Jonah's Brush with Death

We Sheppards are tremendously blessed with good health. Often people around us are sick and it will pass over us completely or we will just get the "lite" version. So after Noah's birth, while John-Mark, Sara and the babies were still staying with us, when the 24-hour flu made its debut and several in the house took turns getting it, we assumed any recipients would have a stomach ache for a while and that would be that.

Our son Jonah came to us in January 2009 as an pathetic, eleven pound one-year old. He was a sweet little guy who, unlike some of the men in the house, was very much in touch with his emotions. It didn't take us long to figure out that, for Jonah, a little pain went a long way. Wails of such intensity that one would assume a limb was being severed would turn to laughter in a matter of seconds.

Nancy and Jonah - 2009

So on Tuesday, June 25, 2013, when Jonah spent the day on the couch complaining of stomach pain, we babied him but were not overly concerned. After all, it was a 24-hour flu. At night, when he turned down his much-loved bedtime routine, we knew he was really feeling lousy. Additionally, we were surprised when Jonah, rather than instantly falling asleep like he normally does, cried piteously and asked me to put my hand on his abdomen and rub lightly. I felt badly he had a worse case of the flu than I had gone through a few days before, but assumed he would be much better in the morning.

The next two days Jonah spent on the couch, complaining of a stomachache and quite listless. At 3 a.m. Friday when we had an exact repeat of Tuesday night, we became truly alarmed. Jonah is a very heavy sleeper and it was stunning he was awake at that hour—and extremely disturbing that he was complaining of the very same pain in the very same place as he had two nights before.

We realized, of course, we should have taken him to the doctor already and if we had been in the States we would have rushed him to an emergency room. But, being in Liberia, we knew there was no place we could take him where anything meaningful would happen before morning. We did all we could to comfort him and eventually Jonah drifted back to sleep.

We were at the ELWA clinic ready to see Dr. Debbie Eisenhut, a missionary doctor with SIM mission, at around 8:30. Jonah was in pain, breathing rapidly, but, thankfully, uncharacteristically stoic. Within five minutes of entering her office, Dr. Debbie diagnosed Jonah with appendicitis. Previously scheduled elective procedures were pushed aside to make room for Jonah and within two hours he was in surgery. Mark and I were told to wait in an area near the operating room.

Dr. Debbie Eisenhut

About an hour and a half after Jonah went into surgery, Dr. Debbie appeared. I don't remember her first sentence, but I believe she said that the appendix had been successfully removed. The second sentence was something like, "Jonah is in respiratory distress and you have twenty minutes to figure out how to get him medically evacuated out of this country."

Mark grabbed his cell phone and began gathering information about a flight. He called local and international friends who could spread the message that Jonah was in urgent need of prayer. We were then rushed to the operating room and found ourselves standing next to Jonah as he struggled to breathe, his mouth contorted as he inhaled in huge, impossibly difficult, gasps. He was taking 48 breaths a minute and his oxygen saturation levels would tumble if the oxygen mask was lifted off his face even half an inch. Additionally, he wasn't waking up from the surgery. As Mark and I watched, periodically trying to wake him, we prayed. Our prayers basically consisted of two words—"Jesus, Jesus, Jesus" with a sprinkling of "please, please, please." It was totally surreal.

Eventually the gasping was not as dramatic and Mark carried a limp Jonah from the operating room to a room on the ward, a trail of equipment following close behind. For the next hours, as Mark continued the stream of phone calls necessary to get an air ambulance to Liberia, Dr. Debbie and I watched Jonah's troubled breathing, secured his mask around his nose if it moved, and stared at the numbers on the little machine that measured oxygen levels.

At six o'clock everything changed. In an instant Jonah stopped breathing the pathetic, short little breaths and, for the first time, looked like he was sleeping normally. I pulled the mask up a bit. The oxygen saturation levels, rather than tumbling, remained high. And then, Jonah woke up. Dr. Debbie, Mark and I were relieved beyond words and rejoiced, praising God for the miracle we were witnessing.

From that moment on the recovery was normal for abdominal surgery. With great relief, the air ambulance flight was called off.  I stayed with Jonah at the hospital and Jonah was his normal, darling, dramatic self. Two days later he was dismissed in good spirits, well on his way to a full recovery.

Jonah immediately before dismissal from the hospital on Sunday, June 30, 2013

We praise God for the thousands of people across the globe who held hands with us as this crisis unfolded. We truly felt carried by the prayers of God's people and we owe to everyone who prayed a great debt of gratitude. Additionally, we thank God with all of our hearts for sparing Jonah and allowing us the continued, awesome and on-going privilege of having him as our son.

Jared, Nancy, Mark and Jonah

To God be all the glory!

See On Making Jonah a Sheppard.
See Prayer: If You Will Ask
See One Grandma's Secret Desire.