May also means it's the end of the semester! Wahoo! I'm looking forward to a few months without tests and homework. :) I will be applying for my program this month as well, so there are lots of exciting things going on! Please be praying for me as I get ready to apply and endure the long three months of waiting for a response. :)
When a person goes through a storm, just because the rain stops pouring doesn't mean the damage has been repaired. It's like the calm after a tornado comes through. You're thankful that the worst part is over, but just the thought of the clean-up that will have to take place is enough to send you over the edge. That's kind of how I have felt over the past couple of weeks. Today is six months since dad's accident. SIX MONTHS! I can remember sitting in his hospital room just wishing that I could fast-forward six months. And now we are here! Dad has come so far along over the past six months, and I couldn't be more proud. But... that doesn't mean that the damage that has been done to him or our family has been fully repaired.
As some of you know, on April 16th my boyfriend's dad had to have emergency open-heart surgery for an aortic aneurism. It was a very scary process, but after a few days things seemed to be getting better. Then one Tuesday night when I got off of work, it was around 10pm, Shane called me and told me that they were taking him back for exploratory surgery due to him having a fever of 105, and they couldn't figure out what was going on. So they were going to have to go in and try a hands-on approach. I immediately took off for Gainesville. Mr. Danny's room is in the North Tower at Shands (the old side), but my dad's was in the South Tower (the new side). When I got to Gainesville, Shane said that they would be doing his dad's surgery in the South Tower. When I got there, Shane and his family were still across the road, so they told me to go ahead and go to the second floor waiting room. As I sat in those chairs, it felt as if I had never left. Like I was still waiting on that November 4th night for the verdict. Would my dad live or die? I could remember each surgery that we sat in those comfy leather seats. When Shane's family got there, we waited for a couple of hours and then finally the doctor came out...and it was the SAME doctor that operated on dad the night of his accident! Earlier that day, my dad had the chance to meet him and several ICU nurses when he was there visiting Shane's dad and a friend of ours. Small world, right? Shane's dad pulled through the surgery, but they were still unable to find the problem, but he began getting better again. A few days later I was back over there and he had just gotten the ventilator out. As I stood there in his room...hearing the beeping machines, seeing the hundreds of wires, watching his monitor, I got sick to my stomach.
I then went to the bathroom and sat down and began to sob. Sobbing at the memories. The nightmares that haunted my dreams for weeks. Sobbing at having to watch his family experience the feeling of helplessness that I became so familiar with. Sobbing because I feel like I will never leave Shands UF, and that someone I love and care about will always be here. After I had my little "moment", I wiped my eyes and stood up - determined to be strong for Shane and his family. Throughout all of this I have tried to let them know that they are not alone, and that I am willing to fight through this with them.
*Side note - please keep praying for Mr. Danny. He is still struggling to heal. I know his family would greatly appreciate the prayers.*
All of that is to say, we may be six months ahead. Six months further from a time I never want to experience again. Six months closer to a day when things will one day be normal again. But there are days when I feel six steps back. Like that night in the hospital with Shane's family. My mind and heart are still healing from those images and long days and nights.
Dad also had his first nasty fall last Sunday... Last weekend we were out at the lake celebrating my birthday, and we were staying in a little cottage out there. On Sunday I had to go into work for a few hours, so my mom and my sister were outside while my dad was inside watching a movie. He drove his Jazzy (his electric scooter) over to the fridge and got a drink and then drove back over to the couch. When he went to stand up, his shoe slipped on the tile floor. His stump literally caught his fall. The bone hit right against the tile and his butt hit the footrest on the scooter. The drink busted so he fell in some glass. Thankfully, my mom was right outside and heard him yell for her. He's okay, but it definitely shook him up. His stump started swelling the next day and he is very, very stiff and sore. Needless to say, we have all been a little more careful and cautious when it comes to him getting around. I can tell it really scared dad, to the point where it took him a little bit before he would walk with his crutches. But he is doing better and he is being a trooper, as always. :)
It's moments like those when I am reminded how we still have healing to do. Emotionally and physically, especially with dad. Dad has defied so many odds that were against him, and he still is. But he is still having to face a drastic change and loss.
My mind is constantly in a million places. I'm always thinking about school, work, dad, Shane, life, painting my toes, and more all at the same time. So that means that I am forgetting things more often than I used to. I understand people may get frustrated when I forget little things, or don't think about things as often as I should, but there are times when I just want to scream! I am sure that many of you can relate, if you have ever been through something like this. I don't necessarily always want to scream at them, but more at me. I become frustrated with myself, because in my mind, I should be able to do everything. I am superwoman and can handle everything going and then some. But then, when I have to face the reality that I can't do everything and I can't handle all that is going on around me, it hits me like a ton of bricks and I feel like I'm suffocating...
That's where God's amazing strength and peace comes in. I see the beauty in the fact that I can't do things on my own. It reminds me that I am a weak human, who serves a mighty God. The same God who spoke the Earth into existence, is the same God who speaks to my broken heart. The same God who knows the number of stars in the sky, knows the number of hairs on my head. A couple of years ago, I got a tattoo on my wrist. It was a little spur-of-the-moment thing, but it I wanted it to have meaning. It is simple, just two black sparrows. I never would have known how much it means to me today. Many of you have probably heard the old song, "His Eye is on the Sparrow." At the time I got this tattoo, I was going through so many changes in my life. Changes with my parents, friends, and school. It was then that I wanted to be reminded every day when I looked at that tattoo, that every day, every second, Jesus is watching over me. Matthew 10:29-31 says, "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." For those who have not heard the song, here are the lyrics...
"Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come,
Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heaven and home,
When Jesus is my portion? My constant friend is He:
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.
I sing because I’m happy,
I sing because I’m free,
For His eye is on the sparrow,
And I know He watches me.
“Let not your heart be troubled,” His tender word I hear;
And resting on His goodness, I lose my doubts and fears;
Though by the path He leadeth, but one step I may see;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.
Whenever I am tempted, whenever clouds arise,
When songs give place to sighing, when hope within me dies,
I draw the closer to Him, from care He sets me free;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.
I sing because I’m happy,
I sing because I’m free,
For His eye is on the sparrow,
And I know He watches me."
Beautiful...right? On those days when I feel six steps behind, I begin humming this song, and become determined to not let satan steal mine or my family's joy.
Speaking of joy... Last Saturday, dad broke out his new KNEE for all of us! It was awesome, and yes, there were some tears shed as some saw him walk for the first time. Many have asked why dad hasn't taken his leg out in public, and that's because A) It wasn't technically "his" yet and B) He can only walk on it for a short amount of time. It is still very painful, but as time goes on and his leg becomes less sensitive, he will be out there showing off for sure. :) Here is a picture of him and my Aunt Joy (his sister), and my cousin Gini (Joy's daughter):
These moments also help us go another six steps forward... We are moving forward baby steps at a time. These past six months have been difficult, to say the least, but I can truly say my dad, sister, myself, and our family have experienced such a deep love for one another that I don't think we would have been able to experience otherwise. I can't wait to see where God takes us in the next six months! Thank you for those who have supported us these past six months, and here's to many more!
Blessings ~
Shelby
No comments:
Post a Comment