January 29, 2022
Welcome, God and All...
We are 1/12th into 2022. If the rest of the year plays out anything like the last month has, I will be looking at having a direct line to Jesus intalled in my house and my car.
I had a minor fender-bender with an overhead garage door at a local car wash. I hadn't even had the car a month, and hadn't made the first payment yet. It's covered, and the repairs will be made - but not until March, because that's how backed up the body shop is. And no, nobody was hurt. I'm truly thanjkful for that.
In the meantime, at home my son was developing congestion in his chest. Figuring it was a cold, I went about treating it as such with over the counter medication. But it wasn't getting any better. Later that week, when we headed to a local indoor track to do several laps walking, he started to complain about having to do the walking. I told him that we were not out to set any records, just to finish the course. My son is special needs and has some trouble being accurate and truthful over situations. Finally, we cut the walking short and headed home. Almost immediately, his mood improved, leading me to think he was simply acting up; only the congestion was still there. I needed to observe more to determine what to do next.
At the beginning of the following week, still not seeing any improvement in the congestion or his breathing, I called his PCP. Maybe they could prescribe something stronger to knock out the congestion. Instead, I was told to take my son to the emergency room at the hospital. With the latest COVID-19 variant on the loose, nobody wanted to take any chances. And thus began the odyssey that still isn't quite over, but has definitely proven that I make a lousy medical professional.
My son was looked at and tested and diagnosed within the first three hours of our arrival at the hospital. He was tested for COVID (current protocls mandate it); that test was negative. Other tests indicated a cloudy lung; that and his labored breathing rendered a diagnosis of pneumonia. Because of the labored breathing, it was decided to admit him. He was put on oxygen and antibiotics...and, twelve hours after arriving at the ER, was put in a hospital room.
COVID protocols are prohibiting outside visitors. While I understood this, as being developmentally disabled it would be very difficult for my son to be left alone to deal with his illness. Other patients were having to share updates on their own illnesses with spouses or family over the phone. It seems miraculous in itself that I would be able to stay with my son while he was hospitalized. However, I would sacrifice my freedom to do nearly anything, I could not leave his room. Anything I might need or want from the outside - my razor, cell phone chargers, extra clothes - were delivered to the hospital's main door by my sister, where a nurse or an aide would retrieve it and bring it to our room. They were always kind about it; but I knew it was an imposition that with each passing day made me wonder how I was going to get bills paid and conduct what little business I might have. It was a sacrifice I had to make, an act of love and mercy I would offer to the Lord. I felt like Saint Paul and Saint Thomas More, who were imprisoned for doing what they had to do. While I was definitely treated better than the two saints, I wondered how long this would play out.
While the nurses and hospital staff were as accommodating as they could be, I knew their work load was strained. The hospital was at 75% capacity. The ICU was completely full. In the days before we went in, the ER was triaging incoming patients in hallways, according to a patient who had come in the week before us. Nurses' assignments were shifted to alleviate bottlenecks elsewhere in the hospital. Doctors, on the other hand, gave the appearance of Pontius Pilate.In the six days my son was hospitalized, the amount of time there was actually a doctor in the room with us was less than thirty minutes. Yeah, being a respiratory case they want to minimize physical contact; and given the marvels of the electronic age, chart progress can be monitored remotely. I know the doctors were not without compassion, but it's hard to see it when you don't see them.
A moment of spontaneous humor came early, whiile in the ER. It's hard to draw blood from him; a trait he got from his mother's side of the family. At one point there were four nurses in the room; one was using a ultrasound in order to find a vein to tap. I made the comment that my son was going to extremes to meet girls. That drew laughter; relief at a time when we didn't know much.
I continued to reflect that I had voluntarily become a 'prisoner' for my son. It came to me that Jesus, the Son of God, by the will of His Heavenly Father, accepted confinement in a human body for thirty-three years; knowing the outcome was going to be...well, messy. Messy enough that He even petitioned his Father to stop what was coming. But He stopped short, saying "not My will, but Yours be done." Throughout his entire life, all He knew - all He did was out of compassion and love. Ultimately I hunkered down for the duration of the storm out of a fragment of that sense of compassion.
I asked for prayers and received them. I sent updates every morning and would pray the Rosary. My son gifted me with watching morning Mass on EWTN (the channel is in the hospital's TV feed). I did some spiritual research and discovered that St. Bernardine of Siena is the patron saint of respiratory patients. I found an intercessory prayer and prayed it. I noted that his progress sped up after making that prayer.
We have been home nearly a week, and we will turn the page into the next phase of this odyssey. There will be follow-up visits with his PCP. He's still using the oxygen, so we will have to determine how long that will continue. He has sleep apnea, something I sort of knew but now I know must be dealt with. It's a miracle in itself that i'm managing all this. But by God's grace there is a pathway, and for as long a He wills it, we will walk it together, coupled with the prayers of the many with whom we interact.
Until we meet again, may God be with you - and may God have mercy on us all...
+the Phoenix
