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  Family - Weekend Effect

The Miracle Of The Ring

Paula Crow

(Excerpted from Spring 1988 Matrimony magazine.)

I knew the call would come one day - I lived with the fear of it for five years. The voice at the other end said, "Paula, they've just taken Phil down to medical. He's had another heart attack. The ambulance is on the way. He's alive."

Phil had suffered two previous heart attacks. Could he survive another? "Dear God," I pleaded, "don't let him die among strangers."

I had been in bed for several days with recurring degenerating disc problems. I dressed as fast as I could, grabbed our fourteen year old son and we sped to Phil, running stop signs and red lights, careening around corners, and passing cars within inches of collision. In my heightened sense of panic, my mind was calculating our safety within inches. All that was important was to see Phil and hold him one last time.

We pulled up behind the ambulance. He was not there. We ran into the building and were directed to the medical office. My sense of panic increased as we ran down the hall, and in my silent prayer I pleaded again, "Please, God, let him be alive!"

The paramedics who surrounded Phil were quickly and efficiently trying to stabilize him. He looked so tired, gray and weak. They removed his clothing and jewelry, the crucifix he wore around his neck, and his wedding ring that had not been off his hand in the twenty years we had been married.

I couldn't get near him, but he caught sight of me, smiled, and said, "I'm sorry, Honey!" As they rushed the gurney to the ambulance, I squeezed his hand, kissed him and tried my best to smile reassuringly. "Hang on Honey. I'm with you. I love you." Is this how it ends, I wondered, a few feeble, yet heart-felt phrases?

As they put Phil into the ambulance, I made one hurried call, the only telephone number I could remember right then, to one of the members of our Marriage Encounter community. "Phil's had another heart attack. Please get a prayer chain going and call the rectory!"

I threw the plastic bag with Phil's clothes and jewelry into the back of the car, and as I followed in the slipstream of the ambulance, I begged God, "Please, let me see some sign that has to do with our sacrament to let me know he's going to be all right." I figured that was making it pretty easy for God. I searched windshields for a Marriage Encounter sticker, perhaps that would be my sign - nothing. "Come on, God, we're almost there. Let me see a sign!"

By the time I parked the car, Phil's arrival had spurred a flurry of activity in the Emergency Room. He had been swallowed up behind doors I was not allowed to enter. Each minute of wanting to know, but not knowing, stretched out endlessly. I wanted to be at his side but I didn't want to be in the way and possibly jeopardize his chances. I did the only thing I COULD do for him. I prayed!

When a doctor finally came through the doors, I'm certain my heart must have stopped in anticipation of what he was about to tell me. I searched his face for clues of what I wanted to hear, and as he spoke my mind sifted through all the medical terminology to that one dreaded phrase - "massive myocardial infarction".

He said the damage to Phil's heart appeared to be extensive and he was in extremely critical condition. He assured me that everything that could be done was being done, and as soon as they had his condition stabilized and he was moved into the Intensive Care Unit, I would be able to see him.

The nurses kept me posted on Phil's progress and assured me I would be able to see him soon. They seemed genuinely concerned for how this was affecting me, too, and tried in caring ways to prepare me for what might happen.

Our pastor arrived to anoint Phil and soon friends arrived, two, three, and four at a time. The I.C.U. waiting room filled to overflowing with caring people from our parish, from Marriage Encounter, Cursillo and our prayer group. They knew they couldn't see Phil, they just wanted to be with us and support us with their love and their prayers and help in anyway they could.

Phil's cardiologist arrived, and after seeing him, told me the heart attack had taken the whole back wall of his heart. That, coupled with the damage from his previous two attacks, left him with little usable heart muscle. He predicted that Phil would have one or two more attacks before the night was over. He offered no hope of survival. I thought, "That's man's medicine. Wait until he sees what God can do."

Although I had not received my sign, I felt a growing certainty that Phil was somehow going to come through this. The prayer chain had spread across the diocese and across the country. I had already received calls from people in Texas and California and they, too, had started prayer chains.

After what seemed an eternity, the I.C.U. nurse told me I could see Phil, but only for a few minutes. A few minutes! After twenty years as husband and wife, facing all kinds of ups and downs, this relative stranger told me she would allow us only "a few minutes".

The first words Phil spoke as I entered his room were, "I'm sorry, honey, I won't be able to write you a love letter today." He looked so terribly weak, and ashen. We talked about us, shared our feelings, and prayed together. He asked me to read from the Bible and seemed to take comfort in that. I held him. We crammed as much as we could into each "few minutes" that were allotted to us each hour.

The nurses always loved Phil as a patient. He never wanted to be a bother, but remembering the doctor's prognosis; I put the nurse's call button into his hand and begged him to use it anytime he had the slightest twinge of pain.

That was Thursday night. It was a long night and Phil continued holding his own, and holding onto the call button. When the pains did come, he called for more morphine. Minute by minute we passed the night.

Friday was an up and down day, cycles of little gains and worrisome set-backs. I was allowed unlimited time with Phil since he was so critical. We prayed a lot together. I held his hand while he slept. Friends kept arriving. As two or three left, four more took their places.

There always seemed to be about 18-20 friends there. It was as if Christ were tenderly cradling us in His arms and loving us. When the cardiologist made his morning rounds, he was amazed to find Phil was still alive, yet he was not willing to alter his prognosis. Friends commented on his insensitivity. I remained hopeful.

By this time, the love and caring of crowds in the I.C.U. waiting room had aroused more than idle curiosity. People asked, "Who are these people? Why are they here? WHO is in I.C.U.?" In true Christian charity our friends ministered to all the other visitors who had a loved one in the I.C.U. by sharing their concern and by praying with them.

One woman, touched by their concern for her and her family commented, "I didn't know Catholics prayed like that." Each time a member of the hospital staff walked by, we were greeted with open, warm smiles and some stopped just to be with us a while, like pulling themselves up to a cozy fire. Christian community had invaded the hospital.

Then came Saturday morning. It began like the others. I awakened in the waiting room and ran down the hall to see Phil. He seemed weaker. As the cardiologist entered the room, he took one look at Phil, rushed to his side, and began his examination with an agitated look on his face. Looking like a man headed for a crash, he shouted orders to the nurses and instantly, the room filled with nurses, and equipment being wheeled in. I was totally unprepared for the intensity of the drama that was unfolding before me. "You," he barked at me, "l want to see you out in the hall, now!"

"We're losing him," he said, "he's gone into congestive heart failure. I need you to sign some papers right now for a surgical procedure. We don't have time to get him to an operating room; I'll have to do it right here. I'm not sure if l can save him; I may kill him in the process, but he will die anyway if I don't try." I signed the papers and in my heart, handed them over to God

From 9 A.M. to 4:30 P.M. Phil's door was closed and the doctor never left his side. I was not allowed to see him. I paced the hall, praying, "God, where is my sign? Please give me a sign that he's going to be all right."

The doctor walked out, shirt sleeves rolled up, with a trace of a smile on his face. "For the first time since he came in," he said, "l feel hopeful." For this doctor, that was like putting it in neon lights on the Sears Tower. He said that Phil was by no means out of the woods, but yes, he felt hopeful.

Phil was hooked up to more machines than I had ever seen crammed into one room. He slept the rest of the day and as I held his hand, I thanked Cod, and hung onto that one word, hopeful.

I urged our friends to go home and get some rest; they had been so loving, caring and faithful. Mary Sue remained with me through the night. We bedded down in the waiting room and waited.

At 6 A.M., something woke us, and as I bent over to put on my shoes, although I had been relatively free of pain at the hospital, a night of sleeping on the waiting room couch gripped my back. At that, Mary Sue cried out, “Phil must be OK! God would never allow you to suffer two things at the same time!” It was a weird bit of theology, but we both ran down the hall and into Phil's room like two children running downstairs to see if Santa Claus had really come.

There he was, my Phillip, sleeping peacefully on his side with his hands half tucked under his cheek. He was as pink and as beautiful as a newborn baby. I knew the crisis had passed. As I stood there, overwhelmed by the tremendous love I have for this man I call my husband, a hint of gold caught my eye near his face. I realized it was his wedding ring. I asked the nurse where his wedding ring came from. It had been locked in the car for the three days and no one had been to the car. She looked puzzled, "It wasn't there when I bathed him half an hour ago.” she said, "l don't know."

At that same moment, although no one was behind me, I felt a push against my back; and whether I actually heard the words spoken, or heard them in faith, a voice whispered in my ear, "You can have him back now!" God had given me my sign, a sign of our sacrament, a sign of our covenant love - a gold band that has no beginning, and no end, much like the love of our God.

The cardiologist was elated, pronounced that Phil was out of immediate danger and flashed me a smile that would have lit up all of Chicago. He insisted since the crisis was over that I go home and get some rest. When my sleeping prince awoke, he knew nothing of the miracle of the ring on his finger. We joyously thanked God for not only seeing us through, but for giving us more time to love each other.

On the way home, the wheels of my car never touched the ground once; the car literally floated home. I sang and shouted my thanks to my God at the top of my lungs, and I cried tears of love and joy. I honked at every car on the road. It was a real glory trip!

I walked around our house hugging myself tightly; afraid I would burst from sheer joy. As I passed Phil’s bureau, my eyes fell on the Bible, and like a child who has to be told over and over, I said, “OK, God, one more time. Tell me he’s going to be alright.” I don’t often play “Bible Roulette”, but I closed my eyes, opened the Bible and read the passage where my fingers came to rest:

I hear my beloved. See how he comes leaping on the mountains, bounding over the hills. My beloved is like a gazelle, like a young stag. My beloved lifts up his voice, he says to me, come then, my love, my lovely one, come. For see winter is past, the rains are over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth. The season of glad songs has come; the cooing of the turtledove is heard in our land.

June 19th will mark the eighth anniversary of the beginning of this story. Through this experience we have come to appreciate even more the special love with which God has blessed us. We’ve learned that things we thought were important are, for the most part, not important at all. Who is going to know, or care, twenty years from now if we cleaned the house, waxed the car, or paid the bills on time?

Certainly, some things need attention, but the most important thing that needs our love and attention is us, our relationship, our loving each other, our being with and for each other. Friends tease us about our TOFU times (Time Out For Us), but those days and weekends we schedule for TOFU are precious to us. We appreciate each other. We have a lot of fun together. Our joy comes in just being together. It doesn’t seem to matter what we are doing, just as long as we are doing it together.

When our time on this earth is over, we don’t want to be remembered as that couple who kept such a neat yard, or always had such big parties. We want people to remember how we loved one another. That is our legacy.

[ eMatrimony Editor’s Note: We emailed Phil & Paula Crow to ask them about posting their 1988 article in Matrimony. We received more that we expected for, as Paul Harvey would say, “Here is the rest of the story.” ]

Thank you SO much. We believe so strongly in the power of prayer! (How could we not?)

Our couple love and prayers,
Phil & Paula

Continuation of the Miracle of the Ring

The Miracle of the Ring, was just the beginning of an ongoing miracle with Phil.

Phil was hospitalized from June 19th that year until the beginning of October. After an angiogram, it was determined that there was so much damage to Phil's heart that nothing more could be done. Bypass surgery was relatively new then and when I inquired about that possibility I was told that Phil didn't have enough good heart muscle left with which to do a bypass.

Following a few weeks of home rest, Phil had a treadmill stress test to determine the possibility of his returning to work on a part time basis. The results were not good and he was readmitted to the hospital because his cardiologist thought it was not safe for Phil to be out on the street. For the next five weeks, he was hospitalized and monitored as the doctors continued testing and trying to come up with a plan of action that would be of the maximum benefit for him. It was finally decided Phil SHOULD have the bypass surgery. When questioning why that was an option now when it wasn't before, I was told that this was the only option open to us now.

When we met with the heart surgeon the night before the surgery, we told him that there were a lot of people praying for him -- praying he would have a good night's sleep, awake fully refreshed, and when he entered the operating room. he would be clear-headed, and that all his skills and knowledge as a surgeon would be right there at his fingertips -- and when he opened Phil, he would see immediately what needed to be done. He made no comment, but politely smiled. He told us the surgery would last 5-7 hours depending on what he was able to do -- and IF anything unforeseen should happen, he would call me in the surgical waiting area so I could come and pay my last respects."

Phil went in for surgery while friends and I prayed in the surgical waiting area. Four and a half hours into the surgery, a volunteer called my name, saying the surgeon was on the phone and wanted to talk to me. I was terrified, and as I hesitatingly put the phone to my ear. I heard the sweetest words, "He is in recovery. Everything went well. I want to take you to see him, and then I want to have a long talk with you."

After seeing Phil, the surgeon and I spoke in the hall outside Phil's room. He assured me Phil was going to be O.K.. When he started telling me about the surgery, he became animated when he said, "I saw all the films on Phil, I knew this was going to be a tough surgery and I knew the tough odds I was facing.. With all the heart damage, I didn't know what I was going to be able to do -- but when I opened him up, looked at his heart, then held his heart in my hands and turned it over -- I couldn't believe it! This was not the same heart that I had seen in all the films. All I can tell you is that one heck of a lot of healing took place before I ever opened him up. Now, I want you to go home, call all your friends, and tell them they know how to pray REAL good."

Twelve years later, Phil was having recurrent tiredness doing his daily exercising. He returned to his cardiologist who scheduled him for an immediate angiogram. Again the results were not good. Three of the four bypass grafts were totally blocked and the remaining graft was partially blocked. His cardiologist consulted with me and told me how grave the situation was and scheduled Phil for another bypass the following morning.

Again, the ICU waiting room filled with many loving couples who took time off from work to come to pray, to be a support, and just to be near their dear friend. We all heaved a big sigh of relief when the surgeon came to tell us that everything went very well, and said grateful prayers of thanksgiving.

The following morning, the thoracic surgeon came to check on Phil. He put his hand on Phil's shoulder, patted it, and said, "You are quite the MIRACLE man.

He told us after Phil had his angiogram, a call went out from Phil's cardiologist for all the cardiologists in the group to come read Phil's film and to join heads in seeing how they could best serve him. Twelve cardiologists sat around a conference table, viewing the film, bouncing ideas off each other. The discussion went from doing minimal surgery to make Phil comfortable, to a more aggressive approach that just might possibly either kill him or cure him. Their final decision was the more aggressive course of action. Then these twelve men, joined hands prayed for God's blessing on their decision.

Phil has been in an interventional study at the University of Chicago Hospital for more than 15 years now. On one of our quarterly visits to the hospital, Phil asked the cardiologist if he was still included in the study. The doctor responded, "You certainly are -- we're still trying to figure out what is keeping you alive!"

The first part of the Miracle of the Ring took place just three years after we began presenting Marriage Encounter weekends. We continued presenting weekends for almost twenty-two more years.

Phil continues to be faithful to his daily cardiac exercises and diet as his commitment to me and our relationship -- for without him, there is no us.

God has sustained Phil through 6 heart attacks, multiple hospitalizations for claudication, 2 quadruple bypasses, 3 pacemakers, 2 defibrillators and congestive heart failure. To look at Phil, you would never suspect all that he has been through -- or that he's ever had a sick day in his life. He looks fine, fit and healthy. I say he is like a used car -- all spit and polish on the outside -- just don't look under the hood!

Through all the difficult times, God has continued to show us His love through the continued support and prayers of a loving team and local community. We have been richly blessed.

We praise and thank God every day for the added hours and days to our life together. We begin and end each day with blessing each other by tracing the sign of the cross on each other's forehead, saying, "May God bless you, protect you and keep you safe" -- and indeed, He does.

Thank you, God!

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