Sunday, April 25, 2010

Anguish, Anger and JOY

Moments of Anguish, Moments of Anger, Moments of JOY

My moments of anguish were spent in the hospital watching my husband struggle to survive his devastating-cardio-pulmonary arrest.  Watching his body swell to an unrecognizable shape when it was discovered that when he was intubated on our kitchen floor, a hole was torn in his windpipe and the ventilator he was on was putting oxygen into every tissue of his body.  A stint was put into place to release all the oxygen and the swelling went down.  Moments of anguish when we were told that he would remain in a vegetative state and would never walk again or function again.  Moments of anguish when his liver, kidneys and lungs started to fail.  Moments of anguish when he was moved out of intensive care into isolation because he had developed a staph infection.  We had to wear gloves and masks to visit him.

His body was deteriorating and it was so critical to get him into a rehab hospital, but the hospital wouldn’t take him as long as he had the staph infection.

Moments of anger.  When they told me that the rehab hospital would not take him with the infection, I screamed at GOD in anger and frustration.  My God, My God, where are you.  After my screaming, sobbing fit with God, I went back into my husbands room and the nurses came running in to tell me the ambulance was on its way to take him to the rehab hospital 30 miles away because the last test they had done showed that the infection WAS GONE.    Our doctor dropped everything to come to the hospital to put in his medication tubes so he could be transported to the rehab hospital.  The ambulance came and there was a mad dash to the rehab hospital because they would not accept him that day unless we could get him there by 5:00 PM.  The ambulance left the hospital at 4:00 PM and got him to the rehab hospital in time.  MOMENT OF JOY!  MOMENT OF MIRACLE!

There were many more moments of anguish, anger and joy to come.  Each, I believe, to teach me something about our journey.  As angry as I was at our loving God, I know, without a doubt, that everything was put into place for the journey we were about to take together.

I think I am waiting for the final miracle to take place.  That is for his brain to become whole again and to enable him to know who he is, who I am, where we are and how to do such a simple thing as getting himself a drink of water, or to become continent again.  I know this may never happen, but I never give up hope that it is possible.

4 comments:

Wendy said...

The pain and fear and helplessness we feel when we watch someone suffer. It can't be described fully but I think you have in some way described this pain. Thanks for the post and your honesty. I appreciate that it must be very hard to share these things with others in such a public forum. I truly hope it helps in some way. Peace to you, Wendy

Healing Morning said...

Judy, I've been behind on important blogs, so am getting caught up on reading. This post gives even more understanding and a window into what you experienced at the beginning of this journey. Strength comes to us all in unexpected ways, usually in a manner we'd just as soon never learn, but I think it paints our Souls in a quiet beauty. In the same way your husband's spirit shines in his eyes, I think your spirit glows equally brightly.

I admit to mourning several things for you, things that no doubt you've mourned already - the cessation of life as you knew it, the dream of that mountain home not being physically realized, as well as growing old together in a different manner. I would change all of this for you both if I had some miraculous power. I do not, of course, so all I can do is write and show you that you do touch hearts and make a difference with your writing.

~ Dawn

Queen-Size funny bone said...

It just reminds us how life can change in a mere moment. Wish I could be the woman you have become because of this tragedy.

Michael's Kitchen said...

Judy, I admire your strength and courage through all of this, Your in my prayers... mike