Questions and Answers

It still hasn't kicked in that I probably saved my husband's life on Sunday. 

That bringing him to the ER because of his sporadic breathing, confusion, and bulging non-dilating eyes would find a few more serious problems on top of or maybe because of the cancer.

My fear increased as the day went on in the ER.  Watching him sweat profusely.  Talking gibberish.  Not really present in the conversation.  Falling in and out of consciousness.  Gray skin.  Swollen ankles.  X rays taken followed by CT scan to get a better look.  Blood tests, urine samples, more blood tests.  Watching his O2 monitor drop to the 50s not being sure if that was due to sleep apnea or not as it would jump back up to the 90s when awake.  Watching the nursing staff and expert IV givers try and fail to run a line due to his veins rolling and being squishy.  Needles jamming into his wrist to get a more blood.

The bruises that followed quickly.  So many bruises.

Finding the blood clot in his right lung stuck in a secondary artery.  Unable to be removed and hoping to be dissolved or at the least, getting a hole in it to allow more blood flow.

Learning that he had an extensive amount of C02 in his blood.  That the only way to fix it would be to wear a bipap machine with a mask that he hated.  Hearing the doctors ask if they could put a tube down his throat if it got bad enough.

Being admitted to an ICU room.  Having visitors show up to pray for my life partner.  Seeing the fear in their eyes.  The love in their hearts.  The compassion in their souls.  Knowing that they would stop and do anything for me if I asked them to.

Restless nights in the hospital.  Talking to doctors, nurses, residents, aids, students, family and friends.  Trying to keep everyone updated.  Trying to remember to eat.  Trying to stay in contact with my kids.  Trying to be strong for my man.

Finding out the CT scan results of several (too many too count) spinal compression fractures.  Things that will never heal.  My strong husband will forever be in pain this side of Heaven.  He will always be on medication.  He will no longer be able to pick me up.  Perhaps he won't be able to shoot a large gun or sit in a tree stand.  He may never be able to fly again.  Or work on trucks with his bare hands. 

He will always need a walker or cane.  The body brace.  The medication.  He may one day need a wheelchair.  Am I strong enough to push him everywhere?

Will I ever lay in bed next to him again?

Will we be able to go on that family vacation we have always wanted to go on?

Changes need to be made.  Are we, am I, capable of making those decisions?  Do I call on the help offered by so many?  Do I continue to trust God?  Am I capable of trusting Him through this all?  Will He continue to be there for us through this entire journey like he has been for the beginning of it?  Will I burn out my friends on needing their help?  Will I burn out?  My kids?

How will we afford to live?  What needs to be sold?  How can we make those decisions?  I don't know what to eat most days, how will I be able to know if I should pay one bill and not the other?  What I should say yes or no to?

So many questions.  Fears.  So many answers, so many ways.  Too many answers, too many ways.

Tonight, I sleep with questions.  Maybe tomorrow I wake up with answers.