If you’re not already subscribed, you can do so here to follow this week’s series Darryl and I are sharing on marriage and medical fragility. Everyday moments, things we’ve learned, and gospel perspective in it all:
It was 9 pm and time for me to work through my mental checklist for the night meds.
Medicine 1. Filled up in a syringe, 1.3 ml. Put into the J-tube. Helps gut motility.
Medicine 2. Pink smelly liquid, put into the J-tube, all 3 ml. Stops epileptic discharges. Reduces muscle stiffness.
Medicine 3. Seizure meds. Crushed, mixed with water, put in J-tube.
Medicine 4. Another crushed pill. Reduces acid. Flushed with 10 mls of water.
Medicine 5. Steroid through the nebulizer to open his airway.
Medicine 6. Another steroid through the nebulizer to help his lungs.
Darryl and I worked as a team, dosing out meds and giving them to Calvin. We sat yawning on the couch together, all three of us. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in days,” I confided, “let’s just sit here and talk.” Darryl looked at me blankly as if to say what more is there to say? Maybe I was just trying to say I miss you. I miss it being just me and you.
The day had started at 4 am with a loud shrieking sound from Calvin’s apnea monitor. Talk about waking with a start. Good grief. By the time I made it to the alarm, Darryl was thoroughly disoriented and wondering if we were in the middle of a tornado or fire. The soft greeting of Good morning, baby was exchanged for a less romantic but more necessary frantic option: “Hit the button, hit the button!”
The morning’s rude awakening made me think twice before suiting Calvin up for the machine again tonight. But the docs were waiting on reports from the monitor so, what do you do? Hook him up.
I carefully wrapped him up and placed the nodes just right on his chest. Hans from Airway had demonstrated how to run the machine, “It’ll let you know if his heart rate goes over 220 bpm, under 60 bpm, or if he holds his breath for more than 20 seconds.”
He wasn’t kidding. It let us know.
It was nearly midnight before Calvin could finally drift off to sleep. With our eyes fighting our own sleepiness, we rigged up his machine to the nodes on his chest anxious to climb into bed and be done with another day. I reached over to press on and, “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”.
The alarm was stuck. At smoke detector noise levels. Nails on chalkboard levels. Nothing like a soothing lullaby before bed.
Isn’t funny how noise can put you over the edge?
Darryl shouted, “Unplug it, take it out, cover up the speaker, press the button,” and any other instruction he could think of.
“Nothing works, it’s busted, what a piece of junk,” I ranted while swatting furiously at the buttons, plugging and replugging, “bring it downstairs and get the manual.”
“Forget the manual, I’m taking this thing apart,” Darryl frantically searched for his screwdriver just to turn it over and find the machine was safeguarded for that very purpose. “I’m putting it in the garage,” he insisted.
“No, that’s ridiculous, I’m sure there’s some 24-hour number to call,” I countered as I flipped crazily through the manual.
But no number could be found. And the alarm went on and on and on.
“Don’t you feel like the weirdest things happen to us?” I shouted over the noise.
“Don’t worry, I know what to do, ” Darryl (the rescuer) reassured me. He took that machine and stuffed it under the couch cushion and whacked pillow after pillow on top.
It didn’t help. The alarm was still filling the house at ear-piercing levels. Apparently, the alarms were created to not just alarm us, but also the nearest hospital. “I forfeit the fight, just do something!” I shouted (very reasonably).
Five minutes later Darryl crawled in bed with satisfaction written all over his face. “Ha! You won’t hear it now. I put it in my backpack, rolled it up in a sleeping bag, put it in a bin, covered it up, and stuck it downstairs.”
It was as if he’d saved the world.
Thank you --as I have struggled with this morning--I was blessed with laughter at how this ended--and I am blessed that you can make it through--one more day--days most of us can only imagine..and still bless others..unknowingly..Thank you