There has been several people that were not aware of what had happened to my youngest son, Spencer (3 1/2 years old). He woke up on Tuesday, the 28th of June, 2005, with severe stomach pains... enough to make him double over. Of course, me being at home with him, took the usual daddy stance of 'suck it up'... no, I'm kidding, we tryied to figure out what the problem was.. had his older brother Carson (6 years old) hit him accidentally before getting out of bed, or had he ate something that completely disagreed with him, or possibly, had he gotten into something in one of the locked cabinets and swallowed something poisonious. Well, I canceled classes for the morning, making sure that I was able to spend time comforting him, and then my fears quickly faded, as he started making a quick recovery. He started wanting to wrestle, play rough and jump around... although occassionally he would tell me that his stomache hurt... ahh, must be something less serious.

With the fright behind us, I decided it fine for me to go to the Karate School for the evening classes, and would check in later with Kim (my wife), to see how Spencer was doing. Around 7pm, she informed me that he had gotten worse, and that they were on their way to the Emergency room, I should meet them there soon. With out hesitation, I closed shop, and sped to the Hospital. There lay my son, in a room, on a small bed, writhing in pain... crying for mommy and me to make it stop. The doctors, as hard as they tried were unable to diagnose the cause, so they hurried us to the Emergency Room at Scottish Rite. There we were admitted to yet another room, where we waited while tests were run, examinations were made, and we spent (Kim, Carson and I) as much time as we could trying to help Spencer, with little effect.

Somewhere near 6am, we were admitted to a room in the Hospital, now away from the Emergency area... only to have the Nurses bring in an anesthesiologist, who preceeded to inform us of the dangers associated with surgeory and medications and so on. Somehow, daddy was kept out of the loop, possibly durring one of my 7-8 minute naps, that the doctors had reason to suspect an appendicitus, although there was no 100% certainty. With that said, the doctor shows later, and makes sure that things are alright in preparation for the surgeory. By 11am, they where wheeling him down the hallways on a small bed... off to a room that is near the operating room. We say our goodbyes and give kisses, telling him that everything will be alright. Tears from my eyes, holding back as much as I can, while seeing my "little guy" smile at me.

A few hours later, he comes back to the room, with doctors and nurses in tow. they have had a success, and the apendix was not actually the problem. Turns out that he is in an elite group (approx 2% of the population) that has a small peice of intestine that is extra or excess. That section ends up knotting around itself, and sometimes other stuff (that's a technical term... the doctor said it). It mimics the symptoms of an appendicitus.

With all that done and behind us, Spencer made a very speedy recovery... making himself get out of bed, and making that loooooong journey down the hall to the vending machine to get some candy. We have many a photo of my little guy, slowly strolling down the hall in his little gown, with of course, his fanny hanging out the back.

It's times like this, and times like these, that remind me of the fact that God is in charge, not me. My little guy was definitely in danger of something serious, and the doctors did what they were trained to do, but without God guiding their hands as he does, we could have had this turn very bad very quickly. Thank you for your prayers and the gifts that Spencer recieved, you are all too kind.

Thank you, again for letting us be a part of your lives.

Keith Mathews