| Essay Non-Fiction posted February 18, 2018 |
  |
Part 2
Coping With My Wife's Heart Attacks
by papa55mike
Today is surgery day. Wanda is still under heavy sedation when I walk into her room. Like always, I spent the night in the Critical Care waiting room. The hospital won't let you stay the night in ICU. Walking into Wanda's room, I ask the nurses if she had a good night. They probably think I'm nuts for asking, but always answer "yes" to humor me. Of course, she did, being so heavily sedated. I must think Wanda is going get up and start dancing. If they'd have lived through the last four nights we had at home, they would know the reason I ask them. I rub her forehead and squeeze her hand, Wanda opens her eyes but she doesn't see me. That evil chair is calling my name.
At nine o'clock, Doctor Sievers comes by to let me know that he had a surgery cancellation this morning, (whatever that means!) the surgery team was on the way to get Wanda. My mind is racing, but I know, God is in control.
I'm standing here watching the smiling surgical team head down the hall with Wanda, no tears this time. But it's all I can do to fight the fear, to keep it from taking total control. I slowly pick up my Star Wars bag full of clothes, books, tablets, pencils, and everything else I seem to own. My eyes find the window. I'm fighting back the tears, but I wipe my eyes and manage to quietly say to my reflection. "Not today, Satan! Let God's will be done and I will praise His name! No matter what."
The Critical Care waiting room is lined with flat-screen televisions and tan leather recliners that recline into a torture chamber of a bed. I speak from many nights of attempting to sleep in them, but how can I complain, Wanda is just upstairs. This waiting room is also where you wait for updates from the surgery team. A nurse will call you every hour of the operation. The other way to know what's happening is to watch the icon by your loved ones surgical code on a fifty-five-inch flat-screen television in front of the waiting room. A sleeping child means she's asleep, two closed doors mean she's in surgery, I forget what recovery's symbol is.
My son, Jerimiah, daughter-in-law, Julie, and I are reclined and trying read a book while we're impatiently waiting for a call from the operating room. But it's only been forty-five minutes. Our grandson, Cody, is on his way to the hospital from east Tennessee. I was delighted he took the time to make that seven-hour drive just to be with us for a few days. Wanda and I share so many wonderful memories with Cody. We took him on his first hike where he saw his first eagle, his first Blues festival, and too many other things to mention. Cody has always been a loving grandson, he gets it from Wanda.
Well, it's now been four hours of waiting in these wretched chairs. My back feels like it's trying to escape from my body. Where it wants to go, I don't know? If I watch Wanda's icon on that flat-screen go by one more time unchanged. I'm going to snatch that television off the wall then throw it through the plate glass window at the other end of the room that to leads to the serenity garden and make it land right in front of the life-sized angel that's standing there smiling! The Holy Spirit tells me, that's not a good thing to do. So, I insanely smile at everybody then pick up my pencil and tablet.
The surgery team has been very prompt in calling and telling us that everything is fine. But I can't stand this much longer. God is definitely teaching me patience. But more than that, it's a feeling of total helplessness. All I can do is silently pray. Like that's a bad thing.
Finally, at four-thirty in the afternoon, seven and a half hours after the surgical team left with Wanda, Doctor Sievers calls. I'm so frazzled, I think I've rubbed a bald spot on the side of my head. He told me that everything went well. All three of the arterial blockages were replaced from veins from her legs and arms. When they took Wanda off the heart and lung machine, her heart and lungs seemed to do well. A very good sign. Doctor Sievers told me Wanda will be in her new room in about an hour.
An hour later, the entire family gasps when we walk into Wanda's new room, it really shook Cody hard. He arrived at the hospital right after lunch. He hadn't seen Wanda hooked up to life support. They also added two chest pumps to get out any blood or fluid left over after surgery. It's all I can do to get to the evil chair. Tears are in every eye.
It's so hard to describe what I feel seeing Wanda lying there in bed on total life support. The fact she's alive brings joy to my heart. But I see the many tubes running in and out of her body. The ventilator tubes running down her throat giving her lungs life. The heart pump running through her neck and leg, keeping the blood flowing through her body. The feeding tube running through her nose into her stomach. The many tubes running through a needle in her neck. The nurses told me it saves her from being stuck every time they need blood or attach an IV. It's like a portal directly into her body. All they have to do is turn a plumbing shut-off valve to give Wanda her meds or take blood. I'm stunned how PVC pipe technology is being used to heal the human body.
Now, I see how delicate and fragile our bodies are. Yet, they're capable of performing acts of great strength and courage. Our God is awesome!
The one thing that Wanda and I have to realize, especially me, is that the worst is over. I know we have a long road ahead, but it's a road we're so blessed to walk down together.
~
My prayer life has been strong for a long time, but since last Friday, I think God is tired of hearing from me. I've been in complete non-stop prayer mode. It's funny, I never asked for a miracle. I wanted God's will to be done and the strength to accept it. Also, I wanted to do this the right way. I wanted to love Wanda with all my heart while being thankful, praising God with every breath I take. It's been very hard. But, so far, so good.
It's been a week since Wanda first went into the hospital. She's been on life support for six days now, counting last Friday. I've been wondering what to tell her when she wakes up. Do I tell Wanda that her heart stopped working last Friday and she flatlined? Do I tell her that she's been on total life support all of these days? What do you tell a loved one that's been through a tremendous ordeal, completely unaware? I don't want to unload any guilt or remorse on her for what she thinks, she's put us through. Wanda is that way, always thinking of others and never thinking about herself. I want Wanda to be glad she's alive, cherishing this second chance at life. To see the miracle it truly is. Not many people are given this opportunity.
On Wanda's first day in ICU, the nurse gave me her wedding band, her hands and feet are starting to swell a little. I slid it on my left pinky finger and it will be there until she asks for it back. I guess our green porch light at home is the same thing. That light has been on since we first went to the hospital. I'll turn it off when Wanda comes home.
It's still very early in the morning, I can't go up to ICU until eight o'clock because of shift change. But I sure have written a lot.
I just talked to one of Wanda's doctors, their plan is to slowly wean her off of life support. They'll start to slowly turn down the heart-pump to make her heart work a little harder. Then they'll slowly turn down the breathing machine to make her lungs work a little harder. If all goes well, the next step is to slowly wake her up. Did you notice a key word in all of this, slowly! Great news, though.
~
In listening to the doctors whisper to each other while I'm pretending to read. I learn how serious the situation Wanda was in before surgery. They tested the fluid from her lungs and she had pneumonia, strep throat, and the flu. I started to get that awful flu just before Christmas break at school. Wanda came down with it a couple of days later. I haven't been that sick in years. It seems to attack the weakest organs in your body. I know that it didn't cause her heart condition, but I don't think it helped it any either.
Now that I look back at our lives in hindsight, the pieces of her heart failure begin to fit together. It was probably a year ago when I first noticed her shortness of breath, the loss of energy at the end of the day. It gradually grew worse until Wanda would be out of breath just walking to the back door. I saw all of these signs but thought it was her lungs. I should feel guilty for not getting her to the doctor sooner. But how do I know what Wanda really truly feels like? She's so stubborn and wouldn't tell me the truth, anyway.
I'm so glad that Cody is spending the day with me. This waiting game is excruciating! He sure has brightened my outlook today, I'm not so lonely. When the doctors stopped by, they said that the heart pump is coming out today. If all goes well they might wake her this afternoon. Cody wants to talk to her before he travels back to Johnson City.
I'm sitting here trying to imagine the depth of pain Wanda is going to wake up to. She's been cut in so many places, needles and catheters shoved in every available orifice. That feeding tube in her nose and all of the ventilator tubes down her throat. It all looks extremely painful to me. I would have gladly taken her place instead of watching her suffer this way, without a second thought. But we don't have that choice.
It's eight o'clock, all of the family have gone home for the night. The doctors had problems taking out the heart-pump this afternoon. Her right leg would not stop bleeding, they couldn't wake her up today. It was a little heartbreaking for Cody. Wanda and I spent a lot of time with Cody before he started school. He's always been very close to us. He was stunned to hear about Wanda's heart problems. The news sent shockwaves through our entire family and many other families that love her dearly.
If we would only see how our lives affect so many people in countless ways. The love we share multiplies with each hug, each kiss, and every time you say "I love you." Please take the time to say those three words to everyone you love in your life, while you have the chance.
~
It's been a week since Wanda's heart stopped and she was put on life-support. I'm hoping she'll be strong enough to wake up today. I know that I need to be patient and let God heal her through the doctors and nurses. But it's so heartbreaking seeing her lying there. I need to see her smile, be warmed by the twinkle in her hazel-green eyes, to feel the soft touch of her hand in mine, the warmth of her arms wrapped around me. I wonder if I'll ever experience those sensations again, but I have to stay positive. No doubts, just believe!
The weather the past couple of days has been typical Tennessee weather. Yesterday was sixty-five degrees and thunderstorms, today it's twenty-three degrees with a quarter inch of ice already on the roads and intensely snowing. We could get five inches by noon. Walking the Physicians Tower hallway over the road is beautiful with huge flakes being pushed around in the air by the strong north wind. I love our first snow of the year and glad I'm inside.
At eight o'clock this morning, I find out they've taken Wanda completely off of the sedation that she's been on for the last eight days. She's starting to open her eyes and focus on things. It seems, Wanda really notices Cody's voice. Every time he says something, she tries to find him. I know that she's still nowhere close to being awake, but picking up on Cody's voice is a positive sign to me. I rubbed her forehead and told her I loved her, she looked right at me.
They have turned the ventilator down to where Wanda's lungs are working harder, but she's still not responsive enough to take it out today. I know Cody wanted to see Wanda without that thing down her throat. He's got to head for home this afternoon. Cody's big smile has been a true blessing, he's immensely brightened my last three days here.
Well, Cody had to leave at three. I'm alone again in a hospital full of people.
It's almost six o'clock, shift change is coming and I need to get something to eat that's cheap. A tough task in here. Wanda has been off of sedation for twelve hours, she's starting to wiggle her toes and squeeze my fingers when I ask her to. Before leaving, I smile at her and say I love you. Wanda swallows with the ventilator still in and tries to answer me. I can't stop my tears this time.
To be continued.
Today is surgery day. Wanda is still under heavy sedation when I walk into her room. Like always, I spent the night in the Critical Care waiting room. The hospital won't let you stay the night in ICU. Walking into Wanda's room, I ask the nurses if she had a good night. They probably think I'm nuts for asking, but always answer "yes" to humor me. Of course, she did, being so heavily sedated. I must think Wanda is going get up and start dancing. If they'd have lived through the last four nights we had at home, they would know the reason I ask them. I rub her forehead and squeeze her hand, Wanda opens her eyes but she doesn't see me. That evil chair is calling my name.
At nine o'clock, Doctor Sievers comes by to let me know that he had a surgery cancellation this morning, (whatever that means!) the surgery team was on the way to get Wanda. My mind is racing, but I know, God is in control.
I'm standing here watching the smiling surgical team head down the hall with Wanda, no tears this time. But it's all I can do to fight the fear, to keep it from taking total control. I slowly pick up my Star Wars bag full of clothes, books, tablets, pencils, and everything else I seem to own. My eyes find the window. I'm fighting back the tears, but I wipe my eyes and manage to quietly say to my reflection. "Not today, Satan! Let God's will be done and I will praise His name! No matter what."
The Critical Care waiting room is lined with flat-screen televisions and tan leather recliners that recline into a torture chamber of a bed. I speak from many nights of attempting to sleep in them, but how can I complain, Wanda is just upstairs. This waiting room is also where you wait for updates from the surgery team. A nurse will call you every hour of the operation. The other way to know what's happening is to watch the icon by your loved ones surgical code on a fifty-five-inch flat-screen television in front of the waiting room. A sleeping child means she's asleep, two closed doors mean she's in surgery, I forget what recovery's symbol is.
My son, Jerimiah, daughter-in-law, Julie, and I are reclined and trying read a book while we're impatiently waiting for a call from the operating room. But it's only been forty-five minutes. Our grandson, Cody, is on his way to the hospital from east Tennessee. I was delighted he took the time to make that seven-hour drive just to be with us for a few days. Wanda and I share so many wonderful memories with Cody. We took him on his first hike where he saw his first eagle, his first Blues festival, and too many other things to mention. Cody has always been a loving grandson, he gets it from Wanda.
Well, it's now been four hours of waiting in these wretched chairs. My back feels like it's trying to escape from my body. Where it wants to go, I don't know? If I watch Wanda's icon on that flat-screen go by one more time unchanged. I'm going to snatch that television off the wall then throw it through the plate glass window at the other end of the room that to leads to the serenity garden and make it land right in front of the life-sized angel that's standing there smiling! The Holy Spirit tells me, that's not a good thing to do. So, I insanely smile at everybody then pick up my pencil and tablet.
The surgery team has been very prompt in calling and telling us that everything is fine. But I can't stand this much longer. God is definitely teaching me patience. But more than that, it's a feeling of total helplessness. All I can do is silently pray. Like that's a bad thing.
Finally, at four-thirty in the afternoon, seven and a half hours after the surgical team left with Wanda, Doctor Sievers calls. I'm so frazzled, I think I've rubbed a bald spot on the side of my head. He told me that everything went well. All three of the arterial blockages were replaced from veins from her legs and arms. When they took Wanda off the heart and lung machine, her heart and lungs seemed to do well. A very good sign. Doctor Sievers told me Wanda will be in her new room in about an hour.
An hour later, the entire family gasps when we walk into Wanda's new room, it really shook Cody hard. He arrived at the hospital right after lunch. He hadn't seen Wanda hooked up to life support. They also added two chest pumps to get out any blood or fluid left over after surgery. It's all I can do to get to the evil chair. Tears are in every eye.
It's so hard to describe what I feel seeing Wanda lying there in bed on total life support. The fact she's alive brings joy to my heart. But I see the many tubes running in and out of her body. The ventilator tubes running down her throat giving her lungs life. The heart pump running through her neck and leg, keeping the blood flowing through her body. The feeding tube running through her nose into her stomach. The many tubes running through a needle in her neck. The nurses told me it saves her from being stuck every time they need blood or attach an IV. It's like a portal directly into her body. All they have to do is turn a plumbing shut-off valve to give Wanda her meds or take blood. I'm stunned how PVC pipe technology is being used to heal the human body.
Now, I see how delicate and fragile our bodies are. Yet, they're capable of performing acts of great strength and courage. Our God is awesome!
The one thing that Wanda and I have to realize, especially me, is that the worst is over. I know we have a long road ahead, but it's a road we're so blessed to walk down together.
~
My prayer life has been strong for a long time, but since last Friday, I think God is tired of hearing from me. I've been in complete non-stop prayer mode. It's funny, I never asked for a miracle. I wanted God's will to be done and the strength to accept it. Also, I wanted to do this the right way. I wanted to love Wanda with all my heart while being thankful, praising God with every breath I take. It's been very hard. But, so far, so good.
It's been a week since Wanda first went into the hospital. She's been on life support for six days now, counting last Friday. I've been wondering what to tell her when she wakes up. Do I tell Wanda that her heart stopped working last Friday and she flatlined? Do I tell her that she's been on total life support all of these days? What do you tell a loved one that's been through a tremendous ordeal, completely unaware? I don't want to unload any guilt or remorse on her for what she thinks, she's put us through. Wanda is that way, always thinking of others and never thinking about herself. I want Wanda to be glad she's alive, cherishing this second chance at life. To see the miracle it truly is. Not many people are given this opportunity.
On Wanda's first day in ICU, the nurse gave me her wedding band, her hands and feet are starting to swell a little. I slid it on my left pinky finger and it will be there until she asks for it back. I guess our green porch light at home is the same thing. That light has been on since we first went to the hospital. I'll turn it off when Wanda comes home.
It's still very early in the morning, I can't go up to ICU until eight o'clock because of shift change. But I sure have written a lot.
I just talked to one of Wanda's doctors, their plan is to slowly wean her off of life support. They'll start to slowly turn down the heart-pump to make her heart work a little harder. Then they'll slowly turn down the breathing machine to make her lungs work a little harder. If all goes well, the next step is to slowly wake her up. Did you notice a key word in all of this, slowly! Great news, though.
~
In listening to the doctors whisper to each other while I'm pretending to read. I learn how serious the situation Wanda was in before surgery. They tested the fluid from her lungs and she had pneumonia, strep throat, and the flu. I started to get that awful flu just before Christmas break at school. Wanda came down with it a couple of days later. I haven't been that sick in years. It seems to attack the weakest organs in your body. I know that it didn't cause her heart condition, but I don't think it helped it any either.
Now that I look back at our lives in hindsight, the pieces of her heart failure begin to fit together. It was probably a year ago when I first noticed her shortness of breath, the loss of energy at the end of the day. It gradually grew worse until Wanda would be out of breath just walking to the back door. I saw all of these signs but thought it was her lungs. I should feel guilty for not getting her to the doctor sooner. But how do I know what Wanda really truly feels like? She's so stubborn and wouldn't tell me the truth, anyway.
I'm so glad that Cody is spending the day with me. This waiting game is excruciating! He sure has brightened my outlook today, I'm not so lonely. When the doctors stopped by, they said that the heart pump is coming out today. If all goes well they might wake her this afternoon. Cody wants to talk to her before he travels back to Johnson City.
I'm sitting here trying to imagine the depth of pain Wanda is going to wake up to. She's been cut in so many places, needles and catheters shoved in every available orifice. That feeding tube in her nose and all of the ventilator tubes down her throat. It all looks extremely painful to me. I would have gladly taken her place instead of watching her suffer this way, without a second thought. But we don't have that choice.
It's eight o'clock, all of the family have gone home for the night. The doctors had problems taking out the heart-pump this afternoon. Her right leg would not stop bleeding, they couldn't wake her up today. It was a little heartbreaking for Cody. Wanda and I spent a lot of time with Cody before he started school. He's always been very close to us. He was stunned to hear about Wanda's heart problems. The news sent shockwaves through our entire family and many other families that love her dearly.
If we would only see how our lives affect so many people in countless ways. The love we share multiplies with each hug, each kiss, and every time you say "I love you." Please take the time to say those three words to everyone you love in your life, while you have the chance.
~
It's been a week since Wanda's heart stopped and she was put on life-support. I'm hoping she'll be strong enough to wake up today. I know that I need to be patient and let God heal her through the doctors and nurses. But it's so heartbreaking seeing her lying there. I need to see her smile, be warmed by the twinkle in her hazel-green eyes, to feel the soft touch of her hand in mine, the warmth of her arms wrapped around me. I wonder if I'll ever experience those sensations again, but I have to stay positive. No doubts, just believe!
The weather the past couple of days has been typical Tennessee weather. Yesterday was sixty-five degrees and thunderstorms, today it's twenty-three degrees with a quarter inch of ice already on the roads and intensely snowing. We could get five inches by noon. Walking the Physicians Tower hallway over the road is beautiful with huge flakes being pushed around in the air by the strong north wind. I love our first snow of the year and glad I'm inside.
At eight o'clock this morning, I find out they've taken Wanda completely off of the sedation that she's been on for the last eight days. She's starting to open her eyes and focus on things. It seems, Wanda really notices Cody's voice. Every time he says something, she tries to find him. I know that she's still nowhere close to being awake, but picking up on Cody's voice is a positive sign to me. I rubbed her forehead and told her I loved her, she looked right at me.
They have turned the ventilator down to where Wanda's lungs are working harder, but she's still not responsive enough to take it out today. I know Cody wanted to see Wanda without that thing down her throat. He's got to head for home this afternoon. Cody's big smile has been a true blessing, he's immensely brightened my last three days here.
Well, Cody had to leave at three. I'm alone again in a hospital full of people.
It's almost six o'clock, shift change is coming and I need to get something to eat that's cheap. A tough task in here. Wanda has been off of sedation for twelve hours, she's starting to wiggle her toes and squeeze my fingers when I ask her to. Before leaving, I smile at her and say I love you. Wanda swallows with the ventilator still in and tries to answer me. I can't stop my tears this time.
To be continued.
At nine o'clock, Doctor Sievers comes by to let me know that he had a surgery cancellation this morning, (whatever that means!) the surgery team was on the way to get Wanda. My mind is racing, but I know, God is in control.
I'm standing here watching the smiling surgical team head down the hall with Wanda, no tears this time. But it's all I can do to fight the fear, to keep it from taking total control. I slowly pick up my Star Wars bag full of clothes, books, tablets, pencils, and everything else I seem to own. My eyes find the window. I'm fighting back the tears, but I wipe my eyes and manage to quietly say to my reflection. "Not today, Satan! Let God's will be done and I will praise His name! No matter what."
The Critical Care waiting room is lined with flat-screen televisions and tan leather recliners that recline into a torture chamber of a bed. I speak from many nights of attempting to sleep in them, but how can I complain, Wanda is just upstairs. This waiting room is also where you wait for updates from the surgery team. A nurse will call you every hour of the operation. The other way to know what's happening is to watch the icon by your loved ones surgical code on a fifty-five-inch flat-screen television in front of the waiting room. A sleeping child means she's asleep, two closed doors mean she's in surgery, I forget what recovery's symbol is.
My son, Jerimiah, daughter-in-law, Julie, and I are reclined and trying read a book while we're impatiently waiting for a call from the operating room. But it's only been forty-five minutes. Our grandson, Cody, is on his way to the hospital from east Tennessee. I was delighted he took the time to make that seven-hour drive just to be with us for a few days. Wanda and I share so many wonderful memories with Cody. We took him on his first hike where he saw his first eagle, his first Blues festival, and too many other things to mention. Cody has always been a loving grandson, he gets it from Wanda.
Well, it's now been four hours of waiting in these wretched chairs. My back feels like it's trying to escape from my body. Where it wants to go, I don't know? If I watch Wanda's icon on that flat-screen go by one more time unchanged. I'm going to snatch that television off the wall then throw it through the plate glass window at the other end of the room that to leads to the serenity garden and make it land right in front of the life-sized angel that's standing there smiling! The Holy Spirit tells me, that's not a good thing to do. So, I insanely smile at everybody then pick up my pencil and tablet.
The surgery team has been very prompt in calling and telling us that everything is fine. But I can't stand this much longer. God is definitely teaching me patience. But more than that, it's a feeling of total helplessness. All I can do is silently pray. Like that's a bad thing.
Finally, at four-thirty in the afternoon, seven and a half hours after the surgical team left with Wanda, Doctor Sievers calls. I'm so frazzled, I think I've rubbed a bald spot on the side of my head. He told me that everything went well. All three of the arterial blockages were replaced from veins from her legs and arms. When they took Wanda off the heart and lung machine, her heart and lungs seemed to do well. A very good sign. Doctor Sievers told me Wanda will be in her new room in about an hour.
An hour later, the entire family gasps when we walk into Wanda's new room, it really shook Cody hard. He arrived at the hospital right after lunch. He hadn't seen Wanda hooked up to life support. They also added two chest pumps to get out any blood or fluid left over after surgery. It's all I can do to get to the evil chair. Tears are in every eye.
It's so hard to describe what I feel seeing Wanda lying there in bed on total life support. The fact she's alive brings joy to my heart. But I see the many tubes running in and out of her body. The ventilator tubes running down her throat giving her lungs life. The heart pump running through her neck and leg, keeping the blood flowing through her body. The feeding tube running through her nose into her stomach. The many tubes running through a needle in her neck. The nurses told me it saves her from being stuck every time they need blood or attach an IV. It's like a portal directly into her body. All they have to do is turn a plumbing shut-off valve to give Wanda her meds or take blood. I'm stunned how PVC pipe technology is being used to heal the human body.
Now, I see how delicate and fragile our bodies are. Yet, they're capable of performing acts of great strength and courage. Our God is awesome!
The one thing that Wanda and I have to realize, especially me, is that the worst is over. I know we have a long road ahead, but it's a road we're so blessed to walk down together.
~
My prayer life has been strong for a long time, but since last Friday, I think God is tired of hearing from me. I've been in complete non-stop prayer mode. It's funny, I never asked for a miracle. I wanted God's will to be done and the strength to accept it. Also, I wanted to do this the right way. I wanted to love Wanda with all my heart while being thankful, praising God with every breath I take. It's been very hard. But, so far, so good.
It's been a week since Wanda first went into the hospital. She's been on life support for six days now, counting last Friday. I've been wondering what to tell her when she wakes up. Do I tell Wanda that her heart stopped working last Friday and she flatlined? Do I tell her that she's been on total life support all of these days? What do you tell a loved one that's been through a tremendous ordeal, completely unaware? I don't want to unload any guilt or remorse on her for what she thinks, she's put us through. Wanda is that way, always thinking of others and never thinking about herself. I want Wanda to be glad she's alive, cherishing this second chance at life. To see the miracle it truly is. Not many people are given this opportunity.
On Wanda's first day in ICU, the nurse gave me her wedding band, her hands and feet are starting to swell a little. I slid it on my left pinky finger and it will be there until she asks for it back. I guess our green porch light at home is the same thing. That light has been on since we first went to the hospital. I'll turn it off when Wanda comes home.
It's still very early in the morning, I can't go up to ICU until eight o'clock because of shift change. But I sure have written a lot.
I just talked to one of Wanda's doctors, their plan is to slowly wean her off of life support. They'll start to slowly turn down the heart-pump to make her heart work a little harder. Then they'll slowly turn down the breathing machine to make her lungs work a little harder. If all goes well, the next step is to slowly wake her up. Did you notice a key word in all of this, slowly! Great news, though.
~
In listening to the doctors whisper to each other while I'm pretending to read. I learn how serious the situation Wanda was in before surgery. They tested the fluid from her lungs and she had pneumonia, strep throat, and the flu. I started to get that awful flu just before Christmas break at school. Wanda came down with it a couple of days later. I haven't been that sick in years. It seems to attack the weakest organs in your body. I know that it didn't cause her heart condition, but I don't think it helped it any either.
Now that I look back at our lives in hindsight, the pieces of her heart failure begin to fit together. It was probably a year ago when I first noticed her shortness of breath, the loss of energy at the end of the day. It gradually grew worse until Wanda would be out of breath just walking to the back door. I saw all of these signs but thought it was her lungs. I should feel guilty for not getting her to the doctor sooner. But how do I know what Wanda really truly feels like? She's so stubborn and wouldn't tell me the truth, anyway.
I'm so glad that Cody is spending the day with me. This waiting game is excruciating! He sure has brightened my outlook today, I'm not so lonely. When the doctors stopped by, they said that the heart pump is coming out today. If all goes well they might wake her this afternoon. Cody wants to talk to her before he travels back to Johnson City.
I'm sitting here trying to imagine the depth of pain Wanda is going to wake up to. She's been cut in so many places, needles and catheters shoved in every available orifice. That feeding tube in her nose and all of the ventilator tubes down her throat. It all looks extremely painful to me. I would have gladly taken her place instead of watching her suffer this way, without a second thought. But we don't have that choice.
It's eight o'clock, all of the family have gone home for the night. The doctors had problems taking out the heart-pump this afternoon. Her right leg would not stop bleeding, they couldn't wake her up today. It was a little heartbreaking for Cody. Wanda and I spent a lot of time with Cody before he started school. He's always been very close to us. He was stunned to hear about Wanda's heart problems. The news sent shockwaves through our entire family and many other families that love her dearly.
If we would only see how our lives affect so many people in countless ways. The love we share multiplies with each hug, each kiss, and every time you say "I love you." Please take the time to say those three words to everyone you love in your life, while you have the chance.
~
It's been a week since Wanda's heart stopped and she was put on life-support. I'm hoping she'll be strong enough to wake up today. I know that I need to be patient and let God heal her through the doctors and nurses. But it's so heartbreaking seeing her lying there. I need to see her smile, be warmed by the twinkle in her hazel-green eyes, to feel the soft touch of her hand in mine, the warmth of her arms wrapped around me. I wonder if I'll ever experience those sensations again, but I have to stay positive. No doubts, just believe!
The weather the past couple of days has been typical Tennessee weather. Yesterday was sixty-five degrees and thunderstorms, today it's twenty-three degrees with a quarter inch of ice already on the roads and intensely snowing. We could get five inches by noon. Walking the Physicians Tower hallway over the road is beautiful with huge flakes being pushed around in the air by the strong north wind. I love our first snow of the year and glad I'm inside.
At eight o'clock this morning, I find out they've taken Wanda completely off of the sedation that she's been on for the last eight days. She's starting to open her eyes and focus on things. It seems, Wanda really notices Cody's voice. Every time he says something, she tries to find him. I know that she's still nowhere close to being awake, but picking up on Cody's voice is a positive sign to me. I rubbed her forehead and told her I loved her, she looked right at me.
They have turned the ventilator down to where Wanda's lungs are working harder, but she's still not responsive enough to take it out today. I know Cody wanted to see Wanda without that thing down her throat. He's got to head for home this afternoon. Cody's big smile has been a true blessing, he's immensely brightened my last three days here.
Well, Cody had to leave at three. I'm alone again in a hospital full of people.
It's almost six o'clock, shift change is coming and I need to get something to eat that's cheap. A tough task in here. Wanda has been off of sedation for twelve hours, she's starting to wiggle her toes and squeeze my fingers when I ask her to. Before leaving, I smile at her and say I love you. Wanda swallows with the ventilator still in and tries to answer me. I can't stop my tears this time.
To be continued.
I'm so blessed to say that we've been home from the hospital for two weeks. Wanda's recovery is going well. She's getting stronger every day. I have a few more stories to share in part three.
Many thanks for stopping by to read.
Have a great day and God bless.
mike
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Many thanks for stopping by to read.
Have a great day and God bless.
mike
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2024. papa55mike All rights reserved.
papa55mike has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
