The Doctor’s Calling
This has been an unusual week for me and several others in my family. My sister Bec had surgery day before yesterday on her ear. She has had ongoing problems with her ear, including partial deafness and constant ringing. Most problematic for her, however, is that the ear was completely open from a previous surgery, preventing her from being able to go into the water. In fact, showering was complicated, involving cotton balls, many cotton balls. So while the surgery won’t restore her hearing or stop the ringing, the doctor hopes it will allow her to go into water without worry. Yay. She could snorkel once again. Keep your fingers crossed and throw in a prayer or two.
The other health event that took place was that Monday, my 4-year-old grandson Micah (of dance fame in last Saturday’s Smile) put a rock into his mouth while playing outdoors at his preschool. He swallowed the rock, which proceeded to get stuck, at which time he was choking and couldn’t breathe. While coughing and struggling to breathe, he aspirated the rock into a lung. Quick-thinking school personnel immediately called 911 and he was taken to the hospital in Montpelier, VT, where they live. It was quickly determined that he would need surgery, so he eventually he was transported by ambulance to a hospital in Burlington, VT, where he underwent surgery involving a scope that went into his lung through his nose.
After numerous tries, the fabulous doctors were successful, and pulled a ONE CENTEMETER rock from his lung.
He spent the night in the hospital as he recovered from his general anesthesia, and happily went home the next day.
This was scary, of course, but the most sobering thing around all of this is that had this event taken place a hundred year ago, he probably wouldn’t have survived. God is good, and Micah told his mama firmly, “I won’t put any more rocks in my mouth.” Good idea Micah.
I stumbled upon this photo this week. The photo was taken exactly four years ago and features Bill putting together something or other from IKEA, and he is being assisted by then-4-year-old Kaiya. The picture (which is pretty crappy in quality) is a poignant one for me for a couple of reasons. At the time the photo was taken, Bill’s Parkinson’s was serious enough that he had reached the point that he had effectively lost his small motor skills, preventing him from doing things like picking up tiny screws. Well, IKEA = tiny screws. I took the photo because he had asked Kaiya if she would help him, and she was handing him the small screws so that he could screw them in. I still cry when I think about it. I remember that it made me so happy that my husband didn’t let a little thing like Parkinson’s disease stop him from doing what he wanted to do. He would just ask for help, and frequently did. But it also reminded me that just a few months after that photo was taken, Bill was put on a new (for him) regime of medications that were truly miraculously life-transforming for him. Almost immediately, he regained his small motor skills, and many other of the effects of the disease were alleviated as well. He continues to do very well under this medication regime. I am so grateful to live at a time where there are medications available that have literally added productive years to his life. Just like with Micah, if he had been diagnosed 100 years ago, this would not have been the case. I am a very grateful woman this week.