Blur
Life has turned into a blur.
Liam was still so ill on Monday. He couldn’t keep anything down in spite of all the meds. David traded out with me for the day so I could be with the kids at home and I realized the air conditioner had gone out.
We started looking for a repairman for the air conditioner. It was so much easier for me to be at home to feed Harrison. I couldn’t believe the baby who had gone from 98% breastfed was down to four times a day in two weeks. But it was not easier in so many ways. The little ones could not get over their emotional distress from me being gone. Harrison would hear me say “I’m going to go start a load of laundry,” from across the room, latch onto the word go, and erupt into loud crying as he clung desperately to me. The girls were so weepy and clingy. We hardly ever, ever got a babysitter even for an evening. This was so shocking to their normal.
Tuesday I went back in and finally on Wednesday Liam made a rapid turn around. Before we got discharged his nurse and I gave him a bed bath. He was so weak I knew it would be impossible for him to solo bathe at home and I wanted to get the blood out of his hair where there were better supplies. He smelled like dried blood, chemo, and sickness. He struggled so hard with the loss of independence. His nurse was a believer and she reminded him of how Mary Magdalene washed Jesus feet. It is a hard thing to be served, but it’s like Jesus, too.
Wednesday afternoon we loaded up and came home!! Oh, it was so good to be home! The trip home exhausted him.
Thursday was pretty rough. He was tired, a little sad, and I had to keep track of so many meds and remember to flush his port. Boy my nursing skills are rusty. But mostly, there’s something so odd about doing it to your own child.
On Friday we had to head back in to clinic for labs. He got his port deaccessed and had his first inhaled pantemadine. When the respiratory therapist walked in the room I thought he seemed familiar. I glanced at his nametag. Kerry. I was sure of it. “You used to work inpatient, right?”
“Oh, yes, but that was a long time ago,” he brushed it off with a wave of his hand.
“You worked in the CCU, too?”
This time he looked at me. “Yes, but how did you know?”
Because I did, too.
I cannot believe God keeps giving me little connections here.
Someone sent me this verse and said she’s praying it over Liam every day.
But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings, you shall go out leaping like calves from the stall. Malachai 4:2