April 17 – “Where is everybody?”

I stopped to get some donuts this morning for me and Chris.  Grabbed an extra dozen to maybe give away in a waiting room or something.  I told the clerk what they were for and that he could choose whatever kind he wanted to put in so he could have a part in it.  He grinned broadly and leapt to the task.  Gave me an eleven cents discount, too. 

We had a student nurse on the scene in Mom’s room.  She helped Mom’s nurse give meds.  Problem was, she didn’t know what they were for.  Chris said when she was in nursing school, they weren’t allowed to give a med if they didn’t know what it was for.  Chris was chatting with April about it, and April added, “or what is was supposed to do or what the side effects might be.”  Nursing school is a tough place to hang out.

Speaking of hanging out, we went up to the eighth floor to hang out with Cailyn before her surgery.  Then we walked with her to the surgery waiting area on the second floor.  They took her in five minutes early.  Guess it helps if your Mommy works there. Chris took off to go back to Mom’s room on the fifth floor and wait for the docs to make their rounds.  I took the donuts (after Nathan and April each snagged one) up to the fourth floor where the ICU waiting room is.  The Smecca family was there waiting for Grandpa to go into surgery.  And “coincidentally” enough they were starving.  Gotta love those coincidences God arranges.  I asked if any of them could help me eat some donuts and they were gone in an instant.  I stayed to talk to Moose, the family fireman, and when he heard Nathan and April were in the waiting room on the second floor he said, “Come on.  Let’s go see them.”  He and Nathan were talking when a third fireman walked in with his family.  His stepson was on his way to have his tonsils out as well.  Pretty soon the rest of Moose’s family came down to join the wait.  Felt like old home week – or old station week – for the fire department.  And then later we even saw one of the Seasiders being rolled past in a wheelchair.  I jumped up to see what was going on there.  And I’m still not completely sure.  Oh, it was Jim all right, and he had an IV port in his arm.  But when I asked what was going on all he would say is that he was “donating my body to science, only little pieces at a time.”  That’s a pretty typical Jim answer.  And that’s one more reason why I really like the guy.  You never know what he’s gonna say.  Or what it means when he does say it. 

After a while I got a text from Chris asking if we were still on the second floor.  Seems she had talked Mom’s docs already, but when she got into the elevator on the fifth floor she ended up on the eighth floor.  Now, Mom used to be on the ninth floor, and was moved to the fifth, even though we were hoping that she would end up on the tenth in the ACE unit for senior adults.  Cailyn started the morning on the eighth floor at day surgery check-in, went down to the second floor for the surgery, and was eventually supposed to be in a room on the tenth floor children’s wing.  The ICU waiting room where I took the donuts was on the fourth floor, but all those folks were now on the second floor in the surgery waiting room.  Well, almost all of them.  Some of them had gone down to the cafeteria on the first floor.  Apparently Chris’ head was spinning and she lost track of where everyone else was.  She wasn’t lost, though.  She knew full well where she was. 

OK.  To the patients.  Mom’s white count, the infection indicator, had fallen from 26 all the way to 25.9.  Yes, I was being sarcastic there.  Basically no change, so she wouldn’t be going anywhere.  Cailyn, on the other hand, came through surgery like an absolute champ.  Though struggling to stay awake, she was talking and munching on a popsicle.  When we asked how her throat felt, she said “It’s a little tickly.”  And when the ever-vigilant Nurse Nani asked, “Can I see where your tonsils used to be?” Cailyn, instead of opening her mouth wide as we all expected, thrust her head back onto her pillow, revealing the full expanse of her neck.  There it is, Nani.  Check it out all you want. 

Jennifer came to stay with Mom for the evening so we could duck out and attend the family visitation time for Uncle Jerry.  We touched base with a lot of cousins and some old friends.  When one friend arrived, Rev. Ray Pinnard, my brother Jay leaned over and whispered, “That guy there reminds me of Father Dan O’Connell.  Do you remember him?”  Indeed I did remember Father Dan, and I could see the resemblance right away.  Same perpetual grin.  Same glowing disposition.  I told Jay that Ray has kind of taken up the Father Dan mantle, in a sense.  Pretty much anybody who gets old in Galveston these days will run into Rev. Ray at some point or another.  He already has quite a legacy.  Funeral service for Uncle Jerry is today at ten o’clock.  It’ll be a full blown Catholic funeral with Knights of Columbus participation and everything.  My cousins asked me to say a few words as well.  I’ll give it my best shot to honor the Lord and Uncle Jerry. 

Luke 19:10 says, “For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost.”

Father, watch over all of our patients as they recover – Mom and Grandpa and Cailyn.  Watch over our family as we remember together our time with Uncle Jerry.  And keep on holding the future in your hands.  It’s so much better off there than when I try to take it over.  Amen.