<TITLE>24. Par 78-80</TITLE>L-78 Well, I run the car out towards Charlestown, the Lancassange Creek had backed up, four miles of the swiftest water. I went, got my boat. I couldn't pierce that stream to save me; it would fly back. I met some of them there, said, "You know, when they crossed that trestle over there, the train washed off the track," between Charlestown and Jeffersonville. And there me trying to get there, and got marooned out there by myself. And I had several days to set out there and think it all over.
Then when I could cross and get over again, I got to Charlestown; they said at there, "We hadn't heard nothing of my wife." I met an old friend of mine, we went walking down the street together; he said, "We will ask that dispatcher."
Dispatcher said, "Why, yes, I put off a sick mother and two children at Columbus, Indiana."

L-79 And when a friend picked me up and took me to Columbus, then when I run into the Baptist church there, the gymnasium room being used for--a auditorium there for sick--where they put their sick. I went in there and the people crying and walking over each other, and--and the little old cots setting around. And I begin to scream; I got frantic. And I begin to scream, "Oh, Hope, where are you sweetheart? Where are you?" And I was running through there, "Where are you?"
And way back over in a corner, I'll never forget it; I seen a bony hand raise up like that [Blank.spot.on.tape--Ed.]... my darling dying. I went over there to her real quick. I looked down at her, those dark eyes was sunk way back in her head, and her beautiful smooth face had drawed in. And she looked at me. And oh, I couldn't stand it. I--I just sunk down the side of the bed, and I said, "Oh, God, have mercy."
And she said, "I look horrible, don't I?"
And I said, "No, you're all right, honey." I said, "Where's Billy Paul and the baby?"
Said, "They're in... Somebody's got them down here in a room."
I said, "Are they alive and all right?"
Said, "Yes."
And just then I felt somebody tap me on the shoulder, and it was the doctor, he said, "Reverend Branham?"
And I said, "Yes."
Said, "Aren't you a friend of Doctor Sam Adair?"
And I said, "Yes."
Said, "Come over here just a minute." I walked over, and he said, "Now, Reverend Branham, I want to give you the shock so you'll know," so you can get over it, said, "you wife has developed galloping tuberculosis; she can't live but just a little bit." Said, "She's dying now."
I said, "Doctor, that can't be so."
He said, "It is so." Said, "Now, don't you let her know it, but you just go on, 'cause Doctor Adair knows about it, and told me to tell you, he didn't want to tell you."
And I said, "All right."

L-80 And I went back over there knowing she was going, and oh my... And I--I asked the doctor, after it dried up and I could take her home? We come down home; we done everything that laid in human power to try to save her life. But we couldn't do it. I give her pneumothorax treatments, went and got a pneumothorax machine. They didn't even have one in town. When she'd hold my hand, I'd have to pry her fingers loose from my hands. They bore a hole in her side and collapsed them lungs. If it was to go over again, I wouldn't do it. And there, how she was, suffered and suffered.
Finally a great doctor from Louisville come over, by the name of Miller. He called me off to one side, said, "Reverend Branham, she can't live but just a little while longer; she's going on." Said, "She can't live."


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