Godstoppedby

Friday, March 7, 2014

SOMETIMES, WE JUST WAIT

The day is coming to a close; the hospital is quieter and the pace has slowed down considerably. Today, as often happens when we're in the hospital, plans changed. Adam did not get his PICC line. The infectious disease specialists haven't decided how long Adam will need to be treated for the infection, which we now know is klebsiella, a bacteria that can be found on the skin. It isn't usually a problem there, but is definitely a problem when it gets introduced into the fluid in the brain. This could have happened when his incision began to leak.  Anyway, since the specialists aren't sure how long they want to treat this infection until they see another sample of Adam's cerebral-spinal fluid,  the neurosurgery team doesn't want a PICC line placed in case he doesn't really need it. So we wait for the next turn of events.

We did, however, go downstairs for a Doppler study. It was a precautionary measure as Adam has been in bed so much this past month. The Doppler was to check his legs to be sure he isn't developing any blood clots. Good news; he isn't. He also got a new i.v. placed, because the other one was four days old, and that's the limit.

It's almost 10:00 p.m. It's dark outside when I look straight out the window, and I can see the lights od the surrounding neighborhoods and streets. When I look down, it's very bright in the parking lots and roadways of the hospital. I can see the helipad for the emergency airlift transports. It's right near the emergency room entrance. Sometimes I can hear and see the helicopters land, but not tonight.

Tonight, as things quiet down, and Adam goes to sleep, I'll be alone with my thoughts and my hopes and my prayers, just like when I'm home and everyone else is sleeping. I'll be waiting to hear about what comes next. It always strikes me, when we're in the hospital for these extended times, how everything in our life centers on the crisis we're attending to, but how everything else in the world just goes on, without even a notice of the dramas taking place in these towers. And I know it will be exactly the same for us when we go home again; we'll go about our lives, almost as if this time never happened. We'll just kind of shed this experience like a butterfly sheds it's cocoon  and flies free. And I'm thankful that we can.

IT'A 5:30 A.M AND I'M UP

I'm awake and the sun isn't. It isn't the first time and it won't be the last. As I look out our window, I wonder how high you have to be to see the curve of the earth; and I know you can from the top of the Himalayas, but I don't know how high that is. We're on the 18th floor of the north tower of Stony Brook Hospital. When I look to the north, I can see Connecticut across the Long Island Sound. The cars below us look like Matchbox cars. The lights below show the remains of salt on the roadways and parking lots; a reminder of the storms of this passing winter. I hope there aren't going to be any more. My life has also been a swirling mass of storms in this passing season. I don't like it vey much. I know God is with me, but I don't know why He allows all of this. I trust Him but I wish He would just make it stop. I don't want anyone to try to defend God for how He does things, and I won't defend Him either. The reason is because not one of us truly knows why He does things the way that He does. This is where I learn about really trusting my heavenly father. "...though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..." Psalm 23. The shadow of death, not the real thing. When the enemy comes in like a flood, and wants me to think he is too strong for me, I will turn to God and cry out for what I need and what those around me need.

Today I need strength and peace. Adam will have a pic line placed in his upper arm. This is good and bad. Bad because he has to go through an unpleasant procedure, good because he won't have to be continually stuck for blood draws and new i.v. lines. The pic line goes into vessels that are deeper and larger than the ones used for traditional i.v.lines; blood can be drawn through pic lines, so Adam won't need to be stuck everyday to see how the antibiotics are working. I don't know if they'll allow me to stay with him when they do this procedure. I do know they'll give him medication to calm him and help him not resist what takes place. He needs to be still while they cut into his arm and thread the line into his vein. It will be hard for him, but Adam is resilient, and he always forgives anyone who hurts him. And always smiles at them when they're finished. I learn a lot from Adam.

God will be stopping by in all of this; He always does. In reality, He never leaves.