Amelia in the hospital again

My dear sweet third daughter, my Amelia Irene, is back in the hospital again. Almost exactly 2 years since she was hospitalized with life-threatening encephalitis at the University of Minnesota, I ended up bringing Amy to the local hospital because she had a fever for three days, was increasingly sleeping throughout the day, and suddenly this morning developed a stiff neck and back pain, headache, and vomiting when repositioned. A few hours in the ER told us her liver wasn't working exactly right, her heart was slightly enlarged, and yes, she had all the signs and symptoms of another spinal or brain infection.

Because of the liver abnormality, her doctors at the local hospital weren't comfortable doing diagnostic tests because of the increased risk of bleeding. The last thing she needed was a bleed into her spinal column. So she was brought by ambulance to St. Mary's hospital in Rochester, part of "Mother Mayo". In the ER there, she had some tests run, which actually looked a little more hopeful. The pressure around her spine was not as high as it was two years ago.


So for now, she is admitted to the hospital with a working diagnosis of bacterial meningitis. She continues to sleep and is very quiet and talks very little when awake. She will be hospitalized for at least 48 hours for IV antibiotics. She needs urgent prayer.

Think you've gotten maximum sympathy as a cancer patient when you finally shave your head? Nope. Walk into an ER with your deathly ill daughter and everyone realizes you've been given a lot to handle. My mother handed me a little note that made me cry:
"Sufferings arising from anxiety, in which the soul adds to the cross imposed by the hand of God an agitated resistance and a sort of unwillingness to suffer - such troubles arise only because we live to ourselves. A cross wholly inflicted by God, and fully accepted without any uneasy hesitation, is full of peace as well as of pain. On the contrary, a cross not fully and simply accepted, but resisted by the love of self, even slightly, is a double cross; it is even more a cross, owing to this useless resistance." ~Francoise de la Mothe Fenelon

You can see the sun-dog to the left of this photo, just barely (it's a cell phone pic).
And God sent me two little winks on the way down to Rochester. In Wabasha, Minnesota, we caught up with the ambulance and followed directly behind all the way down to the hospital. What a gift to be so close when I was feeling so very far away from my sick little girl! Then, as we entered town, for just a moment there was a sun-dog, a tiny little rainbow in the clouds that lasted not even a minute. I remembered God's covenant with Noah, and I thanked Him for this small visual covenant with me. Not that I believe it means she will be miraculously healed - or even perhaps survive - but it was His covenant with me that I will survive this newest entrance into the refiner's fire, my soul intact and His love never-ending.