Survival Mode

It’s almost bedtime and I’m wracking my brain for something inspirational to write about.  Nothing comes to mind.  Now, I had previously decided to always write about things that uplift or give thoughtful insights into everyday things.  Most of us are surrounded by everyday things, and we don’t take time to savor and inspect them.  An everyday thing that comes too often in our household is a trip to the emergency room.

My husband has heart trouble and COPD.  Thanks to modern medicine, he is living extra years and is still a fairly healthy and viable person.  But let the oxygen or medicine that is so finely tuned get out of whack, and we know it’s time to head to the hospital.  At least I do.  It takes come convincing on his part, as he hates sitting in a room for several hours.  I can usually judge how sick he is by the degree of protestation he puts out.  If course, I can remind him of the times I have found him unresponsive of the morning, and the ambulance attendants had to drag him off the bed by his feet (too heavy to lift) onto the stretcher.  This reminder serves to get him to go if he knows he is getting worse.

Today was one of those days.  He called me from his volunteer job and said I needed to come get him.  I have the routine down fairly well.  Take my medicine, a banana to go with it, grab his medication list, a book, reading glasses, our wallets, and out the door in about five minutes.  When he’s having trouble with his oxygen levels he is usually somewhat incoherent.  So, here we go through the hospital doors, and he’s trying to control everything and everyone around him.  The doctors and nurses know us by sight and name, and just laugh it off until he starts thinking right again.  He looks to me to explain things to him because he is hard of hearing.  So, here I am shouting at an incoherent man, while a baby cries in the next room.  God, you will get us through this day, won’t you?

All the tests and x-rays are completed, and my husband is back to himself.  All we need to do it wait until he finishes two bags of fluid for dehydration.  The IV’s fail, the beeper goes off repeatedly, the first baby goes home, another crying baby comes into the next room, and I spill a soft drink on the floor. And my husband, who hasn’t eaten since breakfast, is hungry.  We’ve been there eight hours when the fluid in finally finished.  By this time, since my husband is hurting from lying in the bed so long, he has gotten up and into his wheelchair.  I am aching, so I get into the bed and fall asleep.  I’m so glad the nurse (new from shift change) didn’t put the IV in me!

So I think this was a survival day, for me, my husband and the staff at the emergency room.  “Lo, and I am with you always,” says the Lord.