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In the blink of an eye...
Aug. 24th, 2008 04:12 pmEverything changes so fast.
I put Michael on an airplane to Memphis this afternoon. Bought his plane ticket at 1pm for a 3pm flight. He started a load of laundry that he didn't have time to finish. Now Alex and I are alone and waiting for news.
His father has been sick for a while. He had a blockage in an artery in his leg. They tried to go in with a minimally invasive procedure - no luck. They scheduled him for surgery a week and a half ago. When they went in, they were able to clean out the artery and place a stent, but they found another blockage in an artery to his kidney, which they couldn't fix properly. He lost a lot of blood and needed transfusions. Last Sunday, he went home.
Thursday we got a call that he was back in the hospital, throwing up blood. They found that he had an abdominal obstruction, and the hernia he's had for a while had also started impinging on something serious. Plus a raging infection requiring IV antibiotics. Friday he had surgery again.
Yesterday the hospital phones weren't working properly all day, and we couldn't be connected to his room. No one answered his cell phone. No one called us.
Michael called the hospital after church today. Someone else answered the phone in his patient room. The hospital switchboard told us that he was in the ICU. We called and talked to Michael's stepmother's son, who told us that my father-in-law had spiked a high fever which didn't come down even when they packed him in ice. He was in surgery again. They'd call when they knew something. (They still haven't called.)
I bought Michael a one-way ticket on Southwest, to Nashville. While I was online trying to book the 5:30pm flight, it sold out. So we had to rush to get Michael on the 3:05pm flight instead, which is what led to the abandoned laundry. He'll need to make do with whatever he had that was clean. He'll rent a car in Nashville and drive to Memphis. Who knows what he'll find when he gets there.
In the car on the way to the airport, after a little silence, Michael said, "I didn't pack a suit, because."
"If it comes to that, Alex and I will be coming down anyway," I said. "We'll bring you a suit."
I kept focusing, in the dumb way that you do, on making all the practical arrangements. "Call me when you get to Nashville, and I'll tell you where I was able to reserve a car. Do you have your boss's number? Did you pack your toothbrush? If you get there after the last ICU visiting hour, go ahead and try to get them to let you see him anyway. The worst they can do is say no. Here's a slip of paper with all your flight arrangements on it."
I know Michael knows me well enough to be able to translate all of that: I love you so much. I am really worried. I wish I could go with you and take care of you. I love you.
I'm waiting for him to call and tell me that he's landed in Nashville. In the meantime? I am fretting. And in the midst of all of this heavy planning/organization/arrangement work, our fucking internet connection keeps going down without warning. And Alex is behaving in the classic manner of a preschooler whose world has been suddenly disrupted - alternately clingy, whiny, and incredibly poorly behaved.
I need to try to figure out contact resources for spiritual support for Michael. Our ministers retired in June, and were explicit about the fact that they don't make exceptions for counseling or special events for former parishioners. I understand that they have to do that, because it could prevent the church from moving on and bonding with new ministers. But our new minister doesn't start until Sep. 7th. I don't have her number, but I can get it. And, uh, we've met a UU minister from Memphis once before, at SUUSI. I could dig up his number. And, um, maybe the number of our old ministerial intern. She and Michael had a really great bond.
See what I mean? My mind is running in circles like a mouse in the bottom of a jar, trying to find something that I can do that will be useful. Because I love you so much and I'm so worried and I wish I could go with you to take care of you. And I can't. I have to stay here and take care of Alex and go to work and hold down the fort at home.
I put Michael on an airplane to Memphis this afternoon. Bought his plane ticket at 1pm for a 3pm flight. He started a load of laundry that he didn't have time to finish. Now Alex and I are alone and waiting for news.
His father has been sick for a while. He had a blockage in an artery in his leg. They tried to go in with a minimally invasive procedure - no luck. They scheduled him for surgery a week and a half ago. When they went in, they were able to clean out the artery and place a stent, but they found another blockage in an artery to his kidney, which they couldn't fix properly. He lost a lot of blood and needed transfusions. Last Sunday, he went home.
Thursday we got a call that he was back in the hospital, throwing up blood. They found that he had an abdominal obstruction, and the hernia he's had for a while had also started impinging on something serious. Plus a raging infection requiring IV antibiotics. Friday he had surgery again.
Yesterday the hospital phones weren't working properly all day, and we couldn't be connected to his room. No one answered his cell phone. No one called us.
Michael called the hospital after church today. Someone else answered the phone in his patient room. The hospital switchboard told us that he was in the ICU. We called and talked to Michael's stepmother's son, who told us that my father-in-law had spiked a high fever which didn't come down even when they packed him in ice. He was in surgery again. They'd call when they knew something. (They still haven't called.)
I bought Michael a one-way ticket on Southwest, to Nashville. While I was online trying to book the 5:30pm flight, it sold out. So we had to rush to get Michael on the 3:05pm flight instead, which is what led to the abandoned laundry. He'll need to make do with whatever he had that was clean. He'll rent a car in Nashville and drive to Memphis. Who knows what he'll find when he gets there.
In the car on the way to the airport, after a little silence, Michael said, "I didn't pack a suit, because."
"If it comes to that, Alex and I will be coming down anyway," I said. "We'll bring you a suit."
I kept focusing, in the dumb way that you do, on making all the practical arrangements. "Call me when you get to Nashville, and I'll tell you where I was able to reserve a car. Do you have your boss's number? Did you pack your toothbrush? If you get there after the last ICU visiting hour, go ahead and try to get them to let you see him anyway. The worst they can do is say no. Here's a slip of paper with all your flight arrangements on it."
I know Michael knows me well enough to be able to translate all of that: I love you so much. I am really worried. I wish I could go with you and take care of you. I love you.
I'm waiting for him to call and tell me that he's landed in Nashville. In the meantime? I am fretting. And in the midst of all of this heavy planning/organization/arrangement work, our fucking internet connection keeps going down without warning. And Alex is behaving in the classic manner of a preschooler whose world has been suddenly disrupted - alternately clingy, whiny, and incredibly poorly behaved.
I need to try to figure out contact resources for spiritual support for Michael. Our ministers retired in June, and were explicit about the fact that they don't make exceptions for counseling or special events for former parishioners. I understand that they have to do that, because it could prevent the church from moving on and bonding with new ministers. But our new minister doesn't start until Sep. 7th. I don't have her number, but I can get it. And, uh, we've met a UU minister from Memphis once before, at SUUSI. I could dig up his number. And, um, maybe the number of our old ministerial intern. She and Michael had a really great bond.
See what I mean? My mind is running in circles like a mouse in the bottom of a jar, trying to find something that I can do that will be useful. Because I love you so much and I'm so worried and I wish I could go with you to take care of you. And I can't. I have to stay here and take care of Alex and go to work and hold down the fort at home.
