It wasn't really midnight. But there was a phone call. We were just getting ready to turn in for the night when the phone rang. 10pm. Who would be calling at this time?
The caller on the answering machine identified himself as my brother's coworker. He said that my brother was really sick, had been taken to the hospital by ambulance, and if we didn't pick up, we really needed to call him back. That was all in the thirty seconds it took us to reach the phone and answer.
From that time-stopping moment, a thousand things run through your mind but it's the simple ones that take precedence. Shoes on. Grab a jacket. Car keys. Directions to the hospital. Thank the Lord for no traffic.
Park. Find emergency entrance. Only two allowed in to see him at a time. Pace the waiting room. Get told to sit. I don't want to sit. I want to see my brother. Finally sit. Get allowed in to see him. Try to put a smile on his face. Machine beeps and makes me jump. Glance at the machine. His heart is beating way too fast. Machine stops beeping. Heart beat normalizes. Machine goes off again. Then louder and faster. Then slows. This is utterly nerve wracking.
Medicine. More medicine. He gets transfered to another hospital. They get his heart rate down into a more normal pace though it's still fast enough he should be jogging. Better than the sprinting rate he did have. We have to leave. His heart rate still isn't normal and his heart isn't pumping right, either.
But we leave. He is at least "stable." List prayer requests on Facebook. Get a few hours of sleep. Call the hospital. Talk to my brother! Prayer requests have been gloriously answered. His heart is beating normally, pumping well, and the doctors figured out how to help him. He'll be coming home the next day. I feel like I've been hit by a truck.
Talk about putting "I trust you Lord, no matter what" into practice!