A miracle tale: ‘Prayers can be answered’
By Pete Ludden
Contributing writer
Day seven for my sister-in-law, Annette, in the ICU showed little change in her brain functioning. She remained on the respirator, unable to breathe on her own at all. The EEG showed little brain activity, as it had since she arrived at the hospital.
Dr. Aiello explained, in detail, the options before us. “The longer she remains in this condition, the less of a chance that she will recover.” The words stung. It mattered little if we expected to hear those words. They still slammed into us like a sucker punch to the gut.
“When the respirator is removed and if she is unable to breath on her own, there are two options. We can perform a tracheostomy, insert a breathing tube into her lower neck and insert a feeding tube into her side. Or we can provide comfort care for her remaining time,” the doctor continued her explanation to the family. “We aren’t at that point yet. But we are approaching the time, if nothing changes, that a decision will have to be made.”
As a person with Down syndrome, functioning at a mental age between two and five years, Annette has three areas of enjoyment: being with her friends at the group home, visiting family and eating. Attached to a breathing machine and a feeding tube in a nursing facility would take all of that away from her.
Any chance of seeing our Annette again seemed to have been taken away from us the day she collapsed. All we had left was hope and prayer. Prayers began in earnest as soon as the call came in, sharing the horrific news with us.
I had just gotten back from the gym when I heard my wife, Tara, pleading into the phone. “Chuck! Chuck! No! Please, no!” Tara’s pained voice cried into the phone as her brother relayed the limited information that had been provided.
Annette collapsed as she entered the doctor’s waiting room for her EN&T appointment. The doctor rushed to her aid, performing CPR for 10 minutes before her heart was jolted back into rhythm by a defibrillator.
For seven days Annette lay in the ICU hospital bed on life support. A machine filled her lungs with oxygen-enriched air 16 times each minute. Sixteen times each minute, her lungs limply emptied out what had been forced into them. At times her eyes opened with a glassy stare that looked right through the faces in front of her.
Family and friends in New York, Florida, California and countless points between maintained a near constant flood of prayers for our dear Nettie. Each day, Tara and I prayed the rosary for her. As I sat beside Annette’s bed, holding her hand, I recited the Chaplet of Divine Mercy, a 6–7-minute devotion often prayed at the bedside of the sick or dying, calling on the Mercy of our Lord.
As I shared daily updates with family and friends, the responses of prayers and love overwhelmed us. All called on God for his will to be done, hoping that his will included Nettie’s recovery.
The doctor scheduled a family meeting for Tuesday afternoon at 4, two days after Dr. Aiello had shared the likely options with us. We prayed for strength … foremost for Annette, but also for those who would attend that dreaded meeting.
When Tuesday morning was upon us, I dropped off Tara at the hospital, then headed to the gym, attempting to distract myself from the coming discussion.
A few short minutes into the workout, Tara called. “The doctor says the respirator is showing that Annette is breathing on her own and she is alert! He says we have a window of opportunity in front of us to see if she can breathe on her own without the respirator! Come to the hospital now!”
I attempted to understand the words Tara shared with me as I ran to my car. Rushing to St. Joseph’s Hospital, I prayed as I have never prayed before. “Please, Lord, give her strength. If it is your will that she recovers, let it be done.”
Entering Annette’s room, the doctor explained, “Based on what I am seeing with Annette, I believe there is a 70% chance that she will be able to breathe on her own when we take her off the respirator. I am very hopeful that she will be OK.” Tara, her brother, and I allowed his optimism to embolden us. “You can do it, Annette” and similar statements flowed freely from our lips.
Then the doctor reminded us of what had been stated to us multiple times before. “Because Annette has a developmental disability, there are two state agencies that need to sign off on the family’s decision to remove the respirator from her.”
We all nodded in acknowledgment of those requirements.
As we awaited the state’s approval, we took turns at her bedside. Annette nodded in answer to questions asked. She tracked our movement with her eyes as we walked past her.
When I sat beside Annette, holding her hand, I once again recited the Chaplet of Divine Mercy. We maintained eye contact throughout the devotion. Several times during the prayer, Annette nodded her head, looking directly at me. Each time, my eyes welled up with tears. She was there! She knew what I was doing as she silently nodded her appreciation, offering a loving smile around the tubes that filled her mouth. Never have I felt as close to someone while praying as I did at that moment. We were united with God, calling him to come to her aid.
Annette continued to grow stronger and become more aware each hour. When Tara asked her to touch the eyes of the Care Bear gifted from one of the nurses, Annette slowly and deliberately lifted her left hand from its resting place on the bed. In incremental movements she touched first one eye and then, like a crane overloaded with heavy construction materials, slowly moved her hand, touching the other eye with her thumb. Annette heard, processed and followed a simple direction. All the prayers from hundreds of people across the country were being answered. A miracle had taken place before our eyes.
Sharing the video of this momentous accomplishment to our prayer warriors opened the floodgates of emotion as the responses elicited tears.
“That video is incredible!”
“Praise God!”
“I know that our Lord has had his hand in her recovery.”
“Thank you, Jesus!”
The state agencies agreed with the family’s decision. The doctor ordered the removal of the respirator. From the hallway we heard Annette coughing loudly. Moments later the doctor emerged from the ICU room we had become much too familiar with and announced that she was breathing on her own. We each, in our own way, thanked God that his will included Annette’s survival without the respirator.
The message to our prayer warriors elicited many variations of the simple statement, “Prayers can be answered.”
Yes, prayers are answered. We may not recognize our prayers being answered as clearly as we saw them with Annette’s miraculous recovery. But, with faith and trust in our Lord, we can weather any storm before us. Knowing that he is with us provides us with the strength needed to overcome any challenge. We cannot tackle them on our own. We need the helping hand of God to hold us and guide us through the most difficult problems in our lives. And, like Annette, we will see the light of a new day and be strengthened by his presence in our lives.
Pete Ludden is a parishioner at Sacred Heart Church in Cicero. He and his wife have four sons and two grandsons. Pete is a Eucharistic Minister, lector and altar server for funerals and daily Mass at Sacred Heart. Previously, he was a member of their Life Teen Core Team, working with the teen youth group. He retired from the New York State United Teachers in 2017, worked as the Director of Development and Grants at Road to Emmaus Ministry for four years after his retirement and is currently a volunteer assistant baseball coach at SUNY Polytechnic Institute.
