Friday, July 27, 2012

The Waiting

We have relocated waiting rooms and Brother has just been taken back for his cardiac catheterization (that would be the "heart cath" I've been mentioning) that should take an hour and a half. So, we three sit. And we wait.

Yesterday, his nuclear test left him drained and the feeling of sliding backwards. Almost ashen and words slurring, he crawled into bed with a swollen arm. SIL and I remade his bed with fresh sheets in record time while the nurse inspected the swelling. At that same moment, one of Brother's friends and his former doctor came through to check in on him. Deeming the swelling nothing more than a moment's sensation and temporary situation, we thanked him for the reassurance as he left.

Last night, his doctor came through and asked question after question about how Brother felt and what he thought. Something along the lines of "If nothing is found in this test, then the test is perfect. We like for it to be negative." But that intuitive brother of mine responded quickly and said, "But the test wasn't perfect, was it, Doc?"

Hence the heart cath and our growing clan sitting, waiting, and praying for this champion.

Yesterday, the nuclear test showed he has some sort of blockage in his circumflex artery. This is the artery on the backside of the heart. The bad news is that there is blockage, soft plaque. Hard plaque (what usually causes these things) has not formed, as it takes years upon decades for the soft stuff to calcify and turn into hard plaque. The good news, as we will always try and look at the good side, is that if there had to be a blood clot and it had to be in an artery, than this is the place for it to be as the circumflex artery supplies blood to a less important area of the heart.

He was started on Heparin and Coumadin to keep his blood from being "sticky." Heparin and Coumadin are blood thinners if you lack medical knowledge or google (I have the latter of the two).

But the very best medicine was the promise from his doctor, Dr. Mac Bowman, that not only Brother could see his children, rather he should see his children. It would do all of them a world of good. SIL went to my parent's house last night, picked up her cherubs and brought them home, a place they had not seen since their father and mother kissed them good night and tucked them in after a busy Sunday.

Husband got here on the new direct flight from DCA to AGS last night and seeing him was the very definition of a breath of fresh air. His calm demeanor, his knowledge, his strength- all things wonderful and complimentary to this frazzled girl were a welcome site for my whole family and he had a reception of open arms.

After picking up LMC from a friend's house- different from the friend I dropped her off with- we headed home for updates and questions to be answered before collapsing in beds. Mom in her large bed by herself, Husband in my old room, snuggled in a large king size bed with LMC under his arm and pushing him to the edge, quivering on the corner as she snored. And I- tucked into the bed that cradled me in the summers of my youth at my grandparents small home with ancient soft green carpet. Hearing the buzz of my phone and seeing the light of it messaging me- the picture of my brother with that smile comes through and I thank The Sweet Lord for technology.

On the elevator ride up this morning, SIL said in her peppiest voice, "Y'all know about Doc McStuffins? Well, you aren't going to believe this- Daddy's doctor is Doc MacBowman. He taught Doc McStuffins everything she knows about taking care of toys."

They jump up and down and start screaming with glee, "Doc MacBowman! Yeah!"

It was hard to tell who had more "giddy" in them- Brother or the cherubs. Inquisitive Nephew asked about the wheelchair (and might have been just a tad impressed with it) and Busy Busy Niece was just a tad standoffish at it all. The man who tosses her in the pool and chases her down the hall was sitting. While jovial and happy, she knew something was different. It did not take long for to shake the 'quiets' climb up into his lap, hold his face in her tiny paws and give him kisses before asking if they could go back and play with LMC.

Tom Petty said it best, The Waiting is the hardest part. And he's right. The waiting-- it's the hardest.

Brother has been waiting to hold his children.
SIL has been waiting for a solution.
We all wait for recovery.

You take it on faith.
You take in on the heart.
The Waiting is the Hardest Part.

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