Thursday, April 16, 2015

Warning! You Are About to Enter the Feelings Zone

Spring feels a little more powerful to me this year.  We left here in a hurry in mid-February with snow and ice threatening our safety.  Though I have been home a couple times intermittently, it is amazing to leave in February and come home with full blown spring in process.  It is like we've lost those months in a time warp.

 The trees were stark and dead looking when we left and almost every tree in our yard is filled with infant leaves now.  The grass was brown and covered with snow previously and now it is green and needing mowing.  My landscape plants are starting to awaken to the season and the birds' singing is the most amazingly, beautiful sound to my ears.  

To go from the constant noise of a hospital with all the beeping of IV pumps, the announcements on the intercom, and the hustle bustle of the never ending activity whether day or night to the peaceful symphony of birds singing is indescribably wonderful.

But my heart wonders.....

I'm wondering when they will get the feeding tube positioned correctly today?  How will the feedings go when they start them after the 24 hour wait?  Did my son sleep well last night?  Is he still vomiting up everything he drinks? How long will he remain in the hospital?

And those are just the questions for today.  

My mind wanders to the future days when we are finally able to bring him back to our house. because, you see, even when he comes home the gavel will not have hit the desk yet declaring him well and case adjourned. 

Will I be able to effectively care for all of his medical needs? Will they require me to measure what comes out of his drains every couple hours as they are now or will I be able to just empty them every couple hours and flush them every 8 hours? Will I be able to tolerate the smells?  Will we have someone to give him his IV antibiotics or will they train me to hook him up to his picc line? How about that feeding tube? Will I be sterile enough in my work that he doesn't get more infections? Will he be able to shower or will we have to figure out something else? What clothes will he need to fit over his drains and also fit his body which has shrunken several sizes?

When I was sitting in the hospital room the past few days my mind was fixed on these questions. Because it will not end on the day they send him home with us and that picks at my soul.  While other folks are anticipating their kids' weddings, new grandchildren, first jobs or other achievements I am hoping my kid will make it out of the hospital and praying he will one day have a normal life again.  That sounds like I'm feeling sorry for myself or that I'm unable to be happy for you.  Not really.  It is just my reality and I'm telling you how I feel.  

My other children's lives are ongoing and they want to be happy and enjoy the normal fun events of life too.  But in the back of their minds is the fact that their loved and cherished brother is fighting just to be well again. Should they feel guilty for moving forward? Their parents are pretty focused on one kid right now. You can imagine how they might feel.

And lastly, being prayed for, loved, visited, encouraged and helped is a very humbling thing. Each person who has come down to visit Adam has made him shake his head in wonder.  He has felt your love and encouragement by your many acts of kindness toward him.  In your love for him you have loved us and it is overwhelmingly appreciated.

A dear cousin of mine graciously offered to drive here and in her words "come out there and hold your arms up like Aaron did for Moses".  Amazing.

But let me say that we need that in the spiritual sense.  Many days I feel so weary and dried up spiritually that all I can pray is "Jesus, please heal my boy".  The words won't come and the strength is gone in myself.  That is when I depend on Jesus to send me your comforting words and prayers to keep me going when it feels like I cannot any longer in my own strength. 

Thank you, dear friends.  We appreciate you more than I can express.

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