Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades. Here a great number of disabled people used to lie—the blind, the lame, the paralyzed.
John 5:2-3
When I was 11 years old my doctors at Vanderbilt introduced us to a team of research physicians at the National Institutes of Health. From that time to the present day, I had served as a guinea pig for some of the smartest human beings I’ve ever met. Now, once again, we were calling on these brilliant men and women to save my life.
We made it to the NIH and immediately the VIP treatment began. Within a couple of days I had had MRIs, CTs, bloodwork, an EKG, an Echo, sonograms, consults with physical therapy, occupational therapy, physiology, dietitians, neurologists, multiple doctors from our team and the chaplain of the clinical center. It was quite remarkable and comforting to both Jodi and I that there was such attention to detail and individualized care.
Soon it became clear that I would need to have an invasive spinal surgery. The goal would be to retrieve samples of the infection in my spine so that we might finally ascertain the bug behind the debilitating symptoms, and see first hand the scope of the infection. We began consulting with the chief of neurosurgery as to the details of the operation.
But the medicines I was on were wreaking havoc on my mind. My circadian rhythms were out of wack which meant that I was up most of nights. To make matters worse, the line between reality and dream was blurred and I began having terrifying hallucinations at night. I became convinced that the sitters and nurses that were taking care of me in the evenings were actually a part of a militant group that would engage in warfare with other militant groups at night. There were guns involved and I constantly felt like I was in danger. I became convinced that the room that I was in was actually on a ground level loading dock and that Jodi was selling her body to pay for all of the medical care that I was receiving. I believed the care I was receiving was second rate and reckless at best. The nurses and doctors were reusing needles and tubing and they had less than sterile techniques. I would raise all of these concerns to Jodi (in the middle of the night, of course) in a genuine panic and then refuse to be consoled. Finally when the sun would rise, I would slowly return to my right mind and listen to reason again. I can actually remember having a conversation with a group of my friends from Union City telling them how terrified I was to go to sleep at night, because I knew that the hallucinations would begin again.
I know that it sounds crazy and even humorous to hear about the things that I was seeing and experiencing, but I cannot stress to you how terrifying it was to me in the moment. It all seemed so real. I couldn’t control my thoughts, and Jodi seemed to be the only one who could even remotely calm me down. It was wearing on both of us. Following surgery, I went to the ICU where the hallucinations continued until finally the doctors discovered some of the medicines I was taking were contributing to my run-away mind. Slowly they began making adjustments.
While in the ICU, Jodi and I experienced the presence of God in a very real way. Our nurse, came in and exclaimed her excitement that she had discovered I was a pastor. She shared that she considered it an honor to take care of me. Jodi and I had always considered it our responsibility to share our faith with anyone who would listen to us every time we found ourselves in the hospital setting, well aware that many we would come into contact with may never darken the doors of a churche, or hear a single sermon that I preach. We took Peter’s admonition seriously when he instructed Christians to always be prepared to give a reason for the hope that you have.
But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect
1 Peter 3:15
Little did we know that we would find ourselves receiving hope from so many people in Maryland that were simply trying to dispense the same to some of the patients in their care. Our nurse was a believer who felt that God had led her from her home in New York to the NIH to care for patients just like me. It was in that moment that she pointed out something that we should have already noticed.
She asked us if we remembered the story about the pool of Bethesda in scripture. Of course we did. In John 5, the apostle recorded the story of a pool in Jerusalem where disabled and sick would go hoping that they would be healed. It was no small coincidence that the National Institutes of Health, where we were now seeking help was based in Bethesda, Maryland. She couldn’t be for certain that the NIH was built in Bethesda because of the biblical reference, but in the older parts of the hospital, there were murals of the Pool. In the biblical account, it wasn’t the pool, but Jesus who would bring the healing. It was a powerful reminder, that Jesus was the ultimate healer and the great physician. In Jodi’s words, “we thought we were here to minister to others, but God is ministering to us, reminding us that His children are everywhere.”
It doesn’t hurt that the nurses name was Gail.
By the middle of February, other options for medical intervention had played out and Dr. Zirbe let us know transplant was the only remaining option. We would be released to go home to celebrate Emma’s birthday, and then we would return in early March to begin the transplant process. Jodi and I said our goodbyes to our new friends at the NIH, and boarded a plane to Tennessee. This time would allow us to not only celebrate our daughter, but put our ducks in a row for a rather extended stay in Maryland.
Little did we know, that our return would be delayed, but what seemed like a massive setback was actually a grace of God.
Jeremy Powell 