Strength in Weakness

I haven’t done this in a while. I wouldn’t say I’ve been avoiding it, but honestly, I haven’t had any desire to write. I personally hit a wall after Mom’s surgery. Tiredness hit, the weight of all of this reality hit, the adrenaline wore out, and my children ran out of their reserve to share mommy.

But now, I’m here. Today is a small step just to fill you in on what’s been happening since May.

Mom’s mastectomy surgery on May 5th went very smoothly. Recovery went very smoothly as well. She went back home to Eupora about a week after surgery and life was trucking on. Home health came to check in several times a week. There were weekly trips to Madsion for post-op visits. Healing seemed to be happening, and everyone was trying to recover.

Her last post-op appointment was on June 14. All looked good, and appointments for the 6-month follow-up were made. My sister and nephew flew in from New Mexico, and my family was heading to the beach the following week. While my sister was home, mom said she felt like she couldn’t swallow well, I attributed this to reflux. As the days progressed, reports came from Eupora that sounded like mom was getting a cold. I don’t remember hearing the words “short of breath” until we were already at the beach. Hearing those words make me catch my own breath.

Adriamycin can damage the heart. The chances are small, but they had always been on the back of my mind. Mom had an echo prior to chemo that told us her heart was in good shape, and she could proceed. When I heard “short of breath” I already knew what was happening, but I tried diligently to not listen to my intuition (I’ve got to quit doing that). So, when mom was diagnosed with pneumonia, I went with it. Of course! She’s short of breath because her lungs are sick, that makes perfect sense.

A few days after being diagnosed with pneumonia and the treatments were started, mom wasn’t showing any signs of improvement, so she was admitted to the hospital in Eupora. Everything was fine, she was being cared for, we would come as soon as we got home from the beach. So, on Sunday, June 26th my family went to Eupora to check in. As soon as I saw her, I wanted to break down. She looked miserable and seemed unconvinced that she was getting better (maybe she needs to listen to and act on her intuition better as well).

We went home and jumped back into life, doing everything on a day-by-day basis, relying too heavily conversations from the hospital. And, somewhere in all that, we (along with an amazing army of friends) got my sister and nephew on a plane back to New Mexico. In the meantime, mom had been re-categorized to swing-bed so that she could recover at the hospital.

Mom has hip pain. This is due to issues from her back (she had her second back surgery in March of 2015). She didn’t want to get out of bed. From what I could tell from her reports, she only got out of the bed minimally while at the hospital. Believe me when I say that when she gets grumpy, she usually gets her way. In this case, she wasn’t helping herself.

An echo was ordered on July 7. My heart sank. That old instinct flared up again and said “you knew, why didn’t you demand one earlier?” I sat on pins and needles waiting to hear the results.  Nothing. But discharge was planned for the next day. Then mom casually said that the doctor said the echo was fine. Fine? I didn’t buy it nor did I trust what she heard, so I had her results sent to her oncologist. They called me on Friday afternoon and said that she was far from “fine.” (Mind you, she was just discharged from the hospital. ) We made arrangements right then to have her seen my a cardiologist in Jackson the following week.

We didn’t make it a week before there were more problems. My family and I were preparing on Saturday morning to head to Eupora to check-in and do what we could, and then I got a call from home health. They were at mom’s house and she said that mom’s heart rate was terribly irratic and that she was so weak she couldn’t even get out of her chair. I cannot express how weak my knees got. I wanted her in Jackson immediately, that wasn’t an option, so she was sent by ambulance back the the Eupora ER. I got myself as together as I could and headed north.

You know those drives. Those when you don’t know what you’re going to find on the other end. Where the drive itself feels other-worldly in calmness, but you know the second it is over, your world is going to change. This was one of those drives. That was a week ago today.

I got to Eupora, ran into the ER like a crazy person and I’m sure spouted out more wild-eyed information than anyone there wanted and told them that I was there to take my mom to Jackson.  Mom was in bad shape, but not as bad as I pictured. Her potassium had bottomed out, so she was getting an infusion. As soon as that was done, he wanted to give digoxin to bring her heart rate down. Now I was breathing again. That hour felt longer than any I’ve experienced in a while. God never leaves. His spirit never abandons. And He keeps giving me more reasons to believe. Last week, I felt like He was holding my hand in that ER.

So, fast-forward, EKG done, mom was in atrial fibrillation. This meant her transfer to Jackson would be in an ambulance. They prepped her. I ran to her house and packed a bag and prepped to get Daddy situated. In the moment of need, dearest John Herring called and said that he could bring Daddy to Jackson to visit after we got mom situated (Daddy does better at home, and we figured it would best to keep him in routine). I could have cried with relief. And, back to I-55 I headed.

The rest need not be as detailed, a while in the Baptist ER, and then to a room. Medications started and adjusted to get her heart rate adjusted and get all the pounds and pounds of fluid off of her. Each day, things got better. Each day, God provided. She was discharged home with me on Tuesday, July 12.  We will see the cardiologist in a week or so.

Momma has a LOT of strength to regain, but all in all, she’s doing remarkably well. She and Daddy will need community more than ever before. And, from what I’ve seen in the past, community will show up.

In the midst of the dark and unknown, there is still Light. That Light is what keeps us strong or keeps us going when we’re weak.

Love to you all,

Devin