An Amazing Story

This entry is not about food, but rather about life. I had a somewhat remarkable experience this morning while I was riding my bike along the lakefront.

I had just ridden onto the bike path and was going around the point down in Hyde Park. There were orange construction cones and mile markers set up like there was going to be a running race. As I was cycling around the point, another cyclist came up along side me and said, "Hey! Do you know if there is a running race going on here?" I told him that I did not know, but that I hoped not and that it seemed odd for there to be a race on a Tuesday morning. I asked if he had ridden from up north (the direction I was heading for my ride) and he said that he had, and that there was no race going on up there (which I was relieved to hear because I did not want to ride into a bunch of runners).

So we got to chatting and he asked me if I lived in Hyde Park and if I went to university there. I told him yes, that I had just graduated. He asked me the famous, "So now what are you going to do," question, and I told him that I was moving up to Lakeview and needed to find a job (really need to find a job--in a serious way). He said, "Oh I love Lakeview, I met my wife in Lakeview, but now we live in Lincoln Park. We are raising our kids there." He then said,

"You know, it is a miracle that one of my kids is alive."

I listened, and he proceeded to tell me this story:

His son complained of pain in his leg and had a high fever, so they took him to the hospital, but the doctors could not figure out what was wrong with him. All of his tests were coming back normal, and he did not appear to have a virus or any sort. However, the doctor was still weary, and just thought that something was not right, so decided to keep in the hospital overnight to monitor him. The next day, he had to be rushed into emergency surgery--his legs and arms had to split open in several places to release swelling, and his stomach was cut open, his intestines taken out and suspended above him on the operating table. The dad, his name is Scot, said that he watched and saw his son on the operating table all cut open, with his guts hanging in a bag above him, and completely blue from head to toe.

It turns out that Strep type A bacteria had gotten into his blood stream. The only reason the doctor knew what to do in time was that she had seen a case like this once before--however, the chances of this type of infection is extremely rare. After 4 surgeries they had to induce a coma and wait to see what would happen.

It seemed that they were able to clear the bacteria from his body and save his life, but it was not clear what the lasting effects would be. At first the doctors thought that they were going to have to amputate both of his legs, and then it seemed that maybe he was only going to loose one leg, and then it looked even better and seemed like he may just loose one foot. The surgeons went in and started to scrape away the dead tissue on his feet (which were all black) and could not believe it, but found that there was healthy tissue underneath. It turns out that all he lost was two toes and part of his heel.

At this point in the story I was completely stunned. Scot then turned his head to me and said, "I'm sorry, I feel like I have to tell you this because it is good for me to re-cap it because he just got home."

I then asked how old the little boy is. He told me that he and his wife have four children, an eight year old daughter and a five year old daughter. He and his wife decided to have a third child and ended up having twins, two little boys who are now four. The little boy is one of the twins. He then told me,

"You know, the doctors all thought that he had no chance to live. They are all amazed that he is alive today. They said that the only explanation is that there was a higher power looking out for him. My wife and I say that he may have lost two toes, but he taught so many people the value of life, love, and family. He brought so many people together."

At this point we had been riding together for about twenty minutes, and with that he said,

"Well, I have to spin off this way. It is my daughters' first day of school and I am going home to make them oatmeal and help them put on their first day of school dresses. It was great to talk to you, and good luck with everything!"

All that I could manage to say was, "Thanks! It was great to talk to you too!" I did not even have a chance to wish him luck or wish his son good health and a quick and safe recovery. As quickly as he came into my life he left, and I will probably never see him again. However, the story of this little boy has profoundly affected me and made me reflect on all the people that I love and all the things that I take for granted every day. I am astounded at how strong of a person Scot must be. I don't know if I would be able to see my child cut open on an operating table, blue, with his intestines suspended above him, and then make the decision to induce a coma in which there is no certainty that he would come out of. Scot told me all of this is the most upbeat and chipper way--not like he was unloading on me, but rather that he wanted to share with me the lesson that his little boy had taught so many other people. The lesson that life is precious and can be taken away at any second.

So I felt compelled to pass this story along--to tell the people I love, that I love them. This morning was one of those moments in life that was so random, but I feel like it was meant to happen...like I was meant to run into this guy and listen to his story. Life is funny and unexplainable that way--but I sure do appreciate it.

So now I am going to end this post and enjoy the summer day. Love, life and happiness to you all.

--melissa