Curiosity

Dan looked at me through the computer on Skype Thursday evening and relayed the events of that afternoon. She had been scheduled to start home I.V. therapy, but the home health nurses were unable to get her port to flush. Further, she experienced burning and swelling in her chest every time they forced the plunger down on the syringe. So, even though she began insisting I didn't need to come, I packed up and made the drive to Birmingham that evening. She was admitted to the hospital through the Emergency Room, and after an x-ray and ultrasound it was determined that she needs a new port. After being completely irate and infuriated all over again at the surgeon who placed her port in the first place, I have come to accept that God has a plan. It is better this happened now than in the middle of transplant or shortly after. She will be able to get everything she needs during her surgery and after without a problem, so that is a blessing. We will need lots of prayer because she will not receive general anesthesia. That can be dangerous to her lungs at her current functions, so they will be using local anesthesia (numbing the area) and sedation drugs. UAB is very different from USA. In some ways if you've done one hospital stay, you have done them all... But, we are hospital connoisseurs. We have seen the best and the worst and everything in between. Further, Dan is no longer being seen at a Children's Hospital, so some of the differences are probably due to the fact that the adult hospital is not as familiar with dealing with parents. Still, we are adjusting and learning how to best advocate for what Dan needs. However, at UAB, we have to pay closer attention to what the doctors' orders are and what each person says with regard to her treatment, because after they leave the room, the next person coming in has no clue what has been said. I'm thinking, "Don't y'all write it down in a chart or type it in a computer... Something... Jeeze. Jot it on a post-it. Send a text. Post it to your Facebook wall." Just communicate. With all the techonology available, there is no excuse... And I will be happy to lend someone a pen. The most interesting thing this stay, though, has been all the curious sights and events in the corridor. In every hospital, there are two categories of people. (Well, three- But, the people visiting new babies don't really count.) There are the people visiting whose family members have had some sort of trauma or have had to have a surgery for something. They wander around looking tired and bewildered about the whole experience. These are the uninitiated. I don't fall into that category. And, I look upon them with envy sometimes. I imagine them going home and talking at dinner several years after the fact about the time that so-and-so was in the hospital and how horrible and traumatic it was. Then there is my category of folk. We are the initiated. We joined a club that we never wanted to join with people we didn't particularly ever want to meet. There is something different in the eyes of the initiated. When we meet each other's gaze, we simply nod to one another giving a empathetic little smile silently wishing one another well. We come and we visit. We stay and we hold hands. Sometimes we throw fits; we cry; we rest fitfully; we pray fervently... We even have moments of laughing hysterically and chatting amiably. Probably, we look somewhat the same as the uninitiated. The difference is we know this is not the last time. We know the last time is in the future, and while we would welcome the relief of not having to come back to the hospital, sometimes not coming back would mean the loss of the person we are here loving and waiting upon. So, we endure. We wander down for coffee and tell a story with our eyes that never needs to be spoken aloud. The initiated don't interest me. I feel for them, and while I occasionally have had the opportunity and sometimes privilege to learn their stories, I don't seek it. I'm not curious. I am, however, extremely curious about the stories of the uninitiated. Currently, there is a family of about 20 people who have brought pillows, blankets, sleeping bags and clothing and have set up a camp in the atrium lobby. Often you see people slumped in a chair exhausted and napping, but rarely do you see a huge family of people in jammies and nighties camping around in the lobby. It's like they are waiting for concert tickets yearning to be the first in line... And, so I wonder about their story. I'm going to church this morning, so I need to shower as to not offend my pew mates. Thanks for your support and your prayers. And, don't feel guilty for being one of the uninitiated. I hope you never need to join our club.