A Nomadic Love Story….Part Seventeen, The ICU

My apologies for the lack of blogging lately. We were in Mississippi for about 10 days for my sister’s wedding. Lots has happened and there will be pictures and blogs galore soon, but for now, we continue with our story.

The drive home was a tense one and I probably made it in record time. What I found on arriving was a rather badly banged up grandfather, uncle and aunt and a grandmother in ICU at University Hospital in Jackson.

I rather dislike the ICU. There are a few reasons for this great dislike. One is that I spent a Christmas vacation in the ICU waiting room at the VA hospital in Jackson when my father’s father was there. It was a decision I made. Nobody forced me to stay there but it was very emotional and confusing as an 11 year old.
This leads me to the next thing I don’t like about the ICU…the waiting room. It is filled with people just waiting. Granted bonds are formed across those hospital chairs as families share the stories of their loved ones who are in critical condition. Books and blankets and pillows and prayers are shared amongst people who in a rather short amount of time become closely tied together over the bonds crisis and heartache.
This leads me to the last thing I don’t like about ICUs. The waiting. You have no idea what is happening behind those doors between the few precious moments you are allowed to go in, and when a doctor or nurse comes to the crowded waiting room you can hear and feel the air being sucked out of it as everyone who has been sitting, waiting and wondering sometimes for days takes a deep breath in anticipation of who the doctor or nurse is looking for and what is going to be said.

That is where I found my family and close friends – the ICU waiting room. I joined the group of wait-ers, trying to find out the latest news about Granny. Time finally approached when we could go in. About ten minutes until those windowless metal doors would open we, along with many others, began to gather by said doors, trying to wait patiently for the minutes to tick by.

I found Granny lying in a bed, connected to tubes and hoses and monitors and IVs. It seemed the list of her injuries grew every day as the doctors did more tests. It was not good news. Many of her ribs were broken. Her urethra was severed and had been sewed back together. However because it had been severed urine had gotten into her body cavity. That is not even half of what was wrong with her. I don’t even know if I ever knew every single thing that was.

If you have never seen someone you love that close to death, I will tell you it is nothing you want to see. I have witnessed it three times in my life now. Only once did the person pass away while we waited and looked on. This was not that time.

One thought on “A Nomadic Love Story….Part Seventeen, The ICU


    What a legacy you are leaving for Lily, Caleb (!), for all your family and friends, and, I feel, especially for me. You're prompting me to get back to the task of keyboarding some of my many stories, as my son has continually reminded me to do. We're able to live the high drama of your lives through your fantastic and warm narrative. Thanks!

    ><> + <>< (believers keeping their eyes on Jesus)

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