Today's exercise was actually a reflection back on the prior week, to acknowledge progress and identify hurdles. I have been keeping a journal with this book and looking back on what I wrote last Sunday, I laughed out loud, at the innocence of what I wanted to happen and the reality that I have no control of what happens.
Tessa had returned to school on the Friday prior, and Ken was set to drive Torrie back to college on Monday - Martin Luther King Day. I wrote that as much as my heart was heavy that the kids would be out of the house, I was ready to get back to a 'normal schedule' of work, etc. A "normal schedule"... why haven't I yet learned that those 2 words used together to describe my life, will NEVER be words to describe my life?
Leading up to last week, I had not been sleeping well. I had contracted the plague - bronchitis - over the holiday break. The coughing was horrible, especially at 2:30 am. Several nights I scurried downstairs as to not wake up the house during one of these coughing fits, which left me wide awake and thinking... worrying and praying.
About our future...
Ken and I have decided that this is the time to sell our home. For me, not being able to push, pull, lift, shove or twist anything over a gallon of milk means that I can no longer attend to the garden and yard. Ken is so busy trying to make up lost ground from losing his job last year, that he cannot be burdened by yard or snow either. It is time to downsize after twenty years. It is change, and it is so hard. But it must be done and for financial reasons, soon.
So Monday, after Ken returned Torrie to college, we sat crunching numbers for a conference call with our mortgage broker for the next day. Ken also had to have a second phase of oral surgery for a dental implant that day. Tuesday morning we were both up and out, ready to meet back in the afternoon after his surgery, for the conference call.
Ken arrived home at 12:30 after stopping at CVS for prescriptions related to his oral surgery. Keep in mind, my husband has never had a cup of coffee, can leave a 6-pack of beer untouched in the refrigerator for months or years, and balks at taking a Tylenol. However, looking to the swollen cheek, I highly suggested that he take the dose of medicine he was prescribed for pain before the local anesthetic wore off. He took one pill with Cheerios and a banana at 12:45 and then another dose at 5:45 with a big bowl of mac and cheese. (I always think of the line in the movie Christmas Vacation with Chevy Chase "I need to eat, so I can take my back pill!"). At 8:00 pm we were watching TV and he was reading a magazine and was completely fine. I took the pups and went to bed at 9:00 pm, like normal... there's that word again...
I was in that hazy stage of almost being asleep, but still aware of sounds, etc., when I heard a tremendous thump that I thought came from downstairs (Ken loves to snore so I sleep with ear plugs, so the sound and where it came from was distorted). I thought perhaps the cats (yes, we have 2 cats, also) had knocked something over, but the dogs were barking frantically, so I jumped up and ran out of our bedroom to see what had happened.
I opened our bedroom door and saw my worst nightmare...
Ken was laying splayed out on the landing outside of our bedroom. I screamed and ran to him. He was unconscious and totally unresponsive. I shook him and tried to find a pulse. I grabbed the house phone and called 911. The dogs were jumping on him, licking him, trying to get him to wake up... While crying and screaming for him to wake up and listening to the operator, I remembered CPR and began it. I couldn't get him to respond, I was screaming at him and at the operator and I felt the whole world coming down around me... this can't be happening to me... not again... I remembered trying to have my father come back to life after his suicide... caskets... funerals...NO!!!!!
The police arrived within a few minutes and Ken was coughing and mumbling when they got to him. Suddenly, there were so many people in my house, coming in every door. IV's, heart monitor, stretchers. Watching him be lifted down the stairs and out the front door, the Christmas decorations being yanked down and trampled on as they took him to the hospital.
I had to change (my pink Ho Ho Ho pj's needed to be replaced by leggings and a sweatshirt), secure the farm, grab my purse and out I went. Unbelievably, I beat the ambulance to the hospital as they were trying to stabilize Ken. I then had to wait until they brought him in from the ambulance bay and got him transferred and stabilized in the ER. My dear friend, Polly, met me and stayed by my side.
When I was finally able to go into him, he was breathing on his own, but had no idea who I was, could not follow simple commands, and could not speak. He was taken for a CT Scan of the brain and my prayers began, nonstop. Had he had a seizure, a stroke, what? He babbled like he was speaking a different language. Polly ran back to my house to get the phone number of the oral surgeon, and at 12:30 in the morning we spoke. Normal procedure, etc.
What had happened??
As the night progressed, he was being admitted. He could not remember our kid's names, dog's names, etc. He would try to speak but could only get a few words out before babbling again. Tests started to come back and they were coming back with good results. Blood enzymes showed no heart attack. CT scan came back normal. We started to look hard at the pain medicine and possible allergic reaction. He was stable and safe, so at 4:30 am, I left for an hour.
I got back to the house and it was like it had been preserved in time. The TV he had been watching in the den was still on blasting ESPN. The lights were on all over the house. The poor pups didn't know what was going on and why we weren't back snuggling under the comforter.
It was so eerie.
I didn't like it.
I sobbed.
My husband, who has had to come home countless times after leaving me in the hospital, was now in the hospital. Did he feel the same way when he used to come home? I was so tired, but I wanted to be right back to see the Drs when they made rounds. So many questions to have answered, I just wanted to close my eyes, so many phone calls to make.
My husband has endured this role for over 18 years. I was the patient, he was always the one wanting answers, wanting me to be better. It's easier to be the patient. Yes, more painful, but easier. The uncertainty that my husband has shouldered all of these years, the worry and stress he has carried alone is mind boggling. He never wavered.
He is my hero.
I can only hope to be more like him.
Unofficially, he suffered a severe reaction to the medications. He will still undergo a complete out- patient cardio and neuro work up. Officially, God, one more time, has provided us another miracle. Ken and I have been able to see each other and our experiences through each other's eyes. He has been able to see my view from the hospital and tests, pricks, prods, etc. I have been able to feel his stress and anxiety loving someone and wanting to take away their suffering.
As we move forward, having to sell our beautiful home, God has injected us with compassion for each other, that we may be able to help each other emotionally and physically through the next months. We each have a perspective and we have been given the unique ability to see them from each other's eyes. People shake their heads and ask me why do these things happen to you and your family? I no longer ask why, but accept things that happen, because God is at the steering wheel of our lives. Any of you that know Ken and me, know that having to downsize (i.e throw away, donate, sell, etc a lot of stuff) will be very difficult for us. We adore this home, leaving it will be heartbreaking.
So maybe the God that has given us miracle after miracle, has given us one more...showing us to be kind, loving and compassionate and look through each other's eyes going forward, and more importantly, through His eyes: The eyes of Love.
And most importantly, we have found that by turning our daily life over to the care and love of God, we can do anything.
Namaste,
Kim
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