She had a ferocious sound to her voice that I recognized. This was NOT the day to mess with her. “Excuse me, sir. Did you say, ‘When will he be returning to work?” That’s when I figured it out. She was the mom of the patient in the CCU.
The minute I became a mom 38 years ago, something in me shifted. I can’t explain it. I think most moms would agree. It just happens. As the firstborn, I’ve always been pretty loud, bossy, mouthy, and generally assertive. But the whole mom thing took it to a completely different level.
I’ve worried and lost sleep. I’ve yelled and cried. I’ve laughed and thrown my hands toward heaven, even shaking my fist a time or two. Boys just have a way of maxing out the testing of the fruit of the Spirit, which is patience. Truth be told, now that I think about it, my peace, gentleness, and self-control have been a bit marginal as well when that testing is happening. But there are only a scant few other things that bring me the joy that being a boy mom brings.
This lady was my sister. I knew it instantly. She was going to move heaven and earth that day, and I wanted to be there to help. It seemed that she was the next mom that God had placed in my path. He’s been doing that a lot lately. I’m not sure that I understand it most of the time. But I’ve just decided to be obedient and let Him do what He does. (That’s always better than whatever I try to conjure up.)
Her son had suddenly become critically ill while driving his truck through Indiana. He stopped at our Emergency Department, and within an extremely short period of time, he was placed on a ventilator. He had managed to send a text or make a phone call to his mom, so she promptly packed a bag to travel from Michigan. I met this beautiful lady on the morning after his admission to the CCU. The gravity of the situation was apparent to her, but she had a job to do. Everybody better step aside.
The hours turned to days. Sleep came intermittently and only in brief spurts. She stood at his bedside and prayed. She walked the hallways and prayed. The example displayed for staff to witness was priceless. She never asked for a single thing. (A cup of ice. That’s literally the only thing.) On Wednesday or Thursday of that first week, she came out of the room while I was passing by, and the overwhelm hit. She hung her head, accepted a hug, and cried. This was NOT a time for me to be one of Job’s friends with “all the words”. I simply asked God to help her. That was it.
Each evening at home, I prayed. Every morning in my quiet place, I prayed. Throughout each day, I prayed. And I felt confident in those prayers because I know Who I’m talking to. But the reality of the situation was that often prayers aren’t answered the way we believe they should be. So the prayers just continued while we trusted in the God who was listening.
The weekend came. I made sure she had my phone number. I couldn’t help but wonder. If I were a mom in another state with my son in the CCU on a vent, would anyone check on me? Would they ask how he was doing? So many questions, and my mind wouldn’t let them go.
Monday morning changed the atmosphere. Doctors were hopeful to remove him from the vent later that day. There was a glimmer of joy in her eyes that radiated all around. The much-anticipated time came, and her son breathed again on his own for the first time in over a week.
If you know anything about being on a vent, you know this is where the hard part started. Even though he was young, healthy, and very athletic, he’d been stuck in a bed for a long time. No food. No exercise. The body decompensates rapidly. But it doesn’t rebound the same way most of the time. Just sitting on the side of the bed would be tough at first. Going to the bathroom? You don’t just hop up and take a few steps to your destination. Slowly. One step at a time with one or two people assisting. This process is very humbling.
As physical therapy worked with him, Mom was taking notes. She studied their expectations. And while she initially gave him grace, she also discovered there came a time when he needed her to be that ferocious mom. “I’m sorry. Did you say you aren’t doing what they asked? That’s fine. I’ll go back to Michigan. You can stay here, and I’ll come visit.” You can be assured she made her point. He was finally downgraded from the CCU, and talking about discharge plans was top on the list.
My next conversation revealed a wonderful surprise. Thursday would be his birthday, and she would be taking him home. The goodness of God is unmatched.
Celebrating birthdays is a common occurrence with patients. One of our patient navigators brings a balloon and enlists anyone available to join in singing. Our entourage flooded the room to celebrate the exciting day. Almost immediately, the tears formed in the corner of his eyes. I’m a sucker for crying myself and I didn’t want him to be alone. This was a fantastic day.
I’ve seen it time and time again. Prayers prayed. Prayers answered. More prayers prayed. Those prayers not resulting in the outcome we envisioned. But each time that He connects me with another mom, especially a boy mom, He heals a little corner of my heart. He patches hope over my broken places. And He reminds me that He is good.
Tisha, my friend, I love you. Thank you for allowing me this time. I’ll treasure it always. See you soon!
Isaiah 26:3-4 ~ You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you. Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord God is an everlasting rock.