Special K and I just spent five very difficult days down in Richmond, VA with his parents. We got a message on Thursday morning informing us that his mom, who went down to Richmond for some routine tests as she’s in line for a liver transplant, was in the ICU on a ventilator.
Oh. Crap.
We went home, packed a bag, went to collect his brother, and high-tailed it down to Richmond. It’s a very strange thing to see someone hooked up to tubes and looking so small and frail that the pillows on the bed are about to swallow her up. His dad had been there for several days, not leaving the ICU, so we wanted to give him some moral support and a break to take care of himself. Special K’s mom was also clearly worried that his dad wasn’t taking care of himself, so I think it made her feel better to see him eventually head out for the night to a hotel room. We bunked down in some recliners that the nurses brought in and stayed with her so that she wouldn’t be alone. BIG kudos to the Medical Respiratory ICU nurses at Virginia Commonwealth University Medical Center. They were awesome.
The next morning, after not the most sleep we’ve ever had, Special K’s dad and brother returned, and we left to go to my cousin’s house to shower and take a nap. I was so grateful to be able to go stay with her, it made a huge difference to us to be able to have a friendly home to go to. My aunt was down for the day, so we also got to see her and spend some time together before heading out to the hospital again for our next night shift. By the time we got back, his mom was off the ventilator, and was able to talk. Up to that point, she’d been writing things down, but had seemed in positive spirits the whole time. When we arrived on Thursday, she was watching her team, the Atlanta Braves, take on Special K’s team, the Washington Nationals. Almost as soon as we arrived, the Nats scored a run, and Special K made a crack about how he was bad luck for her team. She looked at him with one raised eyebrow and motioned to shoo him out of the room. I took that as a good sign. If she was well enough to be irritated with Special K, she must have been feeling better.
By the time Sunday morning rolled around, after my third night in a chair, my back was on fire. (Note to self: don’t sleep in chairs a few months after back surgery.) Special K had run back home to play drums at church, then came back to get me. He also had to deal with some suck-tastic traffic on I-95 heading back to Richmond. By the time he arrived, I hadn’t left the hospital for almost a full 24 hours and really felt like I needed to take a break. We were going to stop somewhere for dinner on the way back to my cousin’s place and as we trundled up to a California Pizza Kitchen, I spotted something better. Something much, much better.
We had steak and beer for dinner and it was so, so, so good. With onion rings. Delicious steak. A filet mignon that just melted in my mouth. I was still tired, but I felt a bit restored at the end of it, to be honest. We went back to my cousin’s house and watched a little bad TV, then Special K gave me a much-anticipated back rub and I passed out.
The next morning, I went to the gym with my cousin and it was good to get in a workout, since I’d been so sedentary for the past few days. We went back to the hospital shortly after lunch, and found his mom sleeping. His dad told us that the doctors had drained six liters of fluid from her abdomen (something they had tried to do when I was with her Sunday morning but couldn’t) and that she was finally resting comfortably. She had been in a lot of discomfort before that point, quite understandably, and had been given morphine for the pain. Well, sleeping because you’re on morphine is just not the same as sleeping – it’s just being unconscious. So I was really glad that she was getting the chance to have some good, restorative, natural sleep.
We headed back and after calling our landlords to follow up about something, were told that the power was out on our block. So we decided that since we had to be near my folks’ place anyway to pick up a massive dry cleaning order, we would see if we could stop by to get some firewood. They were happy to oblige, and gave us dinner to boot, which was so very nice. We went to the mall on our way home because Special K’s iPod has been on the fritz, which is very disappointing. Turns out that his hard drive is living on borrowed time, so he’d need to get a new iPod. This isn’t in our budget, so I think we’re just hoping that his current iPod can hang in there for another three years or so. But while I’m dreaming, I’d like a pony.
We were leaving, and I also suggested looking for some kind of pajamas for me to wear when we’re in Italy – nothing all fancy and girly (even though it’s our honeymoon), but something that will be warm (since the first place we’re staying can get chilly at night), without being sexual kryptonite. Like the blue plaid flannel pajamas that I used to wear all the time when I was staying at Special K’s over the winter. They were sky blue, black, and red plaid, and the pants were a little short, so there was a glimpse of pasty ankle between the hem and my black slipper socks that I used to wear to keep my feet warm.
Hello, sexy.
We actually managed to find something that was both cute (Special K’s testimony), and warm (mine). So that was good. And they were on sale for $10, which is even better. And they won’t take up nearly as much room in my suitcase as my other warm, non-husband-repelling jammies, which is the best.
We arrived home to find the electricity working and the cats a bit perplexed as to what had been going on for the past few days (although many thanks to my folks for feeding them for us). We started a fire in the fireplace and collapsed on the couch, as I sorted through my medical bills. By the time it was time for bed, I shuffled into the bedroom and remarked about how I’d love it if we could have a fireplace in our bedroom, since our house resembles Swiss cheese when it’s cold – the drafts are brutal. So Special K and I pulled out the sofa bed, and slept next to the fire last night. It was actually really nice.
Special K and I are still, however, wrangling with the decision of whether or not to go to Italy in the first place. His mom is stable, and his parents have told us to go, but there’s just so much we don’t know and can’t control in this. But when I think about the last few months and everything we’ve had to deal with, I just know that we need something restorative. I have no emotional energy left now, I feel completely drained and defeated, and I know he feels the same way. Whenever I get to the point that I feel like I can handle whatever crap has been thrown at us, something else gets added to the pile. We have been praying about all of this a lot lately, but I have to admit to feeling like my spirit is pretty broken right now. There have been two really bright spots in the last few months – my beautiful niece was born, and we got married, which was and remains a really amazing thing. We got the chance to be surrounded by those who love and support us; it’s a once-in-a-lifetime kind of event, and it makes you feel lucky to look around a room and just feel loved. So I try to think about that, and to remember how lucky we are to have great family and friends, to have jobs that are, thus far, understanding of family crises, families to help out in those crises, and friends who are as close as family to offer support in any way they can.
But MAN, it’s been pretty freaking rough lately.
