Nothing is routine

Over the past year, my mom has been having mammograms every six months to follow up on something that was showing up on the tests. Her doctor didn't think there was anything to worry about but suggested a biopsy just to be sure. The procedure was scheduled Wednesday, June 11. I took the day off work to go with her and my dad because she told me she didn't want him waiting by himself. We checked in and waited for Mommy to be called. When she went back to the room where they do the procedure, Daddy and I just hung out and waited. After about an hour I went to the desk and asked the people there if they could get me an update or find out how much longer it was going to be before her testing was done. They called to the back rooms, didn't get an answer and said they must be finishing up, probably would only be about 10 more minutes or so. Daddy had walked outside so I went and found him to give him the update and after a little while he and I decided to go in as Mommy should be done. As we came down the hallway, we saw Mommy's doctor. He told us that Mommy had passed out when they were finishing the procedure, he didn't know what caused that and was probably going to keep her in the hospital over night to watch her. Said they'd moved her to ER and we could go to the waiting room there. Then all hell broke loose. When they did the biopsy, the needle nicked a blood vessel. She was bleeding inside and they'd inserted a tube to drain the blood and thought the bleeding would stop. Within a short time, they were doing x-rays and CT scans and saw the bleeding wasn't stopping and she was getting worse. Her blood pressure dropped to a very critical stage, her heart was in distress.....they had to perform emergency surgery to stop the bleeding but couldn't wait for her vitals to be stable. Everything was a blur, my mind was in a fog. At some point I was able to contact my sisters and get them to the hospital. A risk manager for the hospital was finding a room where we could wait. They asked her to bring us to the hallway so we could see Mommy as they quickly got her to surgery, and then 'no', we were told to go out to the hall by the elevator they'd be using to get to surgery, and then 'no', bring the family in to the room to see her before they went to surgery. We walked in the room and there had to have been thirty medical professionals in there. They all stepped back and let us by the bed. I knew, then, that they didn't think Mommy was going to survive the surgery. Her doctor came out after the surgery and told us they did get the bleeding stopped. He told us all the things that could be wrong, though. Kidneys, heart, lungs, liver and possible brain damage. He cried as he told us. At some point they told us they would be moving her to ICU and once she was settled in we could see her. Again, her doctor tried to prepare us for what we'd see. He told us she was swollen, there were several IVs and tubes and that she was on a ventilator. None of us were prepared. The woman in that bed looked nothing like our mother. She was so swollen. It was just impossible to believe everything that had happened to her since that morning. I don't know what time I finally took my Dad home; I stayed with him that night. I don't think any of us thought she'd survive the night and no one wanted Daddy home alone.

The last eleven days have been exhausting--both physically and emotionally. Mommy is still on the ventilator and she's being kept sedated. We all keep visiting. We keep talking to her, willing her to keep fighting and letting her know that so many people are praying for her recovery.

I have days where it's hard to remain strong. After the initial shock of everything, the first weak day came last week when I expected Mommy to be able to come off the ventilator. When it didn't happen, it was very depressing and disappointing. The second one came yesterday when they said a section of her right, upper lung had collapsed and they had to insert yet another tube to reinflate it.

Today they tell us the lung is reinflated. They tell us her vitals are stable. They tell us they are getting her lungs healed and strong so she can come off the ventilator.

It's been a nightmare. I won't quit fighting for her. Even though she's sedated and I only see her eyes every now and again, I believe she knows and hears me encouraging her to keep fighting. I believe she hears when I sing her favorite hymn to her. She hears when I tell her that God is helping her get well. She hears when I talk to her about her flowers and hummingbirds. She hears when I tell her about Anya and Gideon and about Chrissy making strawberry jam.

I don't know why this happened to her. I pray constantly for her healing, as I know so many others are.

I am praying for the simple pleasure of sitting on Mommy and Daddy's porch, having a quiet conversation with them over a cup of coffee while we watch the hummingbirds dart around their feeders.