About two weeks ago, my aunt was diagnosed with Primary Pulmonary Hypertension, which is "a rare blood vessel disorder of the lung in which the pressure in the pulmonary artery (the blood vessel that leads from the heart to the lungs) rises above normal levels and may become life threatening." And the "primary" means that they have no idea what causes it, which makes PPH well-nigh untreatable. It's very rare--something like 2 cases per million population, per year.
The doctors gave her 3-7 years.
She is a maternity RN, has a loving husband, and 3 kids (19, 17, 15).
We were all rather in shock. But there was clearly nothing we could do except pray.
Further tests confirmed the diagnosis, enough for them to persuade their reluctant medical insurance to start kicking in.
Then my aunt went in for the Big Test, a right heart catheterization. That was supposed to tell them how far the disease had progressed. But the doctors couldn't find a trace of the disease. They redid other tests, and her pressure was down from about 60 (far too high) to 24 (nearly normal). Supposedly, this is medically impossible.
She's still short of breath, but as far as they can tell, it's no big deal. Certainly not terminal. She's going to be fine.
Praise to the God who hears our desperate prayers, and uses our distress to show His glory, sometimes by just stomping entropy into the ground.
Watching that happen on this polluted earth is a bit mindblowing.