There's something to be said for sitting in a Cardiac Care Unit with your family for 72 hours. Seriously, there's a word for it, but I can't think of it right now. It might be "exhausting" but I'm not sure. It could be "mind-numbing." It might be "schizophrenic", who can be sure at this point.
But here are five things I am absolutely certain of:
1. When sitting in a Cardiac ICU with your family make sure your Granny is there. It lightens the mood; for when heart surgeons and Nephrologists bombard you with words like plasmapherisis and arterial graft it's nice to know there is no decoding when it comes to Granny's words. What she says is what she means. What she means is what she says. And what she says is usually mean.
2. When everyone that you know in the free world wants an update you will find that no ones - I repeat, no ones - cell phone is working. Bubbas was working but it ran out of minutes due to some unexpected text messages and Melba's will charge but the battery won't work. Karen's will work but it can't get any signal upstairs in the hospital and although Meridith's will get signal the volume on it can't be turned up so she can neither hear calls coming in or hear what people are saying. My phone died and I didn't bring my charger but that's okay because my dad had his and the numbers are too small for him to read anyway so he gave it to Melba but then when that battery ran out she used Lawrence's because he only needed his work phone not his personal phone but he gave her the wrong one so....
3. When Hershey bars, M&M's and People magazine can no longer sustain you - prayer will. And a waiting room game of Bananagrams.
4. When someone will sit with you in the waiting room for 17 hours straight, hold your hand, tell you your hair looks good and let you fall asleep on their shoulder they are either family or friend. And quite often they are both.
5. When the surgeon arrives with the news everything stops. Talking stops. Games stop. And you even cut off the waiting room television of Dancing With The Stars, because nothing, absolutely nothing is as important as what he has to say at that very moment. And the moment he finishes talking is the moment you realize you were holding your breath the whole time.
Thank you all for allowing me time to be with my family. My uncle Donald (Meridith and Bubba's dad) is still in a critical state after a very long and exhausting and serious open heart surgery. When the surgeon has to take a nap before the surgery begins you get the feeling you're in for a long one. But thankfully God is faithful, my family is nuts and we shall all be together for the long haul.
And I heart that.
Oct 21, 2009
I Heart You.
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8 comments:
although I'm still not sure if prayer is my thing, I prayed for you this weekend. I am keeping your family in my thoughts.
I have to tell you, I know this is a horrible situation, because we've been there. I wish, though, that I had you and your granny with us. Seriously, when you can make someone laugh at a time like this, you are truly special.
Ahhhh...the ole CICU--been that, done there and hope I never have to again. But if I do, I only pray to have a support group like yours. I have thought of you often since the "hunkering down" post--good to hear from you, my funny cyber-friend.
Glad to hear things are doing okay for now. You and your family are in my prayers
Thank God for your amazing family coming together! I will be keeping you all in my prayers!
My husband says "Everyone needs to be scratched behind the ears". I am so glad you are the scratcher and the scratchee.
I have been on both sides of this situation and find they are both exhausting. My dear sweet BFF/Cousin gave me the highest complement "I want you along because you ask the hard questions".
The words that fill my head at a time like this is "It is well, with my soul".
My God's strength and peace hold you at this time.
Been there. My daughter was in a horrific car wreck a few years ago. Friends are a blessing during times like that. I had a friend who literally forced a cheese toastie down me, kept telling me a 20% chance is not a death warrant, went out & bought me a toothbrush & deodorant. I would look at her & she would tell me, "God decides Teri, not the doctors.", over & over again.
Love you, honey. I haven't ever had to sit at a hospital by someone's bedside, which my mom has done for my dad. I can't imagine. Prayers to you.
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