You have relieved me in my distress;
Psalm 4:1b NKJV
The saga continues…
About nine
the following morning, another nurse let herself into the house through our unlocked front door, strode determinately into
my bedroom, took one look at my pathetic, unresponsive veins and knelt confidently
by my bed to work. Within minutes she had painlessly threaded a catheter into
my vein and connected me to the IV unit. The fluid dripped methodically into
the tube, and a relief rapidly advanced through my body.
I hoped
this treatment would return me to normal within hours, since two obstacles confronted me: How would I care for Parker and drive him to pre-school
two times a week; and how would I change the IV bags when Chris was at work?
To take
care of the first concern, Chris and I decided to extend Parker’s pre-school
time from two to five days a week – from seven thirty in the morning until three
o’clock in the afternoon – so I could remain in bed. Tammy,* a friend from
church, graciously volunteered to pick him up at three to take him back to her
house to play with her three daughters. Then Chris would pick him up after work.
I’d have to
deal with the second concern, by learning how to change the IV bags myself, if
necessary.
The more
concentrated anti-nausea injections started working, and the IV solution
restored some health to my body. After three days, I could sip Ginger Ale and nibble
on dry cereal – and keep them down.
Church members brought Chris and Parker meals, and the glorious day when I could
enjoy bagels and donuts finally arrived! Reading material I voraciously absorbed
piled up on the floor on my side of the bed, and I enjoyed reasonable stretches
of comfortable sleep. The big day arrived – six days after the treatment was
ordered – when they felt that I no longer needed the IV therapy. The nurse
would return the following day to remove the tube. Confinement to the house
would continue through the weekend, without
encumbrances to hamper my movements, or brain-jarring alarms sounding throughout
the night. I’d be untethered and free!
~ ~ ~
My release
to freedom didn’t come as easily as expected. The nurse who promised to return
at nine in the morning arrived at three in the afternoon. This wouldn’t have
been too much of a problem, if it weren’t for the terrifying night Chris and I
experienced.
In the
dark, early morning hours, I awakened abruptly and found myself staring at a
large air bubble migrating down the IV tube toward my arm. The machine had
failed to sound its empty bag alarm. In the middle of frantically trying to
shut the machine down, Chris managed to siphon my blood back into the tube.
The on-call
nurse, whom Chris phoned in panic at four-thirty in the morning, was indifferent
to our plight. She said she was unfamiliar with the type of IV line inserted
into my arm, even after repeated explanations about what it looked like and how
it was inserted. She even sounded incensed that we had awakened her to request
help, and managed to succeed in making Chris seethe with uncharacteristic anger
when she refused to come to the house. Instead, she condescendingly assured us
that someone would arrive at nine in the morning to remove the line, and then
nonchalantly offered us another option: Chris could remove the tube and inject heparin into the line himself.
After
shutting down the machine and managing to stop the vacuum action of the tube,
Chris’s anger and disgust escalated, intensifying my guilt and feelings of
helplessness. Bitterly frustrated, he strode across the room, pivoted to an
abrupt stop, glared at me from the foot of our bed and blurted out, “I don’t
know about you, but if this doesn’t
work out for some reason, I don’t think I can go through it again!” Swamped in fear,
exhaustion and weakness, I could only agree with his assessment.
Inwardly, I
wasn’t so sure. If I were unable to carry this child to term, could I
intentionally embark on a similar journey of such agony, frustration and
paralyzing fear? I just knew that in my current physical and mental state, it
wasn’t a good time to be making that decision.
When the
home health nurse eventually made her appearance, she was confronted with a small
blood clot at the IV entrance site. After repeated, unsuccessful attempts to
dissolve the clot with heparin injections – she slipped the tube easily from my
vein. Then she pronounced that if I needed IV therapy again, they would insert
another tube.
She quickly
whisked away the vestiges of hospital-room equipment. Parker would again be
able to jump on the bed and envelop me in his gargantuan hugs. It had been
difficult for him to keep his distance from the machine and understand that his
mommy needed seclusion and rest. Valiantly, he tried to control his
two-and-a-half-year-old perpetual motion body, to lie quietly curled against my
left side during afternoon naps. Sometimes he’d grab my hairbrushes and gently
brush and “style” my hair. He had a confined, captive audience and often took
advantage of the situation by depositing heaps of Match Box cars and Hot Wheels
racers next to me – for us “to play.”
But
schedules and activities had to resume some normalcy since I needed to work.
Vacation was over, just another short detour in the road. We had goals to meet
and plans to keep. The world’s roller-coaster ride beckoned us. As soon as the
doctor gave the thumbs up, we intended to scramble back on.
Now I look
back on it and wonder if God sighed, shook His head sadly and whispered, “When
will what I give them ever be enough?”
~ ~ ~
Enough. Is it ever enough for any of us?
In next
week’s blog, I’ll take a brief break from my story and begin discussing the
shaky faith and compartmentalized, worldly thinking that led to our poor
decisions and behavior. Maybe you’ll identify. Maybe you’ll be convicted.
Perhaps I can help others avoid the tragic, life-altering mistakes we made.
Hopefully, the discussion will cause all of us to reexamine our fragile lives
and faith in light of truth.
I’ll also
start talking about the stress our son experienced but didn’t display until
later. All was not well, and our energies were so focused elsewhere that we
failed to both recognize his internalized fear and adequately address his needs.
Children are resilient, but their feelings under adverse circumstances – like
ours – must be addressed.
Thanks for
joining me. Until next week!
Blessings,
Andrea
* name changed to
protect privacy
_______________________________________
For those who haven’t read the comments and my response on
the October 24 blog, I have included the comment of a reader below. He had a
very important point to make about insurance coverage and pregnancy often being
considered a “pre-existing condition.”
Regards,
Chris from medicalaidsite.co.za