Bell's Bum Liver

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." Isaiah 41:10

My father had appeared to have a nasty stomach bug for days. He rarely got sick and would usually spring back, no problem, but this particular virus seemed to be *extra* malicious. Vomiting, diarrhea, fatigue, dehydration - he was having a tough time.

My stepmother, Dawn, and I had actually spoken on the phone about it. We threw around theories (mainly the idea of food poisoning or simply the stomach flu), but neither of us felt terribly worried about it, because Craig Bell is the strongest, most stubborn man we know. It was nothing he couldn’t handle.

And a good thing too, because they didn’t have health insurance.

My father and stepmother had been struggling for years to become financially stable. They walked with the Lord through every moment, and the Lord always provided what was needed exactly when it mattered most. Health insurance for themselves was low on the priority list.

The priority had always been the kids - feeding them, making sure they were well, taking care of doctor’s visits, providing support through chronic illnesses, CARING deeply and showing God’s Grace through every trial that was presented to them. The kids (myself, my older brother, Sean, my younger brother, Samuel, my step-sister, Emma, and my step-brother, Cole) are mostly grown and independent, except for Cole, who is now a senior in high school. It didn’t matter to Dawn and Craig that their children are now adults; their priorities never changed. Make sure the kids KNOW they are cared for. Make sure they KNOW how proud of them we are.

They finally finished fighting their eight year long war with bankruptcy. Craig and Dawn were reaching a point where they might, finally, be stable enough to think about the cost of health insurance for the both of them.

My stepmom called me in a panic. "I've called an ambulance! He asked me to call 911!"

Encouraging my father to go to the doctor was like pulling teeth. His reaction to every prod to have his health checked was “Let’s wait and see.” The monetary cost was always considered. It wasn’t because my father hated medical visits. The question was always “Is this worth the cost?”. Sometimes it was, and he would go. Sometimes it wasn’t, and he would get better anyway.

So this was extreme.

“What happened?” I asked Dawn. Numbers were immediately running through my head. This is going to cost them a fortune that they can’t afford.

She was struggling to speak. I heard and felt her fear. “He’s so pale. He can’t move. I - I need to go, they’re here. The ambulance is here.”

“Go!” I said, and the call disconnected. I stood there holding my phone for a moment, the logical side of my brain working to figure out the nearest hospital to their house. The emotional side could wait.

I did, in fact, barely beat the ambulance to the hospital. Dawn had followed in her car, and we stood together to watch the paramedics unload my father and wheel him into the emergency care unit. I remember thinking that he looked like a corpse. It was as if there was no blood left in his body.

Dawn was allowed to go back and be with him after several minutes. I knew to stay put until she came back for me. Her father, Larry, showed shortly into our time in the waiting room. My younger brother, Samuel, came to be with us as well. We sat together quietly, discussing theories about what may have happened to cause this.

Dawn came back to fetch me several minutes later.

As it happens - there was, in fact, barely any blood in his body. He had been bleeding internally for the past few days, and his body was expelling the blood, disguised as a nasty stomach bug.

He received blood and excellent care, and survived his first few hours in the hospital. The medical staff didn’t even flinch when Dawn honestly informed them, up front, that they do not have health insurance. It would be dealt with later.

We very nearly lost him in those precious moments. I try not to dwell on that.

He was moved to the ICU. He was barely conscious and stuck full of needles and wires, but he was alive. That’s what mattered.

He was in the ICU for five days while the medical staff ran their tests and took their scans. Through two endoscopies they found the bleeders, which were in the esophagus, and cauterized them. They tied off blood vessels that were threatening to burst. They stopped the bleeding, but still needed to know why he had been bleeding.

My father, who has never been interested in alcohol, my father who doesn’t drink, my father who works himself to the bone to make sure his family is fed and happy with a roof over their heads, has a failing liver due to undiagnosed type two diabetes.

He had zero symptoms. Nobody saw it. And that’s saying something, as my older brother Sean was diagnosed with type one diabetes at thirteen, and I myself was diagnosed with Lupus just a few years ago. We are well-versed and educated in chronic illnesses and can spot it from a mile away.

Craig didn’t even fit the profile. He was at a healthy weight and didn’t seem to be struggling with the highs and lows of blood sugar. He wasn’t drinking excessive amounts of water. He was as active as he’s always been. He never acted sick.

The ordeal felt sudden and violent, occurring with zero buildup or warning.

My dad stabilized, and, after a week, was released from the hospital, with the knowledge that he needs a new liver.

I tell you all of this to show how well this man is loved, and how much he deserves to be alive, without the financial burden of this initial hospital stay. The man has been selflessly sacrificing for years and years, for the health and the well-being of his family. That was (and is) his top priority, before anything else.

We need help with the costs of the hospital visit, the new costs of all the medication my dad is now on, and future costs regarding doctor’s visits and a new liver.

Changes are happening. Dad wants to live. He has already made the decision to modify his diet, to obtain health insurance, and to allow God to guide him through every single day, one day at a time.

I love my dad dearly, and I’m extremely blessed to be able to truthfully say that. He has shaped the person I am and supported me every step of the way. I wasn’t ready to lose him when he was in the hospital, dying from blood loss, and I don’t think I will be ready to lose him in a few months, a year, two years - when the time comes for a new liver. We have been deeply humbled by this experience and ask for a donation - anything helps.

P.S... My dad maintained his humor and insisted that I publish this using the placeholder title, "Bell's Bum Liver". It was a bad joke in the moment, but sums it up so well, we kept it.