Even after watching for two hours as they stabilized Mike before taking us to the airport, I was sure everything would be fine. That’s how optimistic I am.
I was talking to my BWEL Study coach last week and she asked me if I was optimistic. Well, funny you should ask I just wrote a blog post that touched on that.
A glorious sunrise on the last day of 2009.
When they flew my dad to Denver for a subdural hematoma and my mom called the next morning to tell me he’d had a stroke I heard her say it had been a small stroke. I’m not sure that’s what she said but that’s what I heard.
The brain bleed that dad had was not small. He was in ICU for almost a month, then in inpatient rehab for six months, and I think they were in Denver for another year while he did outpatient rehab. But I always knew that he’d be alright.
The same with Mike. The day before, I had gone to the hospital to see him after I got back from Hays and having chemo. His PICC line was plugged and he was a little more grumpy than usual, but he told me he’d be home on Saturday or Sunday when they finished the antibiotics. I had no reason to think anything else.
Until the next morning when they called and told me they were flying him to Kansas City again. He had been flown to KU Med Center in early May and everything had been alright. The only reason we didn’t get back in time to see John’s golf tournament on the day he was released was a SNAFU at the hospital.
Susan and Minnette, one of her equine partners. Photo credit: Rhonda Abell
This time was different. They had told me on the phone that it would take about 40 minutes for the plane to get there and then things would move quickly. I was encouraged to get there quickly. Should I just leave here for Kansas City so I have something to drive? It didn’t sound like that was the best option.
I arrived about 40 minutes after they called. They were working on stabilizing him. He was intubated and sedated. It was an hour before the flight crew got there and they all worked on him for another hour before they took us to the airport.
We hadn’t even reached cruising altitude when the heart monitor did just what you see on TV – there was a straight line. The flight nurse and paramedic started CPR and suctioning his lungs. There was a heartbeat again, a flat line again, and a heartbeat again. I felt so helpless, all I could do was sit there and watch.
The pilot told them we would be landing in Hays. I was scared but still full of hope. They rushed us to the hospital and the chaplain met me at the door and took me to a private waiting room. He did not leave me there alone.
I called my dad to tell him what had happened and before we were done the ER doctor came in. It was then that I knew, even before the doctor told me, that all hope was gone.
So, yes, I’m optimistic. And, yes, I’m resilient. I believe every experience we’ve had in our lives brings us to where we are now.
Every cloud has a silver lining.
The same therapist who told me how strong I was a few years ago also noted that I had some depression and anxiety. The last two times I saw him he was pleasingly surprised at how that had changed since I’d entered the Equine Gestalt Coaching Method® training.
Contact me if you’d like to explore how the Equine Gestalt Coaching Method can help you.
What A Wonderful World. Original Louis Armstrong version. Rod Stewart version.
Onward! Mindfulness
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