hope. “How do you think he’ll do?” I said.
“We’ve got to go in and clean him out. We’ll know more when we open
him up.”
The spaces between his words rang in my ears like alarm bells as
Colton’s screams rang down the halls. In response to a direct question, the
doctor had specifically not given us any assurances. In fact, the only thing
he had said about Colton was that he was in bad shape. My mind flashed
back to the moment Sonja called me in Greeley from Imperial to tell me
Colton’s fever had broken, and that they were on their way. What had
seemed like the end of a stomach flu had more likely been the first sign of
a ruptured appendix. That meant poison had been filling our little boy’s
belly for five days. That tally explained the shadow of death we saw on him
now. And it explained why Dr. O’Holleran had not offered us any hope.
The doctor nodded toward the noise spilling from the prep room. “I think
it’ll work better if we take him back to surgery and sedate him, then put in
the IV.”
He stepped over to the curtain and I heard him give the order. A few
moments later, two nurses wheeled the gurney through the curtain, and I
saw Colton writhing. He twisted his tiny form, turning his head until he
locked onto me with his sunken eyes. “Daddy! Don’t let them take meeee!”
Remember when I said pastors don’t have the luxury of losing it? I was
about to lose it, and I had to get away. After talking to the doctor and then
scribbling my name on what seemed to be hundreds of insurance forms,
nearly running, I found a small room with a door, ducked in, and slammed it
shut behind me. My heart raced. I couldn’t get my breath. Desperation,
anger, and frustration washed over me in waves that seemed to squeeze
away my breath.
When everybody’s freaking out, they all look to Dad— especially when
Dad’s a pastor. Now I was finally in a room where no one was looking at
me, and I began raging at God.
“Where are you? Is this how you treat your pastors?! Is it even worth it to
serve you?”
Back and forth, I paced the room, which seemed to close in on me,
shrinking as surely as Colton’s options were shrinking. Over and over a
single image assaulted me: Colton being wheeled away, his arms