulation has significantly deteriorated and that an amputation is the best option to move forward. When he called me to share the news, he was feeling overwhelmed and scared. Dad was in a difficult position, and I was unsettled about it. Shouldn’t a doctor who has been treating my Dad on a regular basis have a higher level of awareness as to the real condition of Dad’s leg? This didn’t feel right to me. Dad was a captive audience, and he had to make a decision that could potentially place him in a nursing care facility. I asked Dad’s permission to call his physician.

     I was candid with him on the phone. 

     “My Dad understood that he was being hospitalized to elevate his leg and deal with the fluid drainage,” I told him. “He trusted your advice, and now you tell him that his leg needs to be amputated. Can you help me understand what’s going on? Was there more to your conversation with Dad prior to his admission that I didn’t know about?”

      “You are absolutely, one hundred percent correct,” the doctor said. That was the premise.  I had no idea how badly his arterial circulation had deteriorated until I looked at him.” Our family knew this day was coming when Dad would face another amputation. The goal was to save his leg as long as possible. The doctor acknowledged the many treatments Dad had undergone to manage these ulcers and thereby extend Dad’s independence. But the ulcers weren’t healing. He was given two choices. He could undergo an amputation or continue the battle to manage the ulcers.

     Saving the leg means a debridement surgery. This entails scraping away dead tissue in and around his wounds to create a healthy bed of tissue for skin grafts to close the wounds. Dad went that route a year ago. It took a couple of debridement surgeries just to clean out the ulcers and clear away the dead tissue. Then there was the surgery to take skin and graft it to the wounds to close them. This was a viable solution last year because his arterial circulation was very good, but that is not true this year. His arterial circulation deteriorated significantly, which made the debridement/skin graft approach an ineffectual treatment. His only other choice was to amputate.        

     Dad knew in his heart that an amputation was the right decision. Once he consulted with the orthopedic surgeon, Dad agreed to it. Over the weekend I notified family, Dad’s church family, and my Sunday School Class to pray for Dad. Since his surgery was scheduled for Monday, April 2^nd, I went to the hospital Sunday evening to pray with him. As I was driving to the hospital, I wondered if Dad would be feeling anxious. Would he be having any doubts about his decision? When I arrived at Dad’s room, the power of prayer was already on display in Dad’s spirit! He was not feeling any anxiety. He was sitting on the edge of his bed exuding a peaceful demeanor. He was nonchalant about the amputation. When I marveled at his calmness, he said, “It’s like I’m ignorant of what’s happening.” That is God honoring the many prayers of His children on behalf of my Dad! But the power of prayer was not the only thing on display.

     God illumined the spiritual maturity of my father during our prayer time. I opened our prayer by asking God to pour out His grace, His mercy, His compassion, His peace, His love, His comfort, His healing, and His encouragement upon my father. I asked the Lord to allow this surgery to be successful. I prayed that the Lord would give Dad a victory in rehab so he could return to his assisted living apartment. I thanked the Lord for what this surgery will mean to Dad. Dad will no longer have nurses in his apartment every other day redressing wounds. There will be no more trips to clinics for lymphatic treatments. He won’t have to take pain medications that dull his memory. He won’t be in and out of hospitals to fight infections with antibiotics. He will feel more independent with more free time. As I finished my prayer, Dad began to pray. He acknowledged that there were just too many blessings to count. He prayed with a spirit of gratitude for all God has done for him. He prayed for those who are spiritually lost. Then he started to pray for me. 

     This is something special that Dad does often. Whenever I am with him and he desires to express appreciation for the things I do for him, he will go beyond a simple “thank you”. He will verbalize his prayer with me present. That evening he recited his favorite, “Lord, thank you for Lee Ann.” he began. “Please reward her generously for all that she does for me.” Now understand I am in a hospital room attempting to minister to him, but instead he is focused on praying God’s blessings over me. I hope I will be spiritually mature enough some day to focus on others instead of myself. His great faith in God’s sovereignty, God’s faithfulness to take care of him, and God’s perfect will for him is a tremendous model for anyone. I kissed him goodnight and knew in my heart that God had “prepped” Dad’s heart with immeasurable peace. 

     The surgeon called me at 8:50 Monday morning to let me know the surgery was a success. The recovery nurse called me at 10 a.m. to let me know he would be back in his room by 11:00. Each call was a confirmation that God was taking care of my father. There is nothing like the power of prayer. I believe God honored the multitude of prayers that went out for my Dad. God hears us when we pray and lovingly responds. Let’s praise God from whom all blessings flow. You can be sure that’s what my Dad is doing. 

Blessings,                                                                                                                                                                                                                            Lee Ann