A matter of life or death

A military family experiences God’s faithfulness in crisis

Jessica has been a military spouse for 20 years. Currently stationed in South Korea, the family – including their three children – are together and enjoying the unique opportunity to experience life in Asia. At Christmas time Jessica’s parents made the arduous journey to South Korea to be with the family. All was going well until a serious health emergency challenged their faith.

Jessica picks up the story . . .

After a few relaxing days at home, I brought my parents to an American military resort in Seoul for a big New Year’s celebration. We had a lovely time visiting museums, eating fun foods, and exploring the massive city. On the return home, my dad was very quiet, but I attributed that to being stuck in the back seat between two of my children. 

When we arrived home, I started unloading the car and worrying about what we would have for dinner. He quietly went upstairs. A few minutes later, my mom came down and told me he wasn’t feeling well. We thought it might be food poisoning from the interesting fish intestine soup we had eaten for lunch that afternoon, but it didn’t take long for me to realize this big strong man was in more pain than I had ever seen. 

A couple hours later, he was howling at the top of his lungs from the excruciating pain and could barely move. Fear gripped us all, but thankfully, my husband has been through many tours of combat and is highly trained in how to respond in crisis situations. He immediately put my father in the car and drove as fast as he could to the American base where he could access the hospital.

I realized much later that if we had still been in Seoul, we would’ve had no access to American hospitals or English-speaking doctors. God was with us providing for needs we didn’t even know we had. For the next few hours, I stayed with my young children at home and anxiously awaited news that didn’t come quickly. 

My husband rushed my father into the ER and they immediately saw the need for swift action. However, 6 hours later, the doctors and staff were no closer to a diagnosis and he was getting worse. No amount of pain meds were helping this strong, stoic man who hates even taking Tylenol for headaches. After 3 injections of strong narcotics with no relief and a CT scan that showed fluid building up internally, the ER doctor on call knew this was no case of food poisoning and something was very wrong with my father’s intestinal tract. He needed emergency exploratory surgery.

During his intake, my father had also tested positive for Covid. In Korea, that meant things were going to get a lot more complicated since he would now be forced to isolate for 7 days in a Korean hospital – IF he even survived that long. 

Even though South Korea has an American base with an American hospital, it was not equipped for emergency trauma situations like the one my father was in. They didn’t have the staff needed to care for long-term ICU patients nor did they have specialized surgeons on call, but rather rotated surgeons from the States every 3 months. Because he was Covid positive, the ER doctor knew he could not keep him at the hospital and was worried they couldn’t even perform the surgeries it would take to save his life. It was also the middle of the night (aren’t these things always so?) so there were limited staff members available and my father continued to decline quickly. Thankfully, my husband had the foresight to see how grave the situation was and switched places with me so I could be with my father should he not make it through the night. 

As I drove to the hospital at 2:30am, I vividly remember sending prayers of absolute desperation up to my Heavenly Father. My mind was swimming with fear, but I remembered where my help comes from, so I fought to find peace by keeping my eyes fixed on God, reciting my prayers out loud for a miracle to keep my mind centered on Him. As I parked the car and got out, I prayed for courage to deal with whatever scene awaited me inside and the strength to be there for my mom and not let her see the fear I felt so acutely.

Coding on the trauma room floor

No amount of training could have prepared me for what I saw next.

The air went out of me as I saw my father’s feet hanging off a stretcher, lifeless and blue from a lack of oxygen. I started to panic but then I quickly noticed a strength and resolve washing over me, so I was able to get myself together to be there for my mom. Still in my bright red winter parka and tightly gripping my mother’s hand, I prayed this wouldn’t be the last moment I saw my father alive. For the next 3 1/2 hours, I watched my father coding on the trauma room floor. I vividly remember all the cords and machines around him, constantly going into alarm mode as his blood pressure spiked and his oxygen levels dropped below normal.

My heart was beating out of my chest as I watched a team of dedicated doctors and nurses who God had sent to be his literal life support and to supply him with blood, oxygen, and encouragement. They were my father’s guardian angels in the flesh. They never left his side and never let him see how dire his circumstances were.

As the doctor rushed to find someone to operate on him and called multiple hospitals around the area begging for someone to take him if he survived the surgery, I stepped outside the trauma room to take a breath. I’d love to say I held it together the entire time, but my fear kicked in as soon as I walked away, and I started crying so hard I could barely breathe. My mom rubbed my back and tried to comfort me and that’s when I realized that as scary as it must be for me, it was probably 10 times worse for her, so I sucked it up and focused on being there for her and wiped away my tears. 

While they continued to attempt to stabilize my father, my mom and I talked about what family should be notified about this, who we should call for prayer and what would happen if he didn’t make it. I don’t come from a big family- only one younger sister. Calling her was my job….  I steeled myself and prayed for the Holy Spirit to give me the words I didn’t have at the time. I hadn’t slept at all, was sick to my stomach with emotions and my heart felt like it was permanently lodged in my throat. The only way I made it through that phone call was by the grace of God. To this day I have no memory of our conversation, except the part where we prayed together. It was as if the Holy Spirit gripped my tongue and passed on the information without me even knowing.

Rescued by a cowboy

I hung up the phone as a tall man in green scrubs and cowboy boots walked into the trauma room and introduced himself as Dr. Clifton, a surgeon who specialized in gastroenterology! He knew immediately what needed to be done and gathered his team to prep my dad for surgery.

God provided once again and after a few hours, the surgeon came in with good news – his bowel and small intestine were both pink and happy again, which meant he had caught it in time and my dad would not have to endure a resectioning surgery (not to mention the intensive recovery associated with such a surgery)! But we weren’t out of the woods yet. We still had to find a place that would take my Covid positive father for a week while he isolated in a foreign country. 

The thought of my dad alone in a Korean hospital with no understanding of the language, culture or even awareness of what had happened to him was beyond terrifying. Still, I held fast to God’s promises. He had brought my dad this far and I knew He would provide in this circumstance as well. After my husband’s chain of command got involved, the hospital was finally able to find a facility to take him in Seoul. It was Samsung Hospital, the premier hospital in South Korea. Tell me that wasn’t a God thing! 

The director of the Army hospital called me the day before he was scheduled to be released from Samsung and told me if we could get a hold of a few documents to support our case, he would be able to bring my dad into the Army facility for the remainder of his recovery. One of the surgeons who operated on him had offered to fill in as his postoperative caregiver. God had once again laid the groundwork for an incredible miracle to take place.

Instead of driving 3-4 hours round trip to a Korean facility for weeks while my father struggled to communicate with Korean doctors and nurses and recover in a strange environment, he would instead be received at an American hospital with English speakers, top notch medical staff, western style round-the-clock care (nurses don’t provide any care for patients in Korea) and surrounded by family to pray with him, stay with him and help him 24/7 on his road to recovery.

A blessing in disguise

I will cherish the time I spent with my dad for the rest of my life, and I know God had a reason for this. As my father continued to improve each day, we started looking back on why this may have happened here and without the heavy emotions and lack of sleep clouding our thoughts, it didn’t take long for us to realize that had my parents been anywhere else in the world (even their small Alabama home town), they would not have had the caliber of medical care nor would they have had any family close by.

We started to see God’s loving handiwork in all the little things too. My fellow Christian military wives were at the ready for whatever I asked for and came alongside me in so many ways, lifting me up in prayer individually as well as at church and PWOC. I felt completely enveloped in their prayers for healing, comfort, and emotional endurance. Even non-believer friends prayed with me for my family – it was a remarkable breakthrough in some of my longest friendships! 

God was in so many details as even the Army hospital staff came alongside us to support us in the ways we needed and some even prayed with us for healing.

On the road to health

Nine long days later, my father was deemed healthy enough to be released from the Army hospital and sent home to recover at my home.

Two days after he came home, he was walking around the stores on post with us and even coming to church. It was hard to believe it was the same man I thought I might have to say goodbye to just a few short weeks before. A week after his hospital release, he was on a plane back to the US and landed safely with no issues into the welcoming arms of my anxious sister.

Cling to hope

I write this for so many reasons. I guess the most important one is to never lose hope for what God can do in your life. He truly can move mountains, part oceans, and save lives. Everyone at that hospital kept telling us they couldn’t deliver what we needed, and yet they somehow managed to give my father the best care he’s ever received in his life.

This experience has changed my testimony radically, and given me a fresh new perspective, hope, and gratitude for even the little things. I wanted to share his miraculous story in the hopes it can inspire those who may also be dealing with aging parents or are in the military and feel far away from home. I pray this story will bring you comfort and remind you, no matter where you are, or how old you are, God has you in His hands and will always provide.

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Originally from Texas, Jessica is a proud military wife currently stationed in South Korea with her husband and 3 children. While not chauffeuring kids around to various sporting events, she enjoys reading, cooking and traveling. Through travel, she’s also able to broaden her children’s world while instilling biblical values into their hearts through Christian homeschooling.