We are approaching the one month mark of my dad's hospitalization in California. My mom was there the entire time; my dad's sister joined mom a week or two ago--all the timelines blur. But the goal was to fly dad to Mayo, so he could start the cancer treatment clinical trial if his body could sustain the harshness of the chemo (that part is no longer looking like an option, but at least he's a million states closer). It seemed like all the details came together at the last minute, and dad, mom, and Aunt C found themselves jetting toward Minnesota in a Lear (Aunt C's third flight ever! Talk about an upgrade :).
My new good friend knew that this has been a very stressful time for our family and for me because she's part of our home group which is faithfully praying for all these wild requests that come down the line. And they rejoice with us when there are answered prayers like no more clots, no more strokes, an open bed at Mayo's stroke recovery center, and this fast plane to the Land of 10,000 Lakes. Anyway, she got me flowers. So did Buck, so now I have a lot of flowers :)
During this time, my brother and sister-in-law received some shocking and saddening news about her health. Her pneumonia isn't just pneumonia, and now they are facing a scary cancer diagnosis. They and mom invited us to come and visit, so Caelan and I grabbed her driver's ed curriculum and gassed up the van. She drove for more than 10 hours over the ensuing days (I took over when she was exhausted and when those mysterious Minnesotan allergies that seem to swamp my kids took her over). Somehow earlier this same week, I hurt my back. I was feeling it, but not nearly as much as I was feeling it after all those hours in the van and sleeping in a hotel bed.
We managed to find the underground parking ramp after getting caught up in the construction outside the entrance to the hospital campus (which is also valet and patient pick-up). She did everything but actually fit into the tiny, cramped subterranean parking space. To our amazement, we arrived in dad's room at exactly 5:30 (our projected arrival time) . . . to three utterly exhausted-looking people.
Mom and Aunt C took turns trying to wake dad up. He'd had quite a day with therapy and tests--he was out! Eventually the nurse man, who has a window-view desk from the front corner of dad's room, came in to help with dinnertime. Dad got his eyes open, recognized us, and then set forth an virtual rainstorm of funny, sassy observations. His food was dog food (can't argue there, pureed everything reshaped to look like the original food . . . the "French toast" really did look like dog food), he had a check list for looking down to the left, chew twice, swallow twice "CHECK!"; little police cars were going to come in and check up on him if he missed any eating steps :) He was a in a goofy mood, which was good to see. Caelan was surprised he needed to be spoon fed, well, he did feed himself a few bites of potatoes and took a run at the yogurt, raspberry smoothie, and thickened coffee . . . he'd ordered a squishy feast!
We were in and out of the room as medical staff needed to do this and that. Mom showed us the sweet PT room with every imaginable therapy contraption available. They even have open air, but completely internal, courtyards with basketball hoops. Dad's floor is also shared by pediatrics and wee babies, just different wings, so we could see cribs through the windows across the way.
Dad liked the cards the other three kids besides Caelan made him, got a laugh out of Brennen's *potato.* I said, "Two years of art lessons I've paid for that kid, and even he thinks his smiley face guy looks like a potato." :) It was good to hear dad laugh, and he also raised his left arm, two things mom said he hadn't done yet.
After a couple of hours, we decided we should head north to see my brother and sister-in-law. First mom wanted to be dropped at the airport to pick up a rental car. I decided to do the driving for this leg of the journey and it is a good thing I did. We discovered our only path north was blocked by flashing police cars and road closed signs everywhere (even side roads in the country). We found ourselves in someone's driveway across from a field as the sky grew darker. I was at the end of my patience and that was not cool.
We drove back to Rochester, found a place to eat dinner, and called Buck. I told him I thought my best move was a getting a nearby hotel room, since we'd be getting to my brother's well after 11 PM and his mother-in-law and the baby would already be fast asleep. Buck agreed, so I typed in "hotels near me" and up popped the Country Inn and Suites. I honestly didn't care. It was a two star hotel and I didn't care, who am I?! :) I haven't just walked into a hotel without a prior reservation (except one time with my mom on the way to Michigan when the kids were little) in oh, twenty years? The guy ended up giving us a king-sized room for the price of a regular room. I told Caelan we were going luxury (lol).
Caelan included her hand in my photo, to prove she was there I guess :) It was the most difficult night of sleep either of us have had in ages. My back/hip was screaming every time I flipped over which was every five minutes. My adjustments to the air conditioner left us both sweating bullets in the middle of the night, so I limped my way over to fix that around 2 AM. When the alarm I'd set went off at 6:15 AM, I didn't even want to go back to sleep. Pack it up, head it out.
We attempted the gross breakfast on the way out the door, so that was enough fuel to get Caelan back in the driver's seat. Whatever emergency/oddity had closed the highway the night before was no longer an issue. She had open roads and decent weather for the next couple of hours. We switched when we got nearer the city and needed more gas. I'm glad too, because things got nuts with more road closures and all the delights of pedestrians, bicycles, public transit, road construction, etc. etc. my brother had warned me about as we neared the hospital. Whew! This building's entrance was also under heavy construction, btw. Thought that was interesting, two for two on hospital facelifts this journey.
Grateful we'd found the correct building, first try, Caelan and I rode the elevators up to L's room. She still had her chest tube in, but it was invisible under her gown. She looked good, and very ready to go home after four days :) We sat and visited with her and her sweet roommate for awhile, and then a doctor they'd not met yet showed up. He was a Harvard-educated oncologist who tried very hard to confuse the snot out of the rest of us (probably not on purpose). I believe he was shocked when his "potential" diagnosis reduced the four of us to tears instantly. He actually sat down and wrung his hands. My brother did his best to unravel the doctor speak, and learned they really hadn't learned anything new. However, it was one of the hardest conversations they'd had thus far with a medical professional and emotions were all over the place. I'm glad we were there as silent support; I think it was a bit overwhelming to Caelan, but she handled it well. So many tears from us all :(
When the doctor left, the x-ray team came to see about getting additional pictures of L's lung. A tech came in shortly after and said the tube could be removed. Caelan was ready to leave the room at that point, so we went for a short walk :) She said, "I know that nothing to do with medical careers is for me." I remember feeling exactly the opposite, growing up. So far, we're both right.
Thankfully, removal of the tube was not painful for L. I guess the insertion was pretty horrible. She had to wait several hours for a follow-up x-ray to make sure her lung was stable (not going to collapse via pneumothorax complications). I figured they'd be home before we were, and I'm so glad that is exactly what happened! Now they are just waiting, waiting for some results to come back to shed some light on the next steps in their process of knocking this illness back a few notches.
We got back on the road, hoping to arrive home before the evening got too late. In the meantime, Buck had taken the kids to run errands and to their karate testing. Caelan ended up missing it, but I guess it's not a big deal . . . they get a few skips because it takes so long to earn their next degree belt. She wasn't feeling well, nobody at home was feeling well, Buck hadn't slept hardly at all, my back was angry, so we all just kind of flopped.
The next day I basically cried through church, the beauty of a college student getting baptized and then immediately baptizing his little sisters and his mom brought the church to its feet! Buck and I had a quiet morning in the nursery with half the normal allotment of babies, then he headed off to work. A missionary visiting from Japan told some amazing stories, and you know how missionary stories get me! And the worship, those words that sometimes your brain just automatically accepts stood out as challenges to God to honor his promises to do wonderous things.
It was a blessing when, later that hot, so very hot evening, a friend texted to say she was ordering us pizza and wings so we didn't have to worry about a meal the next day. As I watched the kids eat a variety of crackers and who knows what else for dinner, I thought, yeah, food would be good.
It turned out that Monday morning, a trip to the chiropractor left me virtually unable to walk for the next 18 hours (but I feel much better today after a follow-up adjustment). I couldn't have made dinner that night if I wanted to.
God loves us in the little things and He carries us through the big things. We are being given so many opportunities to trust in His love, care, and provision for us right now. It's not the method I would have chosen myself, but I know He works all things to the good of those who love Him. We could sure use some good.
