Dear Connor and Dekker, The writing that follows is meant only really for the two of you and your dad, but I’m typing it into my blog because typing is easier for your mom than writing on paper these days. Also, having it online on my blog is a way I hopefully won’t ever lose it. Lately my mind seems to have a hard time remembering a lot of things, and I’m often misplacing things and I’m only 43! I’m just not feeling quite as sharp in my mind and memory as when I was in my 20s or 30s. That’s not to say I’m old- because I’m not! It’s just to say it takes a little more work to keep my mind sharp. And I want to keep my mind sharp so that I can enjoy life with you both and with your dad for a very long time. Since my mind isn’t the sharpest, and since we as humans just tend to forget a lot of important life lessons over time, I am going to write now and tell you what I can remember – at least what I feel is most important to remember – about what happened to me — to us — over the past few months.
On January 11th the storm began. Not a literal storm, but a storm of life. Pastor George, our church family’s pastor, has said more than once that in life you’re either just about to go through something difficult, just came out of going through something difficult, or are in the middle of something difficult right now. 2020 was a storm for many people all across the world in many ways. When you’re older you’ll likely remember the year when your school was closed for a long time, when you had school at home many days, when you wore masks everywhere, when your mom and a lot of people seemed upset about the news, and maybe you’ll remember some of the really good times that came from all the extra time we were able to spend together or the opportunity you had to get to spend with Mr. Joe, your tutor who became a good friend to our family this year. Well, as 2020 ended and 2021 began, I thought I was in the midst of a challenge related to my workplace. I had lost passion for my career and sometimes dreaded work because it just wasn’t going so well, to state it simply, this school year. With this mood about my work, a stomachache on the first day back after the Christmas break did not surprise me. Maybe it was because I took the medicine I took for anxiety on an empty stomach that morning, I thought, or maybe it was due to anxiety itself. This I soon learned was no regular stomachache and increased into something that could not be ignored and that would not lessen with normal things like tums or saltines. After leaving work and calling your dad, he called the doctor for me who told him to quickly take me to the emergency room. You two were with your dad when he brought me to Holy Spirit Hospital emergency room for what I thought might be a short quick stay – I wasn’t really sure and the pain kept me from thinking of anything but the current moment. Now however when I think back on that ER visit, I realize it was probably very scary for you, as I was crying out in pain but your dad and the two of you were required to leave me there (Dekker you were 7 and Connor you were 10 — too young to see your mom crying in such pain). Due to COVID, you were not able to wait with me in the ER. Were you to be there, you would have seen (and I’m glad you didn’t) me crying out in such pain (I’m not sure for how long – I estimate about two or three hours – the emergency room was crowded) that I lost all sense of whether I was embarrassed in that public setting, lost all awareness of my surroundings for the most part. At some point when I had crumpled to the floor, I remember another person who was in the waiting room, herself waiting to be seen by a doctor,vwent to the counter and said “this woman needs help now”. Several people came eventually and I was taken to a room back in the ER. At some point I was given a pain medication that led to me falling asleep (I met a physician’s assistant who would be part of my journey in the coming weeks, who was named Kelly). When I awoke I found the storm was changing though it didn’t feel like a storm I was in control of one bit. It was as if I had entered into this strange new world like I was in the middle of a tornado where I was spinning around in the calm center of it, as I was rolled on a stretcher from place to place for various scans and tests. The time was close to midnight and I was amazed at all the hard-working and alert people I met whose jobs required so much of them at this hour of night. The pain medication most likely altered my anxiety level quite a bit, but I truly believe it was the Holy Spirit’s peace (“that passes understanding”) which empowered me to get through those initial confusing moments (and many that would follow in the next several months) by pushing past a place in my mind that wanted to worry about my own and instead used the situation as an opportunity to ask questions of the humans I met along the way in the hospital. I learned that the man who pushed my stretcher to the CT scan room was quite prayerful and that he was from Africa. Inside the CT scan room, the CT scan operator shared about her son’s ADHD and her struggles with helping him. Asking af few questions and then devoting myself to genuinely listening to each person I met took my mind off of what was going on with my body and the immediate emergency of that night. I found I was able to genuinely connect with the individuals who literally were holding my life in their hands. Around midnight, I met Dr. Chinh Pham, who would compassionately jump into the storm with me, as this is something that surgeons — who routinely save people’s lives – are accustomed to doing as part of their everyday lives. He calmly and matter-of-factly informed me that I had a cecal volvulus (a.k.a. twisted up intestines) and would be operated on in just a few minutes. After first asking if I could brush my teeth (for some reason that seemed important at that time), I was taken to the operating room where 1/5 of my small intestine was removed. After a three hour surgery, Dr. Pham called your dad and assured him everything went well and would be just fine. I awoke in a hospital room on Tuesday morning where I would stay until the following Sunday. I had a tube in my nose called an NG tube that ran from inside my stomach up through my nose and out to a bucket that hung on the wall behind me so that doctors and nurses could monitor the liquids that came out. I was allowed to suck on ice chips to keep my mouth a bit wet but was not allowed to drink or eat anything. A quiet elderly lady was in the bed on the other side of my room and was soon discharged to be replaced by a lady who was admitted for blood clots in her lungs This woman was about Grandma Joyce’s age, seemed very anxious, wanted to talk a lot (talking was difficult for me with the tube in my nose), and seemed to have very different political ideas than me (which she brought up in conversation a few times). My room-mate was allowed to eat and drink, which increasingly was challenging to meas I found myself becoming so thirsty and so frustrated with the NG tube. Throughout that week in the hospital, I went deep in a place in my mind at times. I was lonely and sad. I felt about 100 years old. I missed you and dad. I was scared. At first I was still taking medication for my anxiety and for depression because I relied on those. This too was confusing though because I began to learn that these medicines could and would affect the healing of my intestines. The nurses had to give me what are called catheters several times at the beginning of the which I won’t describe further. I felt like I just wanted to leave but could not. When I spoke with you over a video call, we each were upset in our own ways even though it was something that we could at least see each other for a few minutes. The pain in my incision was intense so sitting up was so difficult. Some nurses were so compassionate, like Rose, who prayed with me and shared that she has the same birthday as me, and Rebecca, who talked with me about her cats when I couldn’t sleep (and who was about the only nurse who really helped me sit up without pain because she had such strong arms). There were many others who helped me through difficult days and nights who I’m rather sure I’ll remember forever: Marina, Vernell, Deb, Chelsea, Brittany, Mary Joseph, Mayet, and others.
I don’t share all of this because I want to remember all of the difficult times, though. I share this with you because I want you to know that in spite all of this that I experienced, the peace that passes understanding, which the Bible tells us only can come from the living Holy Spirit inside of us, never left me. In the midst of great pain and especially in the midst of being away from my family so long, I found it difficult to pray much. I felt it hard to rest because a hospital is full of sounds of patients all around (one night a woman in distress yelled “I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO” repeatedly for two hours) and a hosptal is absent of the comforts of home we so often take for granted. (I never thought I took them for granted, but truly I did). Yet something inside me gave me strength to speak words of kindness to my anxious room-mate and to ask questions of my nurses, prompting them to share about their own lives. One nurse, Christine, helped my room- mate and I even laugh – which was quite a talent of Christine’s, considering the situations my room-mate and I were dealing with. I witnessed first-hand how demanding the job of a hospital floor nurse is and how some nurses do their jobs well and with grace while others, well…. don’t.
Not all things are good, but Romans 8:28 tells us all things work together for the good of those who love God. One good I’m taking away is the confidence that filled my soul throughout the experience. in my career , I had come to doubt myself and at times was even afraid of what my coworkers thought of me. In the hospital, in my interactions with all the variety of people who I met , I found my confidence only as I let go of focusing upon myself. I began to tell myself to let go of worries, pain, and discomfort, and to instead hold tight onto the goal each morning of wanting to encourage my nurses, the housekeeping staff, and my doctors. I knew I couldn’t see my children or my husband so had to trust you were in God’s hands. I chose to trust that God wanted me there in that hospital at that moment whether I liked it or not. I was frustrated with my room-mate because I just wanted to be alone, but I prayed for God to help me be loving. There were quite a few times I didn’t feel like I could pray, though, and I reached out to friends and family in a text asking for prayer. Just when I would feel I didn’t have the strength, I’d soon after find myself encouraged by the gentle visit of a certain nurse or kind words of a housekeeping person, and I knew in my heart the prayers were answered. Toward the end of the first week, I pushed as much as was in my power to be sent home. I needed to show I could eat food and that it would come out the right end. I ate the tiniest bit, and had the tiniest passing of that food (gas and farts are a really big deal when you’re in the hospital especially for GI matters) and was allowed to go home. When I came home, I found that your grandparents had come to stay and help dad, and I had learned from my time with my room-mate how to put politics aside and just love them. I felt too that they loved me, and your grandad shared stories with me I had never heard about when he was younger. He told me about how he met Grandma and about how he traveled to California when he was young (and got lost on a long walk to see a parade — that story he told me as I waited in the hospital to be rolled to the OR for my second surgery). Despite all the times I was a brat (even moms were once kids and still act like them) and times we didn’t get along, this health emergency leveled everything and brought me face-to-face with the simple fact of how much my parents love me and I love them. I also felt more love for Dad’s parents too — we don’t share the same blood but we’re family. Situations like this make everything else matter less and love takes precedent. I was able to just receive and give hugs and feel genuine gratitude for being taken care of (not a common experience for an adult mommy!) That week was when President Biden was inaugurated and on that inauguration Wednesday I felt so healthy and grateful beyond words. My bed felt so comfortable and my senses so heightened. I thought I had enough experiences and had learned plenty and was ready to begin healing.
That Thursday , with a surgery drain in my side, called a JP drain, I went for a routine followup surgery visit. Dr. Pham removed the drain yet seemed concerned, but prescribed nausea medicine, as I was sent home. That day I began vomiting frequently. Each time I vomited I felt some relief though I was becoming weaker each day. In my mind, I was actually thinking of what it might feel like to die, to pass to heaven. I don’t think I was actually in danger of dying, because your dad and I were in communication with Dr. Pham, but when a person is feeling like I was at that point, this is a point when it is natural to think about dying. I felt sad but peaceful and just waited to see what would happen because at this point was just really confused. I had the surgery, had followed the doctor’s directions, yet here I was with all this bile coming up out of my body and feeling worse than I can explain here in words. That Sunday evening, Dr. Pham arranged for me to be readmitted to the hospital, this time to a private room. The hope was that I would feel better when hydrated by IVs and that a blockage in my intestines would be passed along with the help of the fluids (without any further surgery). I entered the hospital this time stronger in my mind than the first time, really leaning on the power of friends and family who were praying (not to mention also sharing jokes to make me laugh, meals to keep my family fed, and cards and flowers to brighten my hospital room). When the blockage didn’t pass naturally, the storm brought surgery two. The blockage ended up being a “redundant sigmoid” that had attached itself to the scar tissue of surgery one. The storm wasn’t over with surgery two though, because (after a weekend of less than attentive nurses, particularly one who seemed to always be too busy to help) infection developed in my incisions. The surgery team opened up the incision, and when I was finally able to visit with your dad (the day before my hospital discharge), we were given directions on how to pack the open wound. Soon after I was sent home, another spot opened up on the incision, and your dad now had to pack two open wounds. Your dad loves your mom so much, do you know that? He might not always seem to show it with kisses and lovey-dovey words, but not all husbands could or would do what your dad did. When I returned home from that second hospital stay, on February 3rd, Dad had to become a bit of an instant wound nursw He changed the bandages on my (not so pretty) incision on my belly every morning and every evening starting that day and continuing still today (March 30th).
I’ve been writing for a rather long time now but feel I have only touched the surface of what I want to share with you boys. I will spill out a few more thoughts now and will elaborate on them, hopefully, more in later writing….
I mentioned the storm. I was afraid of the storm and thought I couldn’t withstand it. I learned that I am the storm! I have a poster in my room gifted to me by our friend Nallely that says this. It sounds silly at first, but it’s true that with God’s power within us, we need not be afraid. I need not be afraid of coworkers, work stress, someone judging me, something I’ve never tried before, doing something someone says I’m not good at. I have the same Spirit in me that brought me so close to dying yet kept me getting up every morning to try again and kept me pushing forward to keep living. The joys in those hospital days were seeing the light in another person’s eyes when they were encouraged and when they shared their individuality. The joys in my days when I arrived home were seeing the light in your eyes, seeing the goodness in the spirit God has given you and the goodness in the spirit God has given Dad, hearing and experiencing life with you each day as I got stronger and my health is restored (I’m almost there), being grateful for experiences we have with your grandparents who love us just because (we don’t have to be perfect and it’s ok our house is often messy and looks lived-in!), and taking each moment at a time (each moment —- drinking a sip of water, walking a little outside, hearing some music or playing the piano, laughing, tasting food, breathing without tubes and without pain).
Shortly after I came home February 3, our precious kitty Nanuli needed to visit the vet, who told us she had a tumor. We said goodbye to Nuli February 8, and I saw so clearly that our pets too have souls, too. Nuli’s was a gentle soul. My heart ached with sadness for you boys who had seen me so sick, worried what would happen to me when in the hospital and when I returned, saw me lie in bed a long while when I returned home, and now had to say a permanent goodbye to Nuli. Thankfully our paths crossed with Bow, our kitty who we adopted a few weeks later, and who God has used to bring us much joy. In my first weeks home from the hospital, extra sleep, reading books, watching movies, and sitting with Bow were all great comforts. I took time to just reflect on the miracle that my second surgery had gone well and that I was successfully now living without any anxiety or depression medicine (cut those cold turkey the day I went back to the hospital for the second visit – not advised, not easy, but well worth it). Several weeks passed before I could fall asleep without my mind racing with thoughts about the hospital and my experiences there. They were “normal” as far as hospital stay experiences go, but there is still a trauma, i believe, that changes a person throughout the course of a hospital stay. Those thoughts have settled now, you boys have asked your questions (you both at your own separate times asked me if I could have died and all the variations of that difficult question), I started walking and driving a few weeks ago, and our lives have become more ‘normal” . On the day when I gave Dr. Pham thank you cards you and I wrote and cards to my nurses, I felt a surprising bittersweet emotion as this journey ended. That emotion doesn’t mean I’d ever want to experience the pain and sickness again. That emotion came because I realized how much good I saw in people throughout all of this. You boys have been very brave, your dad very loving, and the three of you have shown how you can pull together and help one another for our family. So many people, and not necessarily just close friends, showed us what compassion really looks like. As life returns to “normal”, a part of me fears we (me included) will not remain consistently grateful. Perhaps it would be impossible to always be; I’ve had to yell at Bow a few times as I’ve typed this long writing because he’s so curious that he keeps getting into things he’s about to break. I am grateful for him and his company but I still get annoyed and also need to look out for what he’s doing. On a different but similar level, I may do the same with you, Connor and Dekker, but please please know that if life gets so busy or so mundane that I forget to tell you how much I appreciate you, how wonderful you are, how I love you – please know that I have always felt this way and always will and would tell you a million times over if I could if it would help you feel it and make you believe it about yourself. Remember too that the little things you do for someone (even if you don’t feel you’re real close to them so maybe someone else would be the more appropriate person to send a card , say a compliment, give a gift, or whatever…) those little things truly are the big things –the stuff of life– the reason for our days here on this earth . Lastly, try to not let your confidence falter. You’re awesome and no challenge or circumstance can ever change that. The storm is no big deal when you’re a child and a friend of the storm’s Creator. That Creator dearly loves you and can be seen in the eyes and spirits of the people you meet every day, especially when you honor them and take interest in their uniqueness. As that song “It’s Alright ” reminds us with its lyrics : “When you wake up early in the morning, feeling sad like so many of us do – hum a little tune and make life your goal and surely something’ s gotta come to you!” Make life your goal. Don’t let the negativity of the storm sweep you away or scare you. You’re not in the storm alone. In fact, the stronger the storm gets, the closer your God will be to you and the tighter He will hold your hand. My friend Anna sent me a link to the song “Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus” and this song helped me through some of the hardest moments of the hospital days. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I heard this song at the close of the worship service we visited last week when I was praying through some of my thoughts and memories about these past few months. If we listen close, we can hear His gentle Spirit in the storm, hospital or normal day, in any situation. It’s not a coincidence; it’s your loving Creator telling you He loves you …(even more than I ever could – and that’s an awful lot!) Love always, Mom