Monday, January 23, 2006
Reflecting, or wallowing?
I've been dwelling a lot on my current state of being. I'm having a hard time determining if I'm spending quiet time reflecting or just wallowing. Tonight, someone mentioned the scripture verse about breaking our hearts of stone and it got me thinking. My heart has been broken, and maybe right now, it's like a creature that's shed its old shell. We're just waiting for a new shell to form before I can find my place in this strange new world. Someone once compared these so-called stagnant times of our lives to a fallow field. On the surface, it seems that nothing is happening. But in the resting, the field is replenishing itself so that, in the future, it can yield a great harvest. I hope that's what happens. I want to bring a great harvest, though I don't yet know what it will be.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Prologue: Here's where the story starts.
For those who have somehow stumbled upon this blog, a brief background.
Back in January of 2002 (can it really be 4 years???), my mom was diagnosed (on her birthday, no less) with Leukemia. It was some kind of crazy-aggressive kind that basically wouldn't be stopped. The best they could do was slow it down some. From January until July, the whole family was on a roller coaster ride of hope and fear and hanging by a thread based on some arbitrary numbers like white blood cell counts and plasma content. I may post some more details on that at some point, but not today. In the end, the Leukemia was just too much for her and she succumbed on July 19, 2002. As it happens, this was 2 days after my father's birthday. Also, I should mention that my family had already been through the tragic loss of my mom's sister's husband to a brain tumor in 2001. Similar story: diagnosed and died in the same year. In my family, when you get cancer, you die. End of story.
I spent the next 2 years grieving for the loss of my mom and trying to become the kind of person I think she would be proud to call her daughter. My mom had such a gentle, tolerant nature about her and I wanted to be more like her in that regard. Less harsh and more personal. Just better, overall.
My family was blessed in 2003 with the birth of my precious nephew, Tommy James. He was born 9 months and 4 days after my mom passed away, and we all realised what a special gift he was to us.
In 2004, I hit a pretty rough patch of life. I left a job I hated and decided to "take some time off" to figure out what I wanted to do. After a LOT of painful searching for who I was, who I wanted to become, who God really was, etc. - I think I had just touched down in what I would call a "safe place" when I got the call from my sister-in-law Cathy that my brother had been in an accident and he was at the hospital with a head injury. Things got really crazy at that point. I got in the car and just started driving. I'm pretty sure I actually left the front door open. My friend Lynn was on her way over and I just didn't even think about her. She must have been worried when she arrived and I was gone with the house wide open. In the meantime, I was praying the whole way to the hospital (about 45 minutes from my home) that this was just a little bump and things would all be fine, but at the same time, I knew that just wasn't going to be the case. When I finally found Cathy in the waiting room with her mom, we just didn't say anything at all. There were 2 ladies I didn't know in the room and no one was talking, so I just kept quiet and prayed and tried not to cry because I didn't want to upset Cathy.
After a while (minutes? hours?), a surgeon came in to talk to us. She still had the lines on her face from her surgical goggles and she looked exhausted. She shook her head and said "Patrick was a very sick man when they brought him in, and he's still very sick." I could feel my throat constricting and my stomach dropping. I can actually feel that right now as I type this. I was shocked and astounded. How could this be? My brother was one of the strongest men I knew, physically and spiritually. How could he possibly be too weak to survive? Nothing was making any sense and I couldn't begin to grasp what was happening. The surgeon went on to explain that the way he landed during his fall had shattered his skull and that they really didn't have much hope for him at all. However, in the truest sense of the expression, they had done everything they could do for him and we would be able to go see him in a while.
I can't begin to explain how this felt then or how it feels now to relive while writing. All I can really do is write the rest of the facts. We were able to visit him and he looked so much like himself, just sleeping, that it was really hard to feel anything but hope that he would be fine. His injuries were to the back of his head and this made things all the more deceptive. His color was fine and other than the fact that he was on a respirator and hooked up to every kind of life support, I really did have hope that he might come back. I say come back because I did not feel a bit of his spirit when we walked in the room. I believed right then that he was already gone. So, I prayed and asked God to please send him back to us. We certainly needed him more here than they could possibly need him in Heaven. I still believe that today.
The rest of the week was really tough as friends and family started streaming in. Cathy and I stayed at the hospital the entire week. People came to be with us and took care of us in so many ways. It was amazing to see so much love among so much hurt. I was pretty much non-stop with crying. I never really felt like I was having a breakdown, I just sobbed and sobbed buckets of tears and kept on going.
By Friday morning, the doctors were able to confirm the worst. There are 5 areas of brain function that all have to NOT be working in order to make a declaration of brain death. In Patrick's case, 4 areas were not working from the time he arrived at the hospital. The 5th continued to function for the next 3 days. Unfortunately, in the meantime, the rest of his body was shutting down as a result of the medication they were giving him to keep his brain swelling under control. It was more and more of a no-win situation. If his brain wasn't dead, the rest of his body soon would be. Our entire lives from childhood to now passed through my mind that entire week. How could this be happening to my little Patty? How could he be the one in this situation? I wanted God to take me instead. This just wasn't fair. I asked my mom to help - pull some strings or whatever you can do when you're up in Heaven. I begged for them to send Pat back to us. "Please send us a miracle. We really do need him here, Lord." But none of it was enough. Late Friday morning, the doctors made the pronouncement with an official TOD. He remained on life support as the organ donor team completed testing and set up the recipients of his kidneys and liver.
I understand that there's a difference between God's provision and God's provision of miracles, and I don't think I take for granted what miracles actually are. Still, I can't begin to understand why we didn't get a miracle. I felt like my family needed a miracle, more than any family may ever have. Why have we been halved in such a short time? Why did my father have to live through this? Why won't my precious nephew have his daddy in his life? Why won't my kids ever know their Uncle Pat? There are actually so many whys that I haven't even figured them all out yet. Part of which is the reason I decided to write about it on this blog. I sometimes journal about this, but I've decided that I want to share these thoughts with others. I'm hoping that someone who needs to read this will find it. And I hope that I can find some of what I need in blogging about it.
Back in January of 2002 (can it really be 4 years???), my mom was diagnosed (on her birthday, no less) with Leukemia. It was some kind of crazy-aggressive kind that basically wouldn't be stopped. The best they could do was slow it down some. From January until July, the whole family was on a roller coaster ride of hope and fear and hanging by a thread based on some arbitrary numbers like white blood cell counts and plasma content. I may post some more details on that at some point, but not today. In the end, the Leukemia was just too much for her and she succumbed on July 19, 2002. As it happens, this was 2 days after my father's birthday. Also, I should mention that my family had already been through the tragic loss of my mom's sister's husband to a brain tumor in 2001. Similar story: diagnosed and died in the same year. In my family, when you get cancer, you die. End of story.
I spent the next 2 years grieving for the loss of my mom and trying to become the kind of person I think she would be proud to call her daughter. My mom had such a gentle, tolerant nature about her and I wanted to be more like her in that regard. Less harsh and more personal. Just better, overall.
My family was blessed in 2003 with the birth of my precious nephew, Tommy James. He was born 9 months and 4 days after my mom passed away, and we all realised what a special gift he was to us.
In 2004, I hit a pretty rough patch of life. I left a job I hated and decided to "take some time off" to figure out what I wanted to do. After a LOT of painful searching for who I was, who I wanted to become, who God really was, etc. - I think I had just touched down in what I would call a "safe place" when I got the call from my sister-in-law Cathy that my brother had been in an accident and he was at the hospital with a head injury. Things got really crazy at that point. I got in the car and just started driving. I'm pretty sure I actually left the front door open. My friend Lynn was on her way over and I just didn't even think about her. She must have been worried when she arrived and I was gone with the house wide open. In the meantime, I was praying the whole way to the hospital (about 45 minutes from my home) that this was just a little bump and things would all be fine, but at the same time, I knew that just wasn't going to be the case. When I finally found Cathy in the waiting room with her mom, we just didn't say anything at all. There were 2 ladies I didn't know in the room and no one was talking, so I just kept quiet and prayed and tried not to cry because I didn't want to upset Cathy.
After a while (minutes? hours?), a surgeon came in to talk to us. She still had the lines on her face from her surgical goggles and she looked exhausted. She shook her head and said "Patrick was a very sick man when they brought him in, and he's still very sick." I could feel my throat constricting and my stomach dropping. I can actually feel that right now as I type this. I was shocked and astounded. How could this be? My brother was one of the strongest men I knew, physically and spiritually. How could he possibly be too weak to survive? Nothing was making any sense and I couldn't begin to grasp what was happening. The surgeon went on to explain that the way he landed during his fall had shattered his skull and that they really didn't have much hope for him at all. However, in the truest sense of the expression, they had done everything they could do for him and we would be able to go see him in a while.
I can't begin to explain how this felt then or how it feels now to relive while writing. All I can really do is write the rest of the facts. We were able to visit him and he looked so much like himself, just sleeping, that it was really hard to feel anything but hope that he would be fine. His injuries were to the back of his head and this made things all the more deceptive. His color was fine and other than the fact that he was on a respirator and hooked up to every kind of life support, I really did have hope that he might come back. I say come back because I did not feel a bit of his spirit when we walked in the room. I believed right then that he was already gone. So, I prayed and asked God to please send him back to us. We certainly needed him more here than they could possibly need him in Heaven. I still believe that today.
The rest of the week was really tough as friends and family started streaming in. Cathy and I stayed at the hospital the entire week. People came to be with us and took care of us in so many ways. It was amazing to see so much love among so much hurt. I was pretty much non-stop with crying. I never really felt like I was having a breakdown, I just sobbed and sobbed buckets of tears and kept on going.
By Friday morning, the doctors were able to confirm the worst. There are 5 areas of brain function that all have to NOT be working in order to make a declaration of brain death. In Patrick's case, 4 areas were not working from the time he arrived at the hospital. The 5th continued to function for the next 3 days. Unfortunately, in the meantime, the rest of his body was shutting down as a result of the medication they were giving him to keep his brain swelling under control. It was more and more of a no-win situation. If his brain wasn't dead, the rest of his body soon would be. Our entire lives from childhood to now passed through my mind that entire week. How could this be happening to my little Patty? How could he be the one in this situation? I wanted God to take me instead. This just wasn't fair. I asked my mom to help - pull some strings or whatever you can do when you're up in Heaven. I begged for them to send Pat back to us. "Please send us a miracle. We really do need him here, Lord." But none of it was enough. Late Friday morning, the doctors made the pronouncement with an official TOD. He remained on life support as the organ donor team completed testing and set up the recipients of his kidneys and liver.
I understand that there's a difference between God's provision and God's provision of miracles, and I don't think I take for granted what miracles actually are. Still, I can't begin to understand why we didn't get a miracle. I felt like my family needed a miracle, more than any family may ever have. Why have we been halved in such a short time? Why did my father have to live through this? Why won't my precious nephew have his daddy in his life? Why won't my kids ever know their Uncle Pat? There are actually so many whys that I haven't even figured them all out yet. Part of which is the reason I decided to write about it on this blog. I sometimes journal about this, but I've decided that I want to share these thoughts with others. I'm hoping that someone who needs to read this will find it. And I hope that I can find some of what I need in blogging about it.
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