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A Close Call and Its Lessons
Where do I begin? This has been unreal for me...I guess I should start last thursday. It would be good since part of this writing is gonna be storytelling, and part of it will be thinking over the lessons learned from living the story.
Anyway, let's start on Thursday, July 30th. I get out of work fast cuz Mom just called me saying she's having trouble breathing. Because the A/C in my car's busted, and I can't drive standard transmission, she has to drive herself and me to the emergency center at MD Anderson Cancer Hospital. I swore that day I'd learn to drive standard if it's the last thing I'd do.
This is a 30-40 minute drive from where we live, and there were other emergency centers we could've gone to. so why MD Anderson? Well, I should've said earlier that Mom's been fighting breast cancer for 7 months. She had just finished the torturous ordeal of chemotherapy two days before. So she was already tired, weak, dry in the mouth, nauseous, queasy, aching. Keep those sensations in your mind as you picture us parking in a cramped, humid, hot, parking garage in the labyrinth of the Texas Medical Center, an enormous metropolitan complex of hospitals, clinics and research centers.
So where does MD Anderson fit into all this? Simply put, it's THE best Cancer Treatment Center on Earth. She wanted to be there as a patient for this medical crisis because she'd been going there for her cancer treatments. They would have her records, her lists of medicine, and be familiar with her.
Well...getting to the Medical Center wasn't enough. We get out and discover that we'd parked in the wrong garage, the one that went to St. Luke's, a neighboring hospital. So we drive to another garage, park again, follow a stranger's directions to the emergency center, only to discover we'd been directed to the wrong emergency room. The whole time we're WALKING...dear God, SHE was walking, well, hobbling more like it, constantly leaning on me, constantly pausing, trying to catch her breath, looking as pale as death. It could've been an opening scene for an episode of that TV show, House: she faints on the sidewalk, still unable to find the right hospital, and I start screaming for help while the camera pulls up and away from us to show how small and helpless we are amidst the crowds and the traffic and the towering skyscrapers.
...Helpless...God in heaven, I've NEVER felt so helpless, so hopeless as I did that day...I manage to stay calm, if only somewhat irritated. That irritation was just the mask of my own sheer terror at watching my mom's strength fading, wondering if we were going to make it to the right emergency room in time. She's always been persistent, as well as stubborn which is "persistent" in its negative from. Wouldn't even let me take her in a wheelchair so she could at least rest a little.
Anyway, we FINALLY make it to the right emergency room, and they don't take long to admit her. While Dad made his way to the ER, I told all the friends I could think of about what was happening, pleading with them to pray, pleading with God for patience and strength. The Hospital's full of patients, as is the ER, so she's stuck in that room, on that thin stretcher, we're stuck waiting, hoping the doctors will figure out what's wrong. Later that night, as I watch her rapid heartbeat on the monitor, her breathing shallow, audibly gasping...I burst into tears. Lately it's been like that whenever I'm in some kind of crisis situation. I go numb in the heat of the action (probably a good thing, so I don't lose my head) and then afterwards, comes the terror, the grief, the tears, the lead weight in the heart. Yea...Dad cried too; we both cried and hugged a lot. I can't imagine what this was like for him.
Looking back, all this reminds me of a scene from one of my favorite books: The Pilgrim's Progress. Here the Pilgrim on his way to the Celestial City must make his way up a hill called Difficulty. There is no way around this rough and threatening hill, (no safe way, that is, cuz the two paths that go either way around the hill are called "Danger" and Destruction" wink , except for up and over. Halfway up, however there is a place called "The King's Arbor". It is a garden oasis where weary travelers can rest before continuing the upward journey. I can honestly say I had my own King's Arbor during this exhausting climb. Oh the joys of the King's Arbor! The kind, caring hospital staff, professional, and dedicated. :'3 The loving family and friends who came by to see us in our hour of need. The peace and quiet of mom's room in the hospital. The sight of her gradually improving day by day. The sacred silence of the chapel. Eheheheh...even the delicious hospital food (shocking right?), expensive, but good. I definitely had my rest in the Arbor. ^-^
When people share a common suffering, it draws them together in mutual compassion, mutual strength. I saw people of all stages in the cancer battle. There were those who were just starting the long fight (an uncle's niece with recently discovered stomach cancer). There were those who like us were in the midst of the hell storm. There were those who were approaching the end in defeat (a man dying of incurable lung cancer that spread to his spine). And there were those who had beaten cancer (a friend of Mom's who'd been cured of breast cancer).
Their love, their support, and their prayers made me realize something...I'm a selfish jerk. ._. Even as I talked to some of them, I did not want to care about them. I wanted to be in my own little world, shut away from all this pain and unhappiness. It is understandable, but not justifiable. This desire is purely selfish and uncaring. I hate it. Thus, from now on I will surrender more than ever before my self-centered wants, that I might meet the needs of others. It's true...as sweet as many perceive me to be, I still do not care enough. To be honest, none of us can care enough, love enough...Only God can, and we can only love enough when we let His love work through us.
This ordeal has made me realize just how shallow my online life is. Well, let me put it this way: I now see that I was putting too much again into my life on Gaia. To be honest, for the first time in my life...I'm starting to get sick of Gaia, sick of online "social networking" in general. It seems to have no usefulness aside from keeping people who already know each other in real life in touch with each other.
My real life friends were faithful, compassionate, and wise. They came and they hugged me, hugged my mom, talked and laughed. They prayed, they encouraged, and they rejoiced when she got better. ^^
My online friends...some of them did inquire, and pray, and encourage, but some whom I expected to be there for me turned out not to be...so be it. I PM them, and they're clueless about what's going on with me, even though I kept announcing on Gaia what was happening to my mom. I know who my friends are now. :l
Now, almost a week later, Mom is out of the hospital. She takes medicine that improves her health, and the cancer treatments will continue. We can look forward to getting past the Hill in due time. "Maeror periculum evanidus est"..."Sorrow is a passing trial"... :]
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