December 11-12, 2015

I could not have handled the last 24 hours on my own.  In our family, I am the fly-off-the-handle, neurotic, self-absorbed, OCD, needy one… except when it comes to emergencies.  Then, I’m the calm, collected, low-anxiety, steady-going voice of reason.  Most of the time, I can figure the hard stuff out.

Last night was a different story.  Jeremy had surgery on his right leg for major nerve damage.  This whole thing seemed to come out of nowhere.  It started with a visit to the foot doctor and a random diagnosis of cerebral palsy of the foot and some heel spurs.  I don’t know.  Don’t ask me.  Then, a trip to the Andrews Institute and some more tests revealed some pretty extensive nerve damage on all sides of his leg and across the top of his foot.  We fought with the insurance to get his surgery scheduled before the new year so that it would be covered.  We have already met our deductible for the year.  Jeremy figured out a way to be off from work for 2 weeks during the height of seasonal retail hell.  I figured out how to cobble together care for Miss SJ, Jeremy, and Sophie so that I could fulfill my obligation as reader at graduation and how to mix annual leave and nanny care to cover the bases at work this upcoming week.

But I didn’t figure out how to handle the last 24 hours.  I wasn’t prepared for the 6-hour wait for Jeremy to go into surgery.  I wasn’t prepared for the 5-hour wait in the emergency room through his surgery.  I wasn’t prepared for the 2 hours in recovery, only to be released from the hospital after midnight to track down prescription drugs and figure out how to get him in the bed and comfortable.  I wasn’t prepared for the look of desperation in his glassy eyes when he came to and was swallowed by wave after wave of nausea.  And I wasn’t prepared for the sheer fatigue that surgery introduces into your world.

Jeremy is stable.  His leg hurts.  He has staples, and the doctors worked on “decompressing” and “wrapping” his nerves for 5 hours.  I can imagine that he is going to be uncomfortable for a while.  He is staying in front of his pain meds.  He slept really well last night once we all got settled well after 2am.

There is no way that I could have done any part of the experience without the people who obviously love us very much.  Jessica watched the baby overnight so that we didn’t have to worry about her.  Abigail sat with me for the countless hours I had to wait in the surgery waiting room.  Mom and Dad came to the hospital in between obligations to make sure I wasn’t alone, to pray for Jeremy, and to get us home and in bed.  Mom stayed overnight to make sure we were okay.  Then she stayed with Jeremy today while I went to graduation.  Clay came to the hospital in the early evening and then stayed until Jeremy was in recovery so that he knew he made it through okay.  Family in Oklahoma kept in steady contact to make sure we were in good shape.

At graduation today, several of my dear friends came up to me to ask how we were all doing.

I’m too close to it right now to fully be able to express what I’m feeling.  But I want to document how strongly this experience has impressed upon me the degree of interconnectedness we have with family and friends who are willing to sacrifice their own personal comfort, time, resources, and needs to provide a safety net to catch the pieces as they fall.  I don’t deserve any of the love and kindness I’ve received during this family crisis.  I’m not good at the care-giving.  But still people loved on me.  And that’s what empathy looks like.  Feeling pain when someone else is hurting, hanging around when you’d rather be sleeping, holding people up because you care about them…  All of this reveals the connective tissue that forms intricate communities of support networks.  We need this connection.  Life is sometimes too hard without it.  I’m keenly aware of that right now.

For everyone who got us through these 24 hours, thank you.  My family thanks you.  We are home and healing.